The blackstone hall was deathly quiet, save for the echo of boots striking polished marble.
At the head of the chamber stood Lilith, the Mother, robed in black silk and crowned with a faint halo of crimson light. Her eyes swept over the gathered heads of the Great Houses as they bowed in unison.
"Mother," they said as one.
"You may rise," she commanded, her voice low and absolute.
The seven rose to their feet, fanning out in a semi-circle before her dais.
"I have summoned you," Lilith began, "because an asset of great value has been… misplaced."
A ripple of glances passed through the heads, but none dared speak yet.
Lilith's gaze hardened. "A boy. Young. Taken from my keeping by traitors. He has been loosed into the world."
At that, one of them finally dared to speak — Lord Draven of House Korrath, a gaunt man with sunken eyes and a cruel smile.
"Mother… forgive me," he said smoothly, though the faintest edge of mockery laced his tone. "But surely… an asset so small can be replaced? Why expend so much attention for a single child?"
The hall went utterly still.
Lilith's eyes burned like twin coals. She descended a single step from her dais, the sound of her heels sharp as a blade on the stone.
"You presume much, Draven," she hissed. "You speak as though you understand what has been lost. As though you know what he is."
Her hand shot forward with unhumane speed and Draven was lifted from the ground by his throat, feet dangling, clawing helplessly at nothing. The other heads flinched but did not move to help.
"Speak again," she whispered, "and I will replace you."
She let him drop. He hit the floor gasping and fell back into line without another word.
Lilith straightened, her gown whispering across the dais.
"You will find him," she commanded. "Your hunters, your spies, your wards — I care not what methods you use. The boy comes back to me. Alive."
The heads bowed again. "As you will, Mother."
They were dismissed with a wave of her hand.
As the heavy doors shut behind them, the seven walked in silence down the torchlit corridor, until Draven finally broke the silence, rubbing his throat.
"She's afraid," he rasped. "You all saw it."
Veylen of House Veylen tilted her head, her jeweled chains clinking faintly. "And she's desperate," she added. "She's never lashed out at one of us before."
"She needs that boy," murmured Trel, her voice like smoke curling through the air." she really felt desperate"
Draven's eyes narrowed. "But why?"
Silence fell among them again — but now, it was a silence thick with suspicion.
And something else.
Curiosity.
The pickup rattled and creaked down the icy road, the dark pressing close on all sides.
Kevin sat hunched in the passenger seat, the old man's heavy coat wrapped tight around his shoulders.
The heater groaned, blowing lukewarm air that didn't quite cut the chill clinging to his bones. His skin still felt slick, sticky beneath the coat, faintly smelling of copper.
He stared out the window at the endless rows of skeletal trees.
"Quiet one, huh?" the old man said after a while, glancing at him.
Kevin blinked and dragged his gaze back, forcing a faint smile.
"Sorry," he rasped. His voice sounded like gravel in his own ears.
The man grunted. "Nothin' to apologize for. You've been through… somethin'. Don't gotta tell me what. You'll get warm, get cleaned up. Maybe get a few answers. Name's Coleman, by the way. Folks just call me Cole."
Kevin nodded. "Kevin."
"Kevin," Cole repeated, testing the name. "Alright, Kevin. You hang in there."
The truck hit a rut, jarring them both. Kevin winced as pressure shot through his ribs.
Cole noticed and gave him a side look. "You hurtin'? Broken ribs maybe?"
Kevin shook his head faintly. "No. Just… stiff."
But it wasn't pain exactly — more like pressure. Like something under his skin that didn't belong there was trying to push outward.
And then he noticed.
The sound of the engine seemed louder now, every piston firing in rhythm like a heartbeat. He could hear the faint hiss of the heater fan blades and even the crunch of gravel under the tires.
The air carried scents he shouldn't have been able to smell — the faint copper tang of his own blood still crusted in his hair, the sharp oil of the old leather seat, even the faint trace of tobacco on Cole's coat.
The darkness outside didn't look quite so dark anymore. He could see the outlines of tree trunks deeper in the forest, sharp and gray against the black.
Kevin's chest rose and fell a little faster.
What the hell… am I?
The thought coiled through his mind like smoke.
Vampire? Werewolf? Something else? What did they do to me?
Cole glanced at him again, brow furrowing faintly.
"You alright, kid? You're lookin' pale."
Kevin forced his breathing to slow, though his fingers dug into the coat. "Yeah," he lied softly. "…Just tired."
Cole gave him a skeptical look but let it go.
After a few minutes, Cole spoke again.
"You don't have to tell me what you went through. Whatever it was, ain't my business," he said gruffly. "But I've seen kids come outta there before. They sometimes come for some stupid camping or they are drunk but i guess even hazing can do ya"
Kevin blinked at that, unsure what to say.
After another long stretch of silence, he finally murmured, voice raw but sincere:
"…Thanks. For… stopping. For not… just leaving me there."
Cole kept his eyes on the road but grunted softly — almost a chuckle. "Well, hell. Would've been colder'n death to leave you like that. You don't gotta thank me for bein' human."
Kevin's lip quirked faintly at that. "Doesn't feel like I'm… human anymore," he whispered, almost to himself.
Cole didn't seem to catch it — or maybe he pretended not to.
The truck rattled on into the night, headlights cutting through the dark, as Kevin sat back, staring at his own hands.
They didn't feel like his anymore.