Music Recommendation (Author's Thoughts):
🎵 "No Time to Die" by Billie Eilish – haunting, resigned, and tender with undercurrents of danger.
🎵 "Experience" by Ludovico Einaudi – slow-building emotional intensity.
---
The storm had passed, but the cold lingered.
Lucian sat in silence within the council chamber, its marble pillars casting long shadows like gravestones in moonlight. The torches had been extinguished hours ago, and only a single candle flickered near his seat, casting light across the veins in his pale hands.
He had not moved since Renak's departure.
Stillness was no longer a choice—it was armor.
But beneath that regal silence, his thoughts roared.
Kyrell.
Not a dream. Not a phantom. But a truth that refused to be buried.
His fingers twitched, recalling the exact tremble in Kyrell's breath when he leaned into Lucian that night. The warmth that had risen between them like forbidden fire—and the horror that chased it.
It was not just desire. It was recognition. A calling of blood and memory.
He should have cast the boy away. Should have erased his scent from the walls of his home. But instead, he had allowed it to soak into him—had memorized the lines of his jaw, the fearful defiance in his eyes.
He had let Kyrell sleep beneath his roof.
I am becoming unmade.
A sudden, sharp voice shattered the silence.
"Your Majesty."
Lucian turned his head slowly. One of the guards stood at the door, shifting uneasily.
"What is it?"
"A message. Brought by hawk. From the outer territory."
Lucian took the sealed parchment. The wax bore the crest of the Southern Watch—the province closest to the last surviving remnants of the vampire war.
He broke it open.
> There are whispers in the ruins. One of the hunters has returned. Not alone.
Locals say he seeks what was once thought buried with the last of your kin.
The council must decide whether to act. We await your word.
His grip tightened. The parchment nearly tore.
A hunter. Kyrell? No—he would not be so careless. Unless he wanted Lucian to know. Unless he wanted to be found.
Lucian stood.
The candle flared briefly in protest, then went out.
---
Later that night…
The castle had fallen asleep, but Lucian hadn't.
He walked alone beneath the towering arches of his private halls, each footfall echoing like a memory. At the edge of the corridor, a soft clinking stopped him.
He turned. There—Mara.
Seated near the arched window, draped in a red silk robe that clung to her like wine over skin. She rose when she saw him, eyes glossy, lips parted.
"You're always wandering," she said quietly, stepping closer. "Even when you're here, you're not."
Lucian said nothing.
She touched his hand—then pulled back as if burned.
"You don't even flinch anymore," she whispered, voice cracking. "What happened to you, Lucian?"
He didn't answer her. He was staring past her.
Mara followed his gaze to the open window.
"I don't sleep," he finally said. "Because when I do, he finds me."
Her breath caught. "The boy?"
Lucian nodded. "Or what he is now."
She stepped forward, desperation leaking into her voice. "You need to let this go. Whoever he was—it's making you weak. They're watching, Lucian. They smell the change."
"I know."
"Then why don't you fight it?"
His eyes met hers, and for a moment, she recoiled.
Because in them, she saw something she hadn't before—not coldness, not detachment—but grief.
"You wouldn't understand," he said softly. "This isn't desire. It's... something older. Something I don't control."
Mara turned away, masking the sting in her chest.
"Then may the gods save you. Because no one else will."
---
At dawn...
The council gathered again—this time with urgency.
Rumors had spread through the lower cities. Vampire sightings. Bodies drained of blood. It wasn't Lucian or his kind—it was hunters. Or something worse. Something twisted.
Lucian sat at the head of the table, silent while the voices argued.
"This is a declaration," one said. "They're hunting again."
"No. They're searching. The question is—for what?"
Lucian stood abruptly, cutting them off.
"I will go south."
The chamber fell silent.
Renak—newly returned—spoke with careful precision. "It's too dangerous."
"Then send someone else," another councilor urged.
"No," Lucian said coldly. "They seek something that belongs to me. I will not let them tear open the past while I hide behind walls."
He stepped down from the dais.
"I'll leave by nightfall."
---
Far from the castle, in the southern ruins...
Kyrell knelt beside a shallow grave.
His fingers brushed away ash and brittle leaves. He wasn't alone. A shadow moved behind him.
Damien.
"You're not ready," Damien growled. "You let him live. You slept in his walls like a tame dog."
Kyrell looked up. "I needed to know."
"And now that you do?"
Kyrell's expression hardened. "Now I know what he took from me."
Damien's jaw clenched. "Then don't forget what you are."
"I haven't," Kyrell whispered. "But I also remember what he made me feel."
---
To Be Continued…