Six months after the Purist defeat, supernatural tensions were reaching a breaking point.
Asmodeus hadn't made another direct move, but his influence was everywhere—whispers in demon circles, rumors spreading through supernatural communities, subtle manipulations that Adrian could feel but couldn't prove.
"He's planning something big," Marcus reported during their weekly security briefing. "My sources say he's been meeting with other demon lords, building a coalition. Whatever he's planning, it involves more than just revenge against you."
"What could be bigger than revenge?" Adrian asked.
"Power," Kieran said quietly. "Asmodeus has always wanted more power. The Mirror of Souls was just one attempt. He's probably found another angle, another way to achieve dominion over the supernatural world."
"And we're caught in the middle," Wei added, sprawled across their couch with characteristic disregard for furniture. "Again. You two have a real talent for pissing off the most powerful beings in existence."
"It's a gift," Adrian said dryly.
His healing work continued, but now with heavy security. Every session was monitored, every patient screened multiple times. The Purists might have been disbanded, but individual fanatics still posed threats.
Adrian had healed over three hundred vampires in the past six months—an unprecedented number that was reshaping vampire demographics. Vampires who'd been suffering for centuries were whole again, grateful and loyal to the one who'd saved them.
"You're building an army without meaning to," one of the First Generation—a vampire named Thomas—observed during a visit. "Every vampire you heal becomes devoted to you. That's political power whether you want it or not."
"I don't want power. I want to help people."
"Noble. But naive." Thomas's ancient eyes studied him. "Power comes whether you seek it or not. The question is what you'll do with it."
That night, Adrian stood on their penthouse balcony, looking out at Shanghai's glittering skyline. Kieran joined him, wrapping his arms around Adrian's waist from behind.
"You're brooding," Kieran observed.
"I'm thinking. About what Thomas said. About accidentally building political power." Adrian leaned back against him. "I just wanted to help vampires who were suffering. Now I'm apparently a political force with hundreds of loyal followers."
"Welcome to immortal life. Nothing stays simple." Kieran pressed a kiss to his neck. "But Thomas is right—you need to think about what you'll do with that loyalty. Because eventually, someone will try to use it against you. Or force you to use it for their purposes."
"The First Generation?"
"Possibly. Or Cain when he returns. Or someone else we haven't even considered yet." Kieran turned Adrian around to face him. "But whatever comes, we'll face it together. Your power is our power. Your choices are our choices."
"That's a lot of pressure on a relationship."
"We've survived worse pressure. A thousand years of separation, remember?"
Adrian smiled despite his concerns. "Fair point."
They kissed under the Shanghai stars, two immortal beings in love, unaware that across the city, wheels were already in motion that would test everything they'd built.
In a luxury hotel suite across town, Asmodeus sat across from five other demon lords—his coalition, carefully assembled over months of negotiation.
"The vampire has healing blood," Asmodeus said, swirling wine in his glass. "Original blood, connected to Cain himself. If we control him, we control access to the first vampire. And through Cain, we can finally achieve what demons have sought for millennia—dominion over the vampire species."
"The First Generation protects him," one of the other demons pointed out. "Attacking him means war with the most ancient vampires alive."
"The First Generation is divided. They protect him because he's useful, but they also fear him. Fear what he represents—change, disruption of the old order." Asmodeus smiled coldly. "We exploit that fear. Turn them against each other. And in the chaos, we take what we want."
"How?" another demon asked.
"Cain is returning. My sources confirm it—the first vampire will emerge from hiding within the year. When he does, every vampire faction will scramble to curry his favor, to prove their loyalty, to secure their position in whatever new hierarchy he establishes." Asmodeus leaned forward. "We make sure we control the one thing Cain will want most—his ancient companion. Adrian Chen."
"The vampire is bonded. His mate won't let him go without a fight."
"Then we remove the mate. Kieran Ashford has lived for a thousand years. He's made enemies. It won't be hard to arrange an accident." Asmodeus's eyes glowed with hellfire. "And once Adrian is alone, grieving, vulnerable—we offer comfort. Protection. Slowly, we turn him to our purposes. By the time Cain returns, Adrian will be ours."
The other demon lords nodded slowly, their ancient minds already calculating probabilities, identifying weak points, planning their roles in this elaborate scheme.
"When do we move?" one asked.
"Soon. Very soon." Asmodeus raised his glass. "To the fall of the Cursed Prince. And to the rise of demon rule."
They drank, sealing their pact, unaware that their conversation had been observed by a small, innocuous fly on the wall—a fly that was actually a familiar, bound to a witch who owed Kieran Ashford a favor.