Adrian Moreau had always lived in the world of words. Meetings, negotiations, treaties — his life was built on language, on the ability to persuade without force, to calm storms with reason. But now, as a dhampir, his words carried a new weight. His colleagues noticed his unchanged face, his unshaken composure, his stamina that seemed unnatural.
At the EU offices in Edinburgh, whispers followed him. "He never looks tired," one aide murmured. "He hasn't aged a day since I met him." Another joked nervously, "Maybe he's immortal." Adrian smiled politely, deflecting suspicion with charm, but inside he felt the gnawing ache of hunger, the constant reminder that he was no longer entirely human.
Back at the house, his diplomatic skills found new use. Lukas struggled with his wolf side, Étienne wrestled with guilt, Callum battled fear. Adrian became the mediator, the steady voice that kept them from fracturing.
One evening, Lukas slammed a cupboard shut, frustrated by the silver cutlery inside. "Why keep it here? It burns me just to touch it."
Étienne raised an eyebrow. "Because humans expect silver in a proper household. Appearances matter."
Callum muttered, "Appearances matter more than honesty, apparently."
The tension thickened, but Adrian stepped in, his voice calm. "We keep the silver for appearances, yes. But we store it safely, away from Lukas. That way, both needs are met. Compromise, gentlemen. It is the foundation of peace."
The room eased. Lukas nodded reluctantly, Étienne smiled faintly, Callum exhaled.
Adrian's nights were harder. Hunger gnawed at him, sharper when he worked late, sharper when he passed hospitals filled with blood. He resisted, remembering Étienne's lessons: hunger is suggestion, not command. He wrote in his journal, recording each victory, each failure.
"I am rare," he wrote one night, his handwriting steady. "But rarity is not immunity. I must learn balance. I must remain myself."
The others began to rely on him. Callum, still fearful, found comfort in Adrian's calm explanations. Lukas, restless under the moon, trusted Adrian's steady presence. Even Étienne, centuries old, listened when Adrian spoke of compromise and restraint.
The house in the fields had become more than shelter. It had become a council, a place where shadows were balanced by words, where monsters lived as men because one diplomat reminded them how.