I sat up. My 14-year-old body felt like lead, a reminder that my mind was far ahead of what these muscles could handle. Lilith was there, asleep in a chair by the bed. The moment the sheets rustled, her eyes snapped open.
"You're awake?" She didn't wait. She was at the bedside in a second, her hands trembling as they hovered near me. "How long were you out? Are you hurt? Tell me—where does it still burn?"
I caught her wrist. Just a small movement to ground her. "Lilith. Breathe. I'm fine. It was just mana exhaustion—my body couldn't keep up with the output."
She didn't back away. Her gaze turned sharp, cutting through my excuse. "I saw it, Felix. That wasn't just mana. You used the blood I gave you."
I looked at my hands, still feeling the faint, lingering heat of her royal essence. "I did," I admitted. I didn't sugarcoat it. "But I'm still a kid playing with a fire I don't fully understand."
She exhaled, the tension finally leaving her shoulders. "Eat something first. You look like a ghost."
"Yeah. Let's go."
The door swung open. Lucien stepped in, his shadow stretching across the floor. He didn't say much, just gave me a curt nod that carried more weight than a thousand words.
"Awake, kiddo?"
"Long time no see, Lucien. How's Leveren?"
"Stable. Your mother is holding the Tower, and Arven is busy with the merchants. The mages are ready. We can leave whenever you're set. It's time to go home."
I was about to answer when the air grew heavy. The Vampire Queen appeared in the doorway, her presence cold and absolute.
"Not yet," she said. "We have things to settle in the royal court. And besides... there is a ball tonight."
I felt a knot form in my stomach. "A ball..."
"It's time," Lucien muttered.
"Yeah," Veltherion leaned against the frame, his eyes fixed on me with a predatory curiosity. "Let's see how many of you humans can actually stand upright in our court."
Maria stepped up behind him, a playful, dangerous glint in her eyes as she looked at me. "I can't wait to see you in that royal dress, Felix. You'll finally look the part."
Atherion's voice echoed from the hall, sharp and annoyed. "Hey! Stop staring at the kid. I'm your fiancé, Maria. Save some of that excitement for me."
I looked at them—the Queen, the traitor's family, and the people I'd somehow dragged into my orbit.
I had come here to survive, but it seemed the Noctyrr Empire wasn't done trying to claim a piece of me.
I'm looking forward to it," I replied, my voice as level and cold as the stone floor beneath me.
The day had been a slow-motion grind, a countdown I couldn't escape. Nine years of this 'peace'—a fragile, paper-thin truce between the Royal Empire and the Noctyrr bloodlines that felt more like a held breath than a resolution. Eden Academy was the center of it all, a gilded cage where Lilith would soon be sent to play their games.
And me? I was just a silent observer, watching the gears of an empire that didn't yet realize I was the sand in its works.
The afternoon was a meditative ritual. I spent it stabilizing my mana veins, the energy pulsing like a low, electric fever under my skin. The room was thick with the sharp, acidic scent of ancient ink as I traced circles on scrolls until my fingertips felt scorched. By the time I stood before the full-length mirror, the boy was gone.
The charcoal-black suit fit with a terrifying, razor-sharp precision. The fabric was heavy—expensive enough to buy a small village—and it carried a subtle sheen that didn't reflect the light; it seemed to consume it.
I looked at my reflection and felt a visceral disconnect. Why did I look like royalty? Why did this 14-year-old face carry the hollow, predatory eyes of a man who had already seen how empires fall? I wasn't a boy dressing up for a party; I was a man preparing for a long-overdue reckoning.
Knock. Knock.
The door groaned open. Atherion and Veltherion stepped in, the living personification of the empire's icy arrogance.
"We came to pick you up, little brother-in-law," Veltherion said, his lips curling into a sharp, mocking smirk.
"Shut it, Your Highness," I snapped, my eyes never leaving my own reflection.
Veltherion chuckled, leaning against the wall with the lazy grace of a wolf. "How rude... and yet, so perfectly poised. What do I even call that? An insult wrapped in a bow?"
"Stop being dramatic, Vel," Atherion interrupted, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. He stepped closer, his gaze scanning me with a silent, twisted pride that made my pulse spike. "Felix. Everyone is waiting. The ball is starting. Move."
I exhaled a long, heavy breath, the gravity of the night finally anchoring itself on my shoulders. "Fine. Let's go see how much glass is hidden in their wine tonight."
"Ah, wait," Veltherion reached into his coat and tossed a dark blur toward me. I caught it out of the air instinctively. A pair of gloves—silk, reinforced with hair-thin mana-threads. "You should wear these too. Details matter when you're walking into a den of hungry ghosts."
I pulled the gloves on, the fabric cinching over my knuckles like a second skin. I flexed my fingers, feeling the faint, electric hum of the mana-threads beneath the silk.
I didn't just look like a prince anymore. I looked like the one person in the room who knew exactly how the night would end.
"Now," Veltherion's grin widened, his fangs glinting in the candlelight. "Shall we go?"
"Yeah. Let's give them something to remember."