There was a faint silence except for the sound that dew makes when it drops upon a fresh leaf.
The cohort froze. Vesper's hand clenched in his pocket.
The egg was incandescent now, hotter than it had ever been.
It pressed against his thigh like a second heart about to burst.
The figure stood with its back to them, draped in a robe the color of old blood.
The fabric hung loose on a frame that should have been gaunt but wasn't.
Dark hair fell past his shoulders and an eerie pressure emanated from his entire frame.
It filled the cohort with dread unlike anything they had felt before.
"Hold." Jimeneus's voice was barely a whisper. He choked on his words, barely able to speak.
…and in that moment, the cohort leader's eyes widened in terror at his own voice as he slipped onto the ground.
Unconscious by the sheer command of his own words, as if he had broken an unspoken law of the immensity between heaven and earth.
A silence not to be disturbed.
Adam glanced at Jimeneus with shock and then at the person standing ahead.
"Who…"
His voice died in his throat, unable to process the sheer grandiosity of the presence.
Adam too fell.
The figure turned.
The face was striking. Sharp cheekbones. Pale skin that seemed to glow faintly in the sourceless light.
Lips curved in something that might have been amusement or might have been hunger.
And the eyes.
They were blood red, glinting in the dark with a deep gluttony.
Dying embers glowed within them… red and gold that looked at the cohort not as prey… but as curiosity.
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then the eyes found Vesper.
And stopped.
The figure's head tilted.
Recognition flickered across that elegant face not of Vesper himself, but of something about him.
"Ah… You," the figure's voice trickled like water… filling the chamber with a deep dark suffocation.
There was a certain allure to the figure's voice… almost hypnotising.
It was smooth, it was commanding and there was a certain grace about it that spoke of absolute nobility.
"You carry her egg."
For the first time since his awakening. The Messiah finally felt it.
Fear.
Vesper's hand tightened in his pocket. He didn't answer. He was afraid to.
The figure smiled.
It was not a cruel smile. It was the smile of someone who had waited a very long time and finally, finally seen what they were waiting for.
"I am Luscaine."
Danisque's eyes widened. Amanda's breath stopped and Knoncan breathed heavily.
Everybody knew that name. In the entire universe, there was not a single person named that.
Except one.
One of the Three Vampyre Monarchs.
…and he was standing fifteen paces away.
Looking at Vesper like he was family.
"My sister's pet." Luscaine's gaze never wavered.
He observed the pureblood with amusement, taking delight in it.
"Lysbelle's first in millennia. Her weapon. Her revenge. You must feel special."
The Vampyre Monarch's voice was hollow until his lips curled into a slight smirk.
"As you should be and so I shall allow you to speak. Vesper… what do you go by now…? Ah right. Bloodsa."
Vesper found his voice. It trembled slightly under the weight of the vacuum.
"What… do you want?"
Luscaine laughed. It was a genuine sound, surprised, almost delighted.
"Want? I want many things, nephew. I want my father to wake. I want my grandmother to stop weeping. I want to understand why you exist at this moment, in this place, carrying her."
He gestured at Vesper's pocket.
"The egg. May I see it?"
It was asked like a courtesy. Like Luscaine was a guest in someone's home, not a Monarch standing in a temple older than civilization.
Vesper didn't move.
Luscaine's eyes, those new strange eyes, softened.
"I could take it, boy. You know that. But I am asking."
He glanced at the cohort. At their frozen faces, their held breaths.
"I have killed today. I would rather not kill more."
The silence stretched.
Vesper's hand emerged from his pocket. Clutched in his palm, glowing faintly scarlet, was the egg.
Luscaine's breath caught.
Just for a moment. Just a flicker, but Vesper saw it: the hunger, the recognition, the grief.
"Ah." The Vampyre Monarch's voice was soft. "There you are."
He stepped forward. The cohort tensed. Knoncan lifted his weapon now that the Monarch had released his presence.
Luscaine ignored them completely.
He stopped before Vesper. Close enough to touch.
Those new eyes, embers, fire, life, looked down at the egg with something Vesper couldn't name.
"I drank from the chalice," Luscaine said quietly.
"One drop. My father's tear. It gave me back my eyes. It gave me back my purpose."
He looked up, meeting Vesper's gaze.
"Do you know what my purpose is, nephew?"
Vesper shook his head, his body trembling, producing an unnatural sweat that should never have been possible.
"To wake the ones who sleep. To gather the scattered. To bring her back."
He touched the egg, just a brush of fingertips. The scarlet glow deepened.
"Every child needs his mother. The Blood God too desires his mother before his resurrection."
His eyes rose to Vesper's.
"She chose you to wake her up."
The words landed like stones in still water.
Vesper startled. His words choked as he spoke.
"I don't understa-"
"She showed you her face. She let you see. Well, as much as you could have with your feeble mind."
Luscaine's voice was gentle. Almost filled with an unnatural reverence.
"Do you understand what that means? She has not shown her face to anyone since him. Since my father. Since she held him at her breast."
Vesper's vision flashed… the woman in black, the child with fangs, the empty sockets weeping.
His eyes widened as a strange coldness enveloped him.
"That was her," he whispered, aghast.
"Yes." Luscaine smiled.
Sad… Hopeful…. And Terrifying.
"That was her. The Weeping Mother. My grandmother. Your…"
He paused, his smile filled with amusement as he calculated.
"Great-grandmother, I believe. The math is slightly complicated."