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In the deepest chamber of the ancient castle, darkness ruled.
The room was vast, circular, and carved from black stone that seemed to swallow the faint light around it. Towering pillars rose toward a ceiling hidden in shadows. The air itself felt heavy—ancient, suffocating, as if the walls had witnessed centuries of secrets that were never meant to be spoken aloud.
At the center of the chamber stood a massive round table.
Twelve seats surrounded it.
Each chair was carved from dark wood and decorated with intricate symbols—crests of ancient families whose names had shaped the hidden world for centuries.
Power.
Honor.
Bloodlines older than most kingdoms.
The only source of light came from tall black candles placed evenly along the table. Their flames flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the stone floor.
A place like this was not meant for ordinary meetings.
This was forbidden ground.
A council chamber reserved only for the leaders of the hidden families who ruled the supernatural world from the shadows.
Yet tonight…
Not all the seats were filled.
Out of the twelve chairs, four remained empty.
Dust lightly covered their armrests.
The silence surrounding them suggested something unsettling.
Those seats had been empty for a long time.
A silhouette sitting at the table finally broke the silence.
"I heard whispers about the last bloods. Stories said that they still exist."
His voice echoed across the chamber.
Another figure sitting across the table leaned slightly forward, their face hidden by darkness.
"Indeed, they still exist. We did all we can, but some still got away."
The candles flickered as a third silhouette spoke with cold irritation.
"It's because of the four seats traitors. If they didn't back out, we already annihilated the 'last bloods'."
A long silence followed.
Because everyone in that chamber understood the weight of those words.
The 'Last Bloods.'
An ancient legend whispered among supernatural creatures.
A lineage so old that even the first vampires, werewolves and other creatures were said to have come from their blood.
The founding blood of the supernatural world.
Destroy them completely…
And entire bloodlines might collapse.
Another voice spoke slowly.
"House of Mikaelson refused to help because they got help from the last bloods when they were homeless."
A different silhouette nodded faintly.
"Same as the Salvatores. Damon and Stefan Salvatore took refuge when some hunters were hunting them centuries ago. because of some debt of gratitude they cower."
One of the figures scoffed in annoyance.
"Sentimental fools."
Another silhouette leaned forward.
"Vladimir Tepes refused because he said he was suppressed by the blood of the last bloods."
A quiet chuckle echoed in the chamber.
"We understand his reasoning. In the first place, he came to existence because of Marcus."
he pause. a name that brings terror when mention. even them— on the 12 seats will give way when they saw him, and a bloodline suppression that was ingrained in their bloods that can't washed away for eternity.
(AN: a terrifying event for all of the supernatural beings. that's why the 12 seats are hunting them— well, just 8. doing all they can to erase them)
"But he didn't even make an effort to help us."
Someone else spoke with contempt.
"He is just making excuses not to help us."
Another voice suddenly cut through the conversation.
"even the Cullens are worthless."
Several silhouettes shifted slightly.
One of them responded calmly.
"The Cullens are not the problem. compare to us they are weak to begin with. If it's not because of Alice, we would not make them one of the twelve seats."
A different voice agreed.
"Yes. Alice Cullen was helpful for our plans long ago. Her precognition was too useful to ignore."
Then suddenly—
A fist slammed onto the table.
"But they got swayed by some mortals!"
The candles trembled from the sudden movement.
Silence followed again.
Then another silhouette spoke in a colder, calmer tone.
"We don't need to be nostalgic about the past. They quit, so their seat power was taken. With no power and background, they can't do anything to us."
The others slowly settled again.
"What we need to do now is locate the remaining 'last bloods'."
Another voice answered immediately.
"Not even that."
A pair of red eyes briefly glowed within the darkness.
"There are reports I received that the dogs are also searching for the remaining 'last bloods'. Not to execute them… but to turn them into one of them."
A murmur spread around the table.
The dogs they were referring to were the werewolves.
One of the silhouettes scoffed.
"Those wild animals didn't learn their lesson centuries ago."
Another voice followed.
"With Lucian removed from the scene, they still dare to revolt?"
A shadow near the end of the table spoke slowly.
"Yes. Lucian is strong and troublesome even for us."
A pause.
"But he was sealed."
The atmosphere in the chamber grew heavier.
One of the figures leaned forward slightly.
"Just don't let him get out."
Another voice answered in a quiet whisper.
"…or else there will be chaos again."
The candles flickered violently for a moment.
Then, from the darkest corner of the chamber—
A voice none of them expected suddenly spoke.
Soft.
Calm.
And dangerously amused.
"…Interesting."
Every silhouette in the room froze.
Because that voice—
Was not sitting at the table.
And it asked only one question.
"Tell me…"
"…why are you all so afraid of the Last Blood?"