Chapter 20: Blood and Brotherhood
The club had gone silent. Every vampire in the room sensed the shift in the air—the raw, simmering energy between Aarav and Kieran. The tension was thick, like a blade hovering at the edge of a throat.
Kieran's crimson eyes burned with something dangerous. He wasn't just waiting for proof. He was challenging Aarav.
Aarav smirked. Fine.
Without another word, he lunged.
Kieran moved like lightning, his instincts sharp despite centuries of buried memories. He sidestepped Aarav's first strike, twisting with inhuman speed. In an instant, he had Aarav's arm locked, twisting it behind his back.
But Aarav was faster than he expected.
He shifted his weight, using Kieran's own momentum against him. In one fluid motion, he flipped over Kieran's hold, landing behind him and slamming an elbow into his spine.
Kieran staggered but barely hesitated before spinning around, his fist flying toward Aarav's jaw.
Aarav ducked, feeling the force of the strike as it sliced through the air. He countered with a kick, but Kieran caught his leg mid-air and yanked him forward, slamming him into the nearest table. The glass shattered on impact.
The vampires watching murmured in excitement. A fight like this was rare.
Veyron, leaning casually against the bar, smirked. "Ah, just like old times."
Aarav wiped a trickle of blood from his lip and grinned. "You hit like an Elder."
Kieran's eyes flashed with something primal. "And you talk too much."
He lunged again, but this time, Aarav met him halfway.
Their bodies clashed, a blur of fists and fangs. They fought like predators, every strike laced with deadly precision. It was instinct—the way they moved, countered, anticipated. As if their bodies remembered something their minds had forgotten.
Kieran threw a brutal punch, but Aarav caught his wrist. In that moment, their eyes locked.
And something snapped.
A shockwave of energy pulsed between them.
Kieran's breath hitched. Images—fractured and raw—flooded his mind.
—A throne room, standing at Aarav's side.
—His blade cutting down enemies in the name of the true king.
—A blood oath, sworn in fire and shadow.
—The betrayal. The Elders tearing everything apart.
Kieran stumbled back, gripping his head. "No…"
Aarav stepped forward, his voice steady. "Yes."
Kieran's breathing was ragged, his hands shaking. He remembered. Not everything—but enough. Enough to know the truth.
Veyron clapped once, grinning. "Well, that was entertaining."
Kieran slowly lifted his gaze to Aarav. His eyes no longer burned with challenge. Instead, they held something far more dangerous—purpose.
He straightened. "If what you're saying is true… if the Elders really did this…" His jaw tightened. "Then we burn them to the ground."
Aarav smiled. "That's the plan."
Kieran exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Then I'm with you. Just like before."
Veyron smirked. "Ah, I love a good reunion."
Aarav turned toward the gathered vampires, who had been watching in silent awe. Some whispered his name. Some merely stared.
Good. Let them see.
The king was rising again.
And this was only the beginning.
To be continued…