A cool breeze swept through the silent graveyard, rustling the leaves of the ancient oaks that stood like sentinels over the dead. The sun bathed the weathered tombstones in a warm golden glow, casting long shadows over the freshly turned earth.
Maximilian Silverwood stood before the graves, his hands clasped into fists. His father. His mother. The Valencourt's. A family once as close as blood, now reduced to names etched in stone.
Good things never last.
A voice cut through the stillness.
"They said I'd find you here."
Maximilian stiffened, eyes narrowing as he took in the figure standing behind him.
A man, tall and poised, with silver hair that cascaded down his shoulders, his scarlet eyes glowing faintly in the sunlight. His skin was pale, almost ethereal.
"Role of Guardian dropped on your shoulders at such a tender age," the stranger mused, his voice smooth, carrying an edge of familiarity. "Must've been hard."
Max exhaled slowly, his grip tightening.
"Heh," he scoffed, brushing dust from his sleeves as he stood. "is it my turn already? Which one of those geezers sent you?" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a bracelet identical to the one Elizabeth had worn before she fought the skinwalker. As he slipped it on, a dangerous smirk played on his lips.
"Hope they gave you full details about me." His gaze calm, yet deadly. "I won't go down easily."
The silver-haired man blinked. "Wait, I—"
Max moved.
A brutal kick sliced through the air, aimed straight for the stranger's face.
The man barely shifted, tilting his head at the last possible second. The blow missed him by mere millimeters, stirring the strands of his silver hair.
"He's fast…" The stranger's lips parted in brief surprise.
"Wait," he tried again, sidestepping another attack. "I'm only here to talk—"
"That's exactly what people who plan to kill you say!" Max snarled, lunging.
His movements were sharp, precise—his fist a blur as he aimed for the stranger's heart.
Effortlessly, the man dodged again, his movements fluid, almost lazy.
"Tsk. So hard-headed," the silver-haired man muttered. A lazy expression played on his face
Max's blood boiled. "Hearing that from someone like you pisses me off even more!"
"Uwahh, it actually worked!" the stranger said, his tone light, almost playful.
Max pivoted, feinting left before launching a devastating punch aimed at the stranger's jaw—
Only to find himself caught.
In a blink, the silver-haired man moved, twisting Max's momentum against him. His grip locked onto Max's wrist, yanking him forward and throwing him off balance. Before he could recover, the stranger had him immobilized, one arm twisted behind his back.
Max struggled. "Tch—! Let me go, you bloodsucking—!"
A voice, quiet but heavy with meaning, brushed against his ear.
"If I wanted to kill you," the stranger murmured, "I would've started with Louis. Your youngest sibling. Then your wife. Then your firstborn—Max Junior, tearing them from limb to limb, and I'd make sure you watched, tied up and there's nothing you could do about it."
Max's blood ran cold.
His body went rigid. His breath hitched, not from pain, but realization.
This wasn't a bluff.
This man—this thing—had been watching him. He knew everything.
His family. Their names. Their faces. Their importance.
A sharp, sickening rage welled up in Max's chest. "You lay a single finger on them—"
"And then what? You'd sign a deal with death and come after me?" The stranger let out a quiet chuckle. "I was only kidding, I'd never do that."
Slowly, he released his grip.
Max stumbled back, muscles coiled, ready to fight again.
But the man merely adjusted his coat, seemingly unfazed. "Look, I didn't come here to pick a fight. I know you doubt the Church." His crimson eyes gleamed. "The church is not what it seems to be anymore."
Max's jaw clenched. His mind raced. How did he know that?
"What's your motive, bat?" he spat.
The man's expression didn't change, avoiding his question. "I need to locate my son."
Max frowned.
"Elias," the man continued, his voice softer. "Silver hair. Eyes like mine. I was told he resides with one of the families, but I don't know which. They told me to find the house that lacks the blessings of the gods, but..." He smirked faintly, covering his mouth trying to hide his expression. "You really don't seem to get along with the Church… So yeah, you fit the description."
Max stilled. "You piece of shit. What do you take me for!?"
The stranger grinned, a mischievous smile played on his face
"You suck at grinning, idiot," he muttered.
The man blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Hahh?"
"And I thought creatures like you couldn't reproduce. What changed?"
A slow clap.
"Wow, you sure do your research," the man said, amusement flickering across his face.
"Not all of us are dumb and childish like you, dumbass."
The stranger clutched his chest in mock offense. "Eek. I forgot just how horrible your personality is. And your overwhelming hate toward the supernatural."
"Act like a proper vampire, you childish idiot!" He snapped, veins popping on his head, his voice sharp with irritation. "And what makes you think I'd ever give out information about other families, you dumbass?"
The silver-haired man pouted dramatically. "Eek, scary."
Max's eye twitched. "I should be saying that to you if you weren't acting so childish! AHHH, you piss me off!" He spun around, kicking the grass in frustration before storming toward his car.
Just as he reached the door, the vampire's voice turned serious. "We both know the Church is compromised," he said, his previous playfulness vanishing. "But that's just the tip of the whole conspiracy to what's coming."
Max froze for a split second before scoffing. "Don't go talking like we're all good just because I stopped attacking." He turned his head slightly, just enough to glare at the man over his shoulder. "I can never trust the words that come out of creatures like you."
With that, he yanked the door open, climbed in, and drove off without another glance.
The silver-haired man watched the car disappear down the highway, his crimson eyes dimming. A heavy sigh left his lips
He looked down.
And for the first time in what felt like an eternity—he remembered.
Flashes of the past hit him like a dagger to the chest.
A dark forest, the distant sound of hounds howling in pursuit. His legs burned as he ran, his arms wrapped protectively around a small, trembling figure—a child with silver hair and terrified red eyes.
His son.
They had been hunting him.
The scent of torches burning. The distant chants of holy incantations. He had no choice.
He stopped in front of a cave, his breath ragged, his chest heaving. He kneeled, placing the boy inside the shadows of the cavern. His hands trembled as he wiped the tears from the child's face.
"Wait for me here, okay, Elias?" His voice cracked. "Daddy will be back soon… I promise."
The little boy clung to his sleeve, his crimson eyes wide with fear. "But—"
He pulled away. "Daddy will be back... Just wait here," he smiled at him.
The memory shattered, pulling him back to the present.
A single tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, his expression darkening.
"I'm so sorry, Elias…" he whispered.