" The deaths" the silver-haired elder said, her voice calm but cutting, "what is being done?"
"We're working on it," Dravenor replied, his voice calm
"It hardly seems so," the elder with golden eyes interjected, arms folded within his sleeves. "It's been over a month. The deaths are no longer contained, they've begun to creep past the borders... into the kingdom."
Dravenor's gaze sharpened, but his voice remained steady. "We have things in order. The creature... it bears ties to the people of the Old Religion, Virelya"
The room went still. Even the air felt like it paused.
"The markings on the bodies," he continued, "they match descriptions in their forgotten texts."
The third elder, the quietest of the three, raised a brow. "And you can read their books... how?" Skepticism edged his words.
Dravenor turned to face him fully. "We have our ways."
He didn't owe them answers, he was king, but he wasn't foolish enough to provoke them. The elders were ancient, cunning, and impossibly well-connected. Even now, he wasn't certain what they truly knew… or how far they were willing to go, they never supported his rule of both humans and vampires even during the fight they had made things almost impossible
The silver-haired elder's lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile "If you say so."
She rose in one fluid motion, the others following as if they shared a single will. Without another word, they moved swiftly, soundlessly, like mist being drawn through cracks in the air, vanishing down the corridor as if they had never been there at all.
They were watching him closely now
She'd delivered the message and was on her way back when she saw them pass again, three shadows cloaked in grace and something far older. The way they moved was unnatural, as if gravity bent differently around them.
She shrank back behind a column not daring to breathe until they vanished
The air they left behind felt colder, a slight chill went down her spine
When she finally exhaled, she stepped into the now-empty corridor. Something in her chest tightened, like a whisper brushing against her skin. Those people… whoever they were, she didn't want to meet them again.
As she walked, the corridors seemed longer than usual. Empty. Echoing. Her footsteps felt too loud. She returned to the infirmary in a daze.
The old physician glanced up from his workbench. "Did you deliver the message?"
She nodded quickly, not trusting her voice.
"Good," he muttered, eyes returning to his potion. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Not a ghost, she thought.
Probably worse
--
Valérie was just about to leave the physician's chamber when a guard stepped in, gaze cold and formal.
"You're required in the king's presence."
She followed without a word.
The guards flanking the tall doors to Dravenor's study stepped aside wordlessly as she approached. She swallowed, adjusted her sleeves, and stepped inside.
The room was cast in a golden hush, the kind of light that mirrored the hour before twilight. She paused for a moment, puzzled—there was no sun in this kingdom. Where was the light coming from?
Dravenor stood behind his desk, arms crossed behind his back. Orien stood beside him.
"Sit."
She obeyed, her gaze drifting across the parchment spread before her. That ink again—faint gold strokes laced through with intricate symbols. Familiar now. The more she read his scrolls, the easier the language became. She could understand almost all the words now without relying on context or guessing.
Without a sound, Dravenor moved to stand behind her. His presence was cold, his body gave off no warmth, yet she could feel him no less. He braced his hands on the table in front of her, leaning over her.
"Begin," he said.
Valérie leaned in. It was a continuation of what she had last read, after they saw a picture of that strange bite mark.
As she opened her mouth to read, a faint glow circled her irises, unknown to any of them, hidden as her gaze stayed low.
> "A monster, mouth like a sphere, teeth of jagged ivory.
Its bite; poisonous to man and non, blood and not.
A disease flows through its veins. One bite—
and death follows awaits"
Her voice wavered slightly. "There's more."
Dravenor's eyes sharpened. "Go on."
> "Hath no soul. Hath no will.
It obeys the words of the master,
the summoners of such being.
Unable to be destroyed. Unable to be conquered.
Seeking the blood of those who hide from the sun,
and the flesh of those who dwell under it
Obeying the voice of the master,
or that who carries the blood of its creators."
Valérie sat back, breath catching in her throat. She turned slightly toward him.
"I think…" she hesitated, "I think this part is talking about how to stop it. It's not mindless, it's being controlled. A master… or someone carrying the blood of its creators...what creators? "
A heavy silence followed.
Orien muttered, "My lord…" letting the words trail off as he and Dravenor exchanged a look, something passed between them, some sort of understanding and realization
Dravenor's eyes darkened, the same moment Orien's did...shadows sliding behind them like a curtain. The air between them grew colder.
And for the first time, Valérie shuddered, not from fear, but because she had never seen them wear such dark expressions
"What does that mean?" she asked, her curiosity evident. "Who are 'the creators'?"
Dravenor paused for a moment, his expression unreadable. "The Virelya," he replied cryptically, before dismissing her with a nod.
Valérie stood there for a moment, still processing his words. As she walked out of the study, she realized that night had fallen. The world outside had gone dark, and the castle seemed unusually quiet.
She lay on the bed, but her mind wandered, slipping into a memory she hadn't thought of in years. A woman, her mother, perhaps?with light brown eyes and hair so light it almost appeared silver. The image lingered in her mind, but before she could grasp it, she fell into a deep sleep