Kael awoke to silence.
His eyes fluttered open, but the world remained blurry. Shapes shifted, lights flickered. A metallic scent hung in the air—sharp, sterile, and unfamiliar. His body ached, each limb heavy with exhaustion. He tried to sit up, but a hand pressed gently against his chest.
"Easy," a voice said, deep and calm. "You're safe. For now."
Kael blinked until the world sharpened. He lay on a narrow cot inside a room of rusted machinery, ancient monitors, and walls lined with cracked lenses. A large telescope jutted through the broken ceiling, aimed at a blood-red sky.
The observatory.
He remembered the run, the hiding, the soldiers closing in. And then… nothing.
"Where—" he rasped, his throat dry. "Where am I?"
The man standing beside him stepped back into the light. Tall, lean, wrapped in a long coat that had clearly seen better days, he looked like a relic from another era. His eyes were pale silver, with flecks of crimson near the iris—unnerving, yet calm. His skin bore faint scars, as if written by years of self-experimentation.
"I dragged you out of the ruins just before the enforcers swarmed the area," the man said. "They didn't see me. They never do."
Kael sat up slowly, groaning. "Why would you help me?"
The man raised a brow. "Because you bear a mark that hasn't been seen in over two hundred years."
He turned and tapped a screen behind him, bringing up a glowing diagram—an outline of a symbol, sharp and spiraling, like a star unfolding. Kael stared at it, feeling a chill crawl up his spine.
"That," the man said, "is the Vyr Seal."
Kael swallowed hard. "What… what is that?"
"The symbol of an extinct bloodline," the man said. "Or so we thought."
He moved toward a glass cabinet and retrieved a thick, dust-covered tome. Flipping through its yellowed pages, he stopped on a hand-drawn sigil nearly identical to the one that had appeared on Kael's chest the night of the fight.
"The Vyr were not like the others," the man continued. "They weren't bred for war. They were born to command it. Royal blood. A pure line. Lost after the last Blood War."
Kael stared down at his hands. He still remembered the glow, the searing pulse in his veins. "I don't understand. I'm just a fighter. A nobody from the Outskirts. I can't be—"
The man held up a hand. "Your origin is not where you are. It's what you carry."
Kael looked up at him, his jaw tight. "And who are you to tell me this?"
The man offered a faint smile. "Duran Valcyr. Exiled researcher. Bloodline historian. And, once, personal archivist to House Caern."
Kael's eyes widened. House Caern was one of the Twelve ruling bloodlines. Powerful. Untouchable.
"I studied all the bloodlines," Duran said. "Not just the ones in power. My work was deemed… controversial. So I was sent here, to rot in obscurity."
Kael's thoughts churned. Everything felt like a dream. Just days ago, he was dodging fists in pit fights and stealing bread to survive. Now a man from the inner circles of power was telling him he belonged to a bloodline long thought dead.
He hesitated, then asked, "Why is the Vyr Seal dangerous?"
Duran walked over to a dusty console and typed a few commands. A hologram flickered to life, showing an image of a battlefield lit by two blood-red moons. Armies clashed. A massive creature—shadowed, monstrous—emerged from the ground, tearing through soldiers. At its center was a figure wreathed in crimson light. His mark glowed like Kael's.
"That is why," Duran said. "The Vyr had the ability to manipulate Blood Force—not just their own, but that of others. They could awaken or suppress powers, even warp the bloodlines of their enemies. Their very presence destabilized the balance."
Kael watched in silence as the battle played out in ghostly images.
"But they were hunted down," Duran said, voice low. "By the very bloodlines they once led. The Twelve feared the Vyr would return and tip the scales."
Kael clenched his fists. "So if they find me—"
"They will erase you. Quietly. Without question."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Kael looked at the floor. "Why did this happen to me now? Why awaken now?"
Duran sighed, glancing out the shattered dome above. The moons hung close tonight, red as blood and pulsing like twin hearts.
"The Blood Moons," he said. "They've shifted. Something is stirring beneath the city. Something ancient. Your awakening wasn't random. It was triggered."
Kael felt that same pulse inside him again—the foreign heartbeat, the whisper from something older than he could understand. The Vyr inside him was not asleep. It was watching.
"What do I do?" Kael asked quietly.
Duran turned toward him, solemn. "You survive. You learn. You master what's inside you before they find you again."
Kael met his gaze. "And then?"
Duran smiled faintly. "Then you decide whether to hide your bloodline… or bring it back from extinction."