Kael sat cross-legged beneath the shattered dome of the observatory. The telescope above creaked with the shifting wind, and blood-red moonlight spilled down on the rusted floor like a warning. Duran stood in front of a cracked holoscreen, his long coat fluttering as he typed in commands. Old records—some corrupted, some locked—flickered to life.
The face of a man appeared. Pale-eyed. Crowned in silver thorns. His skin glowed with the same crimson etching Kael had seen on his own body.
"The last Vyr," Duran said quietly. "Lord Kaelen Vyr, known as the Blood Architect."
Kael flinched. "That's… my name."
"I know," Duran replied. "I didn't want to say it until I was sure. But this is more than blood. You're a living echo."
Kael turned away. "I'm no king. No… 'Architect.' I fought in cages for scraps."
Duran didn't argue. Instead, he pulled up another image: a battlefield drowned in red mist. Soldiers collapsed, convulsing, their veins exploding with light. In the middle stood a lone figure—eyes closed, arms raised.
"The Vyr had no equal," Duran said. "They didn't just use blood. They rewrote it."
Kael squinted. "What does that mean?"
Duran looked at him, measuring his next words. "Every bloodline has a Code—a sequence tied to the Core. Fire, metal, shadow, bone—each bloodline manipulates one. But the Vyr could see the Code. Reshape it. Twist other bloodlines into something else."
Kael felt the pulse in his chest again. Faster now.
"They were creators," Duran continued. "But unstable. Dangerous. The first Vyr were born during the Blood Eclipse—when the moons overlapped. Some say they weren't human at all."
Kael's mouth was dry. "So why haven't I heard any of this before?"
"Because history is written by survivors," Duran said with a bitter smile. "The Twelve erased the Vyr. Burned their archives. Hunted down every last blood-carrying heir. They created the term 'latent' to justify exterminating any signs of awakening."
Kael swallowed hard. "But why fear them that much?"
Duran's voice turned dark. "Because the Vyr didn't play by the rules. While other bloodlines focused on war, territory, wealth—the Vyr delved into what shouldn't be touched. They discovered the Living Core—the source of all bloodlines."
Kael looked up. "The what?"
Duran turned the holoscreen. A fractal web of glowing strands filled the air, pulsing in time with Kael's own heartbeat.
"This," Duran whispered, "is what the Vyr called the First Vein. A structure beneath the city, older than any empire. They believed it was alive. That it watched. That it chose."
Kael stood slowly. "And you think this… thing… woke me?"
"I think it recognized you," Duran said. "The seal on your chest is a response, not a birthmark. You've been chosen by the same force that created the Vyr."
Kael tried to process it all. It sounded insane—like a myth told by dying rebels. But deep in his blood, he knew it was true. Every cell in his body thrummed with something ancient.
Duran crossed the room, retrieving a vial of his own blood. He pricked his finger and dripped a single crimson bead into a glass circle etched with sigils. The blood moved—not spilled, but slithered, reacting to Kael's presence.
"You see?" he said. "Even my blood knows you."
Kael stared at it, transfixed. "So… what now?"
Duran met his eyes. "Now you train. You learn what the others feared."
Kael hesitated. "And if I lose control?"
Duran gave a grim smile. "Then let's hope I'm fast enough to put you down before you destroy everything."
They stood in silence, the blood still writhing in the circle.
Kael took a breath. "Teach me."
Duran nodded. "Good. Because the moons are shifting again. And the world won't stay blind to you for long."