Even a blind chicken finds an optician.
Under the cover of night, two hooded figures stood in a deserted playground. The swings creaked softly in the wind, a ghostly sound beneath the dim glow of streetlights. One figure was tall and slender, the other small and childlike—yet despite his stature, the Sorcerer Lord carried an unmistakable weight of authority.
Livius crossed his arms. "What do you want, Lilinette?" His voice was smooth, edged with suspicion.
The woman tilted her head, her thousand-colored eyes gleaming with a cold, eerie blue. "I've brought you the last relic," she said, her tone unreadable.
Livius blinked, his fingers tightening around the folds of his robe. He hadn't expected that.
"What do you want in return?" His voice was sharp now, wary.
"Nothing," she said with a shrug.
A humorless smile tugged at Livius' lips. "Oh, please. You don't do anything for free. What's the trick?"
Lilinette only shrugged again, infuriatingly nonchalant.
Livius took a step closer, his gaze narrowing. "What were you planning to do with it, anyway?"
Her expression didn't change. "I think you already know."
Livius exhaled sharply, almost a laugh but lacking any amusement. "You were going to claim the throne." His voice was steady, but beneath it was a thread of something colder. "With one of the regalia in your possession, by law, we wouldn't have been able to stop you."
Lilinette nodded, her face as impassive as ever.
"Then why give it up?" His eyes bore into hers, searching for deceit. "Why throw away something that could have made you queen?"
A slow, knowing smile curled on her lips. "Because I've discovered that the throne already has a master." Her voice was quiet, but the certainty in it was absolute. "Give it to him."
Recognition flickered in Livius' eyes, but his jaw clenched.
"What do you want with him?" he demanded.
Lilinette's smile widened, a playful, taunting edge creeping in. "Relax, little mage. I'll only assist him briefly." Her fingers twitched at her side, as if resisting the urge to gesture. "We share a common enemy, that's all. Nothing more."
Livius scoffed. "I don't believe that for a second."
"You don't have to," she said lightly. "But it doesn't change the truth."
For a long moment, they stood in silence, the animosity between them as thick as the night air. Then, without another word, Lilinette turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Livius gripping the relic with white-knuckled fingers.
Even now, the Sorcerer Lord struggled to believe what had transpired.
He stared at the regalia, half-listening to the heated exchanges between the other rulers. The four kings convened every six months, on the first new moon of February and August. But this time, on the third of April, they gathered in an unprecedented manner.
The heavy metal bracelet glistened on the Dwarf King's wrist, the glittering earring adorned Titania's ear, the button on a chain was secured in Crimson's neck, and the Sorcerer Lord's own crown jewel was hanging around his neck. Still, the long-stemmed pipe remained nestled in its box.
"I object," snapped Crimson. "We do not need another king."
"Perhaps you desire this for yourself as well, my dear Silas?" asked Titania in a mellow voice.
The vampire looked offended.
"I'd prefer if you didn't start," the dwarf retorted. "What do you suggest, Crimson?"
The vampire king hesitated briefly.
"I believe we should take our time to decide how to handle the fifth relic," he finally said. "Rushing to appoint a new king would be imprudent."
"There are five regalia, Crimson," Livius interjected for the first time that evening. "We must find someone else worthy to safeguard it. There's no question about that."
"Do you already have a candidate in mind then?" Titania challenged.
"That's beside the point," the small mage replied. "I propose we vote."
No one voiced any objection to this.
"Who's in favor of selecting a new king?" the Sorcerer Lord asked, promptly raising his hand.
The dwarf smiled absentmindedly and followed suit, raising his hand. Crimson folded his hands in front of his chest and shot a displeased look at the two rulers as if they had just openly insulted his mother. Livius paid him no heed, instead turning to Titania and raising an eyebrow. The fae rolled her eyes but eventually raised her hand.
"It's settled," declared the Sorcerer Lord. "We will elect a new king. Everyone, propose a candidate of your choice."
"George Willingham," stated Talambér.
The other kings regarded him skeptically. The dwarf shrugged. He knew Willingham well and admired his ambition—a quintessential trait among dwarves. Willingham was one of his most valuable trading partners, held a respectable rank, had numerous connections among the hunters, and was generally a decent man. Talambér believed he had potential. Moreover, the dwarf knew that promoting Willingham would earn him favors in return.
"Mazen," said Titania.
Even Crimson, who had resolved to show no further interest in the matter, stared at the moon-eyed fae as if she had lost her mind. Initially, he thought she was joking. But as Titania's seriousness sank in, he must have felt an intense urge to leap up and throttle her. Allowing a power-hungry warmonger like him into their ranks was ludicrous.
The dwarf was mostly amused by the fae's decision and the others' violent reactions. He watched the show in silence.
"What do you think you're doing, Titania?" questioned Livius, "He is a dark mage!"
Titania surveyed the faces of the rulers with an amused glance. Mazen matched her own audacity, and she admired his ruthless ambition, a quality that even elves would find commendable. He was the type who seized what he desired with unwavering determination. It was no secret among those gathered that Mazen's current aspiration was nothing short of world domination.
Titania relished the prospect of an all-out war where fae could unleash their full powers, finding peace a mundane and unworthy state for their kind. A glance at the dwarf confirmed he was already imagining the surge in arms trade a potential war would bring. That made two out of four. Titania almost grinned—it was practically a done deal.
Livius composed himself and uttered the name as if casting one of his most potent disarming spells.
"Shaytan."
His voice reverberated sharply, momentarily silencing all the kings. Titania flinched but made no objection. Crimson pondered deeply. Talambér furrowed his brow, trying to place the name.
"Shaytan is of mixed blood, a direct descendant of the former Moon King, and holds significant sway among the hunter clans. He defeated the Fifth King and aided in securing the regalia," the Sorcerer Lord explained.
The dwarf ruler stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "But does he have enough experience to take the throne?"
"Mazen has centuries of experience," Titania interjected.
"In torturing and killing men?" Livius raised an eyebrow.
"Partly," the fae conceded.
"Partly?" Livius repeated, the skepticism in his tone unmistakable.
"In great part," Titania said dryly.
"We have the three candidates," Talambér announced. "I suggest we contemplate what has been discussed and make a decision at our next meeting."
The other kings agreed, shifting their focus to other pressing matters. Unbeknownst to them, eyes watched from the shadows beyond the window glass.
Mazen blinked once, then again, feeling his consciousness settle back into his body after his astral journey. He flexed his fingers into fists, testing the sensation, ensuring his magic was still attuned. Only then did he shift his gaze towards the young servant waiting by the room's edge.
"Felicián," he began, his voice slightly hoarse, "Wine."
The boy nodded obediently and swiftly departed to fulfill his master's request. Mazen tightened his grip on the armrest of his throne, jaw clenched with determination.
He knew this mixed-blood would pose a serious challenge. Livius had shown his support, Crimson was wavering, and the other kings—Talambér was weighing his options, deciding between Mazen's ruthless efficiency and the mixed bloods's potential, while Titania, attempting neutrality, couldn't resist assessing the strategic advantages each candidate offered.
Mazen's opposition was clear: two openly opposed the decision, while the dwarf king remained undecided. Taking a deep breath, he loosened his clenched fingers. His plan was meticulously laid out, and Mazen had already taken the initial steps. Victory was assured, prophecy or not. Mazen was resolute in his belief that he was unbeatable, firmly embedding this conviction in his mind.
As Mazen pondered this, Felicián appeared with the wine, which Mazen accepted silently before proceeding to his customary cleansing bath. Just as he was about to refresh himself, a nervous knock abruptly shattered the tranquility of his chamber. Mazen was determined to kill whoever dared interrupt his bath.
He called out sharply, "Felicián."
His tone conveyed that his resolve was unchanged, he merely decided to give the boy a chance to give him some excuse for his intrusion. If it failed to satisfy him, he could still kill him.
"My lord," Felicián began anxiously, "We are under attack."
As he spoke, Mazen could discern the distant sounds of battle echoing in the air. Without a word, Mazen strode past Felicián, making his way towards the main hall where the vampires had gathered.
The boy couldn't miss the cruel grin spreading across his master's lips—a sight he'd witnessed only a few times before. Swallowing hard, Felicián reminded himself to tread carefully. He knew that his master, in this vengeful state, wouldn't hesitate to eliminate anyone who stood in his path. The anticipation of a gruesome bloodbath hung heavy in the air.
Mazen's deliberate footsteps reverberated off the walls. The air crackled with wild magic, swirling around him like a tempest threatening to lift him off his feet. His aura was suffused with fury, a potent blend of anger and power that set the entire hall on edge. As he approached, Felicián found it difficult to maintain his composure, keeping a cautious distance to avoid the suffocating intensity radiating from his master.
The hall loomed ahead, filled with the chaotic sounds of battle—the clanging of weapons, chanting and the thick magic, shouts of combatants, and the unmistakable scent of blood thick in the air. Mazen's eyes narrowed, a glint of anticipation dancing within their depths.
That night, the vampires would feel the full force of a black mage's wrath—and Felicián was sharply reminded of the brutal realities of their world.
(...)
I wanted to visit the library in the morning, but I also made a short trip to the hospital. Ábel was still lying there as he had been two months ago. His skin was even paler from lack of sunlight and he had lost a lot of weight. The doctor tried to get me to turn the machine off again, but I was still uncooperative.
I held his hand for a while and told him about trivial things. Not only did I visit, but I could smell Alex's scent in the room regularly, and much to my surprise, Rolo stopped by a few times. He didn't squeeze my hand that day either.
I soon left the medicine-smelling building behind and headed towards my original destination.
I paced the small reading room separated from the library, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The room was cluttered with books and maps, remnants of my ongoing investigations.
My phone started to vibrate wildly. Notifications from the Kaleidoscope app.
[Kings call an emergency meeting—is peace in danger?] the headline proclaimed.
[Yesterday, the Kings convened an emergency meeting, held in complete secrecy. While the specific details of the meeting remain undisclosed, it is clear that there was a significant and urgent matter at hand, as all four Kings were present.]
I skimmed the current news, judiciously skipping over articles about medals for hunters or new weaponry. Only one report caught my attention.
[The largest second-generation vampire clan in the city has been destroyed!] the article proclaimed.
[Last night, hunters, responding to a report, discovered a lone, deranged vampire in the "S" Street area. The vampire, severely injured, exhibited hostile behavior towards those nearby, perceiving them as enemies. The hunters successfully disarmed the creature and promptly notified the Vampire Embassy, which has since ordered an immediate investigation into the incident.]
No further information. I needed answers, and I knew exactly who to call.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Coffee's number. She answered on the second ring.
"Shay, it's late," Coffee said, her voice a mix of curiosity and mild annoyance.
I didn't waste time with pleasantries. "Coffee, have you heard about the Bloodpact clan?"
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, then Coffee's tone shifted, becoming more serious. "Yes, I heard. It's all over the Vampire Embassy. The largest second-generation vampire clan in the city... gone."
My grip tightened on the phone. "I need details. What happened?"
Coffee sighed, the sound of shuffling papers in the background. "Last night, hunters found a lone, deranged vampire. The Embassy sent an investigator immediately."
"What did the investigator find out?" I asked, already jotting down notes.
"The vampire was a member of the Bloodpact clan," Coffee continued. "But he was incoherent, kept mumbling that 'All is lost, the clan is gone.' They couldn't get anything useful out of him. His mind is shattered. They took him to the psychiatric ward, but the doctors aren't hopeful about his recovery."
I frowned. "Did the investigator find any other members of the clan?"
"No," Coffee said, her voice tinged with concern. "The whole clan seems to have vanished overnight. The Embassy's been trying to locate any surviving members, but so far, nothing. It's like they just disappeared."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling the weight of the situation. "And the lone vampire? Any clues from his condition?"
"The doctors said he suffered some kind of severe trauma within the last forty-eight hours. He's showing signs of lunacy—veiled eyes, a faraway look, involuntary wandering. It's like his mind is broken beyond repair."
My mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle. "This doesn't make sense. A whole clan doesn't just disappear. "
I couldn't shake the thought that the vampire had suffered the same fate as Ruben's rats. I was certain Nándi had tracked down the dark mage responsible for the serial killings, but it seemed the mage had proven too powerful, ultimately killing both him and his entire clan.
"Tell your father, it's a dark mage," I said.
"What?" Coffee sounded surprised. "How do you know?"
"I visited Nándi before his death," I replied. "It's one of the mages of the Inner Circle."
This didn't sit right with me. If a whole group of vampires couldn't stand their ground against that damn dark mage, then going up against him myself didn't seem like a smart move. I wasn't afraid, but I wasn't reckless either. I decided that as soon as I could, I'd go to the mayor and tell him that some battles weren't worth fighting—not if he valued his life.
As I left the library and the heavy news about the Bloodpact clan still weighed on me, I decided to make my way to Jo's grave.
The moon hung low in the sky as I approached the cemetery, its pale light casting long, eerie shadows over the gravestones. The night was crisp and quiet, the only sounds the gentle rustling of leaves and my footsteps on the gravel path. I walked with a heavy heart, feeling the chill in the air more acutely than usual.
When I reached Jo's grave, I paused, taking in the sight of the familiar headstone. The stone was cold and unyielding, yet it held the memories of a person who had meant the world to me. I knelt down, my breath forming small clouds in the cool night air.
I carefully took out a small, elegant perfume bottle from my bag. It was Jo's favorite scent, a lingering reminder of her presence. The moonlight glinted off the glass as I unscrewed the cap and held it up.
With a deep breath, I sprayed a fine mist into the air. The familiar fragrance, a mix of floral notes and something uniquely Jo, drifted softly around me. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the scent envelop me. For a brief moment, it felt as though she was there with me, her presence tangible in the delicate aroma.
I took a small, wooden box I had brought with me and placed the perfume inside. I wanted it to be a part of this space, a tangible link between us even if she was no longer here. I arranged the bottle beside the gravestone, the scent still lingering in the night air.
Sitting down on the ground beside the grave, I felt a strange mix of comfort and sorrow. The perfume wasn't just a fragrance; it was a piece of Jo's world that I could still hold onto. As the scent filled my senses, I let my mind wander to happier times we had shared, remembering her laughter and the way her eyes would light up when she was excited.
I leaned back against the cold stone, feeling its chill seep through my clothes. The contrast of the stone's coldness against the warmth of the perfume was oddly soothing.
The night was still, the only sounds the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. I looked at the bottle and then at the gravestone, a profound sense of both grief and comfort washing over me.
I took another deep breath, letting the scent fill my senses once more. It was a bittersweet reminder of what had been lost and a small comfort. I thought about how she would have reacted to seeing me here, how she would have scolded me for being too somber or made a joke to lighten the mood.
The thought brought a genuine smile to my face, a welcome change from the heaviness I had been feeling.
I stood up, brushing off the grass from my clothes. The act of coming here and sharing this moment with Jo, even in my solitude, had been kinda therapeutic.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts. "There's a lot of fighting ahead. I don't know exactly what's coming, but I know it will be difficult."
"I want you to know that I'm doing it for everyone. I promise you, Jo, this time I won't let anyone die."
The perfume's scent seemed to blend with the night air. I felt a sense of calm wash over me as I made my vow. "I know it's a big promise."
I touched the gravestone gently, the promise I made resonating in my heart.
"I'll keep doing my best to make things right," I said quietly. "You believed in me, and I'm going to make sure I don't let you down."