In the solar system of Shadow Veil Dominium, a dimly lit room sat cloaked in shadows. A single candle flickered weakly on a stone table before it finally sputtered and died, plunging the room into near-complete darkness. The candle had a name inscribed on it: Issabella Nightshade. A woman with pale skin and crimson eyes sat silently, watching the flame vanish. She wore black armor with a dagger strapped to her waist. Her hands trembled as she reached for the candle. The small emblem of a red crown etched into the wax confirmed her worst fears—it belonged to a royal relative.
Issabella Nightshade was dead.
The woman shuddered, staring at the candle in disbelief. Her heart raced, but she gathered her courage, steeled herself, and rose from her seat. Clutching the candle tightly, she turned toward the door and began her march to the throne room. Her footsteps echoed through the dark stone corridors, and as she approached the massive double doors leading to the throne, she hesitated. The room beyond radiated power—an aura of control that sent a chill down her spine.
The throne room was lit only by a dim, eerie glow emanating from the abyss-black crown that rested atop the head of the king. Noah Nightshade, the King of Vampires, sat on his dark throne, his crimson eyes burning with quiet intensity. His long red hair framed his sharp features, and his fingers drummed rhythmically on the arms of his throne, which were carved with the heads of snarling wolves.
At the moment, his attention was on a soldier kneeling before him, delivering a grim report. "They are killing and torturing all the vampires in the other solar systems, Your Majesty," the soldier said. "They have enslaved them, selling our people in their markets like cattle."
Noah's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening around the wolf-shaped handles. "What of the peace messengers we sent?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
The soldier hesitated before replying, "Once they realized the messengers were from Shadow Veil Dominium, they attempted to capture them. Some escaped, but many... took their own lives to avoid revealing our location."
A vein pulsed in Noah's temple. His knuckles turned white as he clenched the wolf carvings so tightly that the metal began to creak under his strength.
Before he could respond, a knock echoed from the massive gates at the far end of the hall. The doors were already open, but the figure standing at the threshold dared not enter without permission. She was the woman from the dark room, holding the extinguished candle. The oppressive aura of the most powerful vampires in the solar system pressed down on her, but she forced herself to take a step forward.
Noah's eyes flickered in her direction, momentarily shifting from his seething anger. His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of barely contained fury. "Enter. If you bring no important news, you will regret this interruption."
Swallowing her fear, the woman stepped into the throne room, her gaze fixed on the floor as she approached. "Your Majesty," she began, her voice shaking slightly. "A life candle has gone out... It bears the royal crown emblem. It belongs to Issabella Nightshade."
The room fell silent.
Noah's grip tightened even further, and with a loud crack, the wolf-shaped armrest on the right side of his throne snapped under his strength. He stood abruptly, his fiery red eyes blazing with an emotion so intense it seemed almost unnatural.
"For the last ten years," Noah began, his voice dripping with suppressed rage, "I have tried to remain low-key, to broker peace between our solar system and the others. But I believe they have mistaken our desire for peace as weakness."
An old man sitting closest to Noah spoke cautiously, his tone measured. "Your Majesty, I thought your ultimate goal was peace."
Noah's eyes darkened, his gaze distant as though something within him was stirring, something unseen. His voice was sharp, cutting off the advisor's words. "I still want peace," he said, though there was a strange edge to his tone, something colder, more rigid than before. "But to have peace, you must wield a bigger stick than the others. And they need to be reminded of that."
There was a momentary flicker in his eyes—a shadow, something not quite natural, something ancient. But it passed as quickly as it came, leaving his expression as calm and controlled as before.
Noah straightened, his presence filling the throne room with authority. "Issue the order. All vampires are to return to Shadow Veil Dominium. We will prepare for war. Two years from now, we will strike. No more hiding. No more running."
The room buzzed with anticipation, and a dark sense of jubilation spread through the ranks. For too long, the vampires had waited, their hatred festering. Now, their king had given them what they had craved—a call to arms.
The old advisor, though silent, glanced at Noah once more. His eyes held a trace of worry. He had known Noah for decades, and this sudden thirst for war... it seemed unlike him. There was a time when Noah would have sought every diplomatic route possible. But now, there was a fire in the king's eyes that hadn't been there before—a fire that seemed to devour reason and stir chaos.
Something had changed.
Unaware of the events unfolding in the distant reaches of the Shadow Veil Dominium, a boy lay in quiet slumber, completely oblivious to the storm brewing across the galaxy.
As the alarm clock beside him buzzed sharply, Sebastian woke up from his deep sleep. He groaned, still half-asleep, but forced himself to sit up. His muscles ached slightly from the previous day's training, but he pushed the discomfort aside.
Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Sebastian took a deep breath and began to meditate. His mind quieted as he focused on clearing away the lingering fog of sleep. For a few minutes, the world fell away, leaving only his breathing and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
After finishing his meditation, he swung his legs off the bed, stretched, and went to the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, he stared into the mirror. A boy stared back at him—a boy with a fair skin tone and a jawline that was neither chiseled nor soft, with no facial hair to speak of. His red eyes, with a strange black spot in each, reflected his own confusion back at him.
He stared a little longer, wondering about the future, about what it held for him.
The war brewing in the depths of space? He had no idea.
The throne that burned with the ambition of a vampire king? He couldn't imagine it.
But one thing was certain—his journey had only just begun.