Kael stood motionless in front of the mirror, his tall frame reflected in the polished silver surface. His black hair, perfectly combed back, shone under the flickering light of the candelabras that lined the chamber walls. His calm, almost stoic demeanor was unshaken, though his mind churned beneath the surface. His black eyes, deep and inscrutable, gave away nothing as the royal maids worked meticulously around him, adjusting the intricate black-and-red ceremonial robe that draped over his broad shoulders.
The robe was made of thick velvet, embroidered with silver threads that shimmered like starlight, forming intricate patterns of fangs and crescent moons. A heavy chain of obsidian and rubies rested on his chest, the pendant at its center bearing the sigil of the Raventhorn family.
Kael adjusted his stance slightly as one of the guards fastened his cloak. The fabric pooled behind him, giving him the appearance of a shadow come to life. His presence was commanding, regal, yet detached, as if the grandeur of the occasion meant little to him.
"Done, Your Highness," one of the maid said, stepping back and bowing deeply.
Kael gave a faint nod of acknowledgment before turning to leave. His movements were deliberate, almost feline, as he exited the dressing chamber and made his way toward the throne room.
The throne room was cavernous, its high vaulted ceilings supported by black marble columns carved with depictions of ancient battles. Crimson banners hung from the walls, their edges embroidered with golden runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. The floor was polished to perfection, reflecting the eerie luminescence of the chandeliers that dripped with crystals as red as fresh blood.
At the far end of the room, on a dais carved from black stone, sat Kael's father, King Idris Raventhorn. The king was a striking figure, his black hair framing a sharp, angular face that bore the weight of centuries. His piercing crimson eyes regarded Kael as he approached, his expression unreadable but for the faint trace of pride that flickered across his features.
"Nervous?" King Idris asked as he saw Kael walk into the room.
Kael stopped at the base of the dais, clasping his hands behind his back. "A bit, yeah. I don't see the point of all this. I'm not becoming king just a prince. There's no need for all this fuss."
Idris rose from his throne, descending the steps slowly, his dark robes billowing like shadows in his wake. "You know the reason, Kael. This isn't just about the crown. This is about our customs, our traditions. You've spent your life away from the throne, a part which is my fault but the blood community must know who you are. They must see you as the rightful heir to the Raventhorn dynasty."
Kael frowned, his gaze dropping momentarily. "I never asked for this responsibility."
"And yet it is yours," Idris replied firmly. "This ceremony is not for your benefit; it is for the strength of our people. The blood clans must have a leader they trust, a figure they revere. Whether you like it or not, you were born into this role. Tonight, we solidify that bond."
Kael sighed but said nothing more. He wasn't just nervous, he was terrified. All the important people were going to be there so if he messed anything up, it wouldn't look good on him. Idris placed a hand on Kael's shoulder, his grip strong and steady. "Come," he said. "It's time."
The ceremony was held in the grand amphitheater beneath the palace, a sprawling cavern lit by countless red flames that flickered in sconces carved into the walls. Rows upon rows of vampires filled the space, their eyes glowing faintly in the dim light as they turned their attention to the dais where the king stood.
Kael followed his father up the steps, his footsteps echoing in the hushed chamber. Idris stepped forward, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "My people, tonight we honor the lineage of Raventhorn. Tonight, we crown my son, Kael, as the rightful heir to the throne."
The crowd erupted into a chorus of murmurs, their voices a mixture of excitement and awe.
Idris continued, his tone steady and commanding. "Kael has been raised in the traditions of our kind. He understands our laws, our sacrifices, and our duty to protect the blood clans. As crown prince, he will uphold the legacy of Raventhorn and lead us into a future where our strength remains unchallenged."
He turned to Kael, who remained on his knees, his head bowed. "Kael Raventhorn," Idris said, his voice solemn, "do you swear to serve the blood clan with honor, to uphold the laws of our kind, and to protect our people from all threats, within and without?"
Kael's voice was steady, though his heart raced. "I swear it."
Idris took the crown—a dark, jagged circlet of black steel inlaid with rubies—and placed it on Kael's head. "Rise, Crown Prince of Raventhorn."
Kael rose to his feet, his black eyes scanning the crowd. Their cheers echoed through the cavern, a deafening roar that filled him with equal parts pride and unease.
Later that night, Kael wandered the woods beyond the palace. The air was cool, and the faint rustle of leaves provided the only sound. He needed space to think, to process the weight that had just been placed on his shoulders.
The crown felt heavier than he expected, both literally and metaphorically. He liked being in control, having people to do his bidding but now that it seemed within his grasp, he wasn't sure if he wanted it anymore. He was to protect his people from threats when he could barely protect himself. It was really ironic.
As he walked, lost in thought, a low growl reached his ears. He froze, his senses sharpening as he sniffed the air. The scent of wild wolves was unmistakable, their musk thick and familiar. But there was something else—a scent he had never encountered before.
It was intoxicating, warm and sweet, with a hint of something he couldn't quite place. It stirred a hunger deep within him, sharper than anything he had ever felt. His fangs ached at the thought.
Moving with the speed and grace of a shadow, Kael followed the scent. He wove through the trees effortlessly, his movements silent as he closed the distance between himself and the wolves.
Then he saw her.
The moonlight illuminated her figure—dark hair cascading over her shoulders, wide, frightened eyes, and delicate features. Her beauty was undeniable, her presence magnetic. His hunger flared, and he felt his instincts take over.
This girl, whoever she was, had awakened something primal in him.
Kael crept closer, his gaze locked on her neck. He could already taste her blood in his mind, the warmth of it spilling over his tongue. He was just about to get on the scene and chase the wolves so he can have their prize all to himself but someone beat him to it.
A werewolf.
Kael stiffened, sniffing the air. His father's warnings echoed in his mind: Never confront a werewolf without your clan. They were powerful, unpredictable, and deadly.
Reluctantly, he stayed back, his hunger battling with his caution. The werewolf fought off the wolves and helped the girl up. Kael followed from a safe distance, careful to keep his scent hidden.
When the werewolf entered the sanctuary, Kael stopped, knowing that he could follow them no further.
"I don't know who you are," he murmured to himself as he watched the werewolf lead the girl into the sanctuary, his voice low and menacing, "but I will have you. One way or another."