The torches burned low, their flickering flames casting restless shadows on the cavern walls. The air was thick,damp stone, old blood, and something else, something wrong.
A man stood at the head of the chamber, his presence swallowing the dim light around him. He didn't move, didn't speak. He only watched.
The vampire kneeling before him struggled to stay upright, one hand pressed to the gaping wound in his side. Blood seeped through his fingers, slow and sticky. He sucked in a trembling breath, his fangs stained red.
"My king…" His voice was barely more than a rasp. "The Pureblood… he's awakening."
_Silence_ .
The kind that stretched long enough to feel unbearable.
Then. finally,a voice. Smooth, deliberate. "Has he now?"
The kneeling vampire flinched, but not from pain. He dared not look up. "Yes. Damian Kieran… his power stirs."
A slow inhale. Then, the smallest tilt of the head.
"And the girl?"
The vampire swallowed hard. "A lycan… strong. Not yet a threat, but"
A sharp crack echoed through the chamber. The vampire collapsed.
_Dead_ .
The hooded figure exhaled softly, stepping over the body like it was nothing more than an inconvenience.
"Not yet a threat," he murmured, almost amused.
His gaze lifted, though no one was left to see it. The shadows curled around him, drawn to his presence like a living thing.
"Then let us wait and see."
And then—he was gone.