The Volturi had returned.
Sebastien Valet, still garbed in his tailored black-and-violet ensemble, led the procession up the polished stone steps of his estate. It was a chateau nestled in the Spanish hills, secluded and obscured by age-old spells from witches who owed the Volturi countless favors. Its façade was regal and cold, ivy trailing its columns, its silhouette a sharp contrast against the moonlit backdrop.
Shauna, bound in vervain-laced chains intertwined with silver, writhed between Khan and Heidi as they dragged her into the mansion. The burns around her wrists and ankles wept steam with each movement. Her skin, despite her vampiric healing, could not soothe itself under the constant torment of those bindings. They brought her to a secured chamber—one of the oldest rooms in the manor.
The room was sparse save for thick stone walls etched with runes and sigils, a drain in the center of the floor, and metal rings embedded at strategic points. The chains binding her limbs were locked to these rings until she hung partially suspended, a mock crucifixion.
Sebastien entered with his usual calm, eyes taking in the room like an artist admiring his own gallery. He stood in front of her, gaze unreadable.
"You're shielding your mind well," he said, voice soft like velvet draped in steel. "A lesser vampire would have given me all I needed the moment I looked into their eyes."
Shauna bared her teeth. "Do your worst, monster."
He tilted his head.
"No," he said simply.
Then his violet eyes flared, and he whispered, "Burn."
Shauna's scream tore from her throat, but it wasn't heard. Her body convulsed, but no physical flame touched her. The agony bloomed from within as Sébastien's illusion pierced the deepest chambers of her mind. In her subconscious, she was ablaze—her nerves alight, her flesh flaking away in molten sheets. Her soul writhed atop a phantom pyre.
"Feel that," he said. "Let it sear through you—hang there, on a cross of fire, in the darkest corner of your psyche. I don't need your mind broken. Not yet. Just blistered."
Her eyes were wide, and her fangs extended in agony. But she remained conscious. That, he allowed.
Sebastien turned away as if she were now no more than a smoldering candle. "Khan," he said without looking. "Send out the trackers. Backtrace every move this coven made. I want their trail. From the cradle of this foolish plan to its grave."
Khan inclined his head. "Yes, sir."
Heidi, arms crossed and perched in the corner like a cat poised to pounce, quirked an eyebrow. "You already have suspects, don't you?"
Sebastien paused at the door. "Of course. But confirmation is preferable."
"Considering what?" she asked.
He turned to them, his smile gone. "Because if I'm right, it means war."
Amelia, until then silent with her helmet under her arm, stepped forward. "War with who?"
His eyes narrowed.
"The Strix."
The room fell into eerie stillness.
Heidi exhaled sharply, Amelia tensed, and even Shauna's writhing ceased momentarily.
Sebastien strode out, and they followed him into the grand hall. A fire roared in the hearth, casting shadows that danced across oil paintings and ornate carvings. He lowered himself into a velvet-backed chair with slow, deliberate grace. Heidi, knowing his moods, poured him a glass of absinthe-rose wine and handed it to him wordlessly.
He took a long sip before speaking.
"The Strix," he began, his tone that of a lecturer with blood-soaked parchment, "are the oldest vampire society in known existence. Formed in the Middle Ages. Their founder? Elijah Mikaelson."
Heidi's eyebrows climbed.
"Yes. My sire. Though he's likely tried to forget that chapter. As the story goes, Elijah and a woman named Aya began it as a society for the brilliant and ambitious among vampires—scientists, philosophers, artists. Visionaries."
He looked into the fire. "But then came Mikael. Their father. The boogeyman of our kind."
Khan added, "He hunted the Originals for centuries."
Sebastien nodded. "Indeed. Elijah fled, begged Aya to run. She refused. Stayed. And it was a massacre. Or so the legends go."
Heidi leaned in. "But they weren't all killed."
"No. Aya survived. And Tristan de Martel took over."
Amelia frowned. "And twisted the Strix into something else."
"Yes. A cadre of elitist sociopaths. Assassins. Politicians. Puppeteers. They sparked wars. Killed kings. Erased bloodlines."
He set the glass down.
"I was approached 85 years ago. Tristan himself offered me a place. I declined."
Khan blinked. "Wait. Tristan? The Tristan?"
Sebastien nodded slowly. "He was older. Stronger. And he didn't appreciate my refusal."
He stood, pacing.
"The battle that followed nearly ended me. I had to fake my death with a conjured illusion of my own shredded corpse to escape. He left thinking he'd won."
He paused, glancing at the chained Shauna. "If these 'Blood Sires' are a Strix offshoot, or worse, operatives, then either Tristan knows I live, or they're probing."
"Probing for what?" Amelia asked.
"Power structures. Stability. Who rules what."
He looked back at them. "If they come again, it won't be with amateurs."
Khan stepped forward. "Shall I double the patrols?"
Sebastien nodded. "And release the ravens. I want eyes on everything. From Madrid to Marseille."
Heidi and Amelia exchanged a glance, then vanished in a blur of speed.
Khan bowed his head and disappeared.
Now alone, Sebastien crossed the hall to the towering window. The moon glowed silver across the hills. The wine glass still in hand, he drank slowly.
He remembered the scent of ash. The ringing of bells as he and Tristan clashed atop the cliffs of Montserrat. Illusions of fire, wolves, and falling bodies. He remembered how close it came. How nearly his heart had been staked.
He remembered Aya's name whispered in the dark, and Elijah's disappointment when he learned Sebastien had refused the Strix.
"And I would do it again," he murmured.
His violet eyes flared, igniting with ominous psychic light.
Some wars, he thought, are better fought before they begin.
-----
The moon still hung high in the night sky, casting a pale silver glow across the Spanish countryside as Khan sped like a blur across open plains, dirt paths, and shadowed woods. The trees whipped past him, nothing more than blurs in his sharp vision. His mind, however, was entirely focused.
The Death Dealers had long-established protocols for tracing enemy movements, and Khan, being one of the co-captains, had initiated every known measure once Sebastien had given the order.
Hours had passed since Shauna had been bound in the chamber of chains. The Death Dealers had split into their reconnaissance teams and spread across the region, retracing every move the Blood Sires had made. Through scent trails, psychic imprints, energy residue, and witch-infused tracker glyphs, they had gathered a near-complete map of the coven's movements.
Khan stood atop a rocky outcrop now, his armor faintly gleaming beneath the moonlight. In his hand was a small metallic compass-like object—an ancient Volturi tracking device that worked on ambient psychic traces. He turned it slowly, watching the thin violet needle oscillate erratically before pointing toward a mountain ridge far to the northeast.
His lips tightened.
Moments later, other Death Dealers arrived at the rendezvous. Amelia appeared in a blur of wind, her bladed whip coiled at her hip. Heidi arrived shortly after, blood-red eyes shimmering with curiosity.
"Report," Khan said without pleasantries.
One of the lower trackers stepped forward, panting slightly from the rapid travel. "They didn't originate from here. The Blood Sires came into Valencia only a month ago. Before that, they were in Marseille, and before that... parts of Bavaria."
Another tracker interjected. "But that's not all. The Blood Sires weren't formed organically. They weren't a natural coven. We found signs of magical compulsion—several of the newborns had spell remnants in their bloodstream. Blood magic."
Khan frowned. That wasn't standard vampire behavior.
Heidi's eyes narrowed. "Blood magic? That suggests witches—rogue ones. Possibly enslaved."
Amelia crossed her arms. "Or willing allies."
The second tracker handed Khan a map, various locations circled. "We've identified at least three other similar splinter covens across Europe. One in Warsaw, another in Lisbon, and a third near Budapest. All moving similarly—quiet arrivals, sudden recruitment, then violent dominance."
Khan looked over the data, his brow furrowed. It was like watching pieces of a dark puzzle click into place.
He looked up, voice low. "They're probing. The Blood Sires weren't an isolated threat. They were a scouting force."
Heidi cursed under her breath. "You think they were sent to test the Volturi's strength?"
"Not just us," Khan replied. "Spain is a key territory. If they're doing this across the continent... they're measuring power levels, assessing responses."
Amelia scowled. "The Strix. It has to be. Who else has the resources, the arrogance, and the strategic planning to run synchronized field tests like this?"
Khan nodded grimly. "And now... the Blood Sires are gone. No word. No return. That silence will not go unnoticed."
The implication settled over them like a weight. The Strix would come. Whether to retaliate, investigate, or conquer—they would come.
Khan looked to the horizon once more, the wind catching the edge of his coat. The moon had dipped slightly lower, signaling the oncoming dawn, though the night still lingered.
"We need to return to Sebastien," he said finally. "He must prepare."
Without another word, he blurred into motion, leaving a gust of wind and disturbed leaves in his wake. Heidi and Amelia followed seconds later, each a shadow streaking through the Spanish countryside.
The hunter had followed the trail. The enemy was known.
But the war?
The war was just beginning.