Aldric leaned farther back into the couch, one arm draped over the backrest as he watched the scene unfold.
"You know," he said lazily, "for someone with a worldwide bounty on his head, you look awfully domestic."
Draven didn't even glance at him.
Elenya had fully committed to climbing him, one pastry-smeared hand gripping his collar while the other made another determined grab for the bottle. Lucifer sat more composed in his other arm, quietly chewing, though his tiny fingers were hooked into Draven's shirt like he expected to be dropped at any moment.
The cat finally managed to leap onto Draven's shoulder.
Draven spoke flatly.
"I'm not catching you."
The cat's tail flicked across his cheek.
It stayed.
"…Dumbass."
Lyriana stood near the window, peering through the curtain at the dimming sky. Mana streetlights flickered brighter outside as evening fully settled over the town.
"They're increasing patrols," she said quietly. "More than earlier."
Aldric clicked his tongue. "Of course they are. Word spreads fast. Especially after a 'worldwide bounty.'"
Draven's grip tightened slightly around the bottle.
Still no emotion on his face.
Just calculation.
"They can't track me," he said calmly. "If they could, they wouldn't need the bounty."
"Unless," Aldric added, "they want someone else to flush you out."
Draven took another sip.
The room fell quiet.
Even the television murmured low in the background, repeating the announcement about the Demon King's son. His face flashed across the screen again beneath bold red letters:
WANTED — DEAD OR ALIVE.
Elenya suddenly babbled something incoherent and slapped the bottle.
The drink spilled over Draven's hand.
He looked down at the liquid dripping between his fingers.
"…You gonna clean that up?"
She grinned at him.
Lucifer blinked slowly, then leaned his forehead against Draven's chest as though none of this concerned him.
The cat curled loosely around Draven's neck like a living scarf.
Aldric studied him more carefully now.
"You're not angry," he said.
Draven's eyes shifted slightly toward the screen again.
His voice was quiet.
"That's why I'm calm."
A faint pulse of mana rippled across his skin before settling back into that dangerous folded rotation inside him.
The room remained dim, the television still murmuring about gold, glory, and the head of the Demon King's son.
Draven lifted the bottle again.
He didn't look at the screen.
Didn't look at Aldric.
Didn't look at Lyriana.
"I don't give a shit about any damn bounty," he said flatly.
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
"I sure as hell don't have the luxury of getting angry right now."
Elenya shifted in his arm, pressing her sticky, pastry-covered hand against his chest. Lucifer leaned quietly against him, small fingers curled tightly into his shirt.
Draven's eyes lowered to them.
"The only thing on my mind," he continued, quieter now, "is getting them somewhere safe."
The mana inside him continued its violent rotation—folding, compressing, grinding against itself like a storm trapped in a bottle.
Everything else—the empire, the priests, the bounty hunters, the ships—faded behind that single thought.
"Everything else is background noise."
Aldric watched him carefully now, no grin on his face.
Lyriana's gaze softened slightly.
Draven raised the bottle and drank again despite the taste.
His jaw tightened as the bitter liquid slid down his throat.
"I'll do what I must," he said.
"No matter what happens."
The cat shifted on his shoulder, its tail brushing his jaw.
Outside, patrol boots echoed faintly against stone.
Inside, the television repeated:
WANTED — DEAD OR ALIVE.
Lyriana turned from the window.
"What's the plan?" she asked.
Draven looked down at the two small bodies in his arms.
At the cat balanced on his shoulder.
At the crumbs stuck to his shirt.
"At dawn," he said, "we move."
He finished the drink and lowered the empty bottle.
His eyes were steady.
Cold.
Focused.
"…Still tastes like shit."
Time slipped by quietly.
Outside the window, the golden hue of evening stretched across the town. Mana-powered streetlights flickered to life one by one as the sun dipped behind the border walls.
Inside the house, the air had changed.
They were no longer resting.
They were preparing.
---
Upstairs, Draven stood by the window, watching the last edge of sunlight disappear. The folding mana within him continued its relentless rotation—controlled, compressed, dangerous.
The pain was still there.
Constant.
But manageable.
Lucifer lay calmly on the bed, already dressed, small hands resting on his knees like a quiet noble observing the world. Elenya, meanwhile, was attempting to crawl toward the cat again.
The cat sat upright near the door, tail swaying lazily, pretending not to notice her approach.
Draven glanced over.
"We're moving."
Elenya looked up at him with wide crimson eyes.
Lucifer blinked once.
Draven stepped forward and lifted both of them effortlessly into his arms. The cat leapt up on its own, landing on his shoulder before climbing to its usual place atop his head.
He didn't complain this time.
---
Downstairs, Aldric adjusted the sleeves of his new clothes, rolling his shoulders.
"You'd think laying low meant actually laying low," he muttered, though a faint grin tugged at his lips.
Lyriana stood near the door, already cloaked in a thin veil of mana concealment. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were sharp.
Vaelith emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands clean. She had prepared fresh blood for the journey—sealed carefully inside crystal containers.
"My lord," she said softly as Draven descended the stairs, "everything is ready."
Draven reached the bottom step and paused.
The television was off now.
The house was silent.
No one had woken.
Good.
Aldric glanced at him. "Same plan? Quiet exit?"
Draven nodded once.
"We don't linger."
Outside, the sky deepened into violet.
Soldiers still patrolled the streets.
Lanterns glowed.
Shadows lengthened.
Draven adjusted his grip on his siblings, mana wrapping subtly around his body—not flaring, not wild—just enough.
"Vaelith."
His voice was low, controlled.
She paused mid-step.
"Hand what you're holding to Lyriana."
Without hesitation, Vaelith turned and passed the sealed crystal containers to Lyriana. The vampire accepted them smoothly, though her eyes flickered with curiosity.
Draven then looked at Vaelith.
"Come here."
She stepped closer at once.
He shifted Lucifer and Elenya in his arms for a moment… then extended them toward her.
"You're carrying them from now on."
Silence.
Even the night wind seemed to still.
Vaelith's crimson eyes widened—just slightly—before she bowed her head and accepted both children with the utmost care.
"My lord."
Aldric, hovering a few feet above the ground, blinked.
"…Well I'll be damned."
He descended lightly, staring.
"To think you'd hand your siblings over to her. I thought you didn't trust anyone." A grin tugged at his lips. "And here I was thinking you barely tolerated her. But you even know her name. Vaelith."
Lyriana's gaze shifted quietly between them.