The throne room was still. No one spoke.
Lucifer stood with his back to them, eyes scanning the high walls and faded carvings. Time had carved dust into every corner of the keep, but now the castle was breathing again. You could feel it—in the air, in the floor, in your chest.
Valena walked carefully to the side of the hall, passing Luna without a word. Her eyes stayed down, but her steps were sure. She'd grown up in this realm, under stone skies and black moons, under laws written in fear and passed by names who thought fear made them rulers.
This felt different.
She didn't say it. She didn't need to.
Luna watched her go with quiet curiosity. No judgment. Just someone trying to learn.
Dracula stood still, one hand behind his back, his eyes lowered but not blank. There was weight in his silence—not submission, not duty, but memory. This castle was part of him, just like the blood in his veins.
