The old man's eyes glowed brighter as he stared into the veil. "That's not failure, Luther. That's survival. No vampire has ever done that—not even the gods we once worshipped."
Luther opened his mouth but found no words.
Eryndor looked over his shoulder at him. "So tell me, my dear great-grandson… if the prophecy said the one destined to rule all would awaken under the red moon, then perhaps you should ask yourself this—"
He pointed at the blood cocoon where Xavier writhed, gold light flickering within.
"—what if the prophecy never said it had to be a vampire?"
Luther stood frozen, words scraping out of him like gravel.
"You could be mistaken," he said. "Think about it. Our kind existed long before theirs. Even the prophecy that spoke of the True Lord never said when it would happen. And look at him—"
