Graveton burned with whispers.
Not fire — not yet — but tension so thick it curled in the gutters, sank into the stone, and whispered through the veins of every vampire hiding behind a smile.
Jayden was missing.
Ashkar was rising.
And the bloodlines were splitting.
---
The Elders' Divide
At Vharnyx Keep, the once-unified Elders now stood on opposite sides of the throne chamber.
Lord Mordax demanded war preparations: "We silence Ashkar again before his rot spreads!"
Duchess Nyserra seethed: "Silence the boy instead. It is he who opened the tomb."
But Count Thorne, always calm, always watching, simply said:
> "No. The world no longer belongs to the old ones. It belongs to him."
A gasp.
"You mean to side with Ashkar?"
"No. I mean to side with change. You just don't like who brings it."
The Elders broke into argument.
By nightfall, three bloodlines had already left the Keep.
Some to ally with Ashkar.
Some to hunt Jayden.
And a few to watch… and wait.
---
Jayden's Return
Jayden reappeared two nights later — not hiding, not limping.
Walking.
Through the front gates of Graveton's Watchtower District, cloaked in black ash, eyes burning faint white. A different kind of glow.
Not divine.
Not cursed.
Just... certain.
Elira ran to him, breathless. "Where have you—?"
Jayden pulled her into a hug. "I'm here now."
"But what happened?"
"I met the first vampire."
Seraya stepped from the shadows. "And?"
Jayden looked at them — his allies, his chosen family, his reason for refusing the throne.
> "He offered me the world."
> "I told him I'd take it… but not with him on the throne."
---
Bloodcall
That same night, across every vampire city, a sound was heard.
Not a bell. Not a scream.
A heart. Beating.
Loud. Echoing through every bloodborn.
The Bloodcall.
A summoning not heard in over 900 years.
A challenge to all vampires of age and power:
> "Choose your House."
> "Swear your oath."
> "Or bleed trying."
---
The Night Council Rises
Jayden lit a brazier at the edge of the old Graveton Temple — now ruined from the Archivist's war.
He raised a black banner stitched with both a vampire fang and a human hand.
"We are not just rebels," he told those who gathered. "We are not bound by their rules."
"We are not the Hollow. We are not the Outsiders."
"We are the Night Council — and this time, we write the laws."
Hundreds listened.
Dozens pledged.
One elder — Lady Vayla of the Twilight Brood — knelt and offered her blade.
> "Then I swear it. I follow the blood that chooses freedom."
---
The First Blood Duel
As news spread, a challenger arrived — not from the Keep, not from the streets, but from a forgotten clan that once ruled the southern cities.
A vampire warlord named Xavien Rauth, wrapped in black flame, eyes glowing like dried coals.
"I accept the Bloodcall," he said before the Council.
"But I challenge your right to lead it."
Jayden stepped forward.
"I accept."
They fought beneath the ruins, surrounded by every bloodline, every spy, every hungry ghost.
Xavien was old — faster, meaner, cruel.
Jayden was something else.
He bled.
He burned.
And then… he broke the warlord's sword with his bare hands — and plunged it through Xavien's own chest.
> The duel was over.
Jayden stood, chest rising, eyes dimmed but sharp.
> "Any other objections?"
Silence.
---
Closing Scene
Far away, Ashkar watched the sky from the peak of the Black Spine.
A raven landed near him.
Its eyes burned violet — a messenger from the Seer Nyxa.
Ashkar opened the scroll tied to its leg.
> "The boy rises faster than the script allowed."
Ashkar smiled faintly.
> "Then perhaps it's time… we flip the page early."
Behind him, ten thousand vampires marched from the old cities.
Not dead.
Not alive.
Just waiting for their god to tell them where to go.
And the world — again — tilted toward war.