The council hall of the Vampire Court was carved into the mountainside, lit by endless torches that never burned out. Shadows licked across the marble floors, the air so cold it turned breath to mist.
Liam stood in the center, his usual calm replaced by an uneasy stiffness. His fingers twitched at his sides; the ritual circle etched in silver on the floor had been wiped clean hours ago. Harper and Alex stood behind him, silent but watchful, while the Vampire Lord paced slowly before them — tall, ancient, his crimson cloak whispering over the stones.
"You seem disappointed," the Lord said at last, his tone calm but heavy, every word edged with age and power.
Liam straightened his back. "I'm not disappointed, my lord. Just… confused. You called off the Nightwalker ritual without explanation. I need to know why."
The Lord stopped, turning toward him. His eyes — silver fading into blood-red — studied Liam the way one might study a rare creature.
