The council chamber emptied one by one, leaving Oban standing in silence. His body was still tired from his battles, but now there was no time to rest. The mission was set. Six vampires would go, led by one chosen for her reputation, not by vote.
Her name was Allisa.
Oban met her that very night in the castle courtyard. She stood tall, her long coat brushing against the cold stone, silver hair flowing down her back. Her eyes glowed faintly violet—not the hungry gleam of lesser vampires, but a calm, steady burn that suggested both wisdom and danger. The others were already there, forming a loose circle around her.
"This is the team," she said as Oban approached. Her voice was smooth but firm, carrying authority effortlessly. "I am Allisa. You will follow my command until the mission is done. If you cannot, you may leave now."
No one moved.
"All right then." She pointed to each in turn. "This is Kael, a tracker. He can sense blood over miles. That's how we'll find the prisoners once we're in."
Kael nodded briefly at Oban, his dark hair tied back, eyes narrow and calculating.
"Mira," Allisa continued. A small woman stepped forward, her expression unreadable. "She creates illusions. She'll keep eyes off us when we need it."
Oban noticed a faint shimmer around her outline, as if she wasn't fully decided on her shape.
"This is Darius. Muscle."
The largest member of the group grinned, folding his thick arms. His fangs showed openly.
"And this is Seren," Allisa finished, pointing to a man leaning against the wall. "Stealth. He handles locks, traps, anything that needs quiet hands."
Finally, she turned to Oban. "And you. You're new, but Aijack sent you, so I'll trust you to keep pace. Don't slow us down."
Oban felt the weight of her stare. He wanted to argue but held back the words. Instead, he nodded once. "I won't."
A brief silence passed. Then Allisa reached into her coat and pulled out something strange—an old black key, its edges jagged, carved with runes that shifted under the torchlight.
"The Shadow Key," she said. "It will take us where we need to go. Remember, there are countless dimensions beyond this one. Darkness is only one of many. The mages think they understand reality, but they've only scratched its surface."
Oban's chest get Tight. Countless dimensions? He thought his training had opened his eyes, but the world seemed wider at every moment.
"Form close," Allisa command
They stepped around her as she pressed the key into the air. The space in front of them rippled like disturbed water, shadows bleeding outward until a door-shaped tear appeared. Beyond it, Oban glimpsed nothingness—a swirling mix of dark blues, purples, and silver threads stretching infinitely.
"Stay close," she repeated. "If you drift, you won't return."
She turned the key again. The shadows swallowed them whole.
The shift was instant. One step, and Oban felt weightless. He was no longer on solid stone but moving through a tunnel of colors he couldn't name. He glanced sideways—Kael's outline flickered, Mira's body bent unnaturally as if she was made of smoke. His own hand stretched and blurred, as if it belonged to someone else.
Then, just as quickly, their feet struck cobblestone.
The air smelled of ash and bread, with torches burning at every corner. They were no longer in the castle—they stood in Lumeris, the mage city.
"Cover yourselves," Allisa said sharply. She wrapped her coat tighter, shifting her violet eyes to a plain brown. Her silver hair darkened until it matched the streets. Mira did the same effortlessly, weaving illusions over her form. Darius grumbled but pulled up a hood. Seren melted into shadow like a man who had done it many times before.
Oban hesitated but followed, pulling his cloak around himself. For the first time, he looked like any other traveler.
The city was alive despite the hour. Merchants closed their stalls, guards patrolled in pairs, and lanterns swayed overhead. People passed without suspicion, although Oban felt their gazes. They were human eyes, warm and cautious, nothing like the burning stares of vampires.
For a brief moment, he almost felt like one of them. Almost.
"All right," Allisa murmured, leading them deeper into the streets. "Act natural. Don't draw attention. Kael, sense them."
Kael closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. "North sector. A mile. They're bound tightly, but I can feel the pulse."
"Good," Allisa said. "We'll move quietly."
They walked through alleys, taking corners with practiced ease. Oban tried to steady his breathing, watching every detail—the smell of roasted meat from taverns, laughter spilling from a window, the flicker of runes glowing on doors. This city had life and warmth, the kind his world had never known. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to live here without the shadows of blood.
"Stop," Kael hissed suddenly.
Two guards turned into the street ahead, lanterns swaying. Their armor glowed faintly with runes. Unlike the villagers, these men moved with discipline, eyes sharp, hands ready.
"Keep moving," Allisa whispered, her voice calm.
The guards spotted them immediately. One raised a hand. "Wait. You there."
The group halted. Oban's heart raced.
"You don't look like citizens of Lumeris," the guard said, stepping closer. He gestured to the second, who unslung a metal box with glowing lines. The device hummed faintly, crystals sparking inside.
"Identification scan," the guard ordered. "Hand out your wrists."
Oban froze. His stomach tightened. If that machine touched him, the truth would spill instantly.
The guard reached for him first, but Allisa stepped forward.
"There's no need," she said softly.
The guards blinked. For a moment, their eyes clouded over. Allisa's gaze sharpened, and Oban felt it—something brushing against his thoughts, soft but powerful. A pressure—not on his body, but in his mind.
"You've already scanned us," she whispered.
"Yes…" one of the guards said slowly. His hand lowered. "We… already scanned you."
"And you found nothing," Allisa continued, her voice steady and low, weaving like silk.
"Nothing," the guard echoed. His partner nodded, eyes dull.
"Good. Then you'll keep walking."
"Yes…" They turned, lanterns swinging lazily, and disappeared into the night.
As soon as they were gone, Oban let out a rush of breath. His heart pounded. He stared at Allisa.
"What… what was that?" he asked, voice low.
Allisa didn't look back at him. "Mind manipulation. A gift some of us have."
"You bent their thoughts," Oban whispered, still processing.
"It's not bending. It's suggesting. They finish the thought themselves." Her tone was calm, almost casual. "It takes focus. Too much puts you at risk. But for weak minds, it's easy."
Oban's skin prickled. He had seen strength in claws and blades, even in blood barriers. But to touch thought itself—to reach inside another's mind and twist it—that was a power he hadn't imagined.
He kept staring at her until she finally met his gaze. Her violet eyes glowed faintly again, no longer brown.
"Don't be so shocked," she said quietly. "You'll learn in time. Every one of us carries something unique. That is what keeps us alive."
Oban nodded slowly, though his chest still felt tight.
"Come," Allisa said, turning back toward the streets. "The prison is close. Stay sharp."
The group moved again, their footsteps echoing softly against stone. Oban followed, his hand brushing the hilt of his Nightblade. For the first time since his awakening, he realized he wasn't just a fighter on his own. He was part of something larger—a hidden world of powers, lies, and shadows.
And he wasn't sure yet if he feared it or wanted it more than anything.