Lucian stood deep within the forest, the moonlight filtering weakly through the canopy above. His body ached—not from wounds, but from restraint. He could still feel the warmth of Asher's presence lingering in his senses, the beat of his pulse echoing like a siren call.
Crimson eyes burned in the dark.
For centuries, he had hidden himself away, avoiding the temptation of human blood, avoiding the bonds that once destroyed him. Yet in one fleeting night, all of that discipline trembled.
That boy.
The locket.
The name he had not heard in lifetimes—Amara.
Lucian closed his hand around the hilt of his silver dagger, stabbing it into the earth as though to anchor himself. Memories clawed their way back, unbidden—her face, her voice, the betrayal that ended everything.
And now, her relic had chosen another.
"He looks nothing like her," Lucian muttered, though the lie burned on his tongue. Asher's diamond-shaped eyes glowed with the same unearthly light. The same presence of fate clung to him.
He turned, sensing movement.
From the shadows stepped Orion, his most trusted ally. Dressed in dark armor, with a presence almost as commanding as his own, Orion bowed lightly. "You were seen, my lord. The hunters grow restless. Victor has returned to the town."
Lucian's jaw tightened. "Let him come. His kind has always been too late."
Orion's eyes flickered. "And the boy?"
Silence hung heavy. Lucian's gaze lifted to the moon above, crimson against silver, fire against ice. "…The boy is not ready."
"Or you are not ready, master?"
Lucian's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Perhaps neither of us are."
As Orion faded back into the forest, Lucian remained, his hunger aching deeper. He had touched restraint for centuries, but the sight of Asher's pulse beneath pale skin, the scent of his fear laced with defiance—how much longer could he fight against it?
For the first time in ages, Lucian felt alive.
And for the first time in ages, he feared it.
To be continued....