"What?! Are you mad, Seamus?!" Diane's voice echoed all over the dream world.

She leaned close, her hand gripping his arm as if sheer force could anchor him. She whispered, "Why don't we wait for my mother? She'll come. Just hold out a little longer."

"She won't come," Seamus answered flatly, his tone calm but unyielding.

Diane froze, her brows furrowing in disbelief. "What do you mean? She would never abandon you."

"It's too risky for you to fall into the wrong hands."

Seamus's eyes, cold and unreadable, shifted toward her. "And what makes you think Velstrath House is the right one?"

The question hit her hard. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out, she pressed her lips shut.

Even she knew and couldn't deny that her house had never treated him with fairness, that loyalty to Velstrath came with chains just as heavy as those of any rival.

"So… you'll betray us?" Her voice cracked of anger and disappointed

The question hung between them like smoke, bitter and suffocating.

Seamus didn't answer. His silence was louder than words. His gaze lowered to his hand where the black snake tattoo writhed, moving like something alive, the ink twisting beneath his skin.

At the edge of his hearing came laughter, faint and mocking.

'She won't come.'

'She's talking to someone now,' Madeline's voice slithered through his mind, 'Do you want me to show you?'

He clenched his jaw, ignoring her.. He had no time for this, not when the childlike figure before him was staring with narrowed eyes, her eerie crimson gaze fixed on him as if she could see straight through him and Madeline.

"Okay then," Elle whispered, and her grin widened unnaturally across her pale face.

"I won't hurt any of you… because I'm going to bring you all with me."

The words slammed into them like a curse. Diane's breath caught in her throat as her hand tightened around her weapon.

Maria's eyes went wide, struggling against the invisible pressure that pinned her down, her lips parting in a voiceless cry.

"You—!" Diane broke forward, fury overtaking fear as she raised her blade, ready to strike at the girl again.

Seamus gritted his teeth, ready to attack her.

But before they could act, before blade or spell could cut through, the world shuddered.

Their feet stilled. Their weapons hung frozen in mid-motion. The air itself darkened, swallowing sound and color alike until there was nothing left but void.

.

.

.

"Hm… what a shame."

Madeline's voice lilted into the silence, lazy and amused. She stood alone, her pale figure bathed in the glow of countless floating candles.

The screen before her—the vision she had been watching—snapped shut into darkness.

Her lips twisted into a faint pout before curling back into their usual smirk.

"I suppose I'll need to do something about this…"

Around her stretched the endless library, shelves of tomes stacked higher than the eye could see.

She drifted forward, fingertips brushing the spines until she paused before one that pulsed faintly with blood-red light. With a gesture, it slid free, hovering in the air before her.

The book opened itself, its pages turning as if guided by an unseen hand until it stopped on a crest inked in black and crimson: the insignia of the Corvane.

A raven perched upon a bloody moon, its feathers sharp as blades, its eyes burning with malice.

The sight made Madeline chuckle, low and sweet. "Ah, yes. How fitting. A raven against a blood-red moon, the night of birth for the first vampire of this cursed world."

Her finger traced the emblem, lingering on the curve of the moon.

The Corvane House, ruled once by the empire's first prince, the crown's little sun, the one destined for the throne.

And yet he was also the first to fall in the 'Eternal War'—the great succession conflict, brother against brother, sister against sister, a war that turned kingdoms into ash and bent nations onto their knees.

"That's probably why that little princess is so desperate to restore the glory of her so-called kingdom," Madeline mused aloud, a smirk tugging at her lips.

She ran her hand across the smooth parchment, the texture warm as if it still remembered blood.

"But the real question is…" She tapped her chin with a long, pale finger, eyes narrowing with faint irritation.

"How do I make him awake? Or perhaps…" her smirk deepened, "…he's already dead."

The library around her seemed to exhale with her words, shadows stirring in the corners.

"That's the thing about the Emblem of Enigma," she said with a mocking sigh, her voice echoing off the shelves. "Too proud to even say 'hello' once in a while."

Madeline sighed and waved a hand. The screen before her flared to life again, this time showing Isolde and an older man.

He had gentle eyes, grey hair, and a face carved by wrinkles that somehow made him look more charming as he raised a cup to drink.

"Forgive the interruption," Isolde said with a slow smile, arms folding as if she were entirely at ease. "It seems we had a little snake listening to our words."

He lifted his cup with steady hands, his grey eyes softened by age yet sharpened by wisdom.

"Pay it no mind. I am well acquainted with discretion," he replied smoothly. "We are not gathered here to bring ruin upon our Houses, after all."

Madeline rolled her eyes. She'd heard enough of their banter. The man beside Isolde was Ulrich Draemir, patriarch of House Draemir: a wolf—loyal, measured, and elegant.

Compared to the chaotic heat of Velstarth or the brittle fury of Corvane, they were almost tame.

""How's that hotheaded young man doing? I trust he has not yet burned himself hollow."

"He is well," Isolde answered, her smirk curving faintly. "But he will not simply watch while his son plays in my palm… he won't let that adorable Seamus have the same destiny as him."

Ulrich's expression did not shift, but his words carried weight. "So I have heard that the bond between them is... less than harmonious. We can separate them and his fire will finally die down."

A low laugh escaped Isolde. "Indeed, the boy will choose our path. I have no doubt." she drink from her cup and continues, "Tell me, are the preparations complete?"

"Entirely," Ulrich inclined his head, voice steady, certain. "I had thought you would move sooner."

"Impatience does not suit me," she replied, her gaze narrowing with intent. "What we began must be seen through to its end. And for that, Ulrich Draemir, I will require your hand."

"Ah, the matters you outlined in your letter," he murmured, confidence gleaming in his eyes.

"That princess will receive what is owed to her." He set the cup aside,

"Besides, are we not also tending the human threads of this web? Their survival keeps the chain balanced and our table well supplied."

Ulrich and Isolde laughed together, their voices filling the room in a way that grated. Madeline's lips thinned into a line.

She knew their cooperation ran deeper than polite alliance; it smelled like a plan to weaken Corvane.

Still, Seamus had brought her the evidence of what Corvane had done. Their sins stacked on the files in his hand. Madeline felt tangled, unable to stop Isolde and even obligated to help her.

"Tch. I hate this," she muttered, balling her fingers into a fist before forcing herself to calm. "Let's focus on Seamus. He's in serious trouble right now."

***

The vampire hunters were already doomed the moment a black code came from their chief. Some regretted ever staying in the Bork branch even regretted ever setting foot in this gloomy town.

They should have left the moment their ex-chief's severed head had been delivered to them like a grim warning.

Yet others remained steadfast, standing their ground before the University of Bork. In their minds, only one thought burned: the safety of the students.

With all signals cut off and helicopters roaring above like restless vultures, unease tightened its grip on every hunter present.

"Quarter of students have already been evacuated through the south wing, in Building A," Matthew announced, his voice firm and carrying above the restless murmurs.

He had taken command by necessity, and his presence steadied the line. "Do not fear, Chief is there with them, overseeing the evacuation. I've also dispatched hunters to scout in case of the worst-case scenario."

That worst-case scenario was the nightmare they all dreaded: a vampire outbreak.

Matthew's first order had been to divide the hunters into groups, positioning them at every campus exit to keep the horde from spilling into the town beyond.

Their numbers were pitiful against the size of the university grounds, but Matthew held fast to his faith. He believed his Lady would come. She had to. She was benevolent, after all.

His faith was not born of naïve hope, it had been carved into him since childhood.

An orphan raised in a Velstrath-run home, he had given blood each month, trained like a soldier, and lived by their rules.

To him, it was salvation. It was far better than starving in the slums or watching his family be swallowed by war, as so many others had.

For education, warm food, and a place to sleep, Matthew had always been grateful. And for that, his loyalty was absolute.

"Matthew! Attack incoming!" a hunter's voice rang out, snapping him from his thoughts.

Scavengers were pouring in. He caught sight of them breaking through the lines as the hunters clashed, the battle quickly turning vicious.

There were too many. Already, some hunters were falling beneath the onslaught, overwhelmed and dragged down.

Matthew's grip tightened around his pistols until his knuckles whitened. His voice rang with iron resolve as he raised his weapons.

"It's time to prove my loyalty and the strength of Velstrath's will!"

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