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The shadows binding him shuddered as they met his own, black meeting black until the ruined sanctuary groaned beneath the strain. Ancient cracks raced through the marble floor. Dust rained from the fractured dome overhead. The forgotten gods watched another battle unfold within the sanctuary built in their names and—as ever—remained silent.
“So,” Vaelor breathed, his voice touched with genuine wonder, “you truly have chosen her. Aurelion will be delighted.”
Lucan answered with violence.
Shadows obeyed his command before conscious thoughts took hold. They surged like starving beasts, hurling Vaelor across the sanctuary. Stone exploded where his back struck a broken column. Before the elder vampire could regain his footing, Lucan was already upon him.
His fist shattered bone.
Vaelor’s head snapped sideways with a sickening crack. Lucan struck him again before the older vampire had drawn another breath, then drove him through what remained of the ancient altar. Marble burst beneath them in a cloud of powdered stone.
Every blow carried five centuries of fury.
Aurelion.
His father.
Every scar carved across his own body.
Every scream swallowed before it reached another soul.
The thought of losing Elarian, of losing the one thing that had kept the flame of his humanity alive for centuries.
Vaelor retaliated at last, darkness erupting from beneath his feet in jagged spears. One caught Lucan across the shoulder, opening flesh to the bone. Another tore through his side.
He scarcely felt either.
He only kept advancing.
This was no prince preserving appearances before his court. No careful politician balancing alliances. No obedient son of the Bloodlord.
This was a cornered predator fighting for the only thing that mattered in this wretched, godsforsaken world.
“You’ve hidden yourself well,” Vaelor said quietly, blood spilling from his ruined mouth.
Lucan’s only answer was another wave of shadows.
They screamed through the sanctuary with enough force to extinguish the witchlights floating overhead. Darkness swallowed everything. Stone split. One of the ancient pillars collapsed entirely, crashing between them in an explosion of fractured marble.
When the dust cleared, Vaelor was already moving.
He fled with impossible speed. White silk vanished through the ruined archway, leaving only scattered droplets of blackened blood gleaming across the stone.
Lucan took one step after him.
Kill him.
The command rose from every instinct he possessed.
One more heartbeat. One more strike. End this.
His shadows gathered again—
Then, behind him came a sound so soft, no human would ever have heard it: a single, wavering breath, followed by a swallowed sob of pain. Everything inside him stopped as Lucan turned.
Elarian remained standing only through stubbornness. One hand still pressed desperately against her ribs; blood slipped steadily between her fingers, tracing black silk before dripping soundlessly onto the shattered marble. The dagger hung forgotten in her other hand, its point trembling ever so slightly.
Their eyes met even as Vaelor Thane disappeared into the corridors beyond.
