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Soon enough, two vibrant and mesmerizing cocktails are placed before us, the colors glimmering like neon stars in the night sky and two shots of a mystery liquid. The drinks wink at us, inviting us in for an experience tantalizing our senses.

We exchange a glance and clink our glasses together. I take a swig of my shot and immediately regret it; it tastes like gasoline! My face twists in disgust as I hack and gag. Emily can’t help but laugh at the sight. The bartender snickers, too, sending me a conspiring look like he knew what this drink would do to me. I grab my cool glass of something more pleasant—sweet and sour, with a hint of burn that warms me from within.

Emily hoots, "Let's tear it up!"

I smirk, ready to unleash hell on that dance floor. This night's just getting started.

Rhyland

9

The pounding bass throbs as Erik and I enter the dim club. Bodies writhe on the dance floor, lost in the hypnotic rhythms. My eyes scan the sea of people, searching for any sign of Lucian's swaggering presence.

We weave through slowly, movements precise to avoid the intoxicated crowds. The electric energy draws us toward a charismatic figure encircled by admirers—our target in sight.

Lucian perches on a throne like a rakish king, surrounded by his enthralled subjects. A topless woman grinds on his lap as he runs his hands over her undulating body. His magnetic energy pulses, saturating the air with lust.

Erik and I exchange a knowing look as we approach his table. Lucian's gaze turns to us, amused and taunting.

"My brothers! To what do I owe the pleasure?" he drawls mockingly.

"Good to see you too, prick—" I grin, clapping his back.

"Didn't think you two would ever show your faces here," he retorts.

We sit near Lucian's throne, the music's bass still pulsing through us. His gaze scans the writhing mortal and immortal bodies like a lord surveying his domain. He reclines arrogantly, pride radiating from him.

I smirk at my impudent little brother. "So what insane shit have you been up to lately?"

Lucian snickers, eyes glinting wickedly. "Let's just say this is a place where people indulge their naughtiest urges. My clientele aren't exactly saints, if you catch my meaning." He grins salaciously. "I bought this den of sin a year ago. Business is booming. These suckers can't get enough."

Erik leans in, chiding gently, "You always did excel at satisfying mortals' desires."

Lucian guffaws. "What can I say? I have a gift! Those humans are just so delightfully needy." His cunning and boldness impress me despite myself.

"So," I prod with a mischievous grin, "any other depraved stories you care to share, little brother?"

Lucian easily moves through the mortal world, crafting the illusion of normalcy to blend in seamlessly. Humans and immortals adore him—he protects the vulnerable and champions justice, unlike others of our detached kind. I remember when we first crossed paths battling rogue vampires in New Orleans. We clashed at first but forged an unbreakable bond across the centuries.

“Gotta say, you've built quite the den of decadence here, little brother!” I remark, impressed by the passionate atmosphere.

Lucian beams with satisfaction. “Ain’t it glorious? This place is paradise!” His pride and boldness remain as infectious as ever.

As writhing bodies pack the dance floor, Lucian leans in, and his tone turns serious. “So what brings you two here? Must be important.”

I meet his gaze steadily. “Grave matters. The council wants to unravel the prophecy.”

Lucian's eyes sharpen with interest as he strokes his companion's curves. “Which one?”

"This prophecy's talking about some mortal badass, someone who's got what it takes to shield us from shit we can't even fathom," I lay it out. "They're pegged as our last damn shot at this."

Lucian leans back and scoffs, "A mortal savior? Oh please, how goddamn cliché! What's next, the 'chosen one' bullshit trope?" He barks out a mocking laugh. "Let me guess, this schmuck's the key to saving all the realms? Pull the other one; it's got bells on."

I suppress a smirk at his irreverence. "The council believes this prophecy deeply. But yes, it does seem far-fetched."

"No shit!" Lucian guffaws. "Have those crusty old farts heard themselves? This is some premium, grade-A horseshit if you ask me." he glances my way, "No offense, brother."

I shrug.