Page 5

The council chamber feels colder than usual tonight. The ancient stone walls, carved with protective runes that glow faintly in the dim torchlight, seem to echo with the tension filling the room. Dorian and I felt an intense pull to gather the factions before outrage consumed everyone and there wasn’t a chance to.

Sylvie is home, where she belongs, cloistered in safety, protected from the world’s dangers. It is the sole reason I am able to fix my thoughts upon the impending night and not be swept away by the chaos brewing within. She spoke of spending the evening with Rebecca and Nicole, a small gesture of normalcy amidst the storm. A new film, one they’ve longed to view, will be their escape for the night.

I cast my gaze across the chamber, where vampires of each faction have assembled—each one a solitary figure within their designated enclave, unwilling to mingle, as is their way. Which, I confess, suits me. I have no desire to converse with the Unbound—the feral deviants who roam the world as they please, killing anyone and everyone for their own gain—or the Ascendancy—their totalitarian society, so removed from any semblance of humanity.

Our faction, the Midnight Alliance, is assembled on one side, our members seated with rigid formality, while the Ascendancy maintains their accustomed air of lofty superiority on the opposite side. Across from them, the Unbound slouch in their chairs, lounging like the barbarians they are, their confidence a bitter affront that gnaws at my restraint. They’re probably merely thinking of the next human they’ll surprise and drain on the outskirts of our region—where they roam.

Hunt.

The chamber is quieter than I anticipated, save for the scrape of boots and whispered conversations that bounce off the high ceilings. Dorian sits beside me, his usual relaxed demeanor replaced with the same grim resolve etched on every face here.

“We all know why we’re here,” Dorian begins, taking control, his voice steady but low. “Our blood packs are gone. Stolen. The entire reserve.” He pauses, scanning the room. “If we don’t address this immediately, the fragile peace we’ve maintained will unravel. All will be for nothing.”

“Fragile?” scoffs a member of the Ascendancy, his aristocratic features twisted in a sneer. “Let’s not pretend your little experiment wasn’t doomed from the start. Relying on humans to willingly hand over their blood was always beneath us.”

A murmur of assent ripples through the Ascendancy ranks, but Dorian presses on. “We built this system to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. To maintain the balance between us and them.”

“And now your precious system has failed,” a voice interjects, low and mocking.

All heads turn toward the Unbound section of the room. Their leader, Kristoff, a towering, ghostly figure with a jagged scar cutting across his cheek, leans forward in his chair, legs spread wide, his predatory grin visible even in the dim light.

“You’ve spent decades cloaking yourselves in the guise of civilization,” he continues, his voice dripping with derision. “Feeding from fuckin’ plastic bags instead of the veins of your prey. Now look at you—heading toward starving, desperate. And still clinging to the illusion that you’re better than the rest of us.”

Dorian stiffens, his voice sharp with restraint. “The system hasn’t failed. It’s been sabotaged. By the Solstice Society—a common threat. This should be an issue to all of us, regardless of if you feed from ‘fuckin’ plastic bags’ or not. Being sabotaged in one area is only going to lead to them testing us in other areas.”

“Sabotaged?” The scarred vampire laughs maniacally, a sound that echoes ominously through the chamber. “Of course it was. They saw you for what you are—weak. And they’ve done us a favor, really. Now you have no choice but to remember what it means to be real vampires.”

“Real vampires?” I speak before Dorian has a chance to respond, my voice slicing through the growing tension. “You mean beasts. Creatures of pure instinct, with no thought beyond the next kill. You call that real? It’s feral. Inhumane. You are draining and slaughtering humans with no regard for life.”

His grin widens. “I call it being free. Not leashed like dogs, begging scraps from humans who would rather see us dead. You’ve let them tame you. You’ve let them make you forget what we are.”

“Enough!” Dorian slams his hand upon the table, the sound reverberating through the chamber like a thunderclap. “We didn’t come here to debate philosophy. We came to discuss how to resolve this crisis. If ever there were a time to come together, it should be when an entire covenant of people wants to see us wiped out from the earth. Yes, this is about blood, but for those of you who don’t care, it’s also about our potential extinction. Have you no regard for that?” He lets out a long sigh, looking to each faction. “How are we going to resolve this?”

“Resolve?” Kristoff leans back, feigning amusement with a wide-eyed gaze. “There’s nothing to resolve . The solution is simple—hunt. Feed. Take what we need, as we always should have.”

“That is no solution,” I snap. “It’s a declaration of war. Against humans. Against each other. How do you not see how bad this is going to get? And quickly? As Dorian said, even aside from the blood issue, there’s a much larger issue at hand with the Solstice Society. And it includes all of us, regardless of how we’ve divided ourselves up.”

“War is already at your doorstep,” Kristoff replies, his voice deadly calm. “You’re just too frightened to admit it. What do the kids say nowadays? It’s very on-brand for your weakened kind.”

The argument erupts like a tempest, each faction clinging to its ideology with an almost desperate fervor, as if holding on for dear life.

The Ascendancy, predictably, takes the first swing. "This crisis demands order," declares their second-in-command, Tobias, a tall vampire with hair so pale it gleams like stubborn moonlight. His voice carries the clipped cadence of someone who has rarely been questioned. "Our priority should be the preservation of our kind. We must consolidate resources, fortify our estates, and ensure that those of value are protected."

“Of value?” spits Dorian, his hand curling into a fist on the table. “What are the rest of us, then? Cannon fodder?”

Tobias regards him with a cold, mocking smile. “If the shoe fits.”

Before Dorian can retort, a sharp laugh cuts through the rigidity. It comes from the scarred vampire, who leans back in his chair with the smug satisfaction of someone watching a circus. “I quite love this,” Kristoff says, gesturing lazily at the Ascendancy. “Always the same song. Hide in your mansions, count your gold, and pretend the world isn’t burning outside your gates. You lot are a relic.”

“Better a relic than a rabid beast,” Tobias snaps with venom. “Your kind —if we can even dare to call it that—are the reason we’re in this godforsaken position to begin with.”

“Please,” Kristoff drawls, his grin stretching wider. “Don’t flatter yourself with the illusion that anyone cares enough about you to sabotage this truce. The Solstice Society targeted you and your precious bagged blood because they know you’re the weakest of our three factions. And they know that when your hunger sets in, the Midnight Alliance will crumble first. You are so far removed from this life, it’s downright laughable. May as well be humans yourselves.” He glances at me with deliberate contempt. “The only thing holding you together is denial.”

Dorian rises, his calm facade fracturing. “We agreed to peace because we believed in a better way,” he says, his voice rising in a passionate crescendo. “Not for ourselves, but for the future of our kind and for civilization as a whole.”

“Peace?” Another Unbound vampire, a wiry figure with sunken eyes, sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “You call this peace? Feeding from plastic bags like livestock? Bowing to humans?” He scoffs and crosses his arms firmly over his chest, looking to Vada, Kristoff’s lover. “If we had it our way, humans would be the inferior species. We’d keep them like cattle and farm them like the no-good nothings they are. We would be the premier species.”

“It’s survival,” Tobias retorts.

“It’s pathetic,” Kristoff vampire interjects. He spreads his hands as if addressing children. “Listen closely, little lambs. The humans hate us. Always have, always will. The blood packs didn’t change that. You’ve just found your army of desperation—humans who will willingly give you blood in exchange for a cheap vampire-fuck. They’re just a leash. And now that leash is gone.”

The room erupts into chaos, a whirlwind of shouting and acrimony. The Ascendancy demands silence while the Unbound revel in the uproar, yelling and raving like feral fools. Dorian tries to restore order, but his voice is swallowed by the cacophony.

I have heard enough.

“This isn’t sustainable,” I declare, my voice rising above the din, sharp as a blade, cutting through the mayhem.

The room stills. All eyes turn to me.

“The Solstice Society is the true enemy here,” I continue. “They’ve orchestrated this crisis with the sole purpose of sowing discord among us. And, by the looks of it, it’s working.”

The silence that follows is palpable, heavy with tension.

“What do you propose, dear Lucian?” Tobias speaks first, his tone a mixture of condescension and genuine curiosity. “Another noble speech about unity?” He makes a motion like he’s jerking his century-old cock and rolls his eyes.

How mature.

“No.” I meet his gaze coldly. “A plan. We locate the stolen blood packs. We expose the Solstice Society for the threat they are, and we take them out before they can take us out. And until then, we survive—without tearing each other apart.”

“And if we don’t find the packs?” Kristoff leans forward, his grin returning. His eyes glint with amusement, as though he’s enjoying this far too much. “How long do you think your precious peace will last when hunger sets in? A week? Two?”

I meet his gaze unflinchingly. “We will find them. And in the interim, we’ll start rebuilding our reserve.” I look around at the other members of the Midnight Society, who still look unsure, nervous, but who nod along anyway.

“You’d better hope so,” Kristoff says, his voice low and mocking. “Because when this alliance crumbles—and it will—don’t come crying to us. We’ll be busy thriving. The way our kind was meant to.”

He rises from his seat, his movements languid and deliberate. The other Unbound follow, their laughter echoing through the chamber like the taunt of a predator walking away from its prey. I already know their destination: the outskirts of our domain, where the chaos will be unleashed in their wake.

The room feels eerily empty in the wake of the Unbound's departure, but their mocking laughter lingers in the air like a foul stain. For a moment, no one speaks, the weight of their words hanging over us like an ominous storm cloud, a threat too near to ignore.

The silence rings loud, a thick veil woven of tension and unsaid truths, until it is broken by Tobias’s steely voice. His words are calm, measured, yet the subtle tremor beneath his pale features betrays a slight crack in his composure. “It doesn’t matter what they do. The Unbound are parasites. They’ll latch onto chaos, feed on it, and leave the rest of us to pick up the pieces. It was pointless to even include them tonight. Or ever.”

“Which is precisely why we need to act,” Dorian says, his tone sharp and full of vigor. He turns to the Ascendancy group, his frustration barely concealed. “You can’t ignore this anymore. The Solstice Society isn’t going to stop. They’ve already proven they can cripple us. What happens when they escalate? When it’s not just blood packs, but direct attacks on our kind—or worse, on the humans who sustain us? We’ve already been experiencing firsthand issues with their group over the last few weeks. They are getting closer to ending the curse, thus ending us, or bending it to their will, by the day.” Dorian’s voice reverberates through the chamber, ringing of authority, his dark eyes burning with conviction.

Tobias folds his arms and leans back in his chair with a quiet arrogance. “You assume we haven’t considered that, Dorian. The Ascendancy has contingency plans for every scenario, including human casualties. This crisis will pass, as all others have. We simply need to retreat, consolidate resources, and wait them out. They haven’t broken or bent the curse in the past, it’s not happening anytime soon.”

“You’re not providing a solution,” I interject, my voice cutting through the ever-thickening tension. “Retreating only emboldens them. Every step we take back is a step they take forward. They’ll keep pressing until there’s no one left to resist them.”

He regards me with a cold, assessing gaze. “And you propose we strike at them? At the Solstice Society? Do you even know where to begin? Who to target? Their network is vast, their leaders elusive. We might not want to think they’re powerful, but they are. With dark magic on their side, they have endless capabilities.”

“Exactly! But they are not invincible,” I counter. “No one is. If we can identify their leadership and cut off the head of the serpent, the rest will wither. We already have contact with one of the administration leaders. The Society thrives on fear and division. If we deny them that, their power crumbles.”

His lips thin, and he glances at the other Ascendancy members, their faces unreadable behind their decades upon decades of practiced neutrality. Finally, he speaks, his tone measured. “Let’s say we agree. Do you have a plan? Or is this more of your idealistic drivel?”

“I’m working on one,” I admit. “But it starts with intelligence. We need to know who their leaders are, where they operate, because they don’t solely rely on their headquarters for their own planning, and how they are planning to strike next. That means cooperation—between the Ascendancy, the Midnight Alliance, and anyone else willing to stand against them.”

Dorian nods solemnly, the weight of his agreement hanging heavily in the air. “He’s right. The Unbound may have washed their hands of this, but we can’t afford to. If the Society succeeds, none of us will survive their purge. They’ve already proven they can manipulate us, even infiltrate us. The time for sitting idle is over.”

A murmur ripples through the Ascendancy members, their perfect facades cracking as they exchange uneasy glances.

“What about human involvement?” one of them asks. “If we start taking out the human leaders of Solstice, won’t it draw attention? Governments, authorities, the public—they’ll all come down on us. These people have families who will tie things back to us.”

“It’s a risk,” Dorian says. “But the alternative is extinction. And if we act carefully, strategically, we can eliminate their leaders without drawing unnecessary attention. We can also beat them at their own game, find their dark magic power source, and eliminate it. No killing involved. We just need a plan, and we need to move forward.”

Tobias’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he’ll dismiss us outright. But then he exhales slowly, his gaze hardening. “Very well. The Ascendancy will agree to work with the Midnight Alliance—temporarily. But if this alliance jeopardizes our survival, we will withdraw immediately. I’ll be informing our head that he needs to seek out a meeting with you to catch up on all things relating to our current alliance.”

“Understood,” I say, though my voice lacks warmth, cold as the steel within me. Cooperation is progress, but trust will take far longer to build.

He rises, signaling the end of the discussion. “You have our support—for now. But remember, Lucian, the Ascendancy’s patience is not infinite. Fail, and you’ll face more than just the Solstice Society.”

With that, the Ascendancy members file out, their departure as cold and precise as their presence.

The room is quieter in their wake, the weight of his parting words heavy in the air.

Dorian turns to me, his expression a mix of determination and concern. “We’re not just fighting Solstice anymore. We’re fighting decades upon decades of mistrust and division. This alliance is hanging by a thread.”

“It’s enough,” I say, though the tremor of doubt creeps into my voice. “We have a chance now—a fragile one, but a chance. We need to safely and quietly utilize Sylvie’s connection to Solstice. She’s the key to this.”

“She’s also a target,” Dorian reminds me. “If Solstice realizes what she’s fully capable of… Her abilities are growing by the day.”

“They won’t get the chance,” I interrupt, my fists clenching at the thought. “Not while I’m still breathing.”

Dorian studies me for a moment before nodding. “Then we’d better move quickly. If we’re going to strike, we need to do so soon.”

As we step out of the chamber and into the night, the downtown district sprawls before us—a labyrinth of lights and shadows, its secrets hidden in every corner. Somewhere out there, the Solstice Society is watching, waiting for us to falter.

And I can’t allow that to happen.