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“With all respect to the council,” he said, “we’ve heard these warnings since we were cubs. Dark Haven’s movements, Silver Crown’s schemes… but nothing has changed.”

“Until now.” Lady Wei Cheng’s voice carried ancient certainty. “The signs are different this time.”

Archer opened his mouth, probably to make another comment about suspicious cloud formations, but Zane silenced him with a look.

“Different how?” Zane asked, his wolf suddenly alert at the change in the elder dragon’s tone.

“The ancient tomb beneath this very chamber,” Lord Blackthorn Senior said quietly. “It… awakened last night.”

The chamber fell silent. Even Archer straightened, his usual humor fading.

“The tomb has been dormant since New Vale’s founding,” Lady Victoria continued. “Its magic sealed by the first council, meant to resonate only when…” She trailed off, golden eyes distant.

“Only when the first fated one arrives,” Lord Thanatos finished, shadows curling around his wings.

Kai Park leaned forward. “You’re certain? After all this time?”

“The magic is unmistakable,” Lord Johnathan Whitlock nodded. “Ancient power stirring after millennia of silence.”

“I still say—” Lei Zhang began skeptically, but Ming silenced his blood-sworn brother with a sharp gesture.

“Perhaps,” Isaiah Kingston’s deep voice carried through the chamber, “we should see this awakening for ourselves.”

“An excellent suggestion.” Lord Johnathan rose smoothly. “Shall we, council members?”

Zane exchanged glances with his brothers as they stood. Ryker’s expression was thoughtful, while Archer, for once, wasn’t smiling.

The air grew heavier as they descended the spiral staircase, ancient magic pressing against their supernatural senses. Zane’s wolf stirred uneasily, recognizing power older than their kind.

“The tomb predates New Vale itself,” Lady Victoria explained as they walked. “Built by the first supernatural beings to settle these lands, before our clans, before our wars…”

“Before the divide between cities,” Lord Thanatos added. “When magic was… different.”

The staircase opened into a vast circular chamber, its walls covered in scripts so ancient even the elders couldn’t read them. Crystal formations grew from floor to ceiling, their usual clear surfaces now swirling with otherworldly light.

“Well,” Archer whispered, for once sounding properly awed, “that’s definitely not normal.”

“The crystals.” Ryker moved closer, studying the pulsing light. “They’re responding to something. Or someone.”

“A resonance,” Lady Wei Cheng confirmed. “The tomb recognizes the arrival of what was prophesied. Somewhere in New Vale, the first fated one walks among us.”

Zane’s wolf surged forward suddenly, responding to… something. A pull he couldn’t quite identify. The magic in the air felt familiar somehow, like a scent he should recognize but couldn’t quite place.

“So now do you believe?” Lady Victoria asked, though without her usual smugness. The ancient chamber had sobered even the elders’ competitive spirits.

“We must be ready,” Lord Blackthorn said quietly. “Dark Haven, Storm Gate, and Silver Crown will have felt this awakening too. They’ll come, drawn by power they haven’t sensed in millennia.”

“And the fated one?” Colt asked, his usual drawl gone. “They’re just out there somewhere, probably having no idea what they are?”

“Or what forces are now moving to either claim or destroy them,” Azrael Shadowmere added grimly.

Zane looked up at the swirling crystals, his wolf increasingly restless. Somewhere in his city, someone’s life had just changed forever. Someone who needed protection, whether they knew it yet or not.

The return to the council chamber felt like emerging from a dream into harsh fluorescent reality.

The ancient magic clung to their clothes like cobwebs, but business waited for no prophecy.

Territory disputes between clans required mediation.

Trade agreements with overseas partners demanded attention.

Hours crawled by in a haze of contracts and negotiations. Zane found himself signing documents on autopilot, his wolf’s attention constantly drawn back to that persistent pull, like a melody just out of hearing range.

“And that concludes today’s agenda,” Lord Blackthorn finally announced, as afternoon sun painted the chamber in shadows. “Unless anyone has further matters to discuss?”

The collective silence spoke volumes. Even Archer, who’d been doodling what looked suspiciously like stick figure interpretations of proper alpha postures on his notepad, straightened with relief.

“Finally,” Archer muttered as they exited the chamber. “If I had to sit through one more trade route proposal, I was going to start howling just to liven things up.”

“You did that last month,” Ryker reminded him, though his own shoulders relaxed as they walked. “During the maritime tax discussion.”

“And it worked, didn’t it? Nobody remembers the tax rates, but they definitely remember my stunning rendition of?—”

“Both of you,” Zane cut in, though without heat. His mind was still in that underground chamber, with those swirling crystals and that nagging sense of… something.

Ryker caught his expression. “The tomb bothers you.”

It wasn’t a question. The middle Whitlock had always been observant, especially when it came to his brothers.

“Everything about today bothers me,” Zane admitted. “Dark Haven’s movements, Silver Crown’s breeding programs, Storm Gate trafficking, ancient tombs waking up… and somewhere out there…”

“Our mystery fated one,” Archer finished, suddenly serious. “You think the elders are right this time?”

The elevator doors closed, cutting off the council chamber’s lingering magic. But that pull remained, tugging at Zane’s wolf like a compass seeking north.

“I think,” he said carefully, “we need to be prepared. For anything.”

The elevator ride down to the parking underground was silent, each brother lost in their own thoughts. It wasn’t until they were settled in the Bentley that Archer spoke up.

“Well, that was fun,” he drawled from the back seat. “Nothing like starting the day with ancient prophecies and interpretive dance threats.”

“The marketing proposal for the Kingston clan collaboration needs to be finished by tomorrow,” Ryker reminded him as he navigated through New Vale’s busy streets.

“Already done,” Archer said, typing something on his phone. “Sent it to their team this morning. The expansion projections are on your desk, and I’ve scheduled the focus groups for next week.” He glanced up with a grin. “Just because I hate meetings doesn’t mean I don’t work, big brother.”

They pulled into Whitlock Tower’s private garage, but something made Zane pause as they entered the lobby. A scent—delicate, ethereal, like cherry blossoms in moonlight…

“You smell that?” Ryker asked quietly, his own wolf stirring.

Archer sniffed the air. “Did they change the diffusers again? Told them the lavender was fine…”

But this wasn’t artificial fragrance. This was… different. Familiar somehow, though Zane couldn’t place why. His wolf urged him to follow it, to track down its source.

The scent led them through the busy lobby, past staff members focused on their tasks, through corridors where employees hurried with papers and tablets. None seemed to notice the faint trail of cherry blossoms.

Zane caught a glimpse of lavender disappearing around a corner. His wolf surged forward, suddenly alert, reminding him of Luca, but he dismissed it. Work. He needed to concentrate on work.

They gathered in Zane’s office, reviewing the morning’s council decisions. Archer sprawled in one of the leather chairs while Ryker organized their notes at the conference table.

“Dark Haven’s movements concern me,” Ryker was saying. “If they’re really sending hunters across our borders?—”

Zane’s head snapped up, cutting off Ryker’s words. That scent again!

Movement caught his eye through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. A flash of lavender between the columns of the outer corridor.

“Was that…?” Ryker’s voice was soft with surprise.

“Luca,” Zane breathed, something in his chest tightening at the sight of his brother actually leaving his room, exploring their home for what felt like the first time in forever.

They watched through the glass as he peeked around corners and slipped between columns with endearing determination to remain unseen. He’d pause sometimes to admire the artwork or touch the marble columns with wondering fingers, as if he’d never seen them before.

“Oh my God, he’s precious,” Archer whispered, watching Luca attempt to sneak past a busy conference room by tiptoeing dramatically, only to trip over his own feet and have to pretend he meant to examine that particular spot of carpet. “Can we keep him?”

“He’s not a puppy, Archer,” Ryker said, but he was smiling too.

“No, he’s better. He’s our little vampire prince who apparently thinks he’s in a stealth video game.” Archer’s eyes lit up. “Think he’d want to play one with me? He’s got the sneaking part down…”

Luca was now half-hidden behind a massive column just outside their office, watching with wide eyes as a group of marketing executives struggled through a presentation about their new luxury skincare line.

He hadn’t noticed them watching him, too focused on observing the normal workday activities, his tiny fangs worrying his bottom lip as he listened, head tilted like a curious kitten.

He looked… different somehow. More present than he’d been in years. More real.

More alive.

“That’s it,” Archer announced, pushing away from the window. “I’m getting our little prince.”

“Archer.” Ryker’s warning held a note of resignation. Their younger brother had already straightened his suit jacket, a familiar glint of mischief in his eyes.

“What? He’s actually outside his room. This is a historic moment that demands celebration.” He grinned. “Besides, did you see him taking mental notes? Our shy vampire prince has opinions about marketing strategies.”

“Archer—” But the door had already closed behind him.

Through the window, Zane watched his younger brother’s approach. Archer moved with casual grace, careful not to startle their brother, but Luca remained oblivious, too absorbed in the marketing presentation.

The moment Archer’s hand touched his shoulder, several things happened at once.

A soft gasp escaped Luca’s lips, echoing in the sudden silence.

His feet left the marble floor as he startled upward, the soft material of his lavender sweater rising to reveal a sliver of pale skin as he floated.

Papers scattered. Someone’s coffee cup crashed to the floor.

The marketing director’s presentation clicker skittered across marble.

“Easy there, little bat.” Archer’s arm circled his waist, drawing him back to earth with gentle efficiency. “Though I have to say, the floating thing is new.”

Luca made a sound somewhere between a squeak and a whimper. The marketing team stared, frozen between shock at their reclusive prince’s appearance and uncertainty about proper protocol when said prince suddenly defied gravity.

“Time for a tactical retreat,” Archer declared cheerfully, guiding his mortified brother toward Zane’s office. “Sorry about interrupting. Carry on with the, what was it? ‘Youthful but mature, fresh but sophisticated, innovative but classic’ campaign?”

Luca’s attempt to merge with Archer’s suit jacket only intensified as he ushered him through the office door. Ryker closed it behind them, shutting out the whispers and stares.

The cherry blossom scent filled Zane’s office, delicate yet impossibly potent. His wolf stirred restlessly, wanting to get closer, to protect, to… He forced the strange urge down, though he noticed both his brothers subtly shifting closer to where Luca still attempted to hide behind Archer.

“I wasn’t spying,” Luca mumbled into Archer’s jacket. “I was just… observing. For educational purposes.”

“Of course you were,” Archer’s grin softened as he guided him to one of the leather chairs. “And your educational floating technique was very impressive.”

Luca sank into the chair, immediately drawing his knees up to make himself smaller. “I didn’t mean to float. Sometimes gravity just… forgets about me when I’m startled.”

“It’s good to see you exploring,” Ryker said carefully, his usual diplomatic tone gentled further. His wolf, typically the calmest of the three, paced with unusual agitation. The sweet scent of cherry blossoms seemed to call to something primitive and protective in all of them.

“The company is part of your world now,” Zane added, watching as Luca swallowed hard, his tiny fangs catching his bottom lip again. He’d been doing that more frequently in the past few minutes, a sure sign of hunger. “When did you last feed?”

Luca shook his head, then seemed to realize what he’d admitted. “I… I was going to. After the presentation. I mean, not that I was watching the presentation. I was just… passing by.”

Archer snorted. “Sure you were, sugar fang.”

“You haven’t eaten,” Zane stated, noting how he kept his eyes carefully averted from all of them. His wolf growled at the thought of him skipping meals.

“This morning?” It came out more like a question. “I’m fine, really…”

“That’s it.” Archer stood, scooping Luca up into his powerful arms before he could protest. “You need blood. No arguments.”

“But—” Luca squeaked, cradling against Archer’s chest. “I…” His protest died as Archer strode toward the elevator. He cast one desperate look at Zane but found no ally there—his wolf absolutely refused to let him skip meals.