Jade finished his bath, the steam doing little to cleanse the feeling of Cassian's bloodlust from his skin. Wrapped in a dark, plush robe he found waiting, he returned to Seraphina's chambers. She was there, standing by the window that looked out onto nothing but the Tower's infinite, artificial night. The opulent room felt more like a gilded cage than ever.
She turned as he entered, her expression unreadable. The fury from the hallway was gone, replaced by a deep, contemplative stillness.
"The path of an ascendant is long, Jade," she began, her voice soft yet carrying through the vast room. "Fraught with peril. You have seen a fraction of the true power that awaits in the upper floors. You felt my brother's aura. As you are now, you are a talented child swinging a stick at giants."
Jade said nothing, his glacial gaze fixed on her, waiting.
"There is another path," she said, taking a slow step towards him. "A shortcut. One that grants power not through tedious leveling, but through blood and lineage. Power that is your birthright, the moment you are reborn."
She stopped before him, her crimson eyes burning with a terrifying sincerity.
"Jade," she whispered, the name a sacred vow on her lips. "Do you wish to cast off the shackles of your fleeting humanity? Do you wish to become one of us? A Vampire of the Ancient Bloodline?"
The question hung in the air, immense and world-altering. To become the very thing he seemed to magnetically attract. To trade his evolving, if fragile, mortality for the eternal, predatory power of the Crimson Wing.
Before he could even process it, she continued, her voice dropping to a ritualistic cadence, narrating the path as if reading from an ancient text.
"The transformation is a sacrament of two parts," she intoned. "First, the Mortal Draught. You must drink from me. You must swallow the blood of a Pureborn and survive the death of your own feeble lifeblood as it is scoured from your veins. It is an agony that shatters weaker souls."
She reached out, a single, sharp nail tracing a line over her own wrist, a bead of dark, potent blood welling to the surface. The scent was intoxicating, a promise of immense power and eternal hunger.
"Then," she whispered, her eyes glowing, "comes the Sanguine Rite. I would perform it. I would drain you to the very precipice of true death, and in that silent, empty moment between your last heartbeat and the void... I would fill you. Not with your mortal blood, but with mine. I would seal the covenant, binding your new existence to my own, forging you in the crucible of my ancient power."
She offered her wrist, the single drop of blood a dark, mesmerizing jewel.
"The choice is yours, my Sovereign. Remain a mortal candle, destined to sputter and die. Or become an eternal star, burning with the cold, dark fire of my lineage. The ritual begins with a single taste."
Jade looked at the offered wrist, at the single, potent drop of blood that promised eternity and chains. His Obsidian Core, the very heart of his will to conquer, recoiled at the idea of being bound to another's lineage, of his power becoming a mere inheritance.
He met Seraphina's burning gaze, his own expression a mask of glacial calm. "No," he said, the word simple, final, and absolute. "My power will be my own. Forged by me, not inherited from you."
A flicker of surprise, then dark amusement, crossed Seraphina's face. She lowered her wrist, the tiny wound sealing instantly. "So defiant," she purred, but the warmth was gone, replaced by a chilling certainty. "The offer stands, my darling. But know this: the next time I see you broken and on the verge of death, I will not ask. I will consider it a request. I will save you, and in doing so, I will remake you. Permanently."
The threat was delivered with a lover's softness, which made it all the more terrifying. A sliver of genuine fear, cold and sharp, pierced Jade's core. She meant it.
Without another word, he turned and left, the phantom sensation of her fangs already at his neck.
He found Zero in a private training sector, a void of calm amidst the Sanctuary's hum. "A bout," Jade stated, his need to feel his own power, untainted, overwhelming.
Zero nodded, his hand moving to the hilt of Gesshilla. "Your vampire-related stress levels appear elevated. Physical exertion is a logical—"
A terrifying presence descended upon the training sector, smothering the air. The light seemed to dim. Both Jade and Zero turned as one.
Cassian stood at the entrance, a smirk playing on his lips as his crimson eyes locked onto Jade. "Leaving so soon? Our conversation was just getting—"
"Another one?" Zero interrupted, his voice utterly deadpan. He looked from Cassian to Jade, then back to Cassian. "Is there a sign on him I cannot see? 'Free for Vampiric Harassment'? The statistical probability of this is becoming absurd."
Cassian's smirk didn't falter. "I've come to challenge the two 'anomalies' myself. Let's see what has my sister so... enthralled."
Before Jade or Zero could respond, a new voice, laced with arrogant melody, cut through the tension.
"My, my, what a gathering of mongrels."
A figure descended from a higher platform. He was an elf of breathtaking beauty, with hair like spun moonlight and eyes the color of emeralds. His features were sharp and haughty, his posture radiating condescending power. Intricate, living vines coiled around his arms, pulsing with green energy.
Cassian let out a bored sigh. "Elandor. Back for another defeat? Your pride heals faster than your wounds."
The elf, Elandor, ignored Cassian, his gaze sweeping over Jade and Zero with disdain. "So these are the human 'anomalies' causing whispers? Pathetic. Even if I couldn't be bothered to defeat you myself, I could easily crush a bunch of lowly humans—"
SHING.
The sound was a single, clean note of parting.
Elandor's eyes widened. His sentence ended in a choked gasp as he watched his own right hand, still clutching a glowing dagger, tumble from his wrist, followed by his entire forearm. The cut was so precise, so instantaneous, it was a moment before the blood began to fountain.
Zero stood behind him, Gesshilla now sheathed, his odachi crackling with fading arcs of lightning. His silver-green eyes were colder than the void.
"I dare you," Zero stated, his voice flat and absolute, "to say that again."
A wave of pure, suffocating power suddenly filled the arena, so potent it made Cassian's bloodlust feel like a gentle breeze. Another elf appeared, not with a flash, but as if he had always been there. He was older, his features marked with wisdom and sorrow, his aura a deep, ancient forest—calm, immense, and inexorable. A single, gentle hand rested on Elandor's shoulder, staunching the bleeding instantly.
"Please," the older elf said, his voice kind but firm, resonating with undeniable authority. "Forgive my disciple's foolish pride." He looked at Elandor, whose face was now a mask of pain and terror. "Silence," the older elf commanded softly, and a deafening aura of pure command settled over Elandor, forcing his mouth shut, his body trembling.
The commotion was absolute. A furious Cassian, a maimed and silenced arrogant elf, a terrifyingly powerful elder, and in the center of it all, Jade and Zero, the two anomalies who had, once again, found themselves at the heart of a storm.