"They referred to themselves as the Order," Selene said flatly.
She stood rigidly, her piercing blue eyes locked onto his face, scrutinizing every twitch of his brow, every subtle shift in his posture for the faintest glimmer of recognition or buried memory. The air hung heavy with the scent of aged parchment and smoldering wax, the walls lined with towering shelves groaning under the weight of forgotten tomes and dusty artifacts.
Tanis's eyes widened fractionally, a spark of alarm igniting in their depths. "The Order? They are here?" he demanded, his voice a hushed urgency that betrayed more than he intended. He rose abruptly from the chair, the legs scraping against the stone floor with a grating echo that reverberated through the room. His lithe frame tensed, hands clenching at his sides as if bracing for an unseen threat.
"What did they want with you?" Tanis pressed, stepping closer, his gaze darting to the shadows as though expecting figures to materialize from the gloom.
Selene crossed her arms over her leather-clad chest, her posture unyielding. "They claim they were after me because of the actions of the Lycans—and that I risk exposure to the humans," she replied, her tone laced with skepticism, each word measured and cool, like drops of ice water.
Tanis's frustration boiled over, his hands rising to clutch a fistful of his disheveled hair, pulling at the strands as if to wrench clarity from his own scalp.
"And why were you dueling Lycans in the eyes of the public? You know it is forbidden," he snapped, his voice rising in pitch, the veins in his neck pulsing with barely contained exasperation. The room seemed to close in around them, the flickering flames casting elongated shadows that danced mockingly across the walls.
"The Lycans opened fire first," Selene countered, her eyes narrowing into slits of defiance. "Their attack seemed too spontaneous for us to draw them out of public view. They were after a human—he's currently with them. Do you know who they are?" She leaned forward slightly, her breath steady, but her mind racing with the implications, the metallic tang of recent bloodshed still lingering in her nostrils.
Tanis turned away, retreating to a nearby shelf of ancient books, his fingers trailing over the cracked leather spines with a reverence born of centuries. "They are arbiters, Selene. Self-proclaimed arbiters of order. But their course does indeed benefit our kinds," he murmured, his voice softening as he plucked a volume from its resting place, though his eyes remained distant, lost in the labyrinth of history.
Selene's brow furrowed, confusion etching fine lines across her flawless features. "Why have I never heard of them before?" she asked, her voice tinged with a rare vulnerability, the weight of unspoken questions pressing down on her like the stone ceiling above.
"Viktor, Selene. Viktor," Tanis stated plainly, his tone flat yet laden with unspoken volumes. He moved with familiar precision, his hand grasping the edge of a concealed mechanism hidden among the books.
Clik!!
With a soft, resonant clasp and a gentle tug, the wall trembled, a low rumble echoing through the chamber as if the very foundations of the building stirred awake. Dust motes swirled in the air like tiny specters as a hidden passage yawned open, revealing a yawning darkness beyond, cool and beckoning.
Selene's eyes gleamed with a flicker of pride, her lips curving into a subtle, satisfied smile. "They fear him?" she inquired, her tone laced with a hint of triumph, feeding into the deep-seated savior complex she harbored for Viktor—the elder who had shaped her existence, her unyielding protector in a world of eternal night.
Tanis paused at the threshold, retrieving a torch from a bracket on the wall. He struck a flint with practiced ease, the spark blooming into a steady flame that illuminated his face in warm, golden hues, casting stark shadows under his sharp cheekbones. "Fear? Never. On the contrary, Viktor is the one who is fearful," he replied, his words dropping like stones into a still pond, rippling through Selene's composure. He strode into the passage without hesitation, the torchlight pushing back the encroaching blackness.
"Where are you going?" Selene couldn't help but ask, her voice echoing faintly in the narrow corridor. She followed him, her boots silent on the uneven stone floor, but her senses heightened—what was this sudden nervousness in him? He hadn't flinched when she'd threatened him with her gun earlier, his demeanor cool and collected. Yet now, at the mere mention of these absent figures, his steps quickened, his shoulders tense, as if invisible eyes watched from the walls.
"This is the way to my lab," Tanis remarked dismissively, his voice carrying a forced nonchalance as he hurried forward, the torch flame flickering with each stride. "You didn't think I worked where I slept, did you?" The passage twisted downward, the air growing cooler and damper, carrying faint scents of chemical vapors and metallic clinks from afar.
Selene's gaze swept over the rough-hewn walls, noting the fresh chisel marks. "This wasn't here before," she remarked, her hand brushing against the cold stone, feeling the subtle vibrations of hidden mechanisms.
"Indeed," Tanis conceded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "And so were the many things that now better my accommodations. Business has been good." His tone held a note of smug satisfaction, but Selene's response was a sharp scoff, her disdain curling her upper lip.
"Selling weapons to kill your own kind is nothing to be proud of," she spat, her words venomous, laced with the bitterness of betrayal. The passage widened slightly, allowing them to walk abreast.
"Whatever you say," Tanis replied dismissively, waving a hand as he lit awaiting torches mounted along the walls. Flames sprang to life one by one, bathing the corridor in a warm, amber glow that chased away the chill. Not that they needed the light—their vampiric eyes pierced the darkness effortlessly—but the illumination provided a semblance of normalcy in this subterranean chamber.
"Now, tell me what I need to know," Selene requested, her patience thinning like a fraying thread. "Why does Viktor hide them from the coven?"
Tanis's expression darkened, shadows playing across his features. "That is history he wouldn't want many to know. But know this.....you asked for it." He paused, drawing a deep breath, as if summoning the weight of centuries. "We were told the origin of the Order dates back to the times of Lucian's rebellion. At least, that is what they thought. New information proves otherwise."
As they descended further, Tanis spoke, his voice echoing softly off the walls. "During Lucian's rebellion, a group of slaves turned Lycans banded together to form a pack. This coalition took root in Transylvania, where it is said they originated. Throughout the centuries, instead of hiding in fear from Viktor's wrath, they embedded themselves in the nobility and elite of the time, assimilating into their courts and even bloodlines."
Selene listened intently, her mind painting vivid images.
"Promising immortality and the conservation of royal bloodlines and legacies throughout the centuries, they amassed power and wealth beyond anything we could have imagined," Tanis continued. "It wasn't until our covens entered the New World that we noticed their existence. Before the coven could intervene, it was too late. With their power and wealth, they infiltrated human organizations and societies, influencing their paths and aims."
The passage opened into a large chamber, a cavernous space alive with the hum of machinery and the acrid scent of bubbling chemicals. Test tubes filled with iridescent liquids boiled on wrought-iron stands, vapors curling upward. Filtration apparatuses hissed and dripped, channeling refined compositions into a massive metallic tank that gleamed under the torchlight. In the center, machines whirred relentlessly, carving intricate patterns into slabs of material, while two figures—scantily clad women with sinewy grace—operated the instruments with effortless precision, their movements a symphony of efficiency.
"So they are Lycans," Selene said flatly, her voice cutting through the mechanical din. The very thought that Lycans could forge such a formidable force, one that would compel Viktor to conceal their existence out of fear, seemed preposterous. Moreover, in her recent encounter, she had discerned nothing remotely Lycan about them—no feral glint in the eyes, no underlying musk of the beast. "That is highly unbelievable. Why would Viktor fear them and even pay heed to their existence?"
Tanis shook his head, dismissing her incredulity with a wave. "That is because all that we knew...it is false. This is what I believed for a while. Contrary to what we thought, the Order was never a Lycan organization. It dated further back in time, before even Viktor was turned into a vampire." He beckoned the women over with a sharp gesture, his voice authoritative. "Dismantle everything. We are packing up."
Selene watched in confusion as the women sprang into action, their hands blurring with speed as they began disassembling the apparatuses. Was this because she had uncovered his role as the manufacturer and supplier of ultraviolet bullets? Was he planning to flee, abandoning this lair before retribution could catch up?
She pushed the questions aside for now, focusing on the revelation at hand. "What do you mean 'turned into a vampire'? Viktor was the first," she challenged, her voice steady but her mind reeling.
Tanis turned to her slowly, a fleeting look of pity crossing his angular features, quickly supplanted by a spark of amusement that danced in his eyes like firelight on water. Selene caught it before it vanished, a subtle shift that sent a ripple of unease through her.
"I don't have much time left here," Tanis said, his tone brisk, urgency creeping back in. "So I'll be quick with my words. Viktor was not the first vampire. Everything started with Marcus. Viktor was a warlord who once ruled these lands; for a task, he was promised immortality from Marcus. Now, back to the Order..."
"No. Explain," Selene interrupted, her voice firm, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Why would Marcus need Viktor if Viktor was just a human?"
Tanis sighed, ignoring the glare that could have frozen blood in veins. "Well, aren't you a Viktor enthusiast? Already forgotten about what you came to me for. Fine, I'll humor you." He leaned against a nearby workbench, the torch casting elongated shadows that made him appear even more spectral. "I believe you are familiar with the legend of Corvinus, the founding father of vampires."
"What about it? It is just a legend," Selene retorted, her arms folding once more, a defensive barrier against the unraveling truths.
Tanis's eyes gleamed with the fervor of revelation. "Well, where do I start.......?