A few moments earlier…
Deep beneath the city, past rusted ladders and labyrinthine tunnels soaked in decades of damp decay, the lycan refuge lay cloaked in shadows and the steady drip of sewer water. Dim lamps flickered across walls layered with claw marks, old maps, and makeshift weapon racks. The place smelled of cold iron, wet stone, and the restless musk of beasts forced into human shape.
Lucian stood alone near the central culvert, arms crossed, shoulders tight, mind spiraling.
He had been contemplating their next move for hours—trying to salvage their path after everything had spiraled out of their control.
Raze and the pack assigned to kill Amelia had just returned, their mission a disaster.
Their failure had ignited a storm.
The Death Dealers were mobilizing after the failed attempt.
The Elder was safe meaning the awakening would continue. meaning instead of facing one elder vampire, he would face two or more if they deem it necessary to rouse Viktor for the fray.
most importantly, the Order has begun watching.
It complicated everything.
It made Lucian furious.
And worse—helpless.
His jaw clenched as he turned toward Raze, voice low with barely restrained control.
"Ivanov… You said he alone held the entire skirmish."
Raze nodded stiffly, his expression dark and distant as though recalling a nightmare.
"Yes," he answered. "It was as if his very presence was suffocating. No one could stand against him. Not even the vampires."
A faint tremor entered his voice, one Raze rarely allowed.
"I believe he has grown more powerful… so much so that even you are no comparison."
The words hit Lucian like a physical blow.
His teeth ground together, fury flickering like flame behind his eyes. Not at Raze — but at the truth. The bitter, unavoidable truth.
The Forerunners of the Order were not merely a faction. They were something ancient, enshrouded in secrecy. A group Viktor himself could not help but comply with — not out of loyalty, but fear. Their authority was absolute, their influence reaching deeper than even Lucian had once believed.
Ivanov was proof of that.
Lucian himself had sired him. He was meant to follow him, a slave like him.
But he had never been a slave.
He and his brother had come with a hidden purpose. to spy and infiltrate the abode of the vampires for something that belonged with them.
Lucian once believed he understood what they were.
He had been wrong.
They were never lycans of his making but old monsters with an agenda. they used him to gain power in order to unleash a terrible evi.....
WOOOOOOOOOOOOO—
A howl tore through the sewer system, shaking water loose from pipes and forcing rats into frantic scurries.
Every lycan in the tunnels froze.
Ears pricked, muscles stiffened and pupils dilated.
The sound arrived faintly—distant, echoing from a place far beyond the city—but to them, it resounded like thunder rolling through their bones.
Humans might have mistaken it for a violent gust of wind.
But lycans knew better.
This was no ordinary wolf's call.
It was unnatural, colder and terribly commanding.
A call that could not be ignored.
grrrr...!!!!
Gasps, growls and panicked breaths rippled through the tunnel as lycans began to falter. Their hands trembled. Their bodies twitched. Some dropped to their knees, chests heaving as the moon's dormant pull ignited violently within them.
Several began transforming on the spot—eyes glowing, bones popping beneath their skin and limbs stretching against their will.
Lucian felt his heart seize in a cold grip.
His head snapped upward, eyes wide with shock.
"No."
His voice cracked, and in the dim light his canines lengthened, pushing past his gums with a sickening ache. His spine arched, muscles seizing violently as if trying to tear free.
His pale blue eyes flared—bright and feral, fighting against instincts.
He dug his claws into the wall, desperate to stay anchored and resist.
But the howl's pull reached deeper into the mind, bringing forth the beastly instincts he had been resisting for centuries.
A guttural sound tore from Lucian's throat as bones began cracking beneath his skin, ribs shifting painfully, skin rippling with the first signs of inevitable change.
"Aaah—!"
The grunt escaped through flared nostrils, a sound laced with both agony and defiance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Somewhere in a hidden crypt of unknown location, water trickled from the snow peaks above, drifting down in cold mist that gathered into a shallow pool. The place looked abandoned—devastated by a war so long ago and so catastrophic that none of the ancient structures remained intact.
From the crypt's passageways, water slipped between stones carved by hand into a labyrinth meant to confuse any who wandered there. Behind one of these walls, a metallic structure stood upright. It was tall and dark, perhaps once meant to hold riches like a great chest—or something else entirely.
The crypt was silent, save for the faint sound of dripping water.
Wooooooo…
A distant sound drifted through the cavern—almost inaudible, yet the water rippled as if the noise carried untold power. The cavernous chamber remained still, untouched by the outside world.
Thung. Thung. Thung.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Suddenly, a deep metallic thud resounded through the chamber, as if something heavy was striking metal from within. The structure, silent for so long, shuddered slightly with every repeated blow.
As if someone—something—was locked inside, trying to escape.
Whimper…
A weak, animalistic whine seeped through the metallic walls. Then the structure began to tremble—slowly at first, then violently—as though some monstrous thing had awakened within its steel confines.
Woooo…
A frail howl escaped the coffin of steel, as if answering some distant call. But the cavern walls smothered the sound, trapping it inside, making it impossible for the outside world to hear its cry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the hidden road leading to the vampire coven, the entourage of vampires arrived, quickly entering the manor's compound as the gates swung open. Vampire guards with their dogs stood waiting, patrolling outside the gates after the convoy to ensure they had not been followed.
Upon reaching the manor, a delegation awaited their arrival.
Kahn stepped out of the vehicle at once and hurried to the opposite side to open the door for Amelia. Yet she remained seated.
"Lady Amelia, you need to stay inside. We might have been followed by Lycans."
sigh~~~~
A soft sigh escaped Amelia's lips—she seemed distraught, drained and her spirit dimmed. Slowly, she disembarked from the car with Kahn offering a steadying hand. She then walked forward, surrounded by the delegation.
Her blood-soaked appearance did nothing to diminish the honor they felt in her presence; instead, it only stoked their hatred for the ones responsible.
"Take the Lady in. Secure her in the shelter," Kahn ordered a Death Dealer waiting at his side. At this moment, he could trust only his personal crew.
Kraven was not to be trusted.
He glanced toward the manor's gate where Kraven stood awaiting Amelia's arrival. Subtle as it was, Kahn saw the discontent in his eyes—an expression that only deepened his suspicions.
Selene had been right all along. There were more Lycans than accounted for, and it appeared Kraven was doing everything in his power to keep that truth hidden.
Wooooooo—
A loud howl cut through the night, sending a jolt through all who heard it.
Bark! Bark! Bark!
The dogs in the compound erupted into frantic barking, thrashing against their leashes as if desperate to flee toward something unseen.
Guns were drawn instantly as the Death Dealers formed a protective ring around Amelia, who stared into the darkness with wide, trembling eyes.
Of everyone present, she alone had an inkling of who—what—that might be.
In her gaze, a storm of emotions flickered. Fear, yes… but something else too.
A spark of excitement.
"Take the Lady in now!" Kahn barked, his voice snapping the Death Dealers out of their stunned trance. Their skin crawled with an instinctive fear; the hair on their arms rose as if touched by an unseen chill.
Quickly, they guided Amelia toward the building, her mind far too shaken and distant to even consider resisting their escort.
At the same time, deep within the manor's dark corridors, a passage led to a chamber lined with tightly sealed vaults. At its entrance, Death Dealers stood guard with unwavering vigilance.
This was where the Elders slumbered during their century-long retirement.
These vaults were never to be opened until the designated awakening.
But unbeknownst to the guards, inside the vaults a dark figure sat quietly in a high-backed chair. Numerous tubes were connected to his withered body, pumping restorative fluids through his system as he slowly regenerated.
His eyes remained closed as he felt his shriveled flesh knit itself back together.
Woooooo—
Even in the depths of the vault, his keen senses caught the distant howl.
Slowly, he raised his head, revealing an aged face carved by unnaturally deep wrinkles. In the darkness, cold blue eyes flickered open, glowing faintly.
It was Viktor.
He was nearly fully rejuvenated.
Awakening into chaos and fractured memory was something Elders despised. Confusion clouded his thoughts, and Selene's jumbled blood memories were difficult to decipher. This was why only an Elder was permitted to awaken another Elder: only they possessed the discipline and mental potency to organize years of memories into a coherent tapestry.
He had been seated here the entire day, trying to make sense of what Selene had shown him—and why she had awakened him a full century early.
The howl faded quickly, but its implication tore Viktor away from his wandering thoughts.
Cough—
A harsh, ragged cough exploded from his chest as dark fluid dripped from his nostrils.
"No…"
The word escaped him in a rasping, half-choked groan from a throat still reforming.