~ LUCIAN'S POV
The Night's Whisper had always been a dangerous tradition.
In a realm where secrets carried more weight than gold, to drag them into the open was an act of arrogance at best and an invitation to death at worst.
I remained close to Alaric, stationed where instinct and duty had placed me long ago, close enough to intercept what could not be foreseen, yet far enough to observe the currents of power.
When Alaric finally spoke, the hall seemed to inhale. "Who will be the first," he said evenly, "to offer a truth worth hearing?"
Silence answered him.
It was not empty silence, but one thick with calculation, held taut until the sharp echo of heels striking stone finally broke it.
Dravenna stepped forward.
"I will," she said smoothly. "If what I offer is met with consideration."
Alaric turned his masked face toward her. "Speak."
She lifted her chin with quiet pride, her posture radiating confidence.
"The vampire realm stands at the edge of fracture," Dravenna began, "My father's reign weakens, and beneath the court's composed surface, rebellion simmers. An alliance with the demon realm would not simply preserve peace, it would ensure dominance."
A murmur moved through the gathered assembly.
"My father has already extended a proposal," she continued, "One your court has yet to formally acknowledge. A union with the demon realm would not merely stabilize influence, it would secure it."
I watched Alaric's posture rather than her face, noting the subtlest shift. A sign he was listening carefully.
"You ask me to weigh alliance against sovereignty," he said.
"I ask you to recognize inevitability," Dravenna replied calmly. "And choose where you wish to stand when the court turns."
Before Alaric could respond, murmur moved through the crowd as servants entered along the far wall, their heads bowed low. Between them walked naked humans, wrists bound in ropes, eyes downcast. Some trembled openly. Others stared ahead with the dull resignation of those who already understood their worth in this room.
It was more than tribute; it was a performance of control. The humans' fear became a stage upon which the court displayed its dominance. Pain, vulnerability, and obedience were savored as though culture itself had been reduced to a ceremony of extraction.
Several demon lords watched with idle interest. A few vampires smiled, restrained and hungry. One of the humans faltered, a small stumble, and was yanked upright before he could fully collapse, a silent reminder of the consequences of weakness.
Alaric did not acknowledge them, and Dravenna had not finished speaking. She never rushed what she wanted remembered.
"My father has long believed," Dravenna continued smoothly, "that stability is forged, not requested. This marriage would bind more than treaties ever could."
The words settled heavily.
Zephyrus shifted slightly beside Dove. I did not look at her, but I felt the subtle change in the energy around her, the way mortals did when they realized their own presence made them prey to the room's appetite.
Alaric inclined his head slightly. "You ask much."
"I offer much," Dravenna replied. "Including transparency."
Then the air changed, like the pull of a shadow slipping across the floor.
A masked figure stepped forward from the outer ring with unhurried movements. Their presence drew attention without effort, shadows seeming to fold closer as they passed.
"I counter," the figure said, "Not against her proposal. Against the assumption that your court is intact."
The hall quieted, a tension rippling through the assembly as though the air itself had taken a breath.
Alaric remained still. "Explain."
"The Shadow Covenant has already crossed your threshold," the figure stated. "They did not force their way in. They were invited."
A ripple of unease ran through the nobles, whispers brushing against the stone walls before dying away.
My hand drifted toward the dagger at my side, blue flame stirring beneath my skin, eyes scanning the hall not for the speakers but for the watchers, the ones who reacted too slowly, the ones who leaned too eagerly.
The figure continued, unhurried. "An alliance built on marriage will fail if rot already festers beneath it."
Silence followed.
Then I saw it.
Ivara stood near the inner circle, her dark hair braided with silver threads, posture perfect as ever, but her hands trembled just enough to catch my attention, and her gaze flicked once, almost imperceptibly, toward her father.
Advisor Hael {4th Rank Demon}
He remained unnaturally still, every muscle arranged to show composure, but the fear leaking from him was subtle and pungent, a sharp scent of mint, sweat, and poorly restrained panic.
Alaric finally leaned forward.
"Enough," he said quietly.
The room obeyed.
"You have accused my court," he continued, turning his focus to the masked figure, "now you will name the breach."
The figure spoke without hesitation. "Hael."
The name fell into the hall without echo.
Ivara's breath caught, a fragile intake that went unnoticed by everyone but me.
Hael stiffened, waves of fear radiating from him, thickening the air around his carefully arranged facade.
Alaric's hands closed around the armrests of his throne, tension visible in the subtle tightening of his fingers. "You have served me for centuries," he said evenly. "And yet you chose silence."
Hael dropped to one knee, voice trembling. "High Lord, I sought knowledge only to protect the realm."
"Silence," Alaric said.
No anger.
Only authority.
"You sought knowledge and mistook secrecy for loyalty."
Hael's hands shook violently. "I acted for the realm."
"For yourself," Alaric corrected. "Drain him."
The shadows beneath Alaric's throne answered at once, curling and shifting around Hael's limbs as something unseen tore free from him.
He screamed, not in pain, but in the hollow absence of life as pale streams of essence were drawn from him, leaving his body sagging, emptied of more than strength.
Ivara cried out once before she could restrain herself, knees threatening to buckle, but she did not fall. The court observed as her father's body collapsed inward, skin ashen, breath shallow, mind stripped bare, leaving only a hollow shell.
Powerless.
"Take him to the dungeons," Alaric commanded, and the guards moved without hesitation.
Hael did not resist.
As they dragged him away, Ivara's composure finally fractured. Tears streaked silently down her face as she bowed her head, shoulders trembling under the weight of all she could not prevent.
Alaric did not glance at her.
"This," he said, voice carrying across the hall, "is mercy."
No one argued.
My attention returned back to Dove.
She trembled now, not violently, but enough that it caught my notice. Her gaze was fixed on the spot where Hael had fallen, lips parted as if she were trying to breathe through something crushing her chest.
Her posture had gone rigid, shoulders locked, as if her body had decided that movement itself was dangerous and every instinct to act must be frozen.
She redirected her gaze across the hall, and I followed.
A vampire held one of the human girls close, fingers threaded through her hair, with his fangs sunk deep into the pale flesh of her neck. The girl's eyes were wide and unfocused, her bound hands clenched uselessly as her body jerked once, then stilled into something quieter.
Dove inhaled sharply, and that breath did not return fully, caught somewhere between shock and horror.
I watched her face as understanding landed, slow and merciless. This was not battle. This was not punishment. This was indulgence. The vampire fed unhurriedly, savoring, while another nearby tilted a second human's chin back, already preparing to taste.
Around them, more followed.
Demon lords pressed their palms to human chests and throats, drawing out pale strands of life essence that shimmered briefly before dissolving into nothing. The humans sagged as it was taken, breath faltering, eyes glazing as something vital was stripped away.
The hall did not recoil.
It watched.
Dove's fingers curled into her dress, knuckles blanching beneath the fabric. Her eyes shone too brightly, fixed on the girl in the vampire's arms as if she could not look away even as everything in her begged to.
Shock hollowed her expression.
This was not something she had been warned about. Not like this.
Zephyrus noticed the same moment I did.
He shifted closer, his hand closing gently around hers, but she did not reciprocate his gesture.
She looked.…broken.
Zephyrus leaned in, his mouth near her ear, whispering something low and calming. I did not hear the words, but I saw the effect. Her breathing stuttered, before it slowly began to return.
When her gaze still did not break from the scene across the hall, Zephyrus lifted his free hand and covered her eyes.
Not abruptly.
Carefully.
As if shielding something fragile from a blade.
Dove flinched, then sagged slightly into his side, her forehead tipping toward his shoulder. Her fingers tightened around his hand, clinging now, no longer frozen.
I looked away.
Alaric turned his masked face toward the cloaked figure. "You have earned audience," he said. "But understand this. Truth does not protect those who wield it."
"I seek neither," the figure replied calmly.
"Then walk with my brother."
I stepped forward, and the figure followed without hesitation.
We moved through winding corridors, torchlight stretching shadows across the ancient stone, the hum of wards vibrating faintly beneath my boots.
I stopped before a secured chamber.
"Well," I said lightly, hand resting against the door, "you have certainly made an impression."
No response.
"You will need to give me a name eventually," I added, "The High Lord dislikes unanswered questions."
The figure paused. "Tell your High Lord," they murmured, "that I carry another truth."
I stilled, the weight of those words settling into me. "One that concerns the vampire realm."
Then they vanished.
When I returned to the palace corridors, I halted my steps because the quiet felt too wrong.
I surveyed the place and my eyes caught sight of an unmoving body.
Minister Caerith [6th Ranked Demon} lay at the base of a pillar, silver ceremonial robes soaked dark with blood at the chest. His body was twisted unnaturally, one arm outstretched as though he had reached for help that never came.
I knelt beside him.
His eyes were open. They weren't opened wide with fear, but empty instead.
Darkness clouded his irises completely, swallowing the gold until nothing remained.
The Shadow Covenants.
They did not destroy. They emptied.
I withdrew my hand slowly.
Music still drifted faintly through the stone behind me. Laughter. Glass. Power indulging itself while one of its own lay erased in silence.
This night had never been about truths spoken aloud.
It had been about what was taken while everyone was looking elsewhere.
And now I understood the cost.