Morning arrived like an execution dressed in sunlight.
Too bright.
Too calm.
Too polite for a day that was probably going to end in blood.
I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the black suit again.
Apparently, every life-changing supernatural event required formal wear.
At this point, I suspected vampires and holy organisations were secretly funded by luxury clothing companies.
The silver dagger rested beneath my jacket.
Father's gift.
Comforting.
Reliable.
Sharp.
Unlike my emotional life.
Behind me, the bedroom door opened.
Mother entered first.
That alone was more dangerous than the Crimson Church.
She carried breakfast.
Because of course she did.
No apocalypse in this house happened on an empty stomach.
She placed the tray down and looked at me for a long moment.
Not dramatic.
Not crying.
Just that quiet mother look that somehow reached places swords couldn't.
"You'll come back."
Not a question.
A command disguised as faith.
I smiled softly.
"Yes, Mom."
She adjusted my collar.
Again.
Apparently, everyone in my life had formed a political alliance against my neckwear.
Then she touched my face lightly.
The way mothers remind grown men that they were once children.
"Good."
Her voice lowered.
"Because I am not explaining this chaos to another woman if you disappear."
Fair.
Very fair.
I laughed.
She smiled too.
Then left before the room became emotional.
Smart.
Extremely smart.
A few minutes later—
Father entered.
Tea in hand.
Legend.
Absolute legend.
He looked at me.
Then at the silver dagger.
Then nodded once.
Approval.
Rare.
Expensive.
He walked closer and handed me something.
A second blade.
Smaller.
Silver-black.
Beautiful.
Deadly.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Another family heirloom?"
Father shook his head.
"No."
His voice was calm.
"That one is mine."
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I took it.
Balanced perfectly.
Made for killing.
Made for survival.
"When things become personal…"
He said quietly,
"Use that one."
No speech.
No dramatic father-son moment.
Just trust.
Which somehow hit harder.
I nodded.
"Understood."
He placed one hand on my shoulder.
Simple.
Steady.
And said—
"Do not let righteous men decide your worth."
That line stayed.
Heavy.
Permanent.
Good.
I intended to keep it.
Outside—
The queens were waiting.
Seraphina leaned against the black car like danger had learnt elegance.
Selene stood beside her, moonlight wrapped in silver calm.
Valeria looked like she was attending a war and enjoying it.
Lilith stood at the centre.
Royal.
Still.
Like, even the morning had asked permission to arrive.
Four women.
Four bloodlines.
Four reasons Heaven was having a terrible week.
I walked toward them.
Valeria looked me over.
"Well."
She smiled.
"Still alive. Promising start."
I appreciated her optimism.
Seraphina stepped forward and adjusted my tie.
Again.
I was beginning to suspect this was a territorial ritual.
Her voice was low.
"If anyone from the Church touches you…"
I smiled faintly.
"Yes, yes. Fire. Violence. Emotional destruction."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Do not interrupt threats."
Fair.
Selene stood beside me.
Her fingers brushed my wrist once.
Small gesture.
Big meaning.
Quiet support.
Moonlight didn't need speeches.
Lilith opened the car door.
"Come."
Of course.
Queens loved that word.
I got in.
Because refusing powerful women had historically gone badly for humanity.
The Crimson Church stood outside the city like a cathedral built by judgement itself.
White stone.
Silver towers.
Massive gates.
Beautiful enough to make guilt feel architectural.
At the top of the stairs—
hunters.
Rows of them.
White coats.
Silver weapons.
Still as statues.
Not welcoming.
Good.
I hated fake hospitality.
The four women stepped out with me.
The moment we approached—
Every hunter noticed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Politics.
War.
Perfect.
At the top stood the same hunter from before.
White coat.
Silver blade.
Calm eyes.
The one who brought the summons.
He watched me carefully.
Then gave one small nod.
Respect.
Warrior to warrior.
I returned it.
Same language.
He spoke first.
"You came."
I looked at the cathedral.
"Your invitation lacked warmth, but the drama was impressive."
The corner of his mouth moved slightly.
Almost a smile.
Good.
I preferred interesting enemies.
He stepped aside.
"The tribunal is waiting."
Valeria whispered beside me—
"If they bore me, I'm setting something on fire."
Reasonable.
Lilith answered quietly—
"Wait until after introductions."
Royal maturity.
Excellent.
We entered.
And the world changed.
The cathedral interior was vast.
White marble.
Silver symbols.
Ancient stained glass showing monsters being judged by beautiful liars.
The kind of place built to make people feel small.
Unfortunately for them—
I had killed in palaces before.
At the centre—
a circular chamber.
Ten seats.
Nine occupied.
Old men.
Old women.
Hunters.
Priests.
Executioners pretending to be moral philosophers.
And above them—
one throne-like seat.
Occupied.
A woman.
White robes touched with crimson.
Silver hair.
Young face.
Ancient eyes.
Beautiful.
Cold.
Terrifying.
Not a priest.
Not a hunter.
Something worse.
Authority.
She looked at me once—
And the vampire blood inside me responded.
Ancient enemy.
Recognition.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Lilith's expression hardened beside me.
Seraphina's killing intent became visible.
Even Father had warned me about people like this.
Good.
The woman spoke.
Her voice was soft.
Clear.
And carrying the weight of old law.
"Aarav Malhotra."
Not a question.
I stepped forward.
"Yes."
Her crimson eyes held mine.
"The awakened king."
There it was.
No pretending.
No hiding.
Good.
She continued.
"The Crimson Church stands as witness."
Her voice remained calm.
"To power that history has learned to fear."
I folded my arms.
"History sounds dramatic."
A few tribunal members looked offended.
Excellent.
She did not.
Interesting.
Instead, she asked—
"Do you deny what you are?"
Simple.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
The room waited.
The hunters watched.
The queens stood behind me like war given shape.
And I—
I smiled.
Slowly.
Honestly.
"No."
Silence.
Pure.
Absolute.
I took one step forward.
And let the assassin king answer.
"I deny only the arrogance of people who think they decide whether I deserve to exist."
That landed.
Hard.
Good.
The woman on the throne did not blink.
But something changed.
Approval?
Interest?
Danger?
Probably all three.
She leaned slightly forward.
And asked the real question.
"When kings rise…"
The cathedral itself seemed to listen.
"…do they protect the world…"
Her crimson eyes sharpened.
"…or simply demand it kneel?"
There it was.
Judgement.
Not in power.
Of intent.
I looked behind me.
At Seraphina.
Selene.
Lilith.
Valeria.
At the family.
At people's choice.
At people worth becoming dangerous for.
Then I looked back at Heaven.
And answered.
"If the world kneels…"
My voice dropped.
Cold.
Certain.
"…it should be because I gave it something worth trusting."
Silence.
Then—
for the first time—
The woman on the throne smiled.
Not kindly.
Not warmly.
Like someone recognising the beginning of a very interesting war.
And I understood something dangerous.
This trial…
had only just begun.