Xavier stayed beside Eleazar until the old man turned toward the stone path leading out of the castle's inner district.

"I will take my leave now," Eleazar said. "I've been gone long enough. The village cannot remain without a prophet's eyes for too long."

Xavier tensed.

He didn't want him to go—not like this, not so soon.

"You can stay," Xavier said. "Or come with me. I can show you the city. My place. My life. You can even meet Eamon. He'd—"

Eleazar placed a hand on his shoulder.

"…Not yet," he said softly. "There is a time for a father to walk beside his son. And a time for a son to walk alone. You are in the second part now."

Xavier looked down, fighting the urge to grab his father's sleeve like he used to when he was a boy.

Eleazar smiled—not wide, not bright. Gentle.

"When the time is right, Xavier… I will stand by you again."

Then he left.

His steps were quiet. His figure grew smaller.

And then he was gone.

Xavier watched the empty corridor, breath caught somewhere between pride and ache.

His father's words still buzzed in his chest.

He had made his decision. And this time, he wasn't going to hesitate or run from it.

He turned and headed back toward Reva's chamber.

But halfway through the corridor, someone blocked the path.

A young vampire stood at the opposite end—lean, sharp-faced, still in half-ceremonial clothes, fists clenched, eyes burning with open hatred the moment he saw Xavier.

Xavier recognized that look instantly.

Jealousy. Rage.

And a bruised ego screaming for a target.

He walked forward without stopping, but the vampire shot toward him in a burst of speed, fangs out, aura flaring.

Xavier raised one arm and blocked the hit without even shifting his balance.

"I don't want to fight," Xavier said.

The vampire didn't care.

He spun, swung again, hissed something under his breath. Xavier dodged it and kept moving, not even bothering to counter.

Then the vampire snapped, voice breaking through adrenaline:

"You should've thought about that before laying your filthy hands on my sister!"

Xavier froze for half a second.

'Ah. So that's who he was.'

Reva's brother.

The kid swung again, but Xavier caught his wrist mid-air and turned the momentum. In one smooth movement, he pinned the vampire to the floor, one knee on his chest, hand on his throat—not choking him, just showing how little effort it took.

The young vampire snarled up at him.

"I didn't just 'lay hands' on her," he said. "She wanted me. She asked for me. She pulled me closer every time I tried to step back."

Reva's brother went red with rage.

"And she didn't just enjoy it," Xavier added, tightening his grip just enough to shut the boy up. "She begged for more."

The vampire cracked, aura bursting in fury he didn't know how to control. Xavier didn't even flinch.

"If you've got a problem with that," Xavier said, "take it up with Luther. Not me."

He stood, brushed off his clothes, then glanced down at the kid still seething on the floor.

"And next time," Xavier added, "if you want to protect your sister's honor… learn how to throw a punch first."

He turned and walked away, leaving Reva's brother trembling between anger, humiliation, and the sudden realization that Xavier wasn't someone he could touch.

Xavier walked straight toward Reva's chamber after leaving her brother facedown in the corridor.

She was still asleep on the bed—curled up, lashes still wet from however long she had cried.

Xavier sat beside her, brushed her hair from her cheek, and just… stayed.

Just watching her breathe.

When her hand moved in her sleep, reaching for something she couldn't name, he took it gently and let her fingers curl around his.

That's how he stayed until morning.

By the time he reached the throne hall the next day, the vampires were already deep in their council meeting. Elders lined the room. The council heads were arguing about treaties and rituals and the crisis from the other night. Luther sat on the throne with his usual cold detachment, listening to disputes he clearly didn't care about.

And then the doors slammed open.

The guards tried to stop him, but Xavier walked right through like they weren't even there.

A wave of shock spread through the room.

Gasps.

Growls.

And then all hell broke loose.

"HOW DARE YOU ENTER—"

"INTRUDER—"

"FILTHY HUMAN—"

"SHOW SOME RESPECT—"

Xavier raised a hand.

Just a gesture telling them to shut up.

And the fact that he didn't even hesitate—that he walked straight into a hall full of beings who could tear a star apart—made half of them angrier and the other half uneasy.

One of the elders stepped forward, eyes glowing.

"You dare interrupt the Vampire High Council—"

"You bet your ancient wrinkly ass I do," Xavier cut in.

The hall went dead silent.

Xavier kept walking until he stood right in front of Luther.

"I'm here to talk to my father-in-law."

Every elder choked on air.

A few sputtered.

Someone cursed.

Another one shouted, "BLASPHEMY!"

Xavier ignored them all and kept his gaze locked on Luther.

"I'm here about Eleanor," he said. "Your daughter. My woman."

Luther's eyebrow twitched. Just enough to betray the storm behind his calm.

Xavier tilted his head.

"So let's settle this like adults. I want her hand. I want the marriage. And I'm not here to ask for permission. I'm here to give you the courtesy of hearing it from me first."

The council erupted—yells, insults, threats—but Xavier didn't look away from Luther even once.

It was like the entire hall disappeared.

Just the two men standing there—

one the Lord of Vampires,

and the other was a human who wasn't so human.

"Heh!" Luther let out a scoff. "Sadly, her engagement has already been fixed. You might have heard of the name Blackwood. Eleanor is soon to be the fiance of the heir of the Blackwood, Lucas Blackwood."

"Yeah, nah. That heir of the Blackwood you speak of will soon be seven feet under. So unless you want Reva— Eleanor to be a widow, let me have her. Of course, you can continue with the engagement ceremony, but also prepare for my wedding ceremony."

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