The capital of Edevane never slept.
Even at midnight, the kingdom breathed.
Carriages rolled across rain-soaked stone roads while distant cathedral bells echoed through the city beneath a sky of endless gray. Towering white structures overlooked the streets like unmoving giants, their windows glowing faintly through the storm.
At the center of it all stood the royal citadel.
Cold.
Massive.
Untouchable.
And deep beneath it—
inside a chamber untouched by sunlight—
the Church finally delivered its report.
The room resembled less of a throne hall and more of a tomb.
Tall black pillars stretched endlessly upward while rows of candles illuminated ancient murals carved into the walls. Most depicted victories against monsters long erased from history.
All except one.
A single mural near the throne had been deliberately destroyed.
Only fragments remained.
Pale figures.
Crimson eyes.
Wings blackened by fire.
Vampires.
A man dressed in silver Church robes stood near the center of the chamber, head lowered respectfully.
The same priest from Norvale.
And seated high above him—
upon a throne carved from dark stone—
sat the ruler of Edevane.
King Aeric Valen.
Old.
Sharp-eyed.
Silent.
The king rested one hand against his cheek while listening.
“The curse disappeared completely?” he asked at last.
His voice carried no surprise.
Only irritation.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And the Church confirms this?”
“We have verified it through multiple witnesses.”
Rain hammered faintly against distant windows far above them.
The king slowly leaned back against the throne.
“Norvale was designated a dead region over a century ago.”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re telling me it recovered overnight because of a structure buried beneath it.”
The priest hesitated carefully.
“…Underground appears to have activated again.”
At those words—
the atmosphere inside the chamber shifted.
Several nobles standing nearby exchanged uneasy glances immediately.
One older advisor spoke first.
“That’s impossible.”
“So we believed,” the priest answered calmly.
The king’s expression darkened slightly.
“Explain.”
The priest stepped forward.
“There was an unidentified individual present during the incident. According to witness reports, they demonstrated direct interaction with Underground’s inner mechanisms.”
“Mechanisms?”
“The ancient language responded to them.”
Silence.
The nobles no longer looked skeptical now.
Only uncomfortable.
The king’s gaze sharpened.
“…The language beneath?”
The priest nodded once.
“They spoke a phrase recovered from old pre-extinction archives.”
“And that phrase?”
The priest lowered his eyes slightly.
“‘To abandon desire is to survive eternity.’”
One of the nobles visibly paled.
Another muttered a prayer under his breath.
The king remained silent for several long seconds.
Then finally:
“…You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
The room fell quiet except for the distant storm.
The king eventually rose slowly from the throne.
Though aged, his presence alone silenced the chamber completely.
“How long has it been,” he asked quietly, “since those words were last recorded?”
The priest answered immediately.
“Two hundred and thirteen years.”
The king looked toward the shattered mural across the chamber wall.
“…And now they appear again near Norvale.”
No one responded.
Because nobody wanted to say the thought aloud.
The king descended the throne steps slowly.
“What about the survivor?”
“We still lack proper identification.”
“Gender?”
“Unknown.”
“Age?”
“Unknown.”
The king stopped walking.
“You know remarkably little for a Church investigation.”
The priest’s jaw tightened slightly.
“The situation developed rapidly.”
“No.”
The king’s voice sharpened.
“You failed to contain it rapidly.”
The chamber turned deathly silent.
Then—
another voice spoke calmly from the far side of the room.
“…Perhaps containment was never possible.”
The nobles immediately stepped aside.
A man emerged slowly from the darkness between the pillars.
Tall.
Thin.
Dressed entirely in black Church attire.
Unlike the priests surrounding him, he carried no scripture, no symbols of faith, no visible weapon.
Only gloves stained faintly crimson near the fingertips.
His pale hair fell loosely over tired eyes that seemed almost bored by the conversation unfolding around him.
Yet the moment he entered—
the atmosphere changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
The king narrowed his gaze slightly.
“…Executor.”
The man lowered his head faintly.
“Your Majesty.”
Even the priest near the throne looked uneasy now.
Because everyone in the chamber knew the title.
Executors were not knights.
Nor priests.
They existed solely for matters the Church considered too dangerous to become public.
The king studied him carefully.
“You’ve been listening awhile, Cassian.”
“So it seems.”
His voice remained strangely soft.
Almost detached.
The king folded his arms.
“And your thoughts?”
Cassian glanced briefly toward the broken vampire mural across the chamber wall.
“If Underground truly awakened,” he murmured, “then the extinction records were incomplete.”
A quiet unease spread through the nobles again.
One finally spoke nervously.
“You think vampires survived?”
Cassian’s expression remained unreadable.
“No.”
A pause.
Then:
“I think something inherited them.”
Silence swallowed the room.
The king’s gaze hardened immediately.
“…Explain.”
Cassian slowly approached the center of the chamber.
“The language beneath was never meant to be spoken by humans.”
His eyes shifted toward the priest.
“And yet someone answered it.”
The rain outside intensified violently.
Thunder rolled across the distant sky.
Cassian continued quietly:
“If even one individual can activate Underground’s systems…”
His gaze darkened slightly.
“…then the old bloodlines may no longer be dead.”
The words settled heavily across the chamber.
Not because they sounded impossible.
But because they sounded plausible.
The king eventually turned toward the rain-covered windows above.
“What exactly are we dealing with?”
For the first time—
Cassian hesitated.
Only briefly.
Then he answered:
“…I don’t know yet.”
And somehow—
that uncertainty frightened the room more than certainty ever could.
The king closed his eyes briefly before speaking one final command.
“Find them.”
Cassian lowered his head slightly.
“As you wish.”
Then somewhere far beyond the capital—
inside a quiet forest village untouched by politics and kingdoms—
Seren slept peacefully, completely unaware that the world had finally begun searching for her again.