Sixteen years later.
Ho.
He was back ho, at least. He thought as he stood over the mountain hill, looking down at Velre town beneath the sunset, the houses small from this distance. He had been away from ho for twelve years, and in all those years, he had only returned to Velre twice.
One should feel accomplished after gathering the kind of knowledge he had gone away to learn and practice, yet he felt no such pride in his heart. Instead, there was only a hollow closeness to emptiness. Perhaps being ho again, and finally accomplishing his life goal of saving the people on his list, would bring back the joy he had lost during his years at Asterfall Academy.
It felt good to be ho, but the one thing he hated was the feeling lingering inside him. Still, perhaps if he pretended to be the person he had been before he left ho, everything would feel okay, if not perfect, and he would enjoy this ti with his family.
Being around them had always made him feel better, as though he possessed everything in the world. Especially his mama. He missed her more than he could ever put into words. Maxwell, who had removed the na Angel from himself while at the academy, thought this as he opened his wings and descended toward the ground.
He missed those days when happiness ca to him so easily, when life had not yet left such heavy marks upon him. Looking now at the top of the Dagon house from a distance, Max didn’t feel the familiar urge to rush ho, even though he knew his parents and siblings would be expecting him, waiting to welco him after so many years apart.
He couldn’t wait to see them all, his sister and his baby brother, who he knew was no longer a baby. He missed them terribly. Yet many things had changed over the years, including himself. He was afraid they would see through him, see the changes, and no longer want him the way they once had. He felt like a coward, an impostor who wore the face of soone he was no longer. A deceiver... and a liar. Perhaps the biggest one of all.
He couldn’t let them see that. Not his beautiful family, the family he loved with everything inside him.
Thirsty after his travels, or more to delay his return, Max decided to stop and have a few glasses of blood at one of the many vampire eateries scattered around the town, a town that had expanded so much with each of his visits that, if he didn’t know better, he might have thought he had stepped into a different place altogether, so advanced were the Velre mountainside settlents.
The years leading up to the ti he was to leave for the academy had been the worst of his life in Velre, a place where people had wanted to test his patience and provoke him at every turn. He hoped that many of them had since grown so sense and no longer rembered who he was, though he knew that was unlikely, especially with him being the very image, almost a carbon copy, of his father.
Max looked around for the least crowded blood-and-food restaurant, and upon spotting one with minimal noise drifting from within, he walked forward and opened the door. Imdiately, the burst of voices and clamor inside made him regret his choice. He had forgotten that the world had advanced so much that establishnts now had soundproof doors and walls.
Every eye imdiately turned toward him as he stepped into the lamplight. He hated attention, especially in Velre, because everyone knew exactly who he was.
The Dagon family was well known, the richest in Velre, and everyone knew every mber of the family, along with far too many of their private matters, which often beca the subject of morning gossip around the mountainside. It was also widely known that the first son had been away for years, studying at a wealthy and prestigious academy.
Max decided to ignore the stares; he was too thirsty and needed urgent blood in his system. He would turn and leave as soon as he could get enough blood to make his itchy throat settled.
To the people inside, everything stopped. All movent halted, conversations paused, because the son of Lord Dagon had returned and had entered their space.
He had dark blue hair, neatly combed back on one side and falling down on the other, partially covering and hiding half of his face. His presence was impossible to ignore, not because he sought attention, but because his aura quietly demanded it.
Young vampire won sitting with their partners and friends whispered to one another, so openly staring and fixing their hair to catch his attention, because they all knew he was a man who had never been seen with any woman except his mother and sister, not that he was often ho to be seen by anyone in Velre.
He was simply too good-looking: the tiny freckles on his long nose, the perfectly bow-shaped pink lips, the wide shoulders, and the veins tracing his neck and corded lines of muscle. The Dagons were unique and unusual in their own way, and even without trying, they drew attention, especially their eldest son.
"Hell, I never knew he was this handso!"
"Oh my God, he’s looking at our table!" Another excited female gushed, though Max was only scanning for an empty table at the back.
"I wish he would co here and say hi. I used to be Rosey’s friend before the bitch backstabbed and took my man’s attention from ," muttered a young woman, the daughter of one of the few wealthy vampire families in town. "Perhaps I should make up with Rosey, just to get introduced to her brother."
A few n frowned, annoyed by the sudden attention the young man drew. They had been trying to attract the attention of the won all night, yet he did so effortlessly without even aning to.
Max walked further inside, intent on finding a seat and placing an order, when a woman nearby accidentally dropped her spoon. It clattered loudly against the floor, drawing his attention.
Max stopped walking.
Without hesitation, and more out of self-discipline than instinct, he veered from his path and walked toward her. He bent down, picked up the spoon, and held it out with a polite bow.
"Ma’am, you dropped this."
The young vampiress stared at him, montarily stunned, too shocked even to breathe. Maxwell Dagon had never spoken to her before, and up close, he looked even more handso, his features gentle, his expression warm and respectful.
There were many rumors that he was one of the kindest people anyone could ever et, but few believed them, because his father was a devil incarnate, feared throughout the town.
"Th-thank you," she said softly as she took the spoon from him.
He smiled faintly, bowed again, and made his way to a corner table, as though nothing unusual had happened, ignoring the other stares cast his way.
The woman whose spoon he had picked up turned to her friends imdiately, cheeks flushed.
"You’re right, he’s so nice! I am not eating with this spoon because he touched it; I’m keeping it like a treasured jewel." She pressed the spoon against her cheek with a dreamy expression.
"He’s nothing like Lord Dagon," another whispered. "But he rarely cos back to Velre. He’s always away at that academy in Asterfall. I don’t even know how he got into such a place, where only the best of the best are admitted, or how he could stay so far from his family. The last ti he was here was on his brother’s birthday."
"He is too good to be real."
Across the room, a group of n who had been fuming since they first saw Max, n who had once tried to befriend him before he left for the academy but considered him too foolish to be in their circles, snorted loudly. It was hard not to scoff at the won’s words, overpraising soone they considered a coward.
"Handso and too good?" one of them scoffed. "What use are good looks if one is stupid?"
They laughed. One woman rolled her eyes; it wasn’t a secret that many n in Velre resented Max, jealous of him for being everything they were not.
"You’re just jealous because you don’t look like him, and your father isn’t a lord," another muttered.
A man leaned back in his chair, raising his voice, clearly intending for Max to hear what he was about to say.
"Yeah, jealous. Jealous of a man who got robbed and practically kissed the robber’s feet just to be spared years ago before he went to that dump of an academy. A man who licks boots when he’s insulted. Do you know what he did the last ti he ca ho?"
The won grew curious despite themselves and turned to look at the n.
"A thief stole his money," the drunk man continued. "And the fool chased after him just to give him more coins. I even stepped on his foot once during his brother’s birthday ceremony to provoke him. He apologized to . That’s how stupid he is, a coward who can’t even fight."
Max, sitting at the corner table, continued drinking the refined blood served to him, his expression unreadable, posture calm and composed. Every insult passed over him without reaction. He didn’t like to fight, and he rarely got provoked, but the n of Velre always liked to antagonize him by calling him nas. Max had already sworn to himself that he would never allow himself to feel insulted enough to fight, never enough to reveal the monster he constantly tad within.
Hence, just like always, he ignored them and gulped down his blood, focusing only on finishing his drink so he could leave.
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