redith.
Draven’s words hit so hard that I couldn’t argue. My mouth stayed shut, but my thoughts churned, restless and hot.
Finally, I asked the one question that had been clawing at . "Where am I supposed even to find a vampire, much less kill one?"
That was when his lips curved again, the kind of smile that told he had been waiting for to ask.
"Now, that brings us to the reason I called you all here."
My spine straightened instantly.
"The vampires have been too quiet for too long," Draven went on, his tone asured, heavy. "Which ans they’ve successfully fooled Brackham. And that also ans they are preparing to strike the humans soon."
Silence gripped the room for a heartbeat before Dennis whistled again, leaning forward with a spark in his eyes. Jeffery shifted in his seat, his jaw tight.
I was the last to speak, my voice steady but sharp. "So, you want to kill a vampire... if I see one tomorrow?"
"Yes," Draven said simply.
There was no hesitation from him. His tone didn’t soften—instead, it felt like a plain, absolute command.
The word sank into like a weight.
Before I could say sothing, Dennis leaned forward with a wide grin. "Don’t look so grim. Killing a vampire isn’t as impossible as it sounds. Once you land the right strike, they drop dead."
Jeffery gave a small nod. "He is right, Luna. Killing vampires is about precision, not strength. You will manage it."
Their encouragent was ant to lighten the air, but it only pressed on harder.
They made it sound easy, like swatting down a pest. But I knew better—this wasn’t just about strength or precision. This was about ending a life.
I turned to Draven, my frustration breaking through. "But you haven’t even taught how to kill a vampire yet."
Draven’s gaze lingered on , his golden eyes steady and unblinking. Then, at last, he spoke.
"There are several ways to kill one. Sever the head. Destroy the heart. Fire will burn them to ash if given enough ti. But in close combat, when there is no torch or blade, you go for the spine. Break it, and they cannot move. Then you finish them."
My breath caught at the bluntness of it. He didn’t even try to sugarcoat his words. I guess I was already a war material in his eyes.
Dennis leaned back with a shrug. "See? Simple enough. Don’t let their speed scare you. Once you learn their rhythm, it’s over."
Jeffery’s tone was quieter, more thoughtful. "They bleed like we do. They break like we do. Rember that, Luna, and you won’t freeze."
I pressed my lips together, swallowing hard. Their words were ant to reassure , but my heart was pounding even harder. Severing heads, shattering spines, burning bodies—this was no spar on the training grounds.
This was a real war. And Draven wanted to prove myself in the middle of it.
---
I left the study with my hands balled at my sides and my head full of the image Draven had painted: spine, break, finish.
The corridor felt too long, and the air too still. Each step away from him made the pressure pile higher in my chest until it felt like sothing heavy sitting on my ribs.
’He is asking to do the impossible,’ I told myself, because saying it out loud would have sounded like weakness.
And then, Valmora decided to show up with her smooth and impatient tone.
"You should be afraid of Draven, not the vampires."
I flinched even though the words were not spoken aloud. Valmora’s presence was always a blade wrapped in silk.
"He’s your mate," Valmora continued, the tone almost fond, then barbed. "You sleep in the sa bed, share the sheets... and I’m not surprised it’s why you belittle him. This is foolish and dangerous. Abort that idea imdiately. Draven is the real deal."
Heat rose under my skin. Part of bristled—how dare anyone talk about him like that?
And another part, the part that had watched him command and protect, softened at the reminder of his power. The truth of it knotted tight and, strangely, it steadied .
"Now focus," Valmora said, her voice sharpened into a command. "We have a vampire to kill tomorrow."
I huffed a short, incredulous laugh. "How are you so sure?" I asked into the quiet, my skepticism more for myself than for her.
"Because I said so," she answered, pride thick as honey. "And I can’t wait for that sweet mont."
My stomach twisted, nerves buzzing under my skin, and all I could think about was sugar. Sothing sweet enough to steady because Valmora had raised my blood pressure.
Without bothering to call anyone, I found myself heading toward the kitchen.
The mont I stepped through the wide doorway, heads turned. Servants froze mid-task, and a few of the younger ones nearly dropped the trays in their hands.
Their surprise sat heavy in the air, like I had just trespassed into sacred ground.
Mada Beatrice stood at the far end, as precise and polished as ever, her sleeves rolled neatly while she oversaw two of the chefs.
She hadn’t made much of a presence since she moved here from Stormveil, always working in quiet efficiency, never drawing attention.
But now, her sharp gaze flicked to , unreadable, her face a mask of straight lines.
"Why is the Luna in the kitchen?" she asked, her tone calm but pointed, her expression unchanging.
Heat touched the tips of my ears, but I lifted my chin. "I wanted so dessert."
She gave the faintest nod. "Do you want anything special for dessert, my lady?"
I shook my head. "No."
"Then you needn’t trouble yourself here," she said respectfully, her voice smooth but firm. "The servants will bring dessert wherever you wish."
I let out a breath, the knot in my chest loosening a fraction. "Fine. I will be waiting in the main living room."
Her head dipped in acknowledgnt. "As you wish."
Without another word, I turned and walked out, the faint hum of the kitchen resuming behind , though I still felt the weight of their startled eyes lingering on my back.
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