The city had changed.
Sky scrapers everywhere. Cars moved like insects, people blinked down at glowing screens, oblivious to the monsters walking amongst them.
Damian stood on the edge of a rooftop, high above the pulse of civilization, wrapped in a black coat borrowed from a dead Order agent. Tailored, expensive, and soaked in dried blood. It clung to him like memory. The world was louder now. The sky righter, and the wind colder in ways that had nothing to do with weather.
He inhaled deeply. The air was thick with metal and ambition.
He watched, in silent at people who went about their daily activities. Mostly the humans who has no idea about the existence of his kind..... He knew there are still lots of his kind out there, mixed with the human race...
From the coat, he pulled a sleek unfamiliar modern device. Nyra had given it to him with a smirk. "I think you would need something more useful than those dramatic ancient exits," she had said, along with coordinates.
He pressed a single number.
No ringtone. Just a click. Then silence.
"...My lord."
Thorne Blackwell voice was smooth and filled with anxiety.
"You may speak." Damian said.
"Welcome back, I have awaited your return for centuries." His voice calm and collected. "I would have my men arrange a place for you to stay."
"Have it ready before sunset."
"Will do my lord." Thorne said. "I've been preparing quietly for this day. Your holdings has remained intact.
Now modernized into Innovative businesses, digital currencies and advanced tech."
"I'm not calling for a report. I want access."
There was a pause.
"Surveillance has become more advanced now. Without recognition, AI alerts would...
"Do I have a cover identity prepared?."
"Yes, i've set up a few options. But use the one linked to the Virelli Group; It's clean, gives you a solid reputation but you would have to be cautious
"Alright," Damian murmured.
"I can have a car come pick you—"
"No." His tone cut like frost. "No trails. No witnesses. You'll come to me, Tonight."
"Understood."
The call ended.
Damian returned the phone to his pocket, coat billowing as the wind tugged at him.
While he returned at staring at the human activities beneath him..
****
Across the city, dawn broke over narrow apartment windows.
The school trip had ended without a ceremony. No goodbyes, no explanations. They had left Veyruhn behind like a grave no one wanted to remember. The students were silent on the bus ride home, most acting like they'd imagined everything a fever dream, a storm too strange to speak about.
Elian said nothing.
She kept her eyes on the rain-slicked roads, but her thoughts lingered underground, beneath the stone and silence. The weight of a name that refused to leave her.
By the time they reached the city, the sky had cleared. But nothing inside her felt light.
Her home was a sixth-floor apartment nestled above a bakery. The familiar scent and environment made her relax a bit. She hesitated at the door, staring at her own reflection. She has become pale, with secrets under her skin.
She stepped inside.
The scent of lavender and old books filled the air as her grandmother hummed in the kitchen, oblivious to the secrets she carried..
"Elian?" her cousin called from the couch. "You're back early."
"Yeah, Plans changed," Elian replied, voice steady. She dropped her bag by the door and moved in quickly, avoiding her grandmother's eyes.
"You look pale," the older woman said. "Did you catch a cold?"
"No," Elian lied. "Just tired."
She retreated to her room before more questions followed. Quietly. No slamming doors. No reason to draw attention.
Her room was frozen in time.
Faded posters, dog eared books, and a cracked photo. Yet it felt distant, like it belonged to a stranger.
She turned to the mirror.
Her face was the same. But her eyes… her eyes knew something they couldn't say.
She hadn't told anyone what had happened.
Not about the cathedral, the order, or Damian's awakening. Nor about the connection that tied her to him, a tie that ran deeper than blood.
Also not about how the order had let her go.
Lucien's gaze haunted her. Cold. Calculating. Like she was something unpredictable, something dangerous only half-formed.
They were giving her time.
But not mercy.
She curled up on her bed, phone in hand. The screen was blank, no messages, no updates. Veyruhn's drama non-existent in the digital world .
She buried the phone under her pillow.
Outside, the city hummed with energy; car horns, chatter and footsteps. Buh inside, all was still.
She didn't know if it was the Order. Or Damian. Or something else entirely.
All she knew was that whatever had begun beneath that cathedral… hadn't ended.
And wasn't even close to.....