SWOOOOOOSH
Fiona and Seraphina looked up from the broken level of the fortress. Under the beautiful moonlight, the two women watched as Eldora flew low over the crumbling battlements and Ali leapt from her back with a woman in his arms, a black cloth tied firmly over her mouth.
Ali landed lightly on the stone, his boots scraping against the ancient stonework. Fiona stepped closer, her eyes locking onto the pregnant woman, noting quickly that she was unharmed despite the cloth and the tight hold of Ali's arms.
From the shadows by the stairs, the hooded robot emerged, its metal limbs moving silently, gliding toward Ali. Fiona's eyes flicked from the machine to the hostage, then back to Ali.
Ali didn't waste a word. He handed the struggling woman over to the robot, who gripped her with ease, completely unbothered by her desperate scratching at its iron arms. Metal couldn't feel pain.
Fiona followed the robot down the cracked stairs into the second level of the fortress, her expression unreadable.
"All went well?" Ali asked, lowering himself to sit on a pile of broken stones. Eldora flapped her wings once and vanished back into the night sky.
"I had to burn a lot on him. He had good resistance, since he was a one circle mage…" Seraphina answered calmly, taking a seat next to him when he gestured for her to sit. Neither of them needed sleep—one by nature, the other by choice.
Seraphina's eyes rested on Ali, studying the subtle tension in his jaw as he looked right back at her with those cold, deep black eyes. He slowly raised two fingers.
SNAP.
The sharp sound cracked the stillness. Seraphina's red eyes dropped instantly to the large plastic barrel that now sat beside them, filled to the brim with fresh, warm blood. At the scent, her icy composure wavered—her blue irises flared red, veins threading out around her eyes, her teeth extending into lethal canines.
Ali lifted his index finger, pointing it down, moving it slightly—an unspoken order. Her hungry eyes tracked the finger like a starved animal fixated on prey.
He watched her, waiting.
Seraphina closed her eyes and forced a steady breath through her fangs. Her canines retracted, the veins faded. She sat back down, spine straight, visibly ashamed that she'd lost control so easily under his command.
Ali said nothing. He picked up a fist-sized chunk of stone, then drew out his Inverted Spear of Heaven. The blade shimmered faintly under the moonlight as he began carving the stone like it was soft wood—chips falling away in thin, precise curls.
Seraphina's crimson gaze lingered on the blade, then drifted back up to Ali's face.
"What did you see in the kid?" Ali asked, voice calm as he shaved a perfect sliver off the rock.
Seraphina tilted her head back, looking up at the deep, clear night sky above the ruined battlements. Royal blood made her hunger savage, but it also made her will iron—lesser vampires would have lost themselves by now.
"He's a fool. A one circle mage who still clings to Aura," she said coldly. "He barely qualifies as a third level Aura user."
Ali's hand paused. He glanced at her face through the drifting stone dust—he had to admit it, now, covered in moonlight , she looked breathtaking. That face had once forced kingdoms to bend the knee.
"How is that a bad thing?" Ali asked, curiosity plain in his tone.
Seraphina shot him a side glance, her sharp eyes glinting at the edges. "I suppose your kind wouldn't know…" She returned her gaze to the moon. "A human body can't truly harness mana and Aura at once. One has to integrate fully with the flesh for it to flourish. Trying to keep both weakens them equally. He'll never break the limit of the third level unless he shatters his magic circle and abandons mana altogether."
Ali raised an eyebrow, mind flicking back over her words. 'My kind?' he thought silently, but said nothing.
"But does his magic circle fill the gap?" Ali asked, voice steady. "Between him and someone at the peak of third level Aura? That Nolan boy is strong, very strong… I felt the air move from far away when he screamed."
Seraphina's eyes flicked back to him. "It depends on the spells in his arsenal. But yes—a mage is generally stronger than a knight. A mage can kill a knight before he ever gets close enough. Edwin, though… he's neither here nor there. He'll be dangerous at range and in close quarters, but he'll never excel at either."
Ali turned his head slightly, looking back at the freshly carved edge of stone in his palm—his mind weighing that truth in silence.
Ali finished carving the rough stone into a large cup. He blew across its rim, brushing away the fine grit and powdered stone. With a flick of his wrist, he wiped it clean against the hem of his shirt, then held it up to the moonlight to inspect his work — primitive, but sturdy.
Seraphina raised an eyebrow, her lips curling in a cold, mocking grin. "You're talented. Maybe you should go be a stonemason." Her voice dripped with that familiar noble disdain as she tipped her chin back to admire the stars overhead.
Ali didn't spare her a glance. He popped open the barrel, the thick, iron smell of fresh blood spilling into the night air like a living fog. He filled the stone cup carefully, red liquid swirling under the moon's pale glow. He handed it to Seraphina, watching her reaction closely.
Seraphina's cold blue eyes flicked from the cup to his face, testing him. There was a flicker in those eyes — something prideful, stubborn. She held the cup, but didn't drink. Not yet.
"Not bad." The faint amusement in her tone clashed with the subtle tension in her grip. Ali saw it — the way she held the cup, the way her eyes dared him to use the leash he'd wrapped around her.
"Go on," Ali said calmly.
Seraphina narrowed her eyes, her fangs brushing her lip as if to remind herself who she really was. She wouldn't be treated like an animal — not by him, not by anyone. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted the cup to her lips. She took a single measured sip, eyes locked on his.
The taste of warm blood hit her tongue — her lids fluttered just a fraction. Ali caught it, the tiny slip. She licked the edge of the cup, slow and precise, savouring every drop. Then another sip, this one deeper. By the third, she couldn't hold it back — she drained the entire cup in one greedy pull, crimson trickling from the corner of her mouth.
When she finished, she turned away sharply, thrusting the empty cup back at him so she wouldn't see that inevitable smirk. She hated that he could break her restraint so easily.
Ali refilled the cup in silence and handed it back. "Tell me about the history of the continent — at least what it was like in your time…"
Seraphina's red eyes lifted from the blood, tracing the curve of the moon. "It was better than now," she began, her voice low but alive with old fire.
"We ruled the North. The same barbarians you now call the kings of the North were our cattle — they were our livestock, bred and harvested for blood. The other humans hid together like rats but never produced anything worth fearing. Not the beasts, not the elves, not the demi-humans, no one worried about humans. The strongest of them might rise to be a general in our armies, nothing more."
She paused to take another long drink. The cup emptied faster this time.
Ali tilted his head. "What changed?"
Seraphina clicked her tongue. "Your kind. Your kind ruined everything. The Dragon Lord — that wretched lizard — bred himself through thousands of human females. It was disgusting… but eventually, he made a boy. A half-breed boy, human enough to be accepted but carrying a dragon's gift inside him. Aura. Mana. He mastered both, to the highest level. He became the first Emperor of the human Empire — and one of the strongest to ever walk the continent. But he was only the beginning…"
Ali refilled the cup again, passing it to her like a master rewarding a pet. She didn't care — the hunger was winning now. She drank deeply.
"Once the angels saw what the Dragon Lord did, they mimicked it. They made their own half-breeds with humans — blessed them with angelic blood. These half-breeds couldn't wield both powers like the dragon's spawn, but they could reach high Aura levels easily and channel angel miracles. It was enough. They protected their mages. They organised. They fought. We used to hunt any human mage the moment they hit the fifth circle — an elf mage would sense the surge instantly and send their coordinates to us. It was fun — like hunting fireflies."
She licked her lips, fangs slipping down again, her eyes flickering like molten rubies in the moonlight. Ali poured her another cup without a word.
Seraphina's smile twisted, fangs bared in old pride and old bitterness. "Then the demon war began. Chaos swept everything into hell. We fought your kind directly — your half-breeds, your monsters, your heroes. After that… I know little more. I spent my years drowning the soil in blood on the front lines. Until my sleep."
Ali raised his eyes from the emptying barrel to her face. "How did your kind ever fight direct wars? You can't fight under the sun. Humans could fight day and night."
Seraphina let out a breath that sounded like a ghost's sigh. "That's what the Elders were for. The Elders can stand in the sun — their power eclipsed any human army. One Elder could force an entire legion to wait for dusk, to watch the sun fall with fear in their hearts. When the moon rose, we came for them at our strongest."
Her hand lifted slowly, palm open to the sky. Moonlight poured across her pale skin. Her eyes glowed brighter, deep and red as spilled wine. She drank again, the barrel's level sinking lower and lower —
"The Elders are that strong? If so, then why not just take over the continent?" Ali asked casually, his tone flat, as if they were discussing the weather instead of a power that once brought kingdoms to ruin.
Seraphina's eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight as she tilted her head, considering how much she should reveal. "With that type of strength comes restrictions," she began, her voice a low murmur that curled around the stone walls like smoke. "I remember once… an Elder summoned a blood moon, blocking out the sun so our armies could march when the humans least expected. It was a glorious victory — their defences burned like straw. But that night…"
Her crimson eyes narrowed, distant. "That night we paid the price. At midnight, we all heard a roar — a dragon's roar that shook the earth. The Dragon Lord appeared, with the First Human Emperor on his back. It took three Elders just to keep them from slaughtering us where we stood. Even so… the damage was done. After that, the Elders stopped interfering, even when the royal houses fell, even when we were hunted like dogs. They watched us burn."
The last words dripped with venom, though she fought to keep her tone steady. Her eyes softened, just for a heartbeat, as a memory cut through the cold steel of her anger. She could almost hear her mother's whisper:
"You must survive, my daughter — for our House… and our race."
Her fingers traced the rim of the cup absently. Then her gaze slid sideways, landing on Ali, who sat beside her in silence, staring up at the same moon that once shone down on her mother's fall.
'One of those who destroyed us is now wearing your ring, Mother…' she thought bitterly, as she tilted the cup back and drank the rest of the warm blood in a single breath.
She lowered the empty cup and exhaled, tasting iron on her tongue. Her lips curled into a sly smile. "I've been thinking…" she said.
Ali didn't look at her at first, still watching the moon as if it might whisper secrets back to him. Then his head turned, black eyes locking onto hers. "And?" he asked, voice unchanging.
Seraphina leaned closer, her perfect lips so close to his that he could feel her cold breath brush his cheek. "I think I've figured you out…" she whispered.
Ali's eyes didn't flicker, didn't blink. "Really? Go on, tell me."
She let her smile widen, fangs peeking behind full lips. "You're from the Empire. An exiled prince… or maybe one of the Emperor's hidden bastards. You fled with your dragons, stole a piece of their might. Now you're here, building your strength in secret — so you can go back, carve out your revenge… or rescue someone you left behind."
She watched him, hungry for a flinch, a crack in that frozen mask he wore so well.
But all Ali did was smirk — just a slight curl of his mouth, the same smirk he'd give a dog begging for scraps.
"You've got a great imagination, Seraphina. Really, you do. But you're wrong. Nice try, though…"
He stood up in one fluid motion, leaving her sitting with the empty cup balanced in her pale hands. Without another glance at her or the barrel almost drained dry, he turned and walked down the crumbling stone steps toward the second level, his footsteps echoing off the old fortress walls.
Seraphina watched him vanish into the shadows, her red eyes narrow, her fangs glinting between parted lips.
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