-- The House Breathes Again --
The Wolfe Manor had always been a creature of its own—restless in the night, with staircases that creaked like old bones and windows that shivered against the wind.
That night, the manor felt awake in a way Adrian hadn't sensed in centuries. The air was heavier, charged with the scent of rain and something far older—Lucian's presence filling the halls like a storm waiting to break.
Adrian set a single long table in the dining hall, lighting the candelabras that had collected dust for decades. Their flames danced nervously as if they sensed the gathering of the primordial bloodline.
He glanced at the head of the table—the seat that had been empty since the night Lucian was entombed. Now it stood waiting, and that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
--- The First Supper in Six Hundred Years --
Lucian entered the dining hall like a man who owned the house, his long coat gone but the predatory grace still in every step. The candlelight cast golden flickers across his silver-flecked eyes as he dragged a finger along the table's surface, feeling a sense of nostalgia wash over him as he glanced around.
"Still standing," he murmured. "The house has aged better than most of us, I see."
Aveline appeared a heartbeat later, wrapped now in a dark velvet gown that matched her regal composure. She glided past Lucian to her usual place at the opposite end of the table, a subtle reminder that there was still distance between them.
"You've returned to sarcasm before apology," she said smoothly. "Some things never change."
Lucian's smirk was quick and sharp as he sat down.
"Neither do grudges, it seems."
Adrian entered last, carrying a decanter of dark red liquid that was not wine. He poured it into three crystal glasses and set them down carefully, as though hoping the ritual of sharing blood could ease the tension.
"For old times' sake," he offered, raising his glass.
Lucian accepted it, swirling the crimson liquid before taking a slow sip. His expression softened faintly.
"I almost forgot how much better it tastes when shared at home."
For a brief, fragile moment, silence held them—not the hostile kind, but the silence of ghosts long separated and unexpectedly reunited.
--- Unfinished Business ---
Aveline was the first to break it.
"You've slaughtered your way here. A bar full of humans, hunters on the bridge, witches in the woods. Is that your way of announcing your return?"
Lucian leaned back in his chair, unbothered.
"Six centuries without blood makes one… impatient. I'm awake now, thanks to your highway project and a little rainstorm. And I intend to reclaim what I was forced to leave behind."
Adrian's brow furrowed. "Reclaim what, exactly?"
Lucian's gaze shifted between them.
"Our name. Our birthright. The city built on our bones while we hid in shadows. I won't hide anymore."
Aveline's fingers tightened around her glass.
"The world has changed, Lucian. We keep our heads down because it's the only way we've survived. If you make noise, the hunters, the covens, even the descendants of the Mikaelsons will come for us."
Lucian chuckled lowly.
"Let them come. I was their nightmare before they even had a name."
-- The Shadow at the Door --
Before Aveline could retort, the candles flickered as the front doors creaked open. Heavy boots echoed across the hall.
A voice, deep and edged with steel, rolled into the room:
"I heard the house had a new ghost haunting it."
All three siblings turned as Silas Wolfe stepped into the dining hall, his towering frame wrapped in a black leather coat, his hair tied back with a wolf-bone clasp. He hadn't changed—if anything, he seemed carved even sharper by the centuries.
Lucian stood slowly, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a snarl.
"Brother."
Silas's amber eyes burned like embers in the candlelight as they met Lucian's silver-gold ones.
"I should've let the earth keep you."
"You tried," Lucian replied evenly. "You failed."
The tension in the room shifted, becoming almost physical. Adrian moved quickly to step between them, palms raised.
"Not tonight. We just got him back—don't start this now."
Silas's glare didn't waver.
"You call this coming back? He's a storm. He'll drag every hunter and witch in the country to our doorstep. He's a threat, Adrian, always has been."
Lucian's smirk darkened.
"Funny. I could say the same about you. Since you had the guts to imprison your own blood in tomb all because i was born stronger than you."
Aveline's voice cut through the rising growl.
"Enough. We will not spill blood at this table—not tonight."
For a long moment, the two brothers stared each other down, neither blinking. Then, with a sharp breath, Silas pulled out a chair and sat, his eyes never leaving Lucian.
"Fine," he muttered. "Let's hear what the hybrid has to say for himself."
--- The Toast of the Damned ---
Adrian raised his glass again, more as a plea than a celebration.
"To the Wolfe family. Together again."
Aveline hesitated, then touched her glass to his. Lucian raised his last, eyes gleaming with something unreadable—pride, pain, and the shadow of vengeance.
"To family," Lucian echoed softly. "What's left of it, anyways."
The clink of crystal sounded like a spark in the darkness, small but dangerous. Outside, thunder rolled over Hollow Falls, and the wolves in the distant woods began to howl as if sensing what was gathering in the manor.
For the first time in six hundred years, the Wolfe family sat under the same roof, sharing blood and silence. But peace, as always with them, was only a thin veneer over the wars yet to come.
|-| To Be Continued |-|