The next day, as twilight painted the sky in shades of violet and crimson, Draven began the tedious process of preparing for his birthday party.
These clothes are so uncomfortable, he grumbled inwardly, tugging at the stiff, high-collared shirt.
Why do I have to wear this crap?
A knock echoed from the door.
A maid stepped in, bowing slightly.
"Young Master, the Mistress requests your presence at the party."
Draven followed her through the polished hallways of the castle.
I haven't even gotten there yet, and I'm already bored, he thought.
They reached the grand hall—and Draven stopped in his tracks for a second.
He hadn't expected such a large crowd.
The room was buzzing with movement, laughter, and the hum of conversation. Vampires of all ranks filled the space, their crimson eyes and elegant attire turning the gathering into something out of a gothic painting.
The maid led him through the crowd until they reached his mother.
She glanced at him, expression unreadable.
"Draven," she said, gesturing to the man beside her, "this is my younger brother, Isaac—your uncle."
Draven's gaze fell on a tall dark elf with long black hair and sharp features.
He looked to be in his mid-twenties, though Draven knew better.
Beside him stood a dark elf girl, around fifteen in appearance, with the same raven-black hair and a smug smile.
Isaac smiled warmly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Draven."
He looks twenty-five, Draven thought, but if he's Mom's younger brother, and he's that old… how old is Mom?
He quickly squashed the thought. Better not to ask.
Isaac continued, "This is my daughter—and your cousin—Alex."
Alex flashed a toothy grin. "Since I'm older, you'll be calling me Big Sis."
Draven suppressed a shiver.
She looks fifteen, but she's probably over forty.
A forty-year-old calling herself "Big Sis"? That's creepy as hell.
He forced a smile. "Uncle," he said, turning to Isaac, "did you bring a gift for me? You didn't forget it's my birthday, right?"
Isaac chuckled. "Of course not."
A small, swirling shadow appeared beside him—void magic.
He reached into the black hole-like space and pulled out a box.
The shadow dissipated with a hiss.
"I heard you mostly fight barehanded, so I had these custom-made gloves crafted just for you."
Draven opened the box. Inside sat a pair of sleek black gloves. They looked way too big.
"Aren't they a little… oversized?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Try them on," Isaac said with a grin.
Draven slipped his hands into the gloves—and felt them shrink, tightening perfectly around his fingers.
They molded to his skin like a second layer. He flexed his hands, surprised at how light they felt.
"Thanks, Uncle. You're the best."
Isaac beamed with pride.
Draven turned to Alex, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Big Sis," he said playfully, "did you bring me something too?"
Alex tilted her head, smirking. "Of course."
She summoned her own shadow space and pulled out a sleek black dagger.
The blade shimmered faintly, absorbing light around it.
"This is made of black iron," she said. "You might not use weapons often, but it's always good to have one."
Black iron? Draven thought. I've read about that—it's one of the strongest metals in the world.
Guess calling her Big Sis was worth it.
"Big Sis Alex," he said sweetly, voice dripping with sarcasm, "you're so nice!"
Alex's smile widened dangerously. "Why don't we test it out?"
Draven blinked. "Test it?"
"In a real fight."
A grin stretched across Draven's face.
He cracked his knuckles through the gloves.
"Sure. I want to see what these can really do."