The maid drew a slow breath.
Her posture remained straight, but there was no mistaking the weight behind her words when she finally spoke.
"I have **no relationship** with Ivan," she said clearly. "No alliance. No secret dealings. Nothing of the sort."
Her eyes did not waver from Draven's.
"I have known who he is," she continued. "The king's brother. I have known that since they were both young—before crowns, before titles."
A pause.
"Apart from that, there is nothing."
She placed a hand over her chest.
"My loyalty has always been to **the king**. To his family. And to you, my lord."
Her words were not dramatic. They were simply stated—facts she had lived by for decades.
Then her expression shifted, growing more serious.
"And if you are wondering why I did not come to your aid during the battle," she said, her voice lowering, "then we must begin at the very start."
Aldric frowned slightly, while Lyriana listened silently.
The maid lifted her head. Her voice was quiet—but it **carried**.
"From the very day you were born," she said, "the world decided what you were."
Her eyes moved briefly to Aldric, then to Lyriana, then back to Draven.
"They called you mixed-blood. Low-blood. An impurity."
A faint, bitter edge touched her tone.
"But they were wrong."
Silence pressed down on the cave as she took a step forward.
"My lord," she said deliberately, "you are not mixed."
Draven did not move.
"You are not low-blood."
She inhaled once, steadying herself, as if the words themselves carried weight.
"You are of the **purest blood**."
Aldric's eyes widened slightly. Lyriana's breath caught.
"Purer," the maid continued, "than even those who claim themselves pure-bloods. Purer than the ancient lines. Purer than the houses that trace themselves back to the first blood."
Her gaze never left Draven's face.
"You carry **royal blood**—undiluted, undivided."
"The **purest blood among vampires**."
The words settled into the cave like falling ash.
"Royal blood…" Lyriana muttered.
"Royal blood," Aldric thought, incredulous. "How is it possible? A mixed-breed… with the purest blood?"
No one spoke. Even the faint sounds of the cave—the drip of water, the whisper of air—seemed to vanish.
The maid lowered her head slightly.
"That," she said softly, "is the truth hidden from the moment you drew your first breath."
The silence that followed was not empty. It was **heavy**—charged with revelation, the kind that reshapes everything that came before.
The maid did not lift her head immediately.
Her next words came slower, heavier, as though each had been carried for decades.
"That was supposed to be a blessing," she said quietly.
"Royal blood… just like the First Vampire."
She finally looked up.
"In every record. Every prophecy. Every ancient law—royal blood is meant to be **power incarnate**. Authority. Dominion. The right to stand above all others."
Her fingers curled slightly at her side.
"But when you were born," she continued, voice tightening,
"there was nothing."
Aldric frowned. "Nothing…?"
"Not a trace," the maid said. "Not a spark. Not even the smallest whisper of mana."
Her words fell hard.
"A royal-blood vampire," she said, "born **empty**."
Lyriana's eyes widened in dawning understanding.
"That shouldn't be possible," Aldric muttered.
"It isn't," the maid replied. "By every known law, it shouldn't be."
She turned fully to Draven.
"The blood that should have made you a king among kings," she said softly,
"came with no mana to wield it."
Her gaze sharpened—not pity, not sorrow, but truth.
"Even the limits of your **regeneration** were unknown," she said, eyes fixed on him. "No one could find out… because no parent would ever risk harming their child just to test them. Not Kaelen, not Elliana."
Her hands clenched slightly at her sides. "They couldn't risk you dying. Yet your potential… it was undeniable. Too pure. Too dangerous to leave exposed."
She took a slow breath, letting the silence stretch between them.
"So the king and queen," she continued, voice steady, almost reverent, "decided to **seal your blood**. To hide it. To keep it unknown to the rest of the vampire world. So that no rival could ever sense the **true power you carry**."
Her gaze flicked to the cave walls, as if she could see all the eyes that had always been watching from the shadows. Then she returned her attention to Draven.
"They called it protection. Preservation. A secret kept in the veins of their child. The world would never know what you truly were… until you chose to show it yourself."
The cave fell silent again.
The weight of her words pressed down—heavier than any battlefield.
Draven's eyes glowed faintly in the darkness. He did not move. He did not speak.
The maid's eyes darkened as she continued, each word deliberate, heavy with memory.
"At first… I believed them," she said, voice tight. "I believed their claims—that you were just… normal. That you could heal, perhaps, but could not regenerate limbs because of your so-called mixed heritage."
She glanced briefly at Draven, letting the memory settle in the cave around them.
"But one day… the king and queen left. They claimed it was to stop a vampire who had been turning humans into ghouls."
She shook her head slowly, almost in disbelief. "But it was a lie. A story to cover the truth. If there truly had been a vampire turning humans into ghouls… it would not have been reason enough for the king to leave. Vampires don't gather like humans do. No… it was **never about that**."
Her hands tightened at her sides. "The truth… the real reason they left… was to find a solution for you, my lord. Because you… couldn't use mana."
She paused, letting the words hang.
"I was left behind, alone in the castle, as your guardian, your assistant. To watch over you. To protect you."
Her eyes flicked downward for a moment, recalling a memory that changed everything.
"But that day, you decided to leave the castle," she said slowly. "I followed you. To look after you. To make sure you stayed safe."
A tense pause.
"And that… was when I saw something I could not ignore. Something that made me doubt everything I had been told. Everything I had believed about you, my lord. Everything I thought I understood."
Her voice dropped to a near whisper, but every word burned with astonishment.
"You killed a magical beast," she said. "And then… you consumed the magic stone it guarded. A stone filled with raw mana—chaotic, unstable, deadly. No one… no one would dare attempt that. It should have killed you instantly. I was afraid."
She met Draven's eyes, unwavering.
"But you didn't die. You didn't falter. You consumed it… and survived. Whole. Stronger than anyone could have imagined possible."
The cave fell silent.
Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
The weight of that memory—of his impossible survival—pressed down harder than any battlefield ever could.