After the odious siege of the Shadow Faction ended, the Empire began to rebuild that which was destroyed. For those who had access to unimaginable wealth, reconstruction wasn't a problem. The flow of money and manpower was like a gentle breeze to their nerves, nothing they couldn't handle. However, for the less fortunate, the sudden war left greater scars than the wealthy could ever possibly fathom.
All across the Empire, the Moonlight Army was sent to distribute bioluminescent blood to the vampires. Many were left surprised by the Emperor's sudden act of kindness, but truly, it was just a strategic play, a means for Lucien to keep the people on a tight leash. Few could stand up to him, but it was still wise to maintain the image of a considerate ruler, even if such consideration was greatly limited.
The vampire soldiers travelled across various terrains, visiting several communities to share the King's resources. Just as there were people who thanked the King graciously for his kindness, others cursed him for only showing generosity at such a grievous time. Nevertheless, whatever their reactions were, none of the King's men spared them second glances. It would be paramount to bothering oneself over the pests of a sacred garden. And none were willing to default from this widespread belief.
It took quite a while for the allocated resources to be distributed. Nefaria was a big place, after all, with hundreds of millions of citizens under the Emperor's rule. Eventually, all that needed to be done was taken care of, and the soldiers were allowed to return to their residences in the greater cities. Peace had returned. For how long? No one knew.
While the Nefarian citizens contemplated this, Sylvia and her men had finally returned to Dragon City.
The familiar sight of opulent structures and the whirlwind of life filled the vampire soldiers with a soothing sense of familiarity. All were eager to push aside the dreadful memories of the war and focus on the present. After all, life was far too precious to be bothered about what was past.
"You're free to head home," Sylvia's frigid tone caught the soldiers off-guard. Some flinched, but they all soon bowed to her as they departed from her presence.
One by one, they retired to their abodes, reuniting with their families after the war. Left alone, Sylvia's gaze lingered on the plethora of extravagance, the royal castle stretching as an obsidian spire further above.
Her posture was elegant, crimson eyes narrowed as they gazed again. Few could truly fathom what dwelled in their depths. What is hatred? Was it disgust? Was it the unhinged fear that things could fall apart?
Even amongst royalty, her lineage was exceptional. While her father was the former Leader of the Moonlight Army, her mother was the sharpest warrior of her time. Meanwhile, her elder brother was the King Of Nefaria. And her younger brother, Kaleb, was just as feared as she was. Many wondered who was truly deserving of the title as Leader. Whether it was the harbinger of death herself, or the omen of dread. Whichever was most suited had never been decided till this time Still, Sylvia welcomed the competition, as fierce as it was, especially coming from her own family.
As her thoughts drifted, Sylvia walked past the rich and powerful, her eyes lingering on no one. Citizens muttered as they took double takes, eyes filled with reverence and admiration.
"That's Sylvia Darkhaven. Leader of the army. My, just look how fierce she is. Truly, she's Margaret's daughter."
"I couldn't agree more. I can't help but see her mother in her. I'm not surprised she managed to steal Thomas's heart."
Eventually, Sylvia arrived at a certain part of the city few often visited. A sign carved from stone hung above the entrance, its words reading 'Graveyard'.
Her stoic countenance faltered as she walked into the cemetery.
The chilling sense of death caressed her, but she managed to pushed those thoughts aside. This was the resting place of Darkhavens who perished. Whether their deaths were natural or induced, their remains were all buried here, their lives and deeds forever recorded in the history books for further generations.
She walked past countless graves, each bearing the name of the deceased family member. She didn't stop until she reached the grave that read 'Roman Darkhaven,' then fell to hear knees.
Her mask of indifference crumbled, replaced by deep pain and regret. Tears cascaded down her eyes like raging rivers, hands balled to tight fists.
"You idiot…" she muttered in-between sobs. "Why did you have to challenge that bastard? Why did you decide to put your life on the line for the sake of power?" She asked, but no one was around to provide an answer.
"Were you that pressured by mother to achieve something great? Was it really to the point that you believed gambling your life was the right choice? I told you before you challenged him. I told you it was a bad idea. I had a feeling the duels would end up like this, but you didn't listen. You called me all sorts of names, claiming I was trying to discourage you from claiming the throne. Now look at you. What throne can you claim from beyond the grave?"
Ten years ago at this very time, five Darkhavens challenged Kael for supremacy. And ten years ago, all five were put to rest.
Soon enough, Sylvia wiped her tears and got to her feet.
Time crept by as she stood there, motionless. Her thoughts were a mess. Her face was a mess, as well. This was reality, and nothing she did or say would change it. It felt like an eternity before she finally gathered herself, shoving those nasty thoughts aside as she turned and left. The castle waited for her, the rest of her family did, as well. No matter how much she despaired, she couldn't neglect those still there for her. They deserved to be treasured far more than the dead grieved. After all, life waited for no one, not even the greatest of royalty.
...
The Royal Castle…
Margaret stood proudly beyond the lavish entrance, her arms outstretched to welcome her daughter from war.
"Welcome home, my child," she said, her voice filled with excitement and satisfaction. "How are you feeling? I hope those devils didn't leave any injuries on you."
Thomas stood beside her, but his presence was overshadowed by his wife's dramatics. Sylvia lowered her head as she glanced at him, and he returned the gesture.
"My daughter, you may truly just surpass my legacy one day. I'm glad," he said with a smile, clicking his tongue in amusement.
"I'd expect nothing less. I'd be ashamed to call her my daughter if she couldn't amount to that much," Margaret added, chuckling to herself.
"Indeed. I couldn't possibly let anyone amount to my level. I have a standard to uphold," Sylvia eventually replied, masterfully hiding her displeasure in her mother's words.
"Truer words have never been spoken. Come, child, a celebration is needed," Margaret grabbed her daughter by the arm, dragging her into the castle before she could protest.
Thomas trailed from behind, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath.
"This woman… Even at her age, she's far too impulsive."
Margaret quickly turned her head, shooting her husband a questioning look.
"What's wrong with that? Stop acting like you don't hostel grand events whenever it suits you. You're being hypocritic," she retorted, ignoring his existence right after.
"Mother… how about I go and rest first? I just got back, after all," Sylvia finally gathered the courage and said, already prying Margaret's grip on her hand.
"Ehh… well, I guess you're right. Go and rest, dear. But don't be late for the celebration. It'll be happening in a few hours," Margaret finally released her grip, and Sylvia wasted no time scurrying off. Her gaze trailed her daughter as she left, inaudible words escaping her lips as she scowled.
"Come on, sweetheart. You're being too harsh on her," Thomas said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She's already achieved so much. The least you can do is let her catch her breath."
Margaret shoved his hand and glared at him.
"Pressure is how we can ensure our children become the best they can be. Just look at Lucien, he's basically the King of the Empire. Kaleb is right below her in terms of rank. We can't go easy on her, or any of them, for that matter," she explained.
"You know, it's funny how you didn't mention Roman in your line of reasoning," Thomas retorted.
Hearing her husband's remark, her lips thinned, jaws clenched as she lowered her head. The words came fast, harsh, stabbing at something far too sensitive to be provoked.
"...He's shouldn't have lost," she finally said, hands shaking. "That brat… after all I did for him. I put so much effort into raising him, and he went ahead to disgrace me like that? Unforgivable," her words echoed off the walls, enticing those curious to hear.
...…..
'...At least I found my way out of that situation,' Sylvia thought, her hurried steps ringing in her ears. 'Mother should really take it easy. I don't know what it would take for her to be satisfied. It's like she expect us to conquer the whole world or something.'
As she traversed the expansive halls, a figure suddenly came into view, his slicked back hair and well-defined face gazing ahead. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, but neither said a word. Mars' steps carried beyond her vision, his interests luring him to the royal library once again.
Meanwhile, in a different part of the castle, Vivian stirred in her bed, sleep evading her with full effect. She turned and turned, kicking off pillows and unclean garments placed lazily around her.
Suddenly, in the midst of her discomfort, a series of knocks rang from the entrance. She unfurled from her creased sheets, eyes curving into sinister glints as she considered who might be knocking at such an hour.
"Come in," she eventually said, her tone smooth and welcoming.
The large doors were opened slightly the next moment, allowing a shadowed figure to step in. They were swiftly closed immediately after, cancelling whatever noise would be made from the room.