Chapter 8: Shadows and Silver
The sun had barely begun to rise when the trio arrived at the gates of a sprawling estate nestled in the hills beyond the edge of the nearest town. A sleek black gate slowly creaked open at the touch of Rai's hand against a discreet panel, revealing a cobblestone driveway that stretched between walls of hedges leading to a mansion that looked like something out of another century. The architecture was classic, regal — tall arched windows, ivy-covered walls, and twin gargoyles perched atop the front steps.
Lucien's estate.
Selene leaned against Kian slightly, her strength slowly returning, though the lack of blood bags had taken a toll. Ria trailed behind, arms crossed with her usual nonchalant swagger, observing the place like she was casing it for a heist.
Lucien awaited them on the steps, dressed in a fitted dark grey suit, hands behind his back, expression unreadable. He was tall, sharp-jawed, and moved with the grace of someone who could kill with a whisper.
"Rai," Lucien greeted with a warm, calculated smile. "Bringing strays, are we?"
"Old habits die hard," Rai said with a smirk.
Lucien's gaze flicked to Kian, then Selene. Something unreadable passed through his eyes. "So this is the Nightborn. The one even legends are afraid to whisper about."
Kian, still adjusting to the overwhelming newness of his reality, held his gaze with silent strength.
"Let's get inside," Lucien said, stepping aside. "Sun's coming. And I assume at least two of you aren't wearing protection."
Inside, the estate was even more breathtaking. High ceilings, chandeliers, velvet drapes, and a roaring fireplace — a contrast to the cold crypt and abandoned temples they'd escaped. Lucien led them to a side chamber, opening a drawer from an ornate chest. He took out two rings, each set with a single dark blue gem.
"Daylight rings," he said, handing one to Kian and one to Selene. "Crafted by witches I trust more than most. These will let you walk under the sun without turning to ash. Though I'd still avoid tanning."
Selene gave a small smile. "Appreciated."
Lucien poured himself a drink, then gestured for them to sit. Servants — silent, well-trained humans under compulsion — arrived with fresh clothes, bags of blood, and trays of food.
Kian hesitated before taking a bag, but his hunger had grown unbearable. As he drank, the fire in his veins settled. His body stopped trembling. He felt like himself again — only stronger.
Lucien watched. "He feeds like a natural. Interesting."
"I trained him a bit," Rai said with mock pride. "Whipped him into shape."
Selene rolled her eyes. "You almost killed him twice."
Rai grinned. "That's what brothers are for."
As the trio settled, Lucien offered Kian more than just sanctuary. Over the next few days, he trained him — not just in combat, but in control, focus, and using his gifts. Kian discovered how to sense energy, how to track heartbeat patterns from a distance, how to channel the relic embedded in his chest without letting it overwhelm him.
Lucien was patient but firm. "You don't need to become a monster to be feared. You just need to be unforgettable."
Meanwhile, Selene's strength returned, though her concern for Kian only deepened. Ria remained aloof, often sprawled on the estate roof, watching the sky. But every time Kian faltered or questioned himself, she was the first to nudge him forward — sarcastically, yes, but sincerely.
Outside the estate, shadows were moving. Word had spread. The Nightborn had awakened.
In the dead of night, while Kian and Selene sparred under Lucien's guidance, Lucien's estate was breached. A crash of glass. Screams from human staff. Blood smeared the marble floors.
Lucien didn't flinch. He walked into the foyer, fixing his cuffs.
Four armed figures in dark armor stood in the shattered doorway.
"Welcome, gentlemen," Lucien said coolly, unbuttoning his jacket. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
One of the intruders growled, fangs bared. "We want the Nightborn. Surrender him, and you get to live."
Ria appeared beside Lucien, hair tousled, a glass of wine still in hand. "I would've given him to you... but I already warmed up to the kid."
Lucien smiled. "Shall we dance?"
The room exploded into motion. Lucien moved with elegant savagery, every movement calculated. Selene protected Kian's flank, spinning with daggered precision. Rai pulled Kian out of the line of fire, then turned and joined the fray.
By the time the dust settled, three of the assassins lay dead. One had escaped.
Lucien brushed blood off his sleeve. "Well... I suppose it's time you weren't here. They'll be back. And I'd rather not have my carpets ruined again."
He handed Kian a black duffle. "Take what you need. Change your clothes. Feed before you go. And keep your head down."
As the trio prepared to leave, Kian hesitated. "Why are you helping me?"
Lucien met his eyes. "Because I've seen what happens when power like yours is either misused... or destroyed too soon. I want to see what you become. Besides... I'm a sucker for good stories."
Outside, the stars lit their path. They moved through town, hooded and quiet.
Far behind, unseen by any of them, Nysa — the witch who'd once questioned the prophecy — followed from a distance. She'd been tracking Kian since the temple. Her vision had shown her something different than the rest. Not a destroyer... but a savior.
As for the leaders of the supernatural factions — vampires, werewolves, witches, even the elusive shifters — they'd met in secret. Arguments echoed in the darkness.
"He'll destroy everything."
"He's just a boy."
"The relic chose him."
"That makes him more dangerous."
But Nysa, standing outside the meeting hall, whispered to the night: "They don't see it yet... but I will. I'll find him first."
She vanished into shadow, chasing a truth only she believed in.
The Nightborn's story was just beginning.