The conference room at C.I.A. headquarters was cold, its fluorescent lights humming faintly overhead. Henry, Tom, Joshua, Lilly, and Selene sat opposite Director Maxwell Miles, the man who only hours ago had towered like a wall of iron authority.
But now, Maxwell knelt on the ground, his broad shoulders trembling, his voice stripped of command.
"Please…" His words cracked as he bowed his head before Selene. "Princess Selene, you must save my daughter. Harper's body is changing—her bloodline awakening. She never wanted this… She'll lose herself. I beg of you."
Henry glanced at Selene nervously. He had never seen a government official like Miles—respected and feared—bend so low. Tom, sitting beside him, whispered, "Bloody hell… the guy's begging her."
Selene didn't move. Her crimson eyes glowed faintly as she studied the Director. She looked like a predator, patient and merciless.
"Tell me, Director Miles," she said, her voice sharp enough to slice steel, "did you marry into the wolf-shifting Myriad tribe without thought of the consequences?"
Maxwell stiffened. His silence was damning.
Selene's lips curved into a cold smile. "So… you knew. Then you must also know the truth—that the Myriad are not mere folklore. Spirits, demons, and beasts among men. Your daughter carries the wolf-blood, and it stirs now."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Joshua blinked hard, trying to make sense of it. "Wait, wait—wolves? Spirits? Demons? What kind of sci-fi horror movie did we stumble into?"
Tom groaned, rubbing his temples. "Mate, I don't think this is a movie. This is… bloody insane."
Lilly, however, flinched. Her shoulders tightened, and for a brief moment, Henry thought she might collapse.
"Lilly?" Joshua asked quickly, reaching for her.
She shook her head. "I-I'm fine… just—this is too much." Her breathing was uneven, but she forced herself to steady. Unlike Harper, no strange changes twisted her body—just fear, confusion, and the ache of seeing her best friend's family in such turmoil.
Joshua squeezed her hand, steadying her. "You're okay. You're not like them. Don't let this get in your head."
Selene ignored their side exchange, her gaze locked on Miles. "If Harper's transformation completes without control, she will slaughter friend and foe alike. The wolf-blood doesn't care for politics or family—it only cares for survival."
Maxwell clenched his fists. "Then tell me what to do."
Selene rose gracefully, her shadow stretching unnaturally across the room. "Take me to her."
---
The SUV sped down the dark forest road, its headlights cutting through the night mist. Inside, Henry gripped the seatbelt with white knuckles, Tom peering anxiously out the window.
"There!" Tom shouted suddenly, pointing.
By the silver glow of the lake stood Harper—on her knees, convulsing. Her nails dug into the earth, her breathing ragged. Faint amber light flickered in her eyes.
"Harper…" Maxwell whispered, his voice breaking.
The men climbed out of the vehicle. The air was sharp, alive with an unnatural tension.
"Wait—where's Selene?" Henry asked suddenly, looking around.
Before anyone could answer, the shadows beneath the SUV rippled. Like liquid darkness, Selene emerged, stepping gracefully out of the black.
Henry stumbled back, heart pounding. "Bloody hell! What—what was that?!"
Selene's smirk was faint but dangerous. "Shadow Traversal. One of my oldest gifts. Where darkness lingers, I may walk."
Even Maxwell, hardened by years of classified horrors, froze in shock. For the first time, he understood: the woman before him could possibly become a solution for the Myriad races rouge- rebel problem.
---
The night ripped open with a chilling howl. Harper's voice—if it could still be called hers—echoed across the forest, raw and primal. The sound was so powerful that even James and Charlotte Brick Sanders, still chasing the mysterious figure who had leapt from the 7th floor earlier, froze mid-step.
James's expression hardened. "That… wasn't any animal."
Charlotte's eyes narrowed. "No. That was something… unnatural."
The two agents sprinted toward the source, their instincts screaming danger. A mile away, near a moonlit lake, they stumbled upon a scene that would burn itself into their memories forever.
---
Selene stood tall, her crimson eyes aglow, the silver of the moon wrapping her pale form in an almost divine aura. Before her, Harper knelt, convulsing as her body twisted between human and beast. Her nails were lengthening into claws, her amber eyes glowing faint, yet her face was still human—caught in a torturous state of half-awakening.
"Be still," Selene's voice rang out, soft yet commanding. She reached out, weaving her ancient Charm into Harper's mind.
"Sleep, young wolf."
The command struck deep. Harper's trembling slowed. Her wild eyes dimmed, and her breathing softened, caught between waking and dreaming. The transformation halted—unnatural, suspended. Harper slumped into her father Maxwell's arms, her claws retracting halfway.
Her voice cracked weakly. "Who… who are you?"
Selene crouched down, brushing Harper's hair from her damp forehead, her voice low yet filled with ancient weight.
"I am Selene, Princess of the Night. And you… are not lost yet. The beast is inside you, but your soul still belongs to you. Choose wisely, child."
---
Henry and Tom stood frozen, their minds reeling at the sight.
"Did she just… stop a werewolf transformation?" Tom whispered, his voice shaking.
"That's… not even possible," Henry muttered, his eyes locked on Selene.
Maxwell clutched his daughter, his breath ragged. He looked at Selene with awe and fear.
"She… she isn't just a vampire. She's something beyond us. Something ancient…"
His thoughts twisted like a storm. If Selene could halt the wolf-bloodline's awakening, then perhaps she could stand against all the rebel Myriad races. Perhaps even the demons themselves.
---
But the fragile silence shattered again.
A scream pierced the night. Not Harper's. This one came from afar—shrill, raw, and filled with pain.
Lilly.
Joshua's eyes widened in horror as he spun toward the sound.
There, hovering inches above the ground, Lilly trembled violently. Her body glowed faintly with an otherworldly aura, and from her back, something terrible forced its way out.
Dark, jagged wings—demonic wings—erupted with a wet, bone-cracking sound.
"LILLY?!" Joshua shouted, his heart stopping at the sight.
Lilly's scream became a shockwave. Streetlights around them burst, glass exploding in a shower of sparks. The earth itself seemed to recoil from her awakening. Joshua fell to his knees, clutching his ears, unable to process what he was seeing.
---
Selene's eyes narrowed sharply. She had sensed it the moment Lilly's blood ignited.
"She's awakening too," Selene whispered, unfurling her own black wings. With a single, graceful motion, she soared into the night sky, streaking toward Lilly in a blur.
Within moments, Selene hovered before the terrified girl, whose wild eyes glowed with a faint infernal hue. Lilly's wings flailed violently as if they had a will of their own.
Selene's voice sliced through the chaos.
"Sleep, child."
Her hypnotic command struck like chains of velvet steel. Lilly's eyes fluttered, her body going limp. The wings shrank back into her flesh with a sickening hiss. Selene caught her before she could fall, cradling her like fragile glass, and descended softly back to the others.
---
The group stared in stunned silence.
Henry's voice broke first. "Selene… what the hell is she?"
Joshua stumbled forward, his face pale. His hands trembled as he reached toward the unconscious Lilly.
"She's… she's my girlfriend. But I don't even know what she is anymore…"
James and Charlotte exchanged grim looks. Even they, hardened agents of shadow wars, could not mask their unease.
Maxwell clutched Harper tightly, his mind spinning. One wolf. One demon-blooded. Two awakenings in one night. His lips trembled as he muttered to himself:
"The Myriad races aren't myths anymore… They're awakening… all at once. And maybe just maybe someone like the Vampire princess Selene Laxmus was the key to cleary warn the Myriad races Rouge Rebels what excatly might happen to them if they decided to go on a unnessary rampage.
---
2nd October 2022 – Sunday, 12:00 Noon.
Henry Mathew sat in Joshua's living room, his back pressed against the wall. His thoughts were a storm he couldn't quiet. College, Manchester, the diploma waiting for him in just one month — none of it mattered anymore.
Not after last night.
His hand instinctively touched his back, fingertips brushing the invisible heat of those strange, glowing marks Princess Selene had carved into him. Symbols older than language, etched with crimson light that seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat.
They weren't mere designs.
They were vows.
A binding mark of eternal claim.
Selene had sealed him, body and soul.
---
When Henry finally explained it to Joshua and Lilly, the room erupted.
Joshua doubled over, clutching his stomach as tears of laughter streamed down his face.
"Bro—wait, wait… you're telling me—Selene drew something on your back and now you're basically married? That's—pffft! That's insane!"
Lilly slapped her hand over her mouth, trying to contain her giggles, but they burst through anyway.
"Oh my god, Henry! This is so… absurd it's romantic. You have the worst luck. Or maybe the best?"
Henry's ears burned red.
"Stop laughing! She was… forceful, okay? But I'm not mad about it." He hesitated, glancing away. "I mean… I'm not a virgin anymore, so…"
Joshua froze. His laughter cut off instantly, jaw dropping.
"Wait. WHAT?! You mean—Selene actually—"
Henry groaned. "Don't make me repeat it."
---
Joshua slumped back on the couch, his mood souring as a memory stabbed at him.
"Meanwhile, I'm the one cursed! Lilly's dad straight-up threatened me! Said if I try anything before marriage, I'll… I'll basically end up a eunuch."
Lilly's cheeks flushed pink.
"Dad said that to you?!"
Joshua threw his hands up.
"Yes! He looked me dead in the eye and said it. Now I'm doomed to monkhood until graduation. I swear, what did I even do to deserve this?!"
Lilly crossed her arms with a sly smirk.
"Well… are you serious about marrying me, Joshua?"
Joshua blinked rapidly.
"W-wait… that's a trap question, isn't it?"
---
Just then, Tom stepped inside, looking restless.
"Uh… so, I talked to Director Maxwell Miles about Harper. He doesn't hate the idea of me dating her, but he told me I should really check with Mom and Dad first. She just turned eighteen last month, and I'm twenty-one. What if they—"
Before he could finish, the light in the room dimmed. The midday sun outside was still shining, yet inside, the air grew cold, shadows stretching unnaturally across the floor.
Henry stiffened. "No way…"
From the dark outline beneath Henry's chair, Selene rose gracefully as though the shadows themselves were her throne. Her eyes glowed faint crimson as she locked onto Tom.
Her voice was silk and steel.
"Naïve boy. You worry about your parents' approval? You should be far more concerned with Harper's mother."
---
The room went dead silent.
Lilly's face turned pale. Her voice trembled.
"Why… why did that sound so scary just now?"
Joshua swallowed hard.
"Yeah… Harper's mom isn't… normal, is she?"
Selene tilted her head, lips curving into a smirk that revealed the faint glimmer of her fangs.
"Normal? No. Not in the slightest. If you think I am frightening… wait until you meet her."
Henry, Joshua, Lilly, and Tom all exchanged uneasy glances. For the first time, the air in the room felt suffocating.
---
Selene's expression darkened.
"And that isn't even your biggest problem."
Tom frowned. "Then what is?"
Selene's crimson gaze shimmered.
"Director Miles's house… is not just a home. It's a fortress. Guarded by at least a hundred soldiers."
Joshua shrugged nervously. "So what? He's CIA Director, of course he's got security."
Selene's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Sixty of those soldiers aren't even human."
Henry's stomach dropped. "Wait… what?"
Selene stepped closer, her presence overwhelming.
"After Harper's incomplete awakening, her grandfather moved his most loyal protectors into place. Beta wolves from the Wolf-Shifting Myriad-tribe. They are dangerous. They are loyal. And they will kill without hesitation if Harper's bloodline is threatened."
Joshua's jaw went slack.
"You're saying… there are actual werewolves guarding her house?"
Selene's smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with amusement at their fear.
"Oh, Joshua. You've seen nothing yet."
The room fell silent, each of them realizing with a chill — this was no longer about awkward relationships or overprotective parents.
Harper's family carried shadows that could devour them all.
---
2nd October 2022 – Sunday, 7:00 P.M.
Location: Tom's Hostel Room – New York City
Tom sat hunched at the edge of his bed, hoodie half-zipped, face buried in his hands. His voice was weary, the sound of someone who had been carrying too many regrets.
"I think I'm done, bro. I'll just wait three years, finish my postgrad, head back to Manchester, and date an ordinary British girl. No secrets, no fangs, no supernatural bloodlines—just normal."
Henry leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.
"You should've realized that before falling for the daughter of the C.I.A. Director. Who, by the way, also happens to be part of a Myriad-wolf bloodline… and might be hunted by clans that eat guys like you for breakfast."
Tom groaned and flopped backward onto the mattress.
"Bloody hell, you don't have to rub it in!"
The room fell into awkward silence. The kind of silence that comes before a storm.
Then it happened.
A shadow crept across the wall—unnatural, slithering like ink spilled in water. From Henry's own silhouette, Selene emerged. She stepped into the room like a phantom queen, her crimson eyes glowing faintly, her black coat flowing behind her.
Tom nearly choked.
"Does she have to do that every time—?!"
Selene ignored him. Her voice was sharp, her tone grave.
"I can feel them…" She paused, eyes narrowing as if peering into the horizon itself.
"Two warriors of the Myriad. Clashing. Not in secret, not in shadow. They're fighting openly, in a public park—where civilians are present."
Henry straightened instantly. The joking tone was gone.
"Where?"
"Maple Heights Park," Selene replied coldly.
Henry didn't waste a second. He swung open the window, glanced once at Tom, then leapt.
"WAIT, WHAT THE—" Tom's voice broke off as Henry disappeared into the night.
---
The Chase
Henry landed with a metallic thud on the roof of a parked SUV, denting it badly. The alarm blared, but he didn't stop. His legs pumped as he sprinted across the street, weaving through honking cars and startled pedestrians.
From his shadow, Selene slipped out like black smoke, keeping pace with him effortlessly. Her presence was like a hunting hawk gliding beside him.
Within moments, they reached the edge of Maple Heights Park. The night air was thick, charged with something primal.
Henry muttered, "Feels like a storm's brewing."
Selene's gaze sharpened. "Not a storm. A massacre, if we don't stop this."
---
The Park
The scene before them was chaos.
Families were already fleeing in terror—mothers dragging crying children, strollers abandoned, dogs barking frantically. Panic spread like wildfire.
And in the middle of the park—two monsters clashed.
One was a demon—taller than any man, skin as black as coal with fiery cracks glowing across his chest and arms like molten magma veins. Horns curled from his head, and his yellow eyes burned like sulfur. Each swing of his claw left scorch marks on the grass.
His opponent was a vampire—but not like Selene. This one was feral. Barefoot, shirtless, with a gaunt but wiry frame, glowing spiral tattoos carved into his skin. His long silver hair whipped wildly as he snarled, fangs bared. His movements were erratic, vicious.
Henry's breath hitched.
"That's… not one of yours, right?"
Selene's eyes narrowed, voice like steel.
"No. That's a Stray. A vampire without a House, stripped of control. Worse…" She studied the glowing tattoos, her lips curling in disdain.
"He's been tampered with."
The demon roared, grabbed the vampire by the neck, and hurled him straight through a wooden bench. Splinters exploded across the grass.
Selene's gaze flicked back to the demon.
"And that creature… it doesn't belong here. Someone summoned it from the cracks of the Other Plane. Illegally."
Henry clenched his fists.
"Alright then. You take the demon."
Selene raised a brow, faint amusement touching her lips.
"And you'll handle the vampire?"
Henry smirked, shrugging off his jacket.
"Hey, I'm your husband. Time to pull my weight, right?"
Selene's smirk deepened, predatory and amused.
"Very well. Let's see how much 'weight' you can pull before your ribs break."
With a final nod, they split—Selene gliding toward the demon, Henry charging toward the feral vampire.
---
The Watcher
But above, far from the chaos, another figure observed.
A slender woman stood on the rooftop of an old rusted building, her white robes fluttering in the wind. A golden clasp pinned her mantle at the shoulder, her ice-blue eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
She studied Henry intently, lips curving into the ghost of a smile.
"The boy moves like prey… but keeps surviving like a predator. Interesting."
Pulling her hood over her head, she vanished with the night breeze.
---
The demon's claws burned like molten steel as they slashed through the night air. Henry ducked under one swing, feeling the heat sear the side of his face, and rolled across the cracked pavement. His chest heaved, every muscle in his body screaming.
Beside him, Selene danced through the chaos like a shadow in flame. Her black boots struck sparks against the ground as she spun, her blades cutting arcs of silver in the smoke-filled dark. Yet something was wrong.
Henry noticed it in her footwork first—slower, faltering, a beat too late. Her strikes lacked weight, as though her body itself was refusing her.
"Selene!" Henry shouted, raising his arm just in time to block another fiery slash. "You're holding back—why?"
Her eyes flashed crimson, then dimmed almost instantly. The red glow that usually blazed like wildfire was a flickering candle now. She swayed on her feet, breath shallow, skin pale even for her.
It hit Henry all at once.
She hasn't fed. Not directly. Not freshly.
And without blood, Selene wasn't the Vampire Princess—the immortal warrior who once struck terror into armies. She was vulnerable.
Henry didn't hesitate. He ripped the combat knife from his jacket, flipped it in his hand, and dragged the blade across his palm. Blood welled up instantly, dripping onto the ground.
"Selene." He stepped toward her, holding his hand out. "Drink."
Her pupils dilated, her lips trembling. Hunger and shame warred across her face. "Henry, no… I—"
"Do it!" he barked.
The demon roared, raising both arms to unleash another wave of hellfire. But before its strike could land, Selene seized Henry's hand and pressed his palm to her mouth.
The instant his blood touched her lips, the world exploded.
A shockwave of raw energy tore through the street, scattering ash and flame. Selene's eyes blazed red, brighter than any fire, and the ground itself cracked beneath her feet. Her aura burst outward in a storm of crimson lightning, lifting her hair as though the night air had turned electric.
The demon staggered, shielding itself from the sheer pressure. Then it laughed—a guttural, mocking rumble that shook the windows around them.
"You fools," it hissed. "Feeding in the middle of battle? You've just awakened something that should have stayed dormant."
It slammed its claws into the pavement, sending a burning shockwave racing forward. Henry was thrown back, slamming into a lamppost, the breath knocked out of him.
Selene moved instantly, cloak whipping around him to shield him from the flames. When the smoke cleared, she stood tall, aura burning, eyes fixed on the beast.
But before she could strike—
A blur ripped past her.
The demon was hurled backward, crashing through a line of trees like they were paper. The earth split in a thunderous crack as the monster hit the ground.
And standing where it had been was the unknown vampire—the one they had thought unconscious.
Except now he wasn't feral.
His silver hair lifted like strands of fire. His crimson eyes burned with unearthly power. His lips peeled back in a silent scream of rage before he swiped his arm through the air.
The night split open.
A crescent-shaped slash of pure blood energy erupted from nothingness, tearing across the battlefield like a blade of lightning. It carved into the demon's chest, splitting its body nearly in half.
Selene's heart froze. Her lips parted.
"That technique… Blood Swipe: Execution Variant."
Her fists tightened. Only pure-blood lords—or their direct offspring—could do that.
Henry stumbled to his feet, blood dripping from his temple. "Wait… you mean someone turned him into this?"
Selene didn't answer at first. Her face was unreadable, though her eyes betrayed the storm raging inside her.
No. This was worse.
If the boy wasn't turned… then he was born.
Born of a Vampire Lord.
An illegitimate child.
And there was only one possibility that chilled Selene to her core.
He could be her brother.
The bastard son of King Laxmus.
Her inheritance. Her kingdom. Everything she had ever been destined for—threatened by his very existence.
But more terrifying still… Arthur, the Punisher of Vampire Law, would see this as an abomination. The boy would be marked for death.
The demon, crippled and screeching, tried to crawl away. It didn't make it far. In a blur of motion, Selene and the boy struck together—her blade piercing its skull as his blood slash cleaved its body in two.
The creature's final scream echoed before its body dissolved into ash, scattering into the cold night wind.
The boy stood silent, chest heaving. His eyes flickered with fading crimson. His lips parted as though to speak, but no sound came. He looked… mute.
Selene stepped closer, her expression softening just slightly. She raised her hand, her voice calm, commanding.
"Sleep."
Her Charm Ability wrapped around him like a silk veil. His body swayed, his crimson glow dimming, and then—he collapsed.
Henry rushed forward, catching him before he hit the ground.
"You want me to take him?"
Selene's eyes lowered, her tone grave. "Yes. We'll figure out what he is… together."
---
Ten Minutes Later – Tom's Hostel, New York
Tom's pacing stopped dead when the window burst open. Henry landed softly on the dorm floor, carrying the unconscious vampire in his arms.
"W-WHAT THE—HOW DID YOU—" Tom stammered, backing into the wall. His roommate dropped his phone, eyes wide with terror.
Selene stepped through next, cloak trailing behind her like a shadow of night itself. She cast one glance at the glowing advertisement screen across the street—a shampoo commercial frozen mid-frame.
Raising her hand, she snapped her fingers.
The screen glitched, flickered, then pulsed. Across the city block, hundreds of people froze, eyes glazed, minds erased in an instant.
> "Forget everything you all just saw."
Her voice rippled like silk through the night, embedding itself in the minds of 380 witnesses.
Henry watched in awe. Tom trembled.
"Bro…" Tom whispered, pointing at her. "You're dating a walking neural eraser."
Miles away, CIA headquarters in Langley buzzed with alarms. Agents stared at static-filled screens, confusion spreading like wildfire.
"Director Miles…" one whispered. "This is beyond Level 10 clearance. What kind of vampire is she?"
And further still, in the shadows of a rain-soaked alley, a man in a black trench coat lit a cigar. Smoke curled around his scarred face as he muttered to no one in particular:
"Selene… you've just triggered Arthur's radar."
---
Meanwhile – The White House, Washington D.C.
The Oval Office reeked of tension. Two of America's most powerful intelligence men—CIA Director Maxwell Miles and FBI Director Larry Kingston—stood stiff before the President of the United States.
President Joe Biden placed a thick classified folder onto his desk. The cover was stamped in deep red letters:
PROJECT: MYRIAD
He tapped it with one finger, his jaw set like iron.
"Gentlemen… I don't like surprises. And this—" he jabbed the folder—"is the biggest damn surprise I've had since Afghanistan."
Neither Director moved.
Larry cleared his throat, trying to mask his nerves.
"Mr. President… we're handling the situation—"
Biden cut him off with a glare sharp enough to draw blood.
"Handling it? You mean to tell me there are over a million non-human anomalies living in my country and you're just now briefing me on it? What's next, Larry—dragons in California?"
Maxwell spoke up carefully, voice low and controlled.
"Sir… we've had isolated incidents for decades. But this… this surge in awakenings… it was unforeseen."
Biden slammed his hand on the desk, rattling pens and coffee mugs.
"I don't care if it was unforeseen. You will contain it. If that means rounding them up and locking them in Area 51, then do it. No negotiations. No exceptions."
The words stabbed Maxwell in the chest.
Area 51. Containment. No exceptions.
But his mind instantly flashed to Harper. His daughter. A young woman who only days ago had awakened as something impossible. Something dangerous.
A half-werewolf.
If the President discovered her existence…
Maxwell clenched his hands behind his back, his knuckles turning bone-white. He said nothing, but his silence screamed louder than words.
---
Back in New York – Tom's Hostel
The city hummed faintly outside, car horns and neon lights battling the night. But inside Tom's room, the silence was heavier than lead.
Selene stood at the window, arms folded, her pale reflection staring back at her in the glass. Behind her, Henry sat on the edge of the bed, studying the unconscious boy.
"Selene," Henry asked quietly, "who do you think he is?"
Selene's crimson gaze didn't leave the boy.
"Someone who… should not exist."
Henry frowned.
"And when he wakes up?"
Finally, she turned toward him, her eyes unreadable yet dangerous.
"That depends, Henry." Her voice sank low, a chill crawling through the room.
> "On whether he wakes up as a brother… or as a threat."
The words hung heavy, the air itself seeming to hold its breath.
---
The night was heavy with silence, broken only by the whisper of the wind against the window. Henry leaned against the wall, his chest rising and falling as if he had just run a marathon. He wasn't sure what had possessed him, but he couldn't stop staring at her.
Princess Selene stood bathed in silver moonlight, her figure sculpted in shadow and light. The black jumpsuit clung to her like a second skin, the cutouts along her sides exposing pale flesh that almost glowed. Every line of her body seemed deliberate, every curve daring him to look longer than he should.
His throat tightened. His heartbeat thundered. He wondered if she could hear it.
No—he was sure she could.
"Selene…" His voice cracked, barely louder than a whisper. "Can I… kiss you?"
Her crimson eyes narrowed, shimmering faintly as her lips curved into a slow, teasing smile.
"Hm? And here I thought you weren't fond of… intimate things, Henry."
He swallowed, forcing a smile.
"Yeah, well… you look too damn gorgeous right now."
Something flickered in her gaze. For a heartbeat, the smirk softened, replaced by something tender… almost fragile.
"Are you sure you're not going to regret this?"
Henry shook his head, stepping closer, eyes locked on hers.
"No regrets."
From the corner of the room, Tom let out an exaggerated groan and shot up from the bed where he had been awkwardly sitting.
"Alright, alright—I get the picture. I'll, uh… come back in like… three hours. Don't break the furniture."
The door clicked shut, leaving only Henry and Selene in the quiet room.
---
Selene's eyes glowed faintly, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.
"If you're going to kiss me, Henry… then you'd better do more than just kiss."
His heart skipped a beat. The heat rose in his chest, but his grin was unshaken.
"Only until Sleeping Beauty over there wakes up," he said, jerking his chin toward the unconscious boy on the other bed.
Selene smirked, her fangs catching the light.
And then—he closed the distance.
---
The kiss began soft. Careful. As if he was afraid she might vanish if he pushed too far.
But then it ignited.
Her arms coiled around his neck like chains, pulling him flush against her. He melted into her shadow, hands tangling in her hair as her cold lips pressed hungrily against his.
It wasn't just a kiss—it was a battle. Her ancient hunger against his raw, human fire. Every brush of her lips stole his breath; every bite of her fangs against his lower lip sent a jolt racing down his spine.
Selene shoved him against the wall, the thud muffled by his gasp as she pressed closer, devouring him with wild ferocity. The taste of her was intoxicating—danger, eternity, and something he didn't yet understand.
Henry thought he could drown in her.
No—he wanted to drown in her.
Her hand slid down his jaw, tracing the line of his chest—
---
Then it shattered.
A scream split the air, raw and broken, tearing through the fragile moment.
"MOM!"
Henry and Selene froze, lips still parted, breaths mingling. Slowly, they turned.
The unconscious boy jolted upright, his body trembling as his eyes flared open—glowing like molten blood. His fists clawed at the sheets as a choked sob ripped from his throat.
"Mom, I swear… I'll avenge you!" His voice cracked, torn between grief and fury. "Those demons… I'll kill them all!"
Henry staggered back as Selene shoved him aside, her crimson eyes sharpening with alarm. The boy's aura flooded the room like a storm, suffocating and violent.
The air grew thick, heavy with a sorrow so deep it seemed to press against their lungs.
Henry's chest rose and fell, his lips still tingling from her kiss. But the warmth was gone, replaced by the chill of dread.
"Selene… what the hell—who is he?"
Selene didn't answer. Her voice dropped to an icy calm as she stepped forward, every movement deliberate.
"Henry… stay back."
The boy's breathing grew harsher. His glowing eyes locked onto them, trembling with a pain that seemed endless. His fangs bared as his voice broke into a growl.
"Where… is my father?"
The room went silent. The only sound was the boy's ragged breathing, the storm in his blood demanding an answer neither of them was ready to give.
---
The hostel room was quiet, too quiet. Dust clung to the air, the only sound the faint hum of the street lamps outside. Selene stood tall, her crimson eyes glowing faintly in the shadows. She didn't move, didn't blink—her focus locked entirely on the boy sitting across from her.
Her voice broke the silence, soft but edged like steel.
"Tell me your full name."
The boy hesitated, his chest rising and falling with nervous breaths. His hands clenched tightly on his knees, as if bracing himself against invisible chains. Finally, his lips parted.
"...Adrian."
Selene's gaze narrowed. "Full name."
The silence stretched like a noose tightening around him. Adrian swallowed hard, fear shaking his voice as he finally whispered:
"Adrian Magnus."
The moment the word Magnus left his mouth, the air in the room shifted. A crushing aura pressed down, cold and suffocating. Henry, who had been leaning against the desk, immediately noticed the change in Selene. Her posture stiffened, her aura leaking out like a storm cloud ready to burst.
"Magnus?" Henry repeated, brows furrowing. "What, like… some noble family or something?"
Selene ignored him. She took a step closer, her voice low, deadly.
"And your mother?"
Adrian's lips trembled. He lowered his gaze.
"Kenzie Magnus… that's all I know. She never told me about him. About my father."
Henry pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Great. Fantastic. Another mystery dad. Perfect. Just what we needed."
Adrian shook his head firmly.
"She only told me to survive. To kill demons if I ever saw them. That's it."
Selene's expression darkened, her voice dropping into something barely human.
"Magnus… Of all names. Why did it have to be that?"
Henry straightened, clearly annoyed.
"Okay, hold up. You obviously know something. Care to actually explain before we drown in suspense here?"
Selene smirked faintly, but there was no humor behind it—only an icy weight that made Adrian shrink back.
"If what this boy says is true," she said, her tone sharp as a blade, "then his origins are much darker than I expected."
Henry didn't like the sound of that. Not at all.
---
11:00 P.M. – Tom's Hostel Room, New York City
The door clicked open. Tom strolled in with his roommate, laughing about some late-night cafeteria joke—until he froze.
Henry was sitting alone in the room, leaning back in a chair like he owned the place. No Selene. No Adrian.
Tom blinked in confusion.
"Henry? Where is everyone?"
Before Henry could reply, the roommate stepped in and grinned.
"Yo, name's Jimmy," he said, extending a hand. "You must be Tom's big bro."
Henry stood, shook his hand firmly, and gave a polite smile.
"Yeah. Henry. Nice to meet you."
Then his eyes locked on Jimmy, his voice turning serious, almost protective.
"Make sure to take extra good care of my brother."
Jimmy laughed nervously, scratching his neck.
"Uh… yeah, sure, man."
Henry gave Tom one last look, a faint smile lingering on his lips—before he walked out of the room without another word. The door shut quietly behind him.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Tom stared after him, unease curling in his gut.
Damn… what the hell is going on? Henry never keeps secrets from me. What happened with Selene… and that vampire kid?
---
Meanwhile… At a Diner on Route 29
The neon lights flickered, buzzing faintly in the late-night silence. A handful of truckers and travelers sat scattered among the booths. Larry Kingston nursed a cold cup of coffee, checking his watch impatiently.
Then the door creaked open.
A tall man entered, draped in a long black coat. Beneath the folds, the faint glint of steel flashed like a hidden fang. Two cloaked figures followed silently behind him, their presence as chilling as graveyard fog.
Larry's eyes widened. His grip tightened around the coffee cup until his knuckles went white.
The man walked with calm authority and slid into the booth across from him. Slowly, he removed his gloves, his sharp gaze never leaving Larry's face.
Larry swallowed, forcing his voice to stay steady.
"So… you're finally here, Arthur."
Arthur smirked faintly, placing his hands neatly on the table.
"I heard you've been chasing ghosts, Kingston. Ghosts… and something much worse."
Larry leaned back, but his pulse was racing.
"Right here in New York City, huh? Don't tell me the rumors are true."
Arthur's smile widened, just enough to reveal the sharp gleam of his fangs.
"Oh, they're true. An illegal vampire… and a name I hoped never to hear again."
Larry's brow creased.
"What name?"
Arthur's eyes darkened, his voice dropping into a whisper that carried the weight of death itself.
"Magnus."
---
3rd October 2022 – Monday, 3:00 A.M., NYU Dormitory
The dormitory was quiet, only the faint hum of the air conditioner breaking the silence. Moonlight spilled through the blinds, brushing across Henry Mathew's sleeping face.
But Henry wasn't sleeping peacefully.
His classmates, Ravi and Mateo, lay soundly on their bunks, oblivious. Henry, however, was trapped in a dream—one that pulled him back into the shadows of memory.
The scene replayed itself.
The hostel lounge.
Selene standing before him, her crimson eyes glowing faintly.
Tom had already left, excusing himself with a sly grin, after Henry used a stolen kiss to drive him out of the room. And now, with no one else around, Selene had finally lowered her walls.
Her voice was soft, but carried weight.
"I can't tell you everything," she said, "but there are things I don't mind sharing."
Henry leaned in, curiosity pushing back his nerves.
"In the Myriad Races," Selene continued, "two factions have always been sworn enemies—the Demon Race and the Dragon Clan. Their wars… stretch back millennia."
Henry's brows knitted. "Demons and Dragons? That's not exactly news."
A faint smile touched her lips. "No. But what I tell you now is not in your history books. One day, a lower-ranking demon sought to rise above his station. He craved power, recognition… and feared being nothing forever."
Her eyes sharpened.
"His name was Judeas. Some call him Judas. Others… Mephisto."
Henry froze. "Wait. That Judas? The one who betrayed Jesus?"
Selene gave the smallest nod. "He thought: what if he married Lilith, daughter of Azrael Al-Jaan—Lucifer's only child? Would any Demon Lord dare mock him then? Not Zihawar Al-Ban… not Asmodeus… not BaalSha Al-Saans… not even Baal himself."
Henry let out a sharp breath. "So he did marry her?"
"Yes. And she bore him children. The first-born was a boy. You know his name already."
Henry's heart thudded as realization dawned. "...Sabbat Al-Khan. Your ancestor."
Selene's gaze did not waver.
Henry's throat went dry. "So Judas never died… He became Mephisto."
Her silence was damning.
"My father, King Laxmus, told me this as a bedtime story. God Himself was enraged by Judas's betrayal of His son. What punishment do you think He gave to a man like that?"
Henry swallowed, voice dropping. "…He cursed him. Turned him into a demon."
Selene's silence was confirmation enough.
---
Henry leaned back, reeling. "Alright… but then, where the hell does Adrian Magnus fit into this?"
Selene's eyes darkened, a shadow of old dread in them.
"Adrian's aura feels… familiar. Too familiar. My father recorded that same darkness centuries ago. In his castle, he keeps a stone tablet, etched with ancient prophecy. It speaks of a rivalry carved into eternity—between the Mighty Red Dragon… and Sabbat Al-Khan."
Henry's stomach sank like a stone. "Are you telling me Adrian carries the same darkness that once rivaled your bloodline itself?"
Selene's lips curved, not in amusement, but grim certainty.
"That is exactly what I'm saying."
---
Henry tossed and turned in his sleep. His dream fractured—Judas's face twisting, morphing into Mephisto's shadow. Behind him, a colossal Red Dragon spread its wings, its roar shaking the dreamscape.
The rivalry wasn't dead.
It was only waiting… for this generation to finish what began millennia ago.
---
3rd October 2022 – Monday Night
Arthur Pendragon stood beneath the cold night sky, gazing up at constellations that felt wrong to him. They were familiar, and yet… alien. Not the same stars he had guided his knights beneath. Not the same heavens that had borne witness to his triumphs and failures.
The chill of the wind carried no scent of iron from the battlefield, no smoke from burning siege towers, no hymns of victory. Instead, it carried only the distant hum of automobiles, the faint electric whine of neon lights, and the empty roar of airplanes passing high overhead.
Arthur closed his eyes. For a moment, he could almost hear it—the clash of steel, the thunder of hooves, the roar of a dragon's fire.
Once, he had been Arthur Pendragon, King of Logres, wielder of Excalibur, slayer of the Crimson Flame Dragon. The first and greatest of the Dragon Knights. The man who believed—foolishly, arrogantly—that by striking down the Red Crimson Flame Dragon, he had ended the dragon race forever.
But that was a lifetime ago.
Now he was no king. No knight. No savior.
He was something else.
A Vampire Punisher—an enforcer of laws older and darker than human kingdoms, walking the shadows of a world that no longer remembered him.
When he had first opened his eyes in this strange era, he had been struck dumb by how much had changed. Castles had fallen. Kingdoms vanished. Logres—the land he had ruled and bled for—was now called Switzerland.
And Kelborg, the great desert city he had once heard praised by Lenny Steel and Ray Talen, was nothing but a memory. In this era, it was renamed Algeria.
A faint smile tugged at Arthur's lips. Lenny… Ray… old comrades.
What had become of them?
Of Ray Talen in particular, Arthur knew one truth: that man could not be killed. No matter what stories were told about his "death," Arthur had felt the truth. Ray was no ordinary knight. His blood carried a unique constitution, a curse or blessing of rebirth. Some whispered he had reincarnated as a man, others that he was still what he always had been—
The Crimson Flame Dragon itself.
And Mothram. Always lurking. Always hiding. For centuries, his silence made no sense. Unless…
Arthur's thoughts were cut short by hurried footsteps.
"Sir!" One of his men came running up the slope, armor clanking softly beneath his long coat. "We've searched every trail, every ship manifest, every departure log. The illegal is gone. It's as if someone helped them vanish from U.S. soil entirely!"
Arthur's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing like steel.
"What the hell are you even saying, Austin?" he growled, his voice carrying the weight of a king who had never truly died.
---
Meanwhile, in Miami…
Joshua Brick Sanders was panicking.
He hadn't just brought Selene to Miami. No, that might've been survivable.
He had brought Selene and Adrian Magnus together.
And now, somehow, he was standing on Bay Harbour drenched in blood—animal blood—that Selene had forced him to smear across every inch of himself.
"It will hide your scent," she had said with unnatural calm, crimson eyes watching him like a teacher correcting a child. "The Punishers are not fools."
Joshua didn't even have time to argue before Selene walked to a dock, whispered something to a boat owner, and in less than ten minutes she and Adrian were gone—cruising away in a stolen speedboat, hidden beneath her enchantments.
And Joshua?
He was left standing there, sticky, reeking of blood, wondering how the hell his life had spiraled so far off course.
When he finally made it back to New York, he locked himself in his apartment, showered five times, and still couldn't shake the smell. For the next two days, Joshua Brick Sanders did not even step foot inside NYU. Not for class, not for lunch, not even for his friends.
Because deep down, one thought haunted him:
Who the hell is Adrian Magnus really… and why did Selene risk everything to hide him?
---
The world was holding its breath.
From Tokyo to Islamabad, from Jakarta to Colombo, the same chilling story spread like wildfire: people were vanishing. Entire families in Bhutan, soldiers on patrol in Afghanistan, monks in Tibet, fishermen off the coast of the Maldives — all gone, without a trace.
By noon, the numbers had solidified. Eight thousand five hundred souls had disappeared in less than a day. It averaged three to five hundred per country, swallowed up by an unseen hand. No blood. No screams. No signs of struggle. Just silence.
Arthur Pendragon stood rigid in the command chamber, the glow of monitors reflecting in his ancient eyes. He had read battle reports written in quill and ink, seen empires rise and fall, but never — never — had he encountered a mystery like this.
The knight-king, once Arthur of Logres, tightened his jaw and turned to his men.
"The illegal we've been tracking is dangerous enough," he said, voice still carrying the weight of a throne long lost. "But this… this reeks of something worse."
Calvin and Austin shifted uneasily, waiting for his next command.
---
Far away, the skies themselves trembled.
Over Moscow and Kiev, clear autumn weather twisted into an omen of dread. Dark clouds billowed unnaturally, blotting out the sun in minutes. The horizon looked ready to drown the cities in a storm, yet not a single drop of rain fell. Instead, the air pressed heavy — suffocating, wrong.
The meteorologists had no explanation. But those attuned to the hidden world felt it instantly.
In Miami, Selene stopped walking, her pale hand tightening around Adrian Magnus's arm. Her crimson eyes widened — even she, a Vampire Princess whose veins carried centuries of power, felt the suffocating weight. It was unlike anything she had endured before.
Adrian's face darkened. For the first time in decades, unease showed plainly.
"This… this isn't natural," he muttered.
Selene whispered, "Something unholy is waking."
---
On the other side of the ocean, in a quiet Virginia kitchen, Director Miles sat with his wife, Zoe.
The man who had once overseen covert operations looked less like a spymaster and more like a husband now — but his instincts screamed. He tapped the news report on his tablet, eyes burning into hers.
"Zoe… tell me the truth. No lies, no walls. What's happening in Moscow and Kiev? I promise you, I won't drag the CIA into this. But I need to know what we're dealing with."
Zoe froze. She had hoped to protect him, to keep the burden of her knowledge buried. But her husband's voice — steady, demanding, laced with fear — left her no escape.
She exhaled, eyes shadowed.
"It's the screw-ups of the Magus family," she admitted bitterly. "Especially that old fool Derek Magnus. And Mothram."
Miles blinked.
"Mothram? You mean the one Ray Talen killed? That's impossible."
Zoe gave a cold, humorless laugh.
"That's what everyone thought. On the surface, it looked like he was dead. But Mothram… Mothram is like a cockroach. He refuses to die easily."
She leaned closer, meeting her husband's gaze with a gravity that chilled him to the bone.
"They're about to do something bat-shit insanely dangerous."
---
And somewhere, beneath storm clouds and shadows, the world shuddered as if in agreement.
The vanishings were not random. They were pieces on a board — chosen, taken, gathered for a purpose only Mothram understood.
A storm was coming, one that even kings, vampires, and dragons might not survive.
---
3rd October 2022 — 2:00 A.M.
The vanished awoke.
They opened their eyes not in their homes, nor in their familiar streets, but within a colossal stone coliseum that seemed carved from the bones of giants. The walls rose endlessly, disappearing into a foggy dome. An acrid mist clung to the air, silencing breath and muffling sound, until only the hammering of panicked hearts could be heard.
Then came the watchers.
Figures materialized along the arena's edge—fairies with wings like fractured glass, their beauty corrupted by malice; banshees draped in tattered shrouds, their hollow wails vibrating through bone; hulking minotaurs, axes and hammers glinting with bloodstains that were too fresh; centaurs armored in obsidian steel; and grotesque chimeras that prowled like predators let loose on prey.
A booming voice rose above the silence, deep and merciless, like a god pronouncing judgment.
"According to Earth's slow rotation and measured time… you have been summoned. Three paths lie before you."
The rules were carved into the minds of every soul present, spoken with a clarity that brooked no refusal:
First Path — To become a spouse.
A man or woman may submit themselves to one of these beings for fifteen Earth years. Upon fulfilling the contract, they would be returned home, whole.
Second Path — To fight.
They may enter combat against their fellow humans. Death was not required—cripple, maim, or incapacitate your opponent to win. Survivors would be taught the mysteries of aura, mana, and the hidden strength of the body. They would return to Earth changed—no longer entirely human.
Third Path — To decide.
No choice now. But within twenty-four Earth hours, they must answer.
As the final word echoed, a massive clock appeared in the sky above, its face an uncanny replica of London's Big Ben. Its black iron hands ticked with dreadful slowness, and it began at 2:00 A.M. sharp.
The silence broke with arrogance.
A young soldier in North Korean uniform sneered, shouting across the arena with reckless bravado.
"Listen here, you bitch! As a proud Republican soldier, I take orders only from the Supreme Leader, not from monsters like you!"
A murmur spread, some clinging to his defiance, others shrinking back in fear.
The answer came not in words but in violence.
A minotaur lumbered forward, its every step shaking the ground. It lifted its hammer—an iron monstrosity taller than a man—and brought it down in one crushing swing. Flesh, bone, and pride shattered into pulp. The soldier's remains splattered across the stone floor.
Screams erupted. Panic ignited like wildfire. Men and women bolted for the walls, sprinting for imagined exits. Yet no matter how far they ran, the mist folded reality back upon itself, dropping them at the exact place they had begun. Trapped.
A banshee floated forward, her skeletal mouth stretching into a smile.
"Now… you have twenty-three hours and thirty-eight minutes."
The countdown had begun.
---
Meanwhile, back on Earth…
12:30 Noon — New York.
The cafeteria buzzed with chatter, trays clattering, and students laughing as though the world was ordinary. Henry sat at a corner table with Lilly Richards, Joshua Brick Sanders, and his roommate Mateo—a journalism major with a sharp tongue and a sharper eye for details.
But Henry noticed it first.
Joshua wasn't himself. His jokes didn't land. His hands fidgeted with his fork. His eyes darted toward the windows and then back to the floor, as though afraid of something only he could see.
Lilly tried to nudge him out of it, tossing playful remarks, but Joshua only gave distracted nods. Even Mateo, usually oblivious, raised a brow.
Henry leaned back, his stomach tightening with unease. Joshua's tension wasn't about exams or relationship drama. It was heavier. Darker. Something he was hiding… something that might reach far beyond their small circle of friends.
---
At the same time, across town—
Tom Mathew slouched in his high school desk, bored as the teacher scribbled notes on the whiteboard. Then the door opened. A tall girl stepped inside, carrying herself with the confidence of someone far older than her years.
Her hair was a cascade of black silk, her eyes sharp, unreadable, almost predatory. The teacher smiled nervously.
"Class, this is our new transfer. Grace Magnus. She'll be joining us for the rest of the term."
Tom straightened. His breath caught.
Magnus.
The name crashed through his mind like thunder. He had heard it whispered before—from Selene, from Adrian, from half-forgotten stories muttered in the shadows of Ludlow Castle. A name tied to the old bloodlines of magi, the kind who meddled with forces best left untouched.
Grace's gaze swept the room. For a heartbeat, her eyes locked onto Tom's. Cold. Calculating.
And Tom knew in that instant—this was no ordinary transfer student.
This was trouble.
---
Got it bro 👍 I'll narrate Chapter 28: The Irreversible Collision of Fates in full novel-style, keeping your exact beats intact but polishing it into flowing prose. I'll make sure Selene's sea journey feels fresh (just 2 days in, not 9 months yet), and Caelum's Maw will be tied directly to Pottersville caves near New York. Here we go:
---
5th October, 2022 – 2:00 P.M.
Henry sat back in his cafeteria chair, his pen idle against the half-filled page of notes. Across the table, Joshua Brick Sanders looked like he'd been drafted into a war no one else could see. His hands wouldn't stay still, his leg bounced like a jackhammer under the table, and every time his phone buzzed, he glanced at it as though expecting it to explode.
Normally, Joshua was a storm of banter and distraction—the kind of guy who would lean across Henry's notebook just to doodle something ridiculous, earning Lilly's playful scolding in the process. But today? Not a word. Not a smile. Just silence wrapped around him like a shroud.
Henry narrowed his eyes.
This guy's hiding something. And if he doesn't even want Lilly to know… then it's bad. Really bad.
---
2:45 P.M. – Tom's High School
Tom sat rigid in his chair, stealing glances at the girl seated beside him. Grace Magnus. Nineteen. Pale as snow under moonlight. She never fidgeted, never shifted her gaze, never tried to fit into the room. She just… existed.
But not like the others.
The longer Tom sat near her, the stronger it became—Grace carried herself like someone who had lived and died and lived again. A ghost walking in flesh.
Tom clenched his fist beneath the desk.
What kind of family is the Magnus clan? Every single one of them looks like they crawled out of some cursed history book.
---
Meanwhile, Elsewhere…
The vanished men and women stirred in that faraway place, their panic spilling into desperate bargains. The emissaries of the Myriad races—fairies warped into grotesque parodies, banshees with hollow sockets for eyes, minotaurs with hammers dripping shadow, centaurs wrapped in cursed armor—had presented their terms.
Most agreed, too afraid to refuse. They vowed themselves as eternal spouses to their captors, their oaths sealed in blood and aura. Fifteen years later, even if they ever returned to Earth, not a single one of them would be able to speak of what they had seen.
But then came something impossible.
The North Korean soldier who had been crushed to pulp by a minotaur's hammer suddenly appeared again—not in that foreign realm, but stumbling through the streets of Pyongyang. He gasped for air, coughing blood, his eyes wide with terror. And above him, the sky churned with the same black clouds that had swallowed Moscow and Kiev.
---
4:30 P.M. – New York Public Library
After school, Tom decided he couldn't keep it to himself anymore. Grace Magnus was wrong—everything about her radiated danger. Henry needed to know.
Rehearsing the words in his head, Tom stepped toward the wide doors of New York's central library. But before he could pull them open, a frail hand landed gently on his shoulder.
He turned, startled, to see the elderly librarian—her hair white, her eyes far sharper than her seventy years suggested.
"Come with me, child," she whispered. "To the last section."
Tom hesitated, but something in her tone left no room for argument. He followed her through winding corridors of dust and silence until she led him to the final aisle.
And there—waiting for him—stood Grace Magnus.
His breath caught. But how—? She was supposed to be at school.
Grace tilted her head slightly, her eyes unreadable. Then, in a voice calm and steady, she asked, "Could you help me catch up on everything? I'm not that good with chemistry and physics."
Tom swallowed. His instincts screamed to run, yet his voice betrayed him.
"No problem," he muttered.
And so, beneath the amber glow of the library lamps, Tom and Grace sat together. For three hours, their study session unfolded like any other. Ordinary. Harmless.
Yet Tom didn't know the truth: this was no coincidence. Spending time with Grace Magnus—every day—would soon twist into a collision of fates that could never be undone.
---
At Sea – 2 Days into the Journey
The hypnotized boatman kept his steady hand on the wheel, guiding the speedboat across restless Atlantic waters. The horizon stretched endlessly, and the salty breeze stung the air.
Selene sat near the stern, her crimson eyes sharp as blades. Adrian Magnus, unconscious, lay against her lap like a lifeless burden. Only two days had passed since they'd set sail, but Selene already understood what this meant:
Nine months. Nine months trapped on this vessel with a dangerous man and a fragile human captain she had to keep alive. If the boatman faltered, if Adrian awoke, if anything went wrong—the journey would collapse into chaos.
Her pale fingers brushed Adrian's temple, and her lips curled into a whisper.
"You're more trouble than you're worth, Magnus."
The waves answered with a crash.
---
Elsewhere – Pottersville Natural Stones & Caves, 100m from New York
Arthur Pendragon stood still, his subordinates Calvin and Austin kneeling before him, their faces pale.
"We've detected it again," Calvin muttered.
"The illegal's scent," Austin added. "But this time… there's another. A vampiric aura as strong as yours."
Arthur's jaw clenched, his golden aura flickering dangerously. Slowly, he turned to them, his voice low and sharp.
"Are you absolutely sure?"
Both men nodded.
Arthur closed his eyes for a brief moment. He already knew the answer. There was only one place an aura like that could linger—Caelum's Maw. A labyrinth of black stone hidden in Pottersville's caves, only a hundred meters outside New York's beating heart.
"Contact Larry Kingston immediately," Arthur ordered. His tone left no room for hesitation. "If another presence equal to mine walks this Earth… then our collision is no longer avoidable."
And with that, Arthur himself prepared to move.
---
🔥 The stage was set.
Grace Magnus had entwined Tom in her web.
Selene's sea-bound trial had just begun.
Arthur Pendragon marched toward Caelum's Maw, where history itself threatened to rupture.
The fates no longer ran parallel.
They were destined to collide.
---
Adrian stirred awake, blinking against the salty air. The steady rhythm of waves slapped against the hull of the small boat. At first, he thought it was a dream—until he caught sight of her.
Princess Selene. Pale, regal, and impossibly still as she gazed out at the endless horizon.
Adrian's throat tightened. "Where… exactly are you taking me?" His voice cracked with unease. "When you said a faraway island… you're not planning to chain me in some cave, are you?"
Selene snapped her head around, eyes flashing. "Do not let your imagination run wild, Adrian Magnus. I said nothing of the sort."
But his gaze drifted past her—to the boatman at the helm. His expression was blank, his movements mechanical. Adrian's stomach dropped.
"…Just how long have you had him under your charm?"
Selene's lips parted. "Two days… give or take."
Adrian shot to his feet, panic surging in his chest.
"Two days?!" His voice rose into a near scream. "You must be out of your mind! If he doesn't eat or drink within the next thirty hours, he'll collapse—he'll die from exhaustion!"
The words struck Selene like arrows. Guilt coiled tight in her chest. She glanced at the hollow-eyed boatman, her jaw tightening.
"Fine," she whispered. "Calm yourself. We'll stop at the nearest island—"
She never finished.
The ocean broke apart with a sudden swell. From the waves emerged figures—half human, half scaled, their tails glistening beneath the sun. A pod of merpeople surrounded them, most of them women, their long hair floating like banners in the breeze.
At the forefront was their leader, her voice like the crash of surf.
"Release the man. Now. If Larry Kingston learns that a speedboat pilot went missing from Miami's Bay Harbor, you will be caught long before you ever reach the Azores."
Selene narrowed her eyes. "And why should I trust the Kafila Clan of the Oceanic Myriad Tribal-Alliance?"
Before the air could thicken further, another voice rose. Nafisa Brittany swam forward, her scaled arms gleaming.
"Listen, Princess. Whatever grudges my people held against your father, King Laxmus, they are of the past. But if you keep that human under your spell, he will not last another two days. Release him, or his death will weigh on your hands."
Selene stiffened. The words cut deeper than she wanted to admit. After a long silence, she relented with a nod. "Very well."
Moments later, Selene and Adrian were guided aboard a massive whale that surfaced beneath the Kafila tribe. Its ridged back acted as a living vessel, carrying them across the swells.
Adrian exhaled, relieved, though his suspicion lingered. Selene's gaze hardened, but as she looked away, Nafisa quietly drew a crystal pearl to her lips. Her whisper vanished into the artifact.
"Do not worry, Zoe. Selene is with us… as well as the boy."
Miles away, Zoe Miles straightened when she received the message. She hurried to her husband's office. Maxwell Miles was already on a video call with Joshua's parents. When the news reached them that the boatman was no longer captive, both parents sighed in relief.
James Brick Sanders leaned forward on the screen, his voice urgent. "Bring him back safely to Miami. Please."
Maxwell adjusted his glasses, calm as ever. "Then everything progresses without disturbance."
But James's patience had already burned out. He stormed into Joshua's room, slamming the door open.
"What the hell were you thinking, Joshua?! Getting yourself tangled in this mess while Arthur Pendragon has tea with Larry Kingston every other day?"
---
7:30 P.M. – New York City
Tom Mathew pushed open the doors of the central library, stepping into the cool evening with Grace Magnus at his side. The sky was painted in dying shades of orange.
Grace fiddled nervously with the strap of her bag before speaking. "Tom… could I… stay at your hostel tonight?"
Tom nearly tripped. "What?"
She winced. "My parents are working late at the hospital nearby. They said I could wait somewhere safe until nine. I didn't want to just linger on the streets."
Tom rubbed the back of his neck, baffled. "This feels like a scene straight out of one of those cheesy romance films… Fine. But don't blame me when Jimmy freaks out."
Grace smiled faintly, though her eyes carried something heavier. Something unspoken.
---
Elsewhere…
Deep underground, beneath jagged cliffs, Arthur Pendragon entered the cavern known as Caelum's Maw. Austin and Calvin trailed warily behind him, their torches flickering against ancient stone.
There—at the heart of the cavern—lay the Forbidden Coffin.
Or rather, what remained of it. Its lid was cracked open, shadows spilling out like liquid night.
Arthur froze. Then a slow, terrible laugh built in his chest. He threw back his head and let it roll through the cavern, sharp and triumphant.
"So. The coffin is open. The Princess has awakened."
His gaze gleamed with mad delight.
"Finally… a worthy opponent after so many years. The only one who can match me. And she plays with her charm ability already."
Arthur's smile turned feral.
"Well then, Princess Selene… I, Arthur Pendragon, am ready to play."
The cavern echoed with his laughter, promising a storm yet to come.
2nd January, 2023 – Heathrow Airport, London
Henry Mathew adjusted the strap of his worn leather bag as he checked the departure board for the connecting flight to Manchester. His journey had been long—two years away in New York, surviving both college life and the chaos that came with Selene's awakening. Now, with his journalism diploma tucked safely into his luggage, he was finally on his way home.
Lilly leaned against Joshua's shoulder, her laughter still ringing in his head from three nights ago.
30th December, 2022 – Joshua's House, New York
The memory was still fresh. The Christmas tree was still glowing faintly in Joshua's living room when Tom had dropped by unexpectedly. He wasn't alone—Grace Magnus, Adrian's older cousin, had walked in with him.
Henry, half-teasing and half-serious, had raised an eyebrow.
> "Didn't know Adrian Magnus's older cousin sister was so beautiful, Tom. Make sure you claim her virginity before the last day of high school, bro."
Tom nearly spat out his drink.
> "Do you want me to be locked up in the Magnus family's basement or something? That's Derek Magnus's rumored Dark-Mage family we're talking about!"
The room had exploded with laughter. Lilly doubled over, Joshua nearly fell off the couch, and Grace's face turned red as a ripe apple.
But then Tom's expression had turned serious. His voice was softer, almost hesitant.
> "Just what happened with Selene, Henry? Where exactly could she be right now?"
Henry leaned back, his smile fading into something unreadable. His tone turned dark, cryptic—like he was hiding the weight of an unspoken truth.
> "Remember this, little bro… too much curiosity will only result first in the mice being killed, then the cat that chased them, and finally… the cat's owner."
The silence that followed had been heavy. None of them dared to push further. Selene's absence was a wound they all felt, but Henry clearly wasn't ready to talk.
---
3rd January, 2023 – Manchester Airport
The cold English air hit him the moment he stepped out of the terminal. Manchester felt different after being away—colder, grayer, yet somehow warmer because it was home. His family was waiting.
Jacob Mathew, his father, clapped him proudly on the shoulder the moment they reunited.
> "You've got more nerve than half the so-called senior journalists in this country, Henry. I'm proud you're not a slave to the Crown-owned media. If you're going to do this, do it completely on your own. Then you'll truly make a name for yourself."
Henry smiled faintly. His father rarely gave praise so freely—it meant the world to him.
His mother, Nancy, hugged him tight, her voice trembling with emotion.
> "We're just happy you're home, Henry. Really home."
And then came Rebecca, his youngest sister, still in her third year of high school, her eyes glimmering with mischief and excitement. She had always been the curious one, the dreamer.
Over dinner that night, she dropped her little "assignment" for him with all the seriousness of a detective.
> "Henry, you should cover this murder case. It's been twenty-eight years, and it's still unsolved. The accused kept saying in court that he didn't kill the kidnapper. He swore he was innocent."
Henry raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself.
> "And why exactly should I be the one to dig this up?"
Rebecca leaned in, lowering her voice like she was sharing the juiciest family secret.
> "Because… there's a high chance Dad went to the same college as the accused. Think about it, Henry—what if it's all connected?"
Jacob froze, the fork halfway to his mouth. Nancy frowned, giving Rebecca a sharp look, but the girl only smirked, enjoying the tension she had stirred.
Henry leaned back in his chair, a slow smile forming. He had just returned, yet already he could feel the pull of another mystery.
> "A twenty-eight-year-old murder case, a man claiming innocence, and my dad possibly linked through college? …Sounds like the perfect first assignment for an independent journalist."
And though he didn't say it aloud, deep down he wondered—
If this case was tied to his father's past, could it also lead him closer to understanding the truth behind Selene's world?
---
9th January 2023 – 7:30 P.M. – FBI Headquarters, Washington D.C.
The polished mahogany table stretched across the dim-lit conference room. Maps of the Atlantic projected on the wall flickered with coordinates—red marks circling the Azores Islands like a hunter's crosshairs.
Larry Kingston, one of the Bureau's veteran strategists, leaned forward, speaking with the calm authority of someone used to being ignored.
> "Arthur, listen carefully. If you want this mission to succeed, you can't storm in like a warlord. Go to the Azores disguised as one of our agents, track the wanted man, and capture him quietly. That way, the Portuguese government stays out of it. But—if you make any irrational moves, like ordering half the Vampire Punisher's Squad from Palmino to sail straight into Azores territory…"
Larry's voice hardened.
> "…then you're practically inviting Portugal's navy to respond. And I assure you, President Biden gave strict orders—no escalation in international waters."
Arthur Pendragon sat slouched in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk playing across his lips. His golden hair caught the overhead lights like a crown, though his eyes radiated only contempt.
He cut Larry off with a dismissive laugh.
> "Spare me the lectures, Kingston. If I fail to bring back the Princess and Adrian, I'll make sure someone like Lloyd Austin pays the price. That's a promise."
The room fell silent. Larry exhaled slowly, knowing further words were wasted. Arthur had always been a powder keg—untouchable, arrogant, and dangerous.
---
Manchester, U.K. – The Same Night
Henry Mathew sat across from his father in the quiet study of their family home. The shelves were lined with books on law, history, and journalism. Outside, the winter wind rattled against the windowpane.
He finally broke the silence.
> "Dad, there's something I need to ask. The Walter Greenwood case… I've been digging into it. Rebecca mentioned you knew him."
Jacob Mathew's eyes softened with memory, but his voice carried conviction.
> "Walter was my childhood friend. And I'll tell you this, son—he wasn't a murderer. Not then, not ever. That trial was wrong. Walter wasn't the type of man who could take a life."
Henry frowned, pen tapping against his notebook.
> "But the evidence, the testimonies—everything painted him guilty."
Jacob's gaze darkened.
> "Sometimes the world paints the wrong picture. Remember this, Henry… even one of the kidnappers in that mess ended up being kidnapped themselves. And when his body was found near the lake… well, let's just say things stopped making sense after that."
Henry leaned back, conflicted. The case was tangled, almost absurd—kidnappers turning into victims, a conviction that smelled of politics rather than truth.
---
10th January 2023 – Outside Strangeways Prison, Manchester
The winter morning carried a cold bite. Henry stood near the iron gates with his small, independent crew. Three men—including himself—and two women, all young, ambitious, and unshackled from the mainstream press. Their camera equipment steamed in the frosty air as they waited.
One of the women, Sarah, rubbed her gloved hands together.
> "So today's the day? He's finally getting out?"
Henry nodded. His eyes stayed fixed on the gate.
> "After twenty-eight years… Walter Greenwood walks free."
The heavy clang of metal echoed as the gates creaked open. A man stepped forward, his frame thinner, hair grayed, but his eyes sharp and unbroken.
Walter Greenwood—once branded a murderer, now a man walking into a world that had already left him behind.
Henry tightened his grip on his notebook.
This was no longer just an article.
This was the beginning of something far bigger.
---
Got it bro 🔥 you want Chapter 33 to cut between Selene & Adrian preparing for Arthur's arrival in the Azores base and Henry's first serious conversation with Walter Greenwood in Manchester. I'll narrate it smoothly with suspense and dialogue:
10th January 2023 – 9:00 A.M. – Azores Islands, Portugal
The Atlantic waves thundered above, but deep beneath the cliffs of São Miguel lay a cavernous stronghold—an ancient refuge of the Oceanic Myriad Tribal-Alliance. The Portuguese coast guard had always whispered it was a drug haven, never realizing it was a sanctuary built centuries ago by tribes who survived persecution.
The underground facility pulsed with dim red light, metallic corridors echoing with the drip of condensation. Selene leaned against a cold steel column, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders. Beside her, Adrian kept sharpening a silver dagger, his jaw tense.
She finally spoke, her voice carrying the weight of royal irritation.
> "So how long do I and Adrian have to stay buried down here?"
From the shadows, Nafisa Brittany emerged, her tribal tattoos glowing faintly in the red light. She tossed two chilled blood packs toward them. They landed on the steel floor with a dull thud.
> "Until we figure out how to deal with Arthur Pendragon's grand arrival in the Azores."
Her eyes narrowed.
> "Drink. Both of you. You'll need every drop of strength to survive what's coming."
Adrian caught his pack without a word, tearing into it like a soldier obeying orders. Selene, however, lingered, her crimson gaze burning. She whispered under her breath:
> "Arthur… if you dare touch Henry, I will tear you apart myself."
The underground base trembled faintly as though the island itself was warning them—Arthur's shadow was already nearing.
---
Manchester, U.K. – 2:00 P.M. – Local Café
The rain drizzled against the café's windows, blurring the city beyond. Inside, Henry sat at a small round table with his independent crew. His hands wrapped around a lukewarm cup of coffee, but his focus was locked entirely on the man before him.
Walter Greenwood.
Gray-haired, gaunt from prison, but his eyes—those piercing, unforgiving eyes—were still sharp as blades. His presence carried a quiet heaviness, as though the air itself dared not breathe too loudly around him.
Henry drew in a steadying breath. This was the moment he'd been preparing for.
> "Mr. Greenwood… what exactly happened 28 years ago? I mean… your ex-lover, Daphne Normandy—she was kidnapped, wasn't she? The trial said—"
Walter cut him off with a dry, almost mocking laugh. He leaned forward, his voice low and sharp like a dagger pressing against Henry's ribs.
> "Tell me, boy… do you really think you'll become some kind of hero if you dig up the truth? Do you think unearthing the rot of the past makes you a savior of the people?"
Henry flinched slightly, but his jaw tightened. He didn't look away.
> "I'm not here to play hero. I just want the truth."
Walter's eyes glimmered with something unreadable—anger, regret, perhaps even fear. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling smoke from the cigarette he had lit the moment they sat down.
> "The truth, Henry Mathew, is heavier than you can carry. And once you lift it, there's no putting it back down."
The café hummed with chatter around them, but at that table, time itself felt frozen. Henry's crew exchanged nervous glances, realizing they had just stepped into a story far darker than any of them had imagined.
And Henry knew—this wasn't just about Walter anymore. Daphne Normandy's kidnapping, the bodies by the lake, the cover-ups—there was something bigger, something monstrous lurking beneath it all.
[ End of Chapter-3.]