Chapter 13 — The Hunt Begins
The rain hammered relentlessly against the broken walls of the safehouse, a ceaseless torrent washing away the remnants of what had once been a place of refuge. Lilith stood amid the ruin, her dark coat soaked through, but her eyes were like burning embers, sharp and unyielding.
The three guardians were gone—vanished as if swallowed by the storm itself.
"They fled," Lilith whispered, the faintest edge of disappointment in her voice. "They couldn't contain him."
From the swirling mist of rain and shadow, figures began to coalesce—supernatural nobles of the highest order, their presence commanding and ancient.
Vampires draped in regal black robes, eyes glowing like molten rubies, moved with predatory grace. A towering werewolf, his white fur shimmering like moonlight on fresh snow, exuded a quiet, lethal power. Beside him, a witch radiated an aura of deep, old magic, her gaze piercing and sharp.
They approached Lilith with reverence, a palpable respect threading through their movements and voices.
"Mother," the vampire leader spoke first, his voice deep and resonant, "the devastation here is unlike anything we have witnessed. What has transpired?"
Lilith's eyes flicked toward the ruined doorway, then back to the gathered nobles.
"The boy—Kevin, the blood of Cain—has awakened. His power exploded beyond control, shattering our sanctuary. The guardians we entrusted with his protection have fled."
The werewolf lowered his head slightly in acknowledgment, voice rumbling like distant thunder.
"The Mark has manifested earlier than expected. This threatens the fragile balance we've upheld through centuries of blood and fire."
The witch nodded slowly, her voice calm but urgent.
"If the heir of Cain remains unchecked, the delicate treaties between our kinds will unravel. Darkness will flood the world once more."
Lilith lifted her gaze, meeting theirs all at once with a commanding intensity.
"You stand before me as Mother—our strength and guide. I will not let failure define us. I will hunt the boy myself."
The vampire leader's eyes glimmered with fierce loyalty.
"Mother, you have our unwavering support. Yet this boy is no mere mortal—he bears his father's curse and strength. We must be cautious."
The werewolf's silver eyes shone with resolve.
"Our hunters stand ready. We will scour every shadow and whisper until he is found."
The witch raised her hand, summoning glowing sigils that danced in the storm's light.
"All creatures of the night, all our spies and soldiers—none shall rest. Before the guardians reach him, we will."
Lilith's lips curved into a grim smile, her voice cold and decisive.
"Then it is settled. Use every resource at your disposal. Let no corner of this world be left untouched. The boy must be found at all costs."
Her gaze swept over the gathered nobles like a storm gathering force.
"Mobilize all creatures—vampires, werewolves, witches, even the outcasts. No matter how dark or twisted, they will serve our purpose."
The vampire leader bowed deeply.
"As you command, Mother."
The werewolf growled in agreement.
"The hunt is ours to win."
The witch's eyes shimmered with ancient power.
"Balance will be restored—or chaos will consume us all."
Lilith turned away from the shattered sanctuary, the rain cascading over her like a cleansing fire.
Her voice carried on the wind, cold and resolute.
"The hunt has truly begun."
The rain washed over the city like a cold, unyielding flood, soaking the broken streets and dim alleys where the three young guardians now hid. The flickering streetlamp above cast fractured light over their weary faces, illuminated scars and bruises that told the story of their recent battle — a battle they had lost but one they had willed to lose.
The first was Dante, 23 years old, lean and wiry, with sharp green eyes that never ceased darting around, always calculating, always alert. His black hair hung in damp strands across his forehead, and his slender fingers trembled slightly as he flexed them. A restless energy clung to him, like the storm that raged outside.
Beside him stood Mira, 20, with wild fiery red curls that clung to her sweat-soaked skin. Her golden eyes, fierce and bright, burned with a mix of exhaustion and defiance. Her hands bore faint, raw scars — remnants of magic battles past, reminders of power held and pain endured.
The youngest, Jareth, only 19, was tall and muscular, his shaved head shining wet in the rain. His cold blue eyes were the calmest among them, sharp and calculating beneath heavy brows. He leaned back against the cold brick wall, breathing steadily despite the tension.
Dante broke the silence first, voice low but urgent.
"We barely held against Lilith's power. She crushed us. But it was supposed to happen. We let it happen."
Mira's lips curled into a bitter smile.
"We were her guardians, but we played a different role — her lackeys in the shadows. We let Kevin's power awake, so she wouldn't suspect. It was the only way for the boy to grow strong enough."
Jareth's eyes narrowed.
"Lilith's strength is terrifying. If she'd known what we were doing, she would've destroyed us all without hesitation."
Dante's gaze flicked toward the darkened street.
"But now he's gone — Kevin vanished into the night, and Lilith will blame us when she finds out. We need a plan."
Mira's voice was sharp, a spark of steel in her tone.
"We can't let her find him first. If she does, everything we risked will be for nothing. The boy will be lost, or worse—used by her."
Jareth pushed off the wall, his jaw clenched.
"We have to find Kevin before anyone else. Before Lilith, before the nobles, before the hunters. He's our responsibility now."
Dante stepped forward, eyes fierce despite the weariness.
"He's not just the blood of Cain. He's the key to balance. But he's lost and confused. We have to guide him—or stop him from becoming a weapon against us all."
Mira nodded slowly.
"Whatever it takes. We swore to protect him, but now it's a fight for survival — his and ours."
The rain continued its relentless fall as the three young guardians melted into the shadows, their bond forged not just by duty but by secret rebellion.
The storm outside mirrored the turmoil within—a storm that was far from over.