(Sable's POV)
The first thing I did when the castle loomed close enough to shadow the treeline was stop in the snow and glance back at my Knights.
"You three," I said, gesturing in a loose circle around the surrounding forest. "Fan out. Outer perimeter. Keep an eye—no, all your eyes—on anything bigger than a fox. If it moves and it's not wind, I want to know."
They didn't answer. They never did. But they moved, smooth and sure, spreading into the woods with soundless steps, silver seams flashing once before vanishing into the underbrush.
The connection settled into me like a cool weight. Faint, but present—a thread in my head for each of them. Not the sharp, distinct tether of my proxies, but a hum of awareness: there, there, there. One felt like pressure to the west, another like a shadow angled east, the third like a low vibration to the north.
I exhaled, letting the sensation bloom, then dim, then return. "Good," I muttered, and started up the path. "Maybe I won't have to split my brain in twenty directions after all."
The castle gates opened before I touched them—silent, inevitable—and I stepped into cold marble and echoing halls. The air was warm enough not to bite, but there was still that ever-present tang of old power and iron.
It didn't take long to find Adrian. Or maybe he found me.
I rounded a corner into a high-ceilinged hall lined with stained glass, and there he was—Adrian Țepeș, son of Dracula and Lisa, leaning against a stone column like patience given legs.
Long pale hair down his back, black coat draped over a frame built like someone who never skipped training. His golden eyes flicked up as I approached, measuring without malice but also without any attempt to hide it.
"You're back," he said simply. His voice was smooth—pleasant, even—but carried the faint echo of someone who'd grown up around things that didn't need to raise their voices to be dangerous.
"Yeah," I replied, stopping a few paces away. "Didn't get eaten by sand or sunstroke. Surprised me, too."
A corner of his mouth twitched—maybe a suppressed smile, maybe just a facial tic. Hard to tell with him.
I cleared my throat. "Listen, uh… I need a favor."
One pale brow arched. "Already?"
"Already," I said, because pretending otherwise would just make it worse. "I need training. Sword work, specifically. I can fight, sure, but…" I gestured vaguely at him. "You're… you. And I'm not. And if I'm going to survive what's coming, I need to be better than 'guy who swings hard and hopes.'"
He studied me for a long moment. I fought the urge to fill the silence with nervous rambling. Then:
"You've been with Isaac," he said, not a question.
"Yeah," I admitted. "Learned a lot. But Isaac's idea of teaching is 'survive or don't.' Effective, sure. Lacking in finesse."
That earned a small, almost genuine smile from him. "That sounds like him."
I blinked. "Wait, you two know each other?"
His gaze drifted toward one of the stained-glass windows. "We've crossed paths."
I decided not to press. Instead, I took a slow breath and squared my shoulders. "So? Will you?"
He pushed off the column, steps unhurried as he closed the distance between us until we were nearly face to face. Golden eyes searched mine—less like a predator, more like a craftsman checking the grain of wood before cutting.
"You'll listen?" he asked.
"Yes," I said immediately.
"You'll do exactly as I say?"
"Yes."
"You'll not waste my time?"
I hesitated half a heartbeat, then grinned lopsidedly. "I'll try really hard not to."
That got a quiet huff of amusement. He stepped back, giving a single, sharp nod. "Tomorrow. At dawn. Courtyard."
"Dawn," I echoed, because apparently, I hate sleep.
He started to leave, then paused at the archway, glancing back over his shoulder. "And call off whatever is lurking in the north trees. It's alarming the deer."
I blinked, then realized one of my Knights had just pinged me—a soft pulse of movement to the north. "Right," I muttered, reaching through the connection to dismiss it from active watch. The hum faded to background silence.
When I looked back, Adrian was gone.
I stood there a moment longer, alone in the hall, letting the reality settle. Knights in the woods. A vampire prince at dawn. A target on my horizon with a Bishop's name carved into it.
For the first time in a long while, the path ahead didn't feel like stumbling. It felt like walking toward something I chose.
"Alright," I murmured to myself, turning toward the guest wing. "Let's see if I can learn to swing a sword without embarrassing myself."
The threads from my Knights whispered in the distance, patient and ready.
And for once, so was I.