The quiet after the battle was deceptive. Aiden knelt beside Lilith, helping her regain control over her thirst, feeding her carefully with his blood to stabilize her. But the strain was overwhelming — the battle, the awakening of his powers, the constant healing — his body had limits.
Suddenly, his vision blurred, the room spinning around him. He staggered, then collapsed, his consciousness teetering on the edge of darkness.
In his blackout, instinct took over. His fangs sank deep into Lilith. Crimson mixed with the energy of their bonded blood, a surge of power coursing through both of them. Lilith's eyes widened in shock, but the sensation was intoxicating, and she instinctively bit him back, forcing the bond tighter.
When Aiden finally awoke, the room was silent. He realized what had happened and, despite his embarrassment, felt an even deeper connection forming between them.
Far away, in the ruins of the academy, Victor appeared, his presence like a shadow of command. "Everyone who survived — follow me," he instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. One by one, students and staff alike were whisked away in a blink of shadows, transported to the safety of his mansion far from the Church's reach.
The mansion itself was an imposing fortress of black stone, enchanted wards glittering faintly in the night. The survivors entered, exhausted, bloodied, yet alive — under Victor's protection.
No sooner had they settled than a ripple of tension filled the air. A massive, dark figure appeared at the mansion gates. Dracula, lord of the undead, stood demanding to see his daughter, Ophis.
Victor's eyes glinted with amusement. "She does not wish to see you," he replied coolly, his voice carrying the weight of authority.
Dracula's fangs gleamed as anger flared. "Do not hide her from me, Allucard! She is my daughter — my blood!"
Victor leaned forward, smirking. "Your daughter is under my roof. She obeys me. She owes you nothing. Perhaps you've forgotten the last time I bested you."
Insults flew between them like sharp daggers — titles, bloodlines, and pride clashing in a storm of venomous words. Neither gave ground, each attempting to assert dominance, their rivalry heating the air like fire meeting steel.
Meanwhile, far from the chaos, the witches convened. In a hidden citadel, representatives from multiple covens gathered around a round table shimmering with arcane light.
"The events at Xul are… remarkable," one elder witch whispered, her fingers tracing sigils in the air. "A vampire child, a Night King bloodline awakened, the Church humbled… opportunity is ripe."
Another, younger witch with violet eyes, nodded. "We must find a way to profit. Magic, alliances, contracts — anyone who touches the survivors or their blood can be leveraged. The world is shifting, and we need to move before others claim the advantage."
Plans were drawn, schemes whispered, and contracts inked with blood as the witches calculated their rise from the chaos.
The night settled over Victor's mansion. Aiden, Selene, and Lilith recovered slowly, their bonds deepened by battle, blood, and shared struggle. Outside, ancient powers stirred — Dracula seething at his loss of influence, the witches scheming, and the Church licking its wounds.
Inside, Victor observed silently, knowing the world was about to bend to the chaos he had set into motion.
And at the center of it all stood Aiden, the Night King's blood coursing through him, unaware of the storms his awakening had just unleashed.