When the Ancestor Is Named.
Chapter 21
Eidolon's eyes widened.
Shock froze him in place-not because of the threat before him, but because of what he had just realized.
Even the old man didn't know exactly what had happened.
That truth sent a shiver through Eidolon's spine. If a being like him couldn't fully understand what occurred inside that illusion... then how had he survived?
The question barely surfaced-
And Eidolon's body moved.
Not by thought.
Not by choice.
Instinct took over.
He leaped backward.
Sand burst beneath his feet, the world twisting for a heartbeat. When his vision steadied, Eidolon sucked in a sharp breath.
Twelve steps.
He stood twelve full steps away from where he had been.
Before he could ask why, the answer was already staring him in the face.
The old man.
No-
The bloodlust.
It poured from him like a living thing, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on Eidolon's body until even breathing felt dangerous. His aura alone screamed one intent-
Dissect him.
Break him.
Understand how a nobody dared to humiliate him before millions.
Eidolon's body had moved on its own because it had to.
The old man now faced him fully, eyes glowing with restrained violence, muscles tense as if he might tear Eidolon apart with his bare hands.
Eidolon's teeth rattled like bullets in a pouch. His lips trembled, words stumbling out in broken fragments.
"I... I don't know..."
The confession fell into the ruins.
Around them, the black-clothed men stiffened. None of them understood what was being discussed-or why Eidolon had just displayed agility and instinct rivaling warriors trained their entire lives.
Veteran reflexes.
From a boy with no training.
Silence returned.
No wind.
No movement.
No breath.
Eidolon stood there, shaking, praying-begging-that whatever he had just experienced would never happen again.
Because if it did...
Something inside him might answer.
Then-
A voice shattered the stillness.
"Varkhûn..."
One of the enforcers dropped to a knee, head bowed so low it touched the sand.
"VARKHÛN BLOOD-SIRE!"
The name echoed across the ruins like a death knell.
Every enforcer followed instantly, kneeling as one.
Eidolon's heart slammed against his ribs.
The old man slowly turned his head toward the one who had spoken. For a moment, his bloodlust eased-not gone, but honed, sharpened into something colder.
"Yes," the old man said quietly.
He straightened, ancient authority rolling outward, crushing and absolute.
"I am Varkhûn Blood-Sire," he declared.
"First Ancestor of the Black Dominion."
"The one whose footsteps ended dynasties."
His burning gaze returned to Eidolon.
"And you, boy..." Varkhûn continued, voice low and dangerous,
"have stepped into my sight."
A thin smile curved his lips.
"Pray that whatever saved you chooses to stay silent."
Eidolon swallowed.
Because deep down-
He feared it wouldn't.
...