Len lowered his small feet from the velvet bedsheets.
The silence of the room no longer haunted him; it challenged him.
He cast one final glance at the heavy, ornate door that had remained shut since morning.
Astria's words—"There is a hunter hidden in every shadow"—echoed in his mind.
But he merely tightened his fists.
He approached the window.
The cool night air brushed against his face, carrying the raw scent of freedom.
Without a moment's hesitation, he braced his feet against the sill and closed his eyes.
In the next heartbeat, his small frame was suspended in the air.
With a swift rustle, he met the ground.
He remembered the last time, the clumsy fall that had left him bruised.
But this time, a strange fluidity flowed through his limbs.
He landed firmly on both feet. No stumble, no sway.
The first thing Len did was lift his palms.
He vividly recalled how the mud had stained his skin once before.
He spread his fingers—they were pristine.
His hands hadn't touched the earth this time.
A triumphant smile played on his lips.
His powers were finally syncing with his will.
He glanced toward the main palace gates where the faint clinking of guard armor echoed.
Then immediately turned his back to it, heading in the opposite direction.
He slipped like a shadow into the 'Royal Gardens.'
In the moonlight, the garden felt like a world transformed.
Flowers that blazed in the sun now shimmered like silver under the moon.
As he pushed deeper, the air grew thick with the intoxicating scent of night-blooms.
Massive, ancient trees with gnarled branches stood like silent sentinels.
Their shadows stretching out as if to block his path.
Len didn't falter.
He wove through the thickets and towering trees with the grace of a seasoned predator.
As he cleared the last of the greenery, a colossal, blackened wall loomed before him.
The final barrier between him and the world he had been denied.
Len stared up at the towering wall, which loomed like a sleeping giant in the silver moonlight.
He steadied his breath and crouched low toward the ground.
Much like a cheetah coiling its strength before a lethal spring.
A jolt of energy surged through his legs.
In a flash, he vanished from the earth.
With the grace of a bird in flight, he launched himself toward a massive nearby tree.
His feet landed perfectly on a thick, sturdy branch.
The wood groaned slightly under his weight, but Len didn't waver.
He didn't pause for even a heartbeat.
He committed to his next leap like an arrow loosed from a bow.
The distance between the branch and the wall was nothing compared to his newfound agility.
His fingers caught the top edge of the stone, and with effortless strength, he hauled his frame upward.
Now, he stood atop the colossal rampart.
The cold night wind whipped through his hair, and the world below seemed remarkably small.
Without a trace of hesitation or vertigo, he scanned the horizon on the other side.
Where an ordinary person might have felt their head swim at such heights.
Len's eyes burned with a dark, triumphant spark.
He brushed off his sleeves and prepared to step into the unknown world beyond.
He cleared the massive barrier without a single doubt.
As if the daunting wall were nothing more than a minor hurdle in his path to freedom.
The torches in the hallway cast long, flickering shadows against the stone.
The high-ranking vampire official standing before Astria remained unmoving.
His eyes fixed on her with a sharp, inquisitive glint.
"My Queen," he began in a measured tone, "the darkness has deepened."
"It is time you returned to your chambers."
Astria's cold gaze remained locked onto him.
Her royal gown pooled at her feet, a silent testament to her unyielding power.
"And what objection do you have to my presence here instead of my room?"
She asked, her voice devoid of emotion yet carrying a resonance that rattled his composure.
The official bowed his head slightly, but his tone remained pointed.
"It is not an objection, my Queen. But the way you linger here..."
"Is there a disturbance in your room that prevents your return?"
"Or perhaps, is there something within those walls that must remain shielded from any gaze but your own?"
Not a single muscle twitched in Astria's face.
For a fleeting second, the image of Len—his innocent yet rebellious face behind those closed doors—flashed through her mind.
But she allowed no trace of vulnerability to surface in her eyes.
"Whatever lies within my chambers is under my absolute authority," she replied in an icy tone.
"I will return when I see fit. Until then, do not forget your place."
The official bowed once more, but his silence hung in the air like an unspoken suspicion.
Astria turned away, her steps now more deliberate.
She realized that the palace walls were no longer just stone.
They had grown ears, listening for every secret she held.
The towering ramparts of the palace were now nothing more than a distant shadow behind him.
Len's small feet moved swiftly across the grass and dust-laden paths.
And with every stride, the raw, earthy scent of freedom grew more intoxicating.
Soon, he reached a cluster of small stone and wooden houses.
Lined up like silent sentinels in the evening gloom.
From a distance, sounds began to drift toward him.
The bright echoes of laughter and the rhythmic patter of running feet.
Len froze.
A short distance away, under the flickering amber glow of torches, children his own age were playing in the dirt.
Their clothes were tattered, and their faces were smeared with grime.
Yet their eyes held a reckless sense of abandon that Len had never known.
Drawn by an invisible thread, Len's feet began to move toward them.
He came to a halt just a few paces away.
He stood perfectly still, his pristine, costly attire gleaming like a jewel against the rugged simplicity of the other children.
He watched them with wide, curious eyes.
As if observing creatures from an entirely different realm.
Suddenly, a boy's gaze landed on him. The game died instantly.
The children dropped the stones and sticks they held.
Their eyes anchoring onto Len with a mixture of suspicion and awe.
One boy, slightly taller than the rest, approached him with cautious, measured steps.
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Len's clean features and the shimmering silk of his clothes.
Stopping just two steps away, he asked with blunt curiosity:
"Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
Len remained silent.
He simply stared back at the boy and the group huddled behind him.
His heart began to thrum with a newfound rhythm.
It wasn't the cold chill of fear, but the spark of an adventure he had never been allowed to feel behind those suffocating walls.
The boy narrowed his eyes, scanning Len's silk attire that shimmered under the moonlight.
He took a step closer, scrutinizing Len's features with blunt curiosity.
"We've never seen you around here," the boy remarked, his voice a mix of suspicion and wonder.
"You don't look like you belong in these parts."
"Are you the son of some high-ranking vampire? Or perhaps some noble lord's child?"
Len listened to the boy's words, but the titles and ranks meant nothing to him.
He tilted his head slightly, responding with a quiet, hollow honesty.
"I... I don't know."
A low murmur broke out among the other children watching from the shadows.
The older boy leaned in, searching Len's eyes as if looking for a hidden lie.
"You don't know? How is that possible?"
"Your clean palms and these fine clothes show you've never even touched the dirt."
He pressed further, his tone more demanding now, "Where exactly do you live?"
Len looked at the small, dusty village around him.
And then glanced back toward the direction of the distant, towering ramparts he had just scaled.
With a voice of pure, disarming innocence, he simply said:
"I live in the Palace."
The air suddenly grew heavy. A stunned silence fell over the group.
To these children, the 'Palace' was a forbidden world they only viewed from afar—a place of legends.
The idea that someone from those golden halls was standing in their dirt was almost impossible for them to grasp.