---
Sekhmet closed the door behind him.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
There was no map. No reports about Mihos. No Iron House. No old vampire myth whispering from the edge of memory.
Only the room. Only the night. Only the weight of everything he had chosen and everything still waiting to be chosen.
His eyes moved to the bed, then to the chair near the window, then to the small side table where a cup of water had been placed sometime earlier by a maid who knew better than to knock twice if ignored.
He did not drink it.
Instead, he walked to the window and looked out.
The estate walls were darker now. Beyond them, the city lay hidden under night. Somewhere in that darkness, enemies were thinking. Allies were moving. The cowards were pretending to be patient. Ambitious men were mistaking delay for control.
Sekhmet let out a slow breath through his nose.
Tomorrow will come.
So would Mihos.
So would blood.
Then the door opened behind him without a knock.
