Seamus sat quietly on the warm sofa in front of the fireplace, the orange glow reflecting in his eyes as the wood crackled and slowly turned into ash. He did not look away.
The way the flames consumed the logs reminded him too much of what had just happened, how Mark's body had crumbled into nothing, leaving only dust and unfinished answers behind.
He knew Mark had tried. Especially at the end, when his time was clearly running out. He had spoken about Robert's Bloodstyle, the Crest, the Progenitor's heart. But it was incomplete. There were too many gaps.
How did they connect multiple vampire souls into one house, one separate domain? How did the owner command that space as if it were a living organism? Mark had controlled the Red Zone the same way. Was that the result of a Psyche-type Bloodstyle?
Or something closer to what Seamus did when he used Isolde's power to shape his own domain?
And then there was Latros' Emblem. The war in the North. The agreements with Bjorne.
