The next day, as twilight painted the sky in shades of violet and crimson, Draven began the tedious process of preparing for his birthday party.
These clothes are so uncomfortable, he grumbled inwardly, tugging at the stiff, high-collared shirt.
Why do I have to wear this crap?
A knock echoed from the door.
A maid stepped inside and bowed slightly.
"Young Master, the Mistress requests your presence at the party."
Draven followed her through the polished hallways of the castle.
I haven't even gotten there yet, and I'm already bored, he thought.
They reached the grand hall—and Draven stopped for a moment.
He hadn't expected such a large crowd.
The room was buzzing with movement, laughter, and conversation. Vampires of all ranks filled the hall, their crimson eyes and elegant attire turning the gathering into something straight out of a gothic painting.
The maid led him through the crowd until they reached his mother.
She glanced at him, her expression unreadable.
"Draven," she said, gesturing toward the man beside her, "this is my younger brother, Isaac—your uncle."
Draven's gaze fell upon a tall dark elf with long black hair and sharp features.
He looked to be in his mid-twenties, though Draven knew better.
Beside him stood a dark elf girl who appeared to be around fifteen, her raven-black hair framing a smug smile.
Isaac smiled warmly.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Draven."
He looks twenty-five, Draven thought. But if he's Mom's younger brother, and he's that old... how old is Mom?
He quickly pushed the thought aside.
Better not to ask.
Isaac continued, "This is my daughter—and your cousin—Alex."
Alex flashed a toothy grin.
"Since I'm older, you'll be calling me Big Sis."
Draven suppressed a shiver.
She looks fifteen, but she's probably over forty.
A forty-year-old calling herself "Big Sis"? That's creepy as hell.
He forced a smile.
"Uncle," he said, turning toward Isaac, "did you bring a gift for me? You didn't forget it's my birthday, right?"
Isaac chuckled.
"Of course not."
A small, swirling shadow appeared beside him.
Void magic.
Isaac reached into the black, hole-like space and pulled out a box.
The shadow dissipated with a faint hiss.
"I heard you mostly fight barehanded, so I had these custom-made gloves crafted just for you."
Draven opened the box.
Inside sat a pair of sleek black gloves.
They looked way too big.
"Aren't they a little... oversized?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Try them on," Isaac said with a grin.
Draven slipped his hands into the gloves—and immediately felt them shrink, tightening perfectly around his fingers.
They molded to his skin like a second layer.
He flexed his hands, surprised by how light they felt.
"Thanks, Uncle. You're the best."
Isaac beamed with pride.
Draven turned toward Alex, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes.
"Big Sis," he said playfully, "did you bring me something too?"
Alex tilted her head, smirking.
"Of course."
She summoned her own shadow space and pulled out a sleek black dagger.
The blade shimmered faintly, absorbing the light around it.
"This is made of black iron," she said. "You might not use weapons often, but it's always good to have one."
Black iron? Draven thought. I've read about that. It's one of the strongest metals in the world.
Guess calling her Big Sis was worth it.
"Big Sis Alex," he said sweetly, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "you're so nice!"
Alex's smile widened dangerously.
"Why don't we test it out?"
Draven blinked.
"Test it?"
"In a real fight."
A grin stretched across Draven's face.
He cracked his knuckles through the gloves.
"Sure. I want to see what these can really do."