Dawn broke with a taste of iron in the air.
The Supreme Tower stood draped in shadow, its highest floor sealed from mortal sight — a domain of old blood and older power.
Inside, everything was movement and precision.
William moved like a blade through the quiet chaos, issuing orders that carried across the marble corridors. His tone left no room for hesitation.
"Security rings three layers deep. Nobody without clearance crosses the inner gate," he said, adjusting the cuff of his dark suit. "Joss — you'll take the outer perimeter. Gawin and Billkin, inner ring. Keep eyes on Sky. If anything feels off, report before reacting."
Gawin raised an eyebrow. "You really think someone would try something during a council of ancients?"
William's gaze cut sharp as glass. "They always do. Power this old never shares a room without bloodshed."
Even Joss, usually lighthearted, kept his expression tight. "Understood."
William's eyes softened just slightly. "Good. Remember — our first priority is the Supreme. Our second, the Guardian. If either falls, this world burns."
The air seemed to hum with unspoken weight.
Then came the signal.
The first of the foreign entourages had arrived.
---
The Arrival of the Five
The main hall transformed into a cathedral of power.
Every step echoed off stone polished smooth by centuries, every flicker of candlelight casting long, restless shadows.
Cain came first — the Lord of the Western Continent.
A man carved in obsidian grace, tall and quiet, dressed in black as deep as the void. His aura bent the light around him; even his shadow moved slower than it should.
Where he walked, the temperature dropped — ancient restraint wrapped around something monstrous.
He bowed his head only slightly to William, eyes like twin shards of ice.
"Tell your master the West answers his call," he said, voice calm but edged with warning.
Next came Kali, the Matriarch of the Southern Blood Courts.
Golden skin, hair like liquid night, and a crown of serpent-shaped gold coiled along her neck. Her presence was intoxicating — the scent of spice and storm and something venomous beneath.
"Still the same cold halls," she purred, her eyes trailing the walls as if they whispered to her. "Does the Supreme ever let the light in?"
William merely smiled. "When it obeys him."
Her laugh rang like wind chimes — beautiful, dangerous, unending.
Then Magnus arrived — the Northern Warlord.
Broad-shouldered, silver-haired, dressed in furs that once belonged to beasts extinct for centuries. The ground itself seemed to quake under his steps.
He greeted William with a crushing handshake that would've shattered bone in anyone else.
"Still serving him, boy?" Magnus grinned, teeth sharp. "You never age — it's unnerving."
William replied coolly, "Neither do your manners."
The next to enter was Alexander, the Eastern Regent — scholar, mystic, and manipulator.
He wore robes the color of dusk and carried a faint smell of parchment and rain. His power wasn't loud; it seeped like ink, curling through the air, making every light flicker subtly as he passed.
He inclined his head to William with polite warmth. "A pleasure, as always. I trust the Supreme is… prepared for discussion?"
"As prepared as one can be to herd gods," William answered.
And then — the final arrival.
The air thickened.
The temperature warped, light bending around a figure that moved with effortless arrogance.
Dew.
Of all the ancients, only he dared to meet the Supreme as an equal.
He was beautiful in a way that made even immortals uneasy — pale gold eyes, lips curved in perpetual amusement, his aura thrumming with restrained chaos.
Where others carried darkness or frost, Dew carried heat — the kind that melted reason, the kind that burned worlds.
William's posture tensed instantly. "Lord Dew," he said, voice tight. "The Supreme awaits you."
Dew smiled, slow and knowing. "Oh, I'm sure he does."
His gaze drifted lazily toward the far corridor — the one leading to Nani's private chambers. "And I'm curious to see what's changed since the last century."
As he passed, the other leaders instinctively shifted, their powers flaring just enough to show acknowledgment — and threat.
The room hummed with invisible tension, predator recognizing predator.
William exhaled once the last entourage crossed into the inner hall.
"Let the games begin," he muttered under his breath.
---
The private dressing room of the Supreme was quiet — too quiet.
Only the whisper of silk brushing against marble and the faint sound of cufflinks snapping into place filled the air.
Nani stood before the full-length mirror, fastening the final button on his obsidian waistcoat.
The faint glow of candlelight caught on his pale skin, tracing the curve of his jaw, the glint of the signet ring on his finger — the mark of the First Blood.
He looked every bit the legend whispered in vampire courts: The Supreme, the untouchable, the eternal.
And behind him, Sky adjusted the collar of his uniform jacket — dark grey, tailored close to his frame, every movement efficient, soldier-sharp.
No trace of exhaustion showed on his face now, only the cold discipline of a bodyguard ready for war.
But his mark — faint, glowing gold beneath the edge of his shirt — betrayed something else. Something alive.
Their eyes met in the reflection.
Nani turned, slow and graceful, closing the distance between them until the air grew heavy.
He reached out — fingers brushing the lapel of Sky's jacket, then smoothing a wrinkle near his chest.
"You wear command like armor," Nani murmured, voice low enough to be dangerous. "But I can still see the tremor beneath."
Sky snorted softly, though his breath hitched when Nani's hand lingered.
"I'm fine. You're the one walking into a nest of centuries-old predators."
"Predators fear only what they cannot possess," Nani replied, gaze steady, unreadable. "And tonight…"
He took Sky's hand — warm, calloused, steady — and lifted it to his lips.
The kiss was slow. Reverent.
The kind that made Sky forget the world existed for a heartbeat.
Nani's hand lingered against Sky's wrist — a touch that wasn't meant to restrain, but to tether.
The warmth of his skin bled through Sky's pulse, steady and patient, as if he could read the storm beneath it.
His voice dropped, velvet-soft and dangerous.
"Be mine," Nani whispered.
The words weren't a command — they were a promise.
They slid through the air like a spell, heavy and deliberate, brushing against something ancient inside Sky.
"Even if only for tonight… submit to me."
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Sky's chest rose sharply — the air catching halfway between defiance and desire.
He wanted to scoff, to pull away, to throw some biting remark that would shatter this unbearable tension.
But the sound died in his throat.
Because Nani was close — too close — and everything about him was pulling Sky apart.
The faint scent of iron and old roses. The shimmer of the sigil glowing faintly at his collarbone. The look in his eyes — not hunger, not conquest, but recognition.
Sky's voice came out rough, low. "So you want me to be your omega now?"
Nani stilled, eyes flicking down — not to Sky's mouth, but to the pulse at his throat.
A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.
"No," he murmured, the word like a caress. "You're not my omega, Sky."
He leaned in — until the space between them was a single, shared breath.
"You're my enigma."
The syllables wrapped around Sky's heart and squeezed.
It wasn't a line. It wasn't seduction.
It was truth — raw and aching, whispered by a man who had lived too long and lost too much.
Something in Sky cracked. The wall he'd built between them trembled, groaned.
He wanted to look away, but couldn't.
He saw it — just for a flicker — the centuries of loneliness behind Nani's calm eyes. The longing. The fear. The hunger not for blood, but for something impossible.
And maybe that was what undid him.
Sky's hand came up before he could stop it, fingers brushing the edge of Nani's jaw.
His touch trembled. His voice barely held.
"Why does it always feel like I've known you before?" he whispered.
Nani didn't answer — not with words.
He simply pressed forward, slow and sure, until their foreheads met — a breath apart, light and dark colliding in fragile balance.
When he finally spoke, his tone was quiet enough to shatter.
"Because you have."
Their lips met — soft at first, then deeper, heavier — like the breaking of a vow neither remembered making.
The mark on Sky's chest pulsed with light, a single golden flare that lit the edge of Nani's face.
And for that heartbeat, the curse, the bond, and the centuries all felt like a single truth:
that no matter how many lives they burned through, they would always find each other.
Even if it destroyed them both.
When the kiss broke, Sky's eyes stayed closed for half a breath.
Then, with a quiet exhale, he said, "Either way, I'm your own personal bodyguard."
Nani smiled — the kind of smile that could end wars and start them again.
"Then guard me well, Guardian," he murmured. "For tonight, the world will be watching."
He offered his arm — elegant, old-fashioned — and Sky, after the barest hesitation, took it.
Side by side, the Supreme and his Guardian walked toward the hall of monsters.
And beneath the light of the moon filtering through the glass ceiling, their shadows intertwined — one gold, one black.
---
The air between them still hummed when they stepped out of the dressing chamber — like some invisible current refused to fade.
Nani walked ahead, the embodiment of elegance carved in darkness: his suit a perfect blend of old-world royalty and modern precision, every thread glinting faintly under the light.
Beside him, Sky followed — a quiet storm in motion, sharp lines and restrained power beneath his fitted uniform. His posture screamed discipline, but his eyes… his eyes followed the Supreme with something far deeper than duty.
They didn't touch. They didn't speak.
Yet the air carried a tension that silenced every corridor they walked through.
When the grand doors of the gathering hall opened, the noise inside faltered.
Five leaders and their entourages turned toward the entrance, conversations dying mid-sentence.
Even the chandeliers seemed to dim — as if the light itself bowed to their arrival.
Nani stepped through first, his presence consuming the room like dusk swallowing the day.
Sky followed half a step behind, his gaze scanning the perimeter — alert, calculating, lethal.
To mortal eyes, he was the perfect bodyguard.
But to those who could feel power — the ancient, dangerous kind — it was impossible to ignore the echo between them.
The Supreme and the wolf.
Darkness and moonlight.
Opposites that should have devoured each other, yet somehow moved in perfect sync.
A whisper rippled through the hall.
Some called it reverence. Others called it fear.
But none could deny the unspoken truth that walked between them —
that the Supreme had found something more dangerous than an enemy.
He had found his equal.
William, standing near the dais, hid a knowing smile behind his composed facade.
He'd seen his lord arrive at countless gatherings over the centuries —
but never with an aura that could make immortals hold their breath.
Sky stopped behind Nani's right shoulder, his stance crisp, eyes sweeping over the gathered elite.
And though he stood still, the faint shimmer of the mark beneath his collar brushed like light against the edge of Nani's power.
A silent connection — one only they could feel.
Nani inclined his head slightly, his voice calm and commanding.
"Let's begin."
The council bowed, murmuring their greetings.
But all anyone would remember from that night —
was the moment the doors opened, and the Supreme walked in with his shadow,
and the world realized that the balance between blood and moon had begun to shift.