The great hall glowed under the fractured light of the chandeliers, gold and crimson scattering across marble and glass.
The five leaders had gathered — embodiments of ancient continents and even older grudges — their laughter sharp as daggers dressed in silk.
Cain, from the Western clans, leaned lazily against his chair, a grin sharp enough to cut steel.
"So the rumors are true," he said, his tone laced with amusement. "The Prince himself still walks among us — while the rest of us crawl through the centuries pretending to age."
A few chuckles rippled around the table.
They didn't call him Supreme, not here. Not among equals.
To them, he was still the Prince — a title both reverent and mocking.
Because none of them truly knew how long he had borne it.
Nani smiled faintly, a curve of lips that revealed nothing. "You flatter me, Cain. Or is it envy I hear?"
Kali, regal and cruel in her jeweled sari, tilted her head. "Oh, envy, certainly. You still look like temptation given form, my prince."
Her gaze drifted past Nani, landing on the tall figure standing a step behind him. "And I see you've acquired… new company."
Sky stood perfectly still beside Nani's chair, his posture flawless, his expression unreadable.
Yet every instinct in him thrummed with awareness — every heartbeat in the room, every whisper of movement.
He could feel their gazes crawling over him like the brush of fangs.
Magnus barked out a laugh, his heavy Northern accent rolling through the hall. "You've tamed yourself a wolf, eh? A fine pet guard, Supreme. I thought you preferred silk over teeth."
Laughter again — low, dangerous.
Sky's jaw tightened. Beneath his collar, the mark burned faintly, his blood roaring at the insult.
He could hear the predator in him pacing, restless and snarling.
He almost missed how Nani's hand moved — slow, deliberate — resting on the armrest beside him.
Not touching, not commanding.
Just there.
A silent order.
Breathe.
Sky did. Barely. The storm inside him settled into uneasy calm.
Nani's voice slid through the laughter like a blade dipped in honey.
"Careful, Magnus. Wolves bite when you mock their loyalty. And mine has sharper fangs than most."
That single sentence quieted the room.
For a heartbeat, none dared reply. The air turned heavy, humming faintly with restrained power.
The leaders shared glances — half amusement, half wariness.
Because there was something different about this wolf.
His aura wasn't like the others.
Too still. Too pure.
Even their heightened senses couldn't catch his scent — as if he didn't belong to the natural order at all.
Dew, sitting opposite Nani, finally spoke. His voice was calm, rich, threaded with curiosity.
"I must say, my prince… your taste has improved."
His golden eyes lingered on Sky, sharp and assessing. "That mark of yours — it's not just protection, is it? You wouldn't tie your sigil to anyone so easily."
Nani's smile didn't reach his eyes. "You think too much, Dew."
Dew leaned forward slightly, gaze unwavering. "Perhaps. But we both know your blood doesn't move without reason. And that wolf — he's not what he seems."
Sky's muscles tensed, a flicker of danger crossing his expression before he forced it down.
He could feel Nani's calm brushing against his mind like cool wind on fire — a wordless reminder.
Do not react.
Nani leaned back in his seat, elegance in every line, every movement controlled.
"Then perhaps," he said smoothly, "you should learn to stop seeing with your eyes, and start fearing with your instincts."
A subtle wave of his power rolled through the air — soft enough not to be seen, but strong enough that every ancient being in the hall felt it.
The room dimmed for half a second, shadows stretching long across the floor.
And just like that, silence reclaimed the chamber.
Dew smiled faintly, conceding the round. "Still the Prince, after all."
Cain poured himself another glass of bloodwine. "And still impossible to corner."
Nani's lips curved, faintly amused. "You can try. Just once."
Sky, standing still behind him, almost smiled — almost.
He didn't understand why his chest ached, why the mark under his skin pulsed in rhythm with the Supreme's voice.
But for that single moment, he knew:
if the entire hall turned against Nani, he wouldn't hesitate to stand between them.
---
The laughter faded.
The air in the grand hall cooled — as if every ancient heart in the room remembered what fear once felt like.
Cain set his glass down first, the faint clink echoing. "Enough games, my prince. We didn't come here for pleasantries. The creatures have reached our cities. My coven in Vienna lost three enclaves last month."
Kali's eyes darkened, her jeweled fingers tracing the rim of her cup. "And they reek of something old. Something that should've stayed buried."
Magnus grunted, leaning forward. "Aye. They're not born of shadow or blood. They reek of rot. Of demon craft."
The word hung like a curse.
Nani's gaze sharpened — the barest flicker of emotion breaking through his calm façade.
"Demon craft," he repeated quietly. "You mean Mara."
A ripple of unease crossed the table.
Alexander scoffed, though his tone lacked conviction. "Impossible. The Mara are gone. Wiped clean by the First Blood and First Moon. Their name shouldn't even exist."
"Then explain what we've seen," Cain pressed, his voice harder now. "Something's summoning them again. Someone."
The chandeliers flickered, as if the room itself flinched from the word.
Nani didn't move. "The Mara's bloodline was extinguished. The curse was sealed. Their return means…"
He stopped, eyes narrowing slightly.
The silence filled itself. Everyone knew the rest.
If Mara had returned, so too would the balance — the Guardian.
Dew leaned back, swirling his glass. "You mean the wolf of legend? The one born from the moon's tears?" He smirked, though his tone carried an edge. "Come now. Fairy tales to keep younglings obedient."
Magnus growled low. "You laugh, Dew, but my northern pack saw light rip the sky open last week. Silver and gold. Burned half the creatures to ash. That's no fairy tale."
Cain's grin vanished. "The Guardian walks again."
The words dropped like stone into water — quiet but unstoppable in their weight.
Every gaze turned, subtle and searching, toward Nani.
He met them all, expression unreadable.
"The Guardian," he said finally, "has always belonged to the balance. Not to blood. Not to moon. If he has returned, he will act on his own will — not yours."
"Then we're all in danger," Kali murmured, voice low. "Because neither side can control him."
"Exactly," Dew said, smiling faintly. "And that is why balance must be… corrected."
Nani's eyes flicked toward him, a spark of warning passing like lightning between them. "Careful, Dew. Your words sound too much like history repeating itself."
Dew raised his glass slightly, grin sharp and knowing. "And isn't that what immortality is? History… refusing to die."
---
The meeting adjourned in a storm of whispers and restrained tempers.
Crystal and bloodwine glimmered under dimmed chandeliers as the leaders broke from their seats, forming small knots of uneasy conversation.
Magnus clapped Alexander's shoulder with a heavy laugh.
"Your council's as useless as mine. Still arguing about protocol while their cities burn."
Alexander smirked. "Better than your pack, who thinks strategy means hitting harder."
Their banter carried the kind of camaraderie only warriors centuries old could afford.
Across the hall, Cain approached Nani, tone hushed but respectful.
"You've always been the calm one, Prince. Tell me — do you truly think the Mara have risen again?"
Nani's gaze flicked to the far window, where moonlight spilled silver on the marble floor.
"I think," he said softly, "that whatever is coming isn't a resurrection. It's a consequence."
Cain frowned. "Of what?"
"Of us," Nani answered simply. "And of what we tried to bury."
Sky stood a step back, observing, silent and steady — though his mind was a storm. He could feel something in Nani's tone, a weight of centuries, grief folded between the words.
And then — he felt eyes on him.
Dew.
He approached like mist, all charm and quiet menace, his golden gaze fixed on the wolf.
Sky straightened, instinct sharp.
"My, my," Dew said, voice smooth as aged wine. "The prince's guard does know how to steal a room."
"Doing my job," Sky replied flatly, tone clipped.
"Oh, I'm sure." Dew smiled — too kind, too curious. "Tell me, wolf, how does it feel to wear his mark? His protection must burn on your skin."
Sky's pulse jumped, but his face gave nothing. "I wouldn't know. I don't burn easily."
Dew chuckled low, stepping a fraction closer. "So sharp. So proud."
His eyes narrowed slightly, as if chasing a memory. "You remind me of someone. Someone I've almost forgotten."
Sky tilted his head, wary. "Should I be flattered?"
"Depends," Dew murmured, gaze distant now. "He was a name whispered in the age before this one. A wolf who burned brighter than any sun. What was it…?"
He snapped his fingers softly.
"Ah. Niran."
The name hit like a pulse in the air.
For an instant, Sky's breath caught. He didn't know why the sound of that name felt like lightning striking his chest.
Nani, still across the room with Cain, looked up suddenly — his senses flaring as if something had brushed against his very blood.
Dew only smiled, bowing his head slightly to Sky before turning away.
"Until next time, Guardian."
Sky stood frozen, the echo of that word — Guardian — threading through his bones.
He didn't see Nani watching him from across the room, eyes dark with too many memories.