The night burned cold.
The city outside gleamed like frost, silent witness to the storm brewing inside the penthouse.
Nani's voice had just torn through the air, sharp and furious. The echo still trembled in the room.
Sky stood near the broken edge of the table, chest heaving, eyes dim with exhaustion and pain. Faint traces of silver light still licked beneath his skin — his power trying to heal the venom and burning him instead.
"Why do you never listen?" Nani's voice was low now, rougher. "Do you want to die that badly?"
Sky didn't answer immediately. His breath came shallow, every word caught between pride and pain. "I told you—I can handle it."
"You can't!" Nani's temper cracked again, raw with fear. "Your body is still fighting the venom, Sky. Every time you use that light before you're healed, it eats you alive from the inside."
Sky flinched — not from the words, but from the truth in them. His fingers trembled as he pressed a hand to his ribs, where faint burn marks glowed silver through torn fabric.
He swallowed hard, forcing a wry smile that couldn't reach his eyes. "Then let it eat me. As long as it keeps you safe."
The words struck Nani harder than any blade. His anger faltered, bleeding into something broken. "Don't say that. Don't you dare—"
"What else am I supposed to say?" Sky's voice cracked, the calm unraveling. "Every time you're in danger, I feel it. Every time you bleed, I feel it. My power doesn't care that it hurts me. It only knows you."
The room had gone still after Nani's outburst, the weight of his words clinging to the air like smoke that refused to fade.
Sky stood there, chest heaving, the remnants of his light flickering faintly beneath his skin — the burn of it matching the ache in his ribs.
Nani realized too late what he'd said.
His anger wasn't at Sky — it was fear. The kind that only came from loving something he could never keep.
"Sky—" His voice broke, quieter now, almost pleading. "I didn't mean—"
But Sky lifted his head. His eyes — that molten silver glow — were full of heartbreak and exhaustion. "You did," he said softly. "And you're right."
He took a step back. His knees trembled, not from weakness but from the venom residue still healing beneath his skin, each breath scraping against the raw edges of his power. "You're right, Nani. I should've stayed behind. I should've let you fight alone." He gave a small, humorless laugh. "But I can't. I can't stand there and watch you bleed when I can stop it."
Nani moved forward, his hand reaching — "Sky, enough—"
Sky flinched away. His light shimmered faintly, trembling between restraint and explosion. The air hummed with tension — pain and love tangled into something unbearable.
"I'm not your equal," Sky whispered. "I'm not your pet, or your shield, or some curse you have to manage. I'm just—" His voice cracked. "I'm just someone who loves you. And every time I do, it destroys us both."
Nani's chest rose and fell sharply. He wanted to deny it, to tell him they could find a way — but his throat closed around the truth. He couldn't promise Sky safety when the curse was already breathing between them.
The silence stretched. The city lights bled through the windows, painting their faces in fractured gold.
Sky turned away first. He didn't run — he simply walked, slow and heavy, each step echoing like a goodbye.
Nani didn't stop him. Couldn't.
If he did, the curse would only take faster.
When Sky reached the door, he paused. His voice was low, trembling, almost gone. "You once told me light can't exist without the dark," he murmured. "But maybe... maybe we were never meant to live in the same dawn."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Nani stood alone, the faint burn of Sky's power still clinging to his skin, his mark aching like an open wound.
And somewhere down the corridor, Sky's own light dimmed — not extinguished, but pulled painfully inward, like a dying star folding into itself.
For the first time in centuries, the Supreme whispered to the empty air,
"Lira... Niran... Sky...
How many times must I lose you before the curse is done?"
----
The storm outside had quieted, but inside the penthouse, silence pressed heavy against the walls.
Nani stood by the wide glass window, the city lights bleeding across his reflection — gold fractured through shadow. His eyes glowed faintly, no longer the calm amber of a ruler in control, but a darker shade — sharp, untamed, dangerous.
A knock came, measured but firm.
"Enter," he said, voice low.
William stepped in, hands clasped behind his back, posture composed as always, though the faint tightening at his jaw betrayed unease. "The report, my lord. We've traced more of the creature's trail east of the docks. The pattern matches our earlier findings — deliberate movement, controlled summoning."
Nani didn't turn. "Controlled... by who?"
"We don't have a name yet." William paused. "But the ritual traces — it's not witchcraft. It's older. Darker. The blood they use... carries a taint I haven't felt since—" He hesitated, eyes flicking toward Nani. "Since the Mara war."
The word hung in the air like poison.
Nani's fingers twitched at his side, a flicker of energy sparking along his skin before he reined it in.
"Continue."
William cleared his throat. "Magnus and Alexander are stabilizing. Felix's antidote works — though slowly. They'll live, but their wounds are... reluctant to close." He exhaled softly, gaze lowering. "They asked about you — and about your wolf."
That made Nani finally turn.
His eyes were unreadable, gold rimmed with shadow. "What did you tell them?"
"The truth," William replied. "That your bodyguard risked his life to protect you and the leaders. Nothing more." Then, carefully, "They saw what he did, Nani. They'll talk. And when word spreads, it won't take long before everyone starts asking who — or what — he is."
A muscle in Nani's jaw tightened. He turned back to the window, voice quiet but cutting. "Let them ask. They'll find only silence."
William's gaze softened — a rare flicker of worry showing through his centuries of composure. "He's still here, isn't he? Sky."
A pause. Then Nani's answer came like a whisper. "He hasn't left the building."
That tiny admission — heavy with all the words Nani couldn't bring himself to say — told William everything.
Nani's aura rippled, darker now, pulling shadows toward him like gravity. The entire penthouse felt colder, the air charged with suppressed rage and heartbreak.
"I'll strengthen the ward around him," Nani said finally. "And double the security on this floor. Make sure Billkin stays with him at all times. No one — not even Felix — sees him without my permission."
William nodded, though his expression tightened with concern. "Understood."
As he turned to leave, he hesitated at the door. "You're going to see Magnus and Alexander?"
"Yes."
"They'll ask questions."
"Let them." Nani's gaze lifted to the horizon, voice barely audible. "It's time they remember what happens when gods bleed."
---
The room was dim, the heavy scent of iron and incense filling the air. Magnus lay propped against the headboard, pale but alive, a faint silver thread running across his neck — the mark where the creature's claw had nearly torn him apart. Alexander sat beside him, his arm bandaged, his tone laced with the kind of weary humor that only survived men could afford.
"Remind me again," Alexander muttered, swirling the untouched blood in his glass, "why we ever agreed to come here."
Magnus exhaled slowly, wincing at the movement. "Because we thought it was safer to face the Supreme than to ignore him."
Alexander gave a dry laugh, eyes glinting faintly crimson. "Safer. Right. Tell that to my dead entourage."
Then, quieter — "That light. From the wolf. You saw it too?"
Magnus's eyes narrowed slightly. "Hard not to. It burned through everything — even the dark. Whatever he is, he's not just a bodyguard."
Alexander leaned back, studying the ceiling. "The Guardian of the Moon, they used to call him. A myth — a curse that burns what it protects."
Magnus looked toward the window, toward the distant tower where Nani's penthouse stood. "Then that myth stands beside the Supreme now."
He frowned. "I can't decide if that's salvation... or the beginning of the end."
Alexander's smile was grim. "Maybe both."
The candles flickered, the flames bending toward the open window — as if something unseen had just brushed past.
Far above, the city lights pulsed once — gold meeting silver — and the air trembled with the whisper of something ancient waking again.
---
The Forest Cabin – Deep in the Northern Range
The air smelled like rain and cedar, thick with the pulse of old magic. Hidden deep within the forest, an ancient cabin stood covered in moss and glowing faintly under layers of protective wards.
Inside, chaos reigned.
"Where did I put that damned scroll?!"
Felix's voice echoed through the dusty chamber as he rummaged through piles of parchment and jars filled with unidentifiable things. "How do you even live like this, PP? There's a bat wing in your teapot!"
A muffled voice came from beneath a mountain of books.
"It's not a bat wing, it's a charm! It keeps unwanted spirits away!"
A hand shot out, waving a crooked feather. "See? Functional."
Est pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to laugh. "Functional? You've got a skeleton hanging upside down in your pantry."
PP—short, wild-haired, and dressed like a storm in layered robes—popped his head up, eyes gleaming mischievously. "That's Gregory. He's part of the furniture."
Felix groaned. "I swear, every time I visit you, my IQ drops twenty points."
"Oh please," PP retorted, tossing a scroll at him. "Without me, you'd still be setting your cauldrons on fire."
"That was one time!"
Est laughed softly from where he sat cross-legged near the table, reading another scroll. "You two sound like an old married couple."
Outside, through the shimmering veil of wards, Joss and Gawin stood guard. The forest around them was quiet—too quiet.
Est peeked through the window, a teasing grin on his lips. "They've been standing there for hours. You think they're flirting or just competing who can brood better?"
Felix smirked without looking up. "Oh, they're brooding. Brooding is vampire foreplay."
PP chuckled darkly. "Then someone better bring popcorn."
Est snorted, biting back laughter. But the humor didn't last long—
because the air suddenly shifted.
Every candle in the cabin flickered. The wards pulsed blue, then red, then blue again.
Felix straightened. "...That's not normal."
PP's smile faded instantly. He pressed his palm to the wall of symbols, muttering an incantation under his breath. The sigils hissed, flaring brighter.
"Something's out there," PP whispered.
Outside the Cabin
Joss's eyes snapped open, his hand already on his weapon. Gawin followed his gaze toward the treeline, where mist was beginning to coil unnaturally thick.
"Wolves," Gawin murmured. "A pack."
"They're running," Joss said, his voice low. "Not hunting."
The scent hit them next—blood, fear, and something darker riding the wind behind it. The wolves burst into view, wild-eyed, wounded, their fur streaked with black veins from venom. Behind them, the forest churned with shadows — creatures, dozens of them, hunting like they'd found a trail they couldn't lose.
The wolves hit the invisible ward and reeled back, howling in agony as sparks flared along the barrier.
Inside, PP shouted, "They can't cross! My wards will kill them if they try!"
Felix slammed his hands against the window. "Then drop it! They'll die out there!"
"I can't!" PP's face was pale, the glow from the runes reflecting in his wild eyes. "If I lower the barrier, the creatures will get in—"
A heavy thud shook the cabin walls.
Est backed away, heart pounding. "They're surrounding us."
Outside, Gawin drew his sword, its silver edge gleaming faintly blue under the ward light. Joss stood beside him, eyes flashing crimson, his fangs glinting as he prepared for what was coming.
Gawin exhaled slowly. "We can't just watch them die."
Joss nodded once. "Then we make a gap. Just long enough."
He raised his hand, energy gathering in a crimson surge—and the world seemed to hold its breath.
Felix's voice rang out inside, raw and urgent. "Don't let it fall too long! If those creatures get in—"
But it was already too late.
The barrier snapped—a flash of silver, a roar of wind—and the forest erupted into chaos.
Screams, snarls, and the scent of burning magic filled the air as the first of the creatures broke through the flickering ward.
Est shouted, "Felix!"
Felix grabbed a charm from the table, eyes blazing. "Stay behind me!"
PP raised his staff, muttering a curse so old it made the air vibrate.
The forest howled.
And then—a screamed.
Far away, in the Supreme's tower, a faint pulse echoed through Sky's mark — silver and blood intertwining, warning him that somewhere in the dark, destiny had just shifted again.