The Vampire Bloodline Awakening Hall did not announce itself with grandeur alone—it's long before one reached its doors that it pressed upon the soul.
A broad staircase of obsidian led up to the entrance, each step veined with dark crimson crystal that pulsed faintly, as if warning all who approached.
The air grew heavier with each step forward, thick with an ancient resonance that stirred unease even in seasoned nobles. Whispers seemed to coil within the silence—not voices, but echoes of countless awakenings long past.
At the top stood massive doors.
They were great slabs of black stone alloyed with unknown metals.
Blood runes—old, deliberate, and irrevocable—were carved deep into their surface. These sigils did not glow; they waited, dormant and watchful, as if judging anyone daring to pass.
At their center was the sigil of the First Era: a blood drop encircled by fractured rings.
Valdis had seen it before in one of the books he read on vampire history.
It symbolized lineage, divergence, and judgment.
Flanking the entrance were two statues—not of beasts or heroes, but of vampires kneeling—heads bowed, hands pressed to their hearts.
Their expressions were carved with equal parts reverence and terror.
Braziers burned on either side of the doors, their flames a deep, unnatural crimson that gave off no heat. Instead, they radiated pressure—an invisible weight that tested resolve, ancestry, and will.
Above the doors, etched into the archway in ancient bloodscript, were words which carried a feeling of authority:
"Enter as one of many.
Emerge as what your blood decrees."
Valdis stood in awe of the magnificence of the awakening hall.
The hall's aura felt so ancient and regal that his blood seemed to pause in reverence.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" Draven said.
"Yes, but I feel like some force is suppressing my blood and soul," Valdis frowned as he said.
"You'll get used to it eventually. As long as you reach those doors successfully, the suppressive feeling will vanish," Draven said dismissively.
"In other words, it's a test," Valdis said.
Duke Draven nodded.
"And if I fail?" Valdis asked.
"It would mean that your body and will aren't strong enough to endure an awakening using the primordial awakening pool, and you'll have to use a normal awakening pool," Draven replied.
"What's the difference between the two?" Valdis asked.
"Let's just say the primordial awakening pool reaches deeper into your bloodline, awakening hidden components and making your blood purer, fully excavating your talent. But it comes at a price," Draven said.
"Which is?" Valdis asked.
"Pain—excruciating pain that pierces deep into the bones, twists the mind into screaming fragments, and flays the soul bare," Draven said.
His usual smile vanished as he remembered his own experience with the primordial pool.
"And you must not lose consciousness during your awakening, or the primordial pool will consume you."
"So, the suppression is a test to weed out the unqualified and prevent avoidable deaths," Valdis said.
"Does every member of the clan go through this test?"
Draven nodded. "But almost none pass it. This generation, only three have: your brother Malrik, your sister Isolde, and your cousin Darius."
"My sister? I have a sister. I never knew I had one," Valdis said.
"You don't know?" Draven said, shock on his face.
"No, all I've heard is about my big brother Malrik, who I've yet to see."
"I see. Well, you have a big sister. Malrik is the oldest, and she's second. You probably haven't heard about her because she's been out of the house for a decade, training under the third ancestor, always on her mountain or in school."
"She trains with the third ancestor!" Valdis said in shock.
The ancestors of House Ebonhart are beings from the immortal ascension realm, the main reason no one dares fully fall out with House Ebonhart.
Ancestor-level figures are powerful enough to reshape the political landscape of kingdoms whenever they choose to act.
"Yes. Immediately after her awakening ceremony, the third ancestor took her in as a disciple."
The third ancestor said she accepted her due to her talent, but everyone knows it's also because of the lack of female powerhouses in House Ebonhart, and the ancestor wanted to ensure Isolde's rise."
Draven laughed as he said this.
"She's also the student council president at Obsidian Crown Academy, so her schedule's always packed.
If you want to meet her, you'll have to climb those stairs just like they did in the past and earn the respect of everyone in House Ebonhart."
He then started walking toward the awakening hall.
Valdis took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began ascending the stairs as well.
His mind focused entirely on the challenge ahead. Multiple thoughts raced through his mind about what this trial involved.
So immersed was he in his thoughts that he didn't notice the duke vanish.
Soon, he reached the first step. He stopped, took another deep breath to steady his nerves, and opened his eyes.
His crimson gaze was filled with determination and unwavering resolve.
While all this was happening, figures sat in the ancestral hall, staring at a hovering screen.
Each figure radiated a unique aura of power.
The room was eerily quiet—so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Among the mighty gathered here, two figures stood out.
One was a handsome young man, probably in his mid-twenties, with black hair and blue eyes. He sat lazily, watching the screen with mild interest.
The second was a girl in her teens, with snow-white hair. She was breathtaking—unattainable—and her eyes seemed capable of freezing your soul. Her face was impassive as she observed the screen.
Suddenly, in the stillness, a figure appeared out of nowhere.
It was Duke Draven.
As he materialized, everyone in the room stood and greeted him, except the young man, who continued to watch the screen lazily.
He looked at the young man and said, "You can't even stand to greet your father, Malrik?"
Before the young man could respond, he got a sharp slap to the back of the head, jolting him upright.
"Isolde, what did I ever do to you?" Malrik said, slightly annoyed, rubbing his head.
The icy beauty finally spoke.
"Why are you always so relaxed? Even in front of father. At least show some respect," she said.
"You unfilial son, you finally decided to return home," Duke Draven said, not taking his son's attitude to heart, as this was typical Malrik.
"I always come back during my siblings' awakening ceremonies. Besides, it's not like I had a choice," he said with a helpless sigh.
"Your mother is truly remarkable to have kept you in check so well," Draven said.
His gaze shifted from Malrik to Isolde.
He smiled and asked, "How have you been these years? I know balancing training and studies must have been stressful."
"Do you even care about me, old man? I feel like a forgotten member of this family," Malrik said dramatically.
Isolde looked at him with disdain.
She knew her brother. He had a friendly, lazy attitude at home, but on the battlefield, he was a different man entirely—cold, calculated, and decisive.
His combat record earned him the rank of general at age twenty-two.
He was famed as the 'Emissary of Death,' cutting down enemies with ruthless efficiency.
But all that disappeared as soon as he returned home.
He became the easy-going, friendly older brother, terrified of his mother.
Isolde then said, "I've been doing well, Father. You needn't worry about me. The third ancestor only assigns me tasks I can handle."
"See that? Why can't you be more like your sister?" Draven said.
Malrik wanted to retort but caught his sister's sharp gaze. He quickly shut his mouth, words tumbling incoherently.
Draven laughed heartily.
"Enough fooling around. Let's watch your brother's trial," he said.
Then he moved to the central throne and sat down.
Silence fell again as everyone focused on the screen, eager to see how far the new Ebonhart would go.