Chapter 78: LOVE AND DOOM
A hundred years had passed since the fall of the Conservatives, and in that span of time, much had changed.
Velira Morvane, once a trembling child forced into the shadows of grief and survival, had long since matured. She had grown into her place within the Ripper clan. At first, it had been nothing short of terrifying. To be torn from the warmth of her father’s clan—where mercy still had its place, where the vampires chose to feed without cruelty—only to be thrust into the heart of the Rippers, who bore no restraint, no morality, no hesitation when it came to blood and survival.
The transition had been agonizing. The sights of flesh devoured and blood drained openly had kept her sleepless for years, her heart recoiling with every hunt. She had clung to the faint hope of refusing her mother’s path, but reality had swallowed that innocence whole.
Yet, she had not been alone.
Lucien—who shared her softness, who bore that quiet compassion against the cruelty of their world—had been the anchor that kept her spirit alive. Kaelith, sharp-edged yet ever watchful, had been her other pillar, though his path was harder, darker, and laced with the fire of ambition. Together, the three had faced trials, rites, and wars. Together, they had carved their names into the Ripper clan’s tale.
Velira stood now in the glow of the twin moons—one crimson, one pale. Noctra, their eternal home, was bathed in its eerie beauty. Twelve hours of red moonlight, drenched in haunting color; twelve hours of white, cold and serene. A world born for predators.
She found Lucien where she always expected him: at the tall window pane overlooking the castle grounds, his form caught in silver light. He leaned against the frame, silent, lost in thought as though the night sky held secrets only he could read.
"I knew I’d find you here, Lucien," Velira said softly, her voice carrying the faintest amusement. Her pale skin shimmered under the lunar light, her crimson eyes catching his reflection. "Why do you always stay here, staring endlessly into the void? Do you never tire of it?"
Lucien turned, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes remained distant. "No reason in particular," he murmured, his tone low and gentle. "I just enjoy the quiet. The night sky... the stillness of it. It helps me think."
Velira stepped closer, her gaze lingering on him. She had known him long enough to read the weight he carried in his silences. A hundred years together had changed her, but it had changed him even more.
Lucien, once ridiculed and shunned as the unwanted heir, had clawed his way out of that shadow. He had gone through his awakening, survived the blood rites, and astonished even Dracula himself. Against all expectation, he had manifested not just the bloodline gifts of his father, but also those of his mother—a rare dual inheritance that made his future terrifyingly boundless.
Kaelith, his twin, had not been left behind either. His growth was sharp, disciplined, and focused entirely on their father’s line of power. He was still the expected heir, the golden child who mirrored Dracula’s will. But in the clan’s whispers, Lucien’s name now carried equal weight.
And Velira herself... she too had awakened, her bloodline singing with the same duality as Lucien’s. Among them, the three had become the shining promise of the Ripper clan’s next era. Their rise was further cemented during the war against the werewolves—a brutal conflict that turned youths into killers and left behind nothing but blood-stained moons. Victories had forged their respect; battles had woven their bond.
But with victories also came complications.
A love triangle had silently taken root, twisting around their bond. Velira had not meant for it—her heart had not meant to split the twins—but affection and time had turned sharp. In the end, she had chosen Lucien. The wound of that choice had carved a rift between brothers, one that lingered across decades.
"I was hoping," Velira broke the silence again, a mischievous lilt in her tone, "that we could have another spar. Or maybe a hunt. Anything but this endless castle stillness." She sighed, stepping into his arms as though the gesture were as natural as breathing. His warmth steadied her, and she rested against his chest, content.
"Whatever you want, Velira," Lucien replied with a rare, tender smile. His lips brushed hers, a fleeting kiss that burned with the intimacy of their stolen hundred years. "Though I should warn you... if it’s a spar, you’ll lose."
Velira laughed lightly, though her gaze softened. "Then a hunt it is. And... perhaps we should ask Kaelith to come along."
The mention of his twin made Lucien’s smile falter, the tension instantly returning to his eyes. "You know he avoids us. Ever since you chose me..." His voice carried quiet frustration, the weight of a decade’s silence pressing against him. "It’s been years, Velira. He hasn’t spoken a word to me. He won’t even look at me unless he must."
"He’ll come around," Velira said gently, though a trace of guilt lingered in her tone. "Give him time. He’s too stubborn, but he’s still your brother. He can’t possibly ignore you for another century."
Lucien let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "I hope you’re right." He laced his fingers with hers, leading her away from the room, ready to chase the hunt together.
But fate had a way of answering in its own timing.
As the pair stepped out of the castle gates, they found Kaelith already waiting. He stood under the pale moon, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"Where are you two headed?" Kaelith asked, a faint smile curving his lips.
Lucien froze. His heart stuttered, hope flickering where bitterness had long been. "Brother... we were just about to go for a hunt."
For the first time in decades, Kaelith didn’t turn away. Instead, he nodded slowly, his voice softer than expected. "Then... may I join you? I’ve been bitter. Petty. Forgive me, brother. You know why I acted the way I did. I was hurt... but time has its way of healing. I needed to face it myself."
Lucien’s eyes widened, relief flooding through him. A genuine smile broke across his face as he embraced his twin tightly. "Of course, brother. Always."
Velira watched them, her chest tightening with a joy she hadn’t realized she craved—finally, the rift seemed to mend.
"Then," Kaelith said, stepping back with a steadier smile, "let’s make this hunt worthy. There are rumors of a stray werewolf on Planet Mexia. Young. Untrained. Likely left behind when the rest were expelled by Father’s hand."
"Then we should bring an elder," Velira suggested quickly. "Just in case."
"How strong do you think this werewolf is?" Lucien asked, his brow furrowing.
"From what I’ve gathered—weak," Kaelith replied. "Barely blooded. It shouldn’t be an issue."
"Then let’s go ourselves," Lucien said immediately, determination hardening his voice. "If an elder comes, the werewolf won’t stand a chance. He’ll be sentenced to death the moment they arrive. At least this way, we can decide his fate."
Kaelith narrowed his eyes. "You’re too soft, brother. What if the information is wrong? What if he’s not weak at all?"
Lucien shook his head. "I’m a demigod. Velira is a demigod. You’re a step away from reaching it yourself. We’ve fought dozens of werewolves in fifty years of war—what’s one stray? No elder is needed. Let’s go, treat it as sightseeing if nothing else, and put this to rest."
Silence stretched. Velira glanced between the two, reading the truth behind Lucien’s stubbornness. It wasn’t arrogance—it was mercy. He didn’t want the werewolf killed simply for existing. He wanted to give the creature a chance, perhaps even to spare his life if it was possible. That was Lucien’s way—soft, defiant, and unchanging.
Kaelith sighed heavily. "You know Father will call this weakness. Mercy isn’t for enemies, Lucien. You should abandon that ideal."
Lucien only smiled, unwavering. "Perhaps. But when cruelty isn’t needed, why wield it? That’s my way. No one—not even Father—will strip that from me."
With that, he placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, his other wrapped around Velira’s. Together, they walked toward the vessel waiting at the edge of the castle grounds.
Though he and Velira had ascended to demigods, travel between planets still required vessels to pierce the boundaries of space. Only gods themselves could freely traverse without such means. For Kaelith, who had not yet crossed that threshold, the ship was a necessity.
Lucien had chosen this route deliberately. And in that choice—a choice born of mercy and caution—lay the shadow of regret that would soon come to meet them.