Ilyas awoke in a medic bed, the stark white walls blurring into focus as he sat up abruptly, heart racing. Shit, what did I do? The sterile scent of medicinal herbs and clean linens filled his nostrils.

  "Easy there." Heroona's warm hand pressed against his shoulder, her touch firm but comforting. "You just got up, you shouldn't be moving so much." Her voice carried a mixture of concern and amusement.

  "Huh? Heroona?" His words came out raspy, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

  She winked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You really scared us, you know. Your voice went all deep and spooky." Rising from her chair, she moved to a glass cabinet, her movements practiced and precise. She retrieved a glass bottle with a familiar medicinal label, its amber liquid catching the light. With practiced efficiency, she drew the liquid into a syringe.

  He instinctively recoiled, recognizing it as a sedative. "I’m calm now you know?I don't need that, I'm perfectly—"

  "Stop being so fussy," she interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. Before he could protest further, she deftly pressed the syringe between his lips. The sugary syrup coated his tongue, sweet and slightly bitter.

  He frowned, swallowing the medicine. "What happened?"

  Her explanation tumbled out, painting a chaotic scene. "After you started going crazy, it looked like you were going to jump over the table to get at the general. Then you two just looked at each other, and he collapsed. What was up with that?”

  "Hypnosis." He rubbed his eyes, still slightly blurry.

  "Oooo freaky vampire hypnosis," she laughed, the sound echoing with a hint of nervous energy. "After that, the rest of us were snapped out of it. Jabar and Jehan rushed at you with weapons, their faces twisted with a blend of fear and aggression, wanting to detain you, but Callaia stood in their way."

  "Callaia did?" His attention sharpened, the medicinal taste on his tongue disappearing, its herbal scent suddenly irrelevant against the intrigue of her intervention.

  Heroona's laugh was now light, almost musical. "It was kind of cute actually, she was all silent like, just waiting for what to happen next. Statuesque. Aeon was quick to be there too, I just watched, hoping a whole other war didn't break out in that room. Would be ironic wouldn't it?"

  "Very," Ilyas muttered, his brows furrowed. He didn't know if he was more surprised that he let the sword's dark whispers control him, or that Callaia of all people had shielded him.

  "Everything's all calmed down now though. Aeon was insistent on waiting here for you. He was rooting for you. He was telling us all not to worry and that you won't lose control again and all. He really seems to like you. Well, since both Captains in a sense vouched for you, General Taldris has put you under their watch."

  "What does that mean? I'm being monitored?" The words carried a mixture of resignation and quiet defiance.

  "Yep. Are you surprised?"

  His head dropped, his hair flopping over his face. "No. I should have figured as much."

  "You'll hear it more from him. I'll let him know you're awake,” she stood up, her movement fluid. "Don't collapse again."

  "No promises," he murmured.

  As she left the room he lay back down, irritated at how little control he had over his own body. He began to wriggle his fingers, clenching and unclenching his fists, jittering his legs. The frustration boiled. How much control do you have over me? He asked the question inside his head, hoping for a response. When none came he got even more ticked off. A chirp came from under his sheets. He looked, now noticing a bulge to the side of his bed. It moved forward until a white, fluffy head peaked out.

  “Suika? You followed me?” He reached out to pet it. It chirped under his touch. “You either really like me, or you’re linked with the sword.” He held his hand out, summoning it. He leaned it against the wall. Its inner gem shattered the light that hit it into prisms of rainbows. Suika moved to the blade, nuzzling against the flat of it. I knew it. But what could a moth have to do with a sword like this? He continued to rub it, contemplating scenarios that might link it. He had known much about most Darkdwellers and monsters, yet in all his studies and encounters, he had never heard of a magical moth.

  He summoned his phone, scrolling through what messages he did receive. He couldn’t summon much, but anything around the size of Dawnbringer was fair game. All he needed to do was imprint some of his blood on it. It was very basic magic. Summoning a small item and returning it to where it came from. That was easy even for him. He glanced back at the sword with his still blurred vision. If Erebus could put that monster of a general in hypnosis, I probably could too. He did use my body afterall. But how long will it take me to be able to do that? He sighed at the thought, irritated at his own weakness. He always hated using magic, it was too taxing and he was so useless at it it was a waste. The summoning was as far as he went. Even then Dawnbringer was strange.

  He picked it up again, examining it before releasing the summon. The sword disappeared with a sparkle. That is odd. He thought. From what he knew, the released summon should return to where he took it from. At that moment, it was the wall, yet it vanished completely. He summoned it and released it again, yet nothing. So this thing stays in its own little pocket. Maybe the Whispering Caves, or the throne where I got it. What about these eyes?

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  He attempted to use his ability on the moth. As his eyes flashed, Suikas flashed back, a heterochromia of blue and red. His eyes ached as it did, going even more blurry. The moth in turn chirped, this time a high pitched one as it soared into his face, colliding with his cheek and whipping his head back. He rubbed the spot, glancing down at the angered moth.

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” he held his hand out, worried about another charge. “I just wanted to try it out.”

  She chirped again continuously, seeming like she was lecturing the poor vamp.

  “Alright, I understand. Won’t happen again,” a satisfied chirp came this time. He realised he really was out of it. His body was more sluggish than usual, even his senses had dulled. He should have been able to know that was coming. So this hypnosis really is draining.

  The door burst open, the red hair of taldris wafting in. He looked at Ilyas with low brows before taking a seat. The two shared unspoken stares for a while.

  “Look,” he started. “I’m not here to sit and apologise, I’m here to offer another contract.” He pulled a folded page from his coat. “We’ve contacted the other major nations in regards to the information we have on the dragon cult and the heroes' descendants.”

  “So what does that have to do with me? After yesterday I’m sure your men would rather see me chained up, am I wrong?”

  “They’re opinions don’t matter-”

  “How shocking.”

  "Will you listen to me?" he snarled, his voice sharp as a blade as he sat up straight. "I'm a general of the only military force capable of subduing Darkdwellers. Every choice I make is for the betterment of humanity. A few foot soldiers' lives are nothing compared to saving an entire land. And deep down, you know it."

  "You're full of shit," came the bitter retort. "That nice guy act was just a mask after all."

  "Don't play victim," Taldris shot back, eyes glinting with cold calculation. “As much as you want to blame me for what happened to Callaia out there, you only bit here to save your own life, because you saw the sacrifice of her humanity as worth your own living.”

  Ilyas’s head jutted forward, his mouth parting to argue. Taldris placed his hand on his shoulder, interrupting me. "Irrelevant now," he said, voice suddenly smooth. “What is relevant, is that you have been contracted to attend an upcoming summit with the great nations. I say contracted, because you really cannot decide whether to accept this job or not. Unfortunate, really, I truly did want to give you the freedom of choice for your next move.”

  Ilyas scoffed. "Like hell you did. I'm done dancing to your political strings."

  Taldris began to laugh. “The arrogance of youth," he drawled, eyes glinting with a predatory satisfaction. He slammed the parchment down beside Ilyas, the royal seal gleaming like a threat. "By direct order of Princess Turina of Endorica, Ilyas AL-Bey Altaira is commanded to stand as royal guard during the Geralthold summit." Each word dropped like a stone, heavy with implication.

  “Failure to acknowledge this, or defiance to adhere to this order, will be considered as treason.” His laughter continued. “So you see, neither me, nor my men's opinions matter here. When the royalty speak, we all bow our heads.”

  “I only bow to the one above,” he snarled, irritated at his situation. His mind raced, searching for escape routes, finding none. They'd checkmated him perfectly—Erza and the others were in the care of the royals. His family's safety was now leveraged against his own freedom, his brother being a general made it all the worse. If he were to become a criminal, especially now, he wouldn’t just be battling the Watchers, but be compromising his family's safety as well. Damn it, Karim. Watch over them. Watch over them well.

  “So, what do you say?” Taldris’s smile was smug as he offered a pen.

  He hesitated to grab the pen. Instead, Ilyas pricked his index finger on his fangs, signing the contract with red ink before tossing it at him. “Whatever.”

  "May the god you bow to keep you safe, eh?" The patronizing words dripped with condescension as he patted Ilyas's shoulder like one would a simpering child. As his frame lumbered toward the exit, Ilyas's jaw clenched, teeth grinding with such ferocity that tiny sparks of pain erupted where his molars pressed together. His fists coiled into white-knuckled weapons, nails digging into his palms and drawing thin crescents of blood, trembling with rage. His fingers twitched. Ilyas took a deep breath, reminded of the meeting just hours prior. He looked down at his hands, wondering why he hadn’t felt that surge of anger he did before. Maybe you only get frustrated at things that piss you off, isn’t that right, Erebus? As he asked himself the question, he could almost hear a grunt back in response.

  Heroona slipped back into the room, her usually confident demeanor replaced by a nervous energy that made her movements jerky and uncertain. Her face now flickered with a mix of confusion and anxiousness. "Everything okay?"

  "Grand," Ilyas replied, his tone dry and noncommittal.

  "Greatttt," she stretched the word, the sarcasm heavy in her voice, feeling distinctly out of place in the unfamiliar space.

  Ilyas stood up, his body casting a long shadow as he stretched his arms above his head. "Hey, can I have some bandage rolls? Preferably longer ones?"

  "Sure, what for?" Heroona raised an eyebrow, her hand already moving toward the medical supplies.

  "I need to use them as wrist wraps," he explained, rotating his wrists and wincing at the sharp clicks that punctuated the movement. "I feel like I'm going to be fighting a lot more than usual. My wrists aren't getting any younger." A chuckle escaped his lips. "You'd think vampirism would prevent crap like this."

  "Seems it doesn't," she retorted, digging through a worn leather satchel in the back of the room. Her fingers closed around a few rolls of clean, pristine bandages, which she tossed with precision.

  "Thanks," Ilyas caught them mid-air. He began to unravel the bandages, methodically wrapping them around his forearm in tight, precise layers.

  Heroona's voice cut through his concentration. "You should get going. The other royal guards are gathered outside, awaiting the speech."

  "Speech?" He paused, one eyebrow raised.

  "The princess plans to give a speech to everyone before her departure. You don't want to miss it."

  "Lovely," Ilyas muttered, already beginning to jog, his wrapped wrists swinging with each stride.

  "Be safeee," Heroona called after him, a hint of genuine concern threading through her playful tone. She parted her lips to call out to him again, but they shut almost immediately.

  "I'll tryyyy," came his fading response.