My conversation with Silas's mother went smoother than I expected—though it was far from comfortable. There was something about her presence that demanded attention, a quiet authority that made me feel like a bug under glass. And yet, her words surprised me.
"You followed my son here, even at the risk of your own life," she said, her voice calm but edged with something unreadable.
Her hands were clasped loosely, but her gaze was anything but. It bore into me, sharp and unrelenting, as though she were peeling back layers of my skin to see what lay beneath. Maybe she could. Maybe she already had.
"I did," I replied, my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my chest.
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. "You walked into enemy territory. You had no guarantees—Silas could have been lying to you, for all you know."
I stiffened, stifling the urge to sigh. What was she getting at? Every word felt like a test, every pause an opportunity for her to dissect me further.
"What's your point?" I snapped before I could stop myself. My tone was sharp, maybe too sharp, but I didn't care. The push and pull of her questioning was starting to grate on my nerves, and I was tired of playing whatever game this was.
For a moment, there was silence. Then she smirked, leaning back slightly. "Hoh. Talking back to your elder so brashly? I ought to have your ears boxed."
Her tone was light, almost amused, but I couldn't tell if she was joking. I stared at her blankly, hoping my expression conveyed just how little I appreciated the remark. If she noticed, she didn't care.
"Sebastian," she said, her voice softening just a fraction. "I can see you mean no harm. I'm glad it was my son who found you. I've always trusted his judgment. That's why I let you pass."
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. "I see," I said, though I wasn't sure I did.
Her eyes sharpened again, her expression turning serious. "Do you understand how important his mission is?" she asked.
I met her gaze, feeling the weight of her words settle over me. Did I understand? Not really. Silas hadn't told me much. All I knew was that he was hunting a pureblood vampire, someone—or something—significant.
"A little," I admitted, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. Shame prickled at the edges of my thoughts. I'd come here for Silas, yes—but not for the mission. Not for the cause. I came because he asked me to, because he worked so hard to give me this protection I didn't even need. The truth was, I didn't care about this pureblood vampire or whatever they represented. Not really.
Her laughter startled me, sharp and unexpected. "So I was right," she said, a note of triumph in her voice.
"Right about what?" I asked, frowning. Her sudden amusement only confused me more.
Her smirk widened. "You came here for my son, didn't you? When I asked about the mission, I expected interest. Passion, even. But you? You look bored out of your mind." She chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, Silas. You've gone and picked yourself a pet vampire."
The words hit me like a slap. "Excuse me?" I said, my voice low and clipped. "That's kind of rude."
I turned away, letting out a soft sigh as I tried to push down the irritation bubbling in my chest. A pet vampire? Really? The audacity of it all. But when I glanced back at her face, it was clear she wasn't sorry. If anything, she looked even more amused.
It was the first time I truly saw the resemblance between her and Silas. That infuriating smirk—that unshakable confidence—it was exactly the same.
"A vampire and a light mage," she said, shaking her head in mock disbelief. "What is this world coming to?"
I didn't have an answer for her. And judging by the glint of amusement in her eyes, she wasn't expecting one.
—
"This is the garden. I usually come here to practice spells I don't quite understand," Silas says, leading me through an archway into a lush, overflowing sanctuary. The greenery is everywhere—vines crawl along the old stone walls, their white flowers blooming like tiny stars in the dim light.
I take a moment to look around, awestruck. It's beautiful in the way only something untouched by time can be.
At first glance, it seems like a typical garden—perfectly ordinary. But if you let your eyes linger, you begin to notice the faint glow emanating from the leaves and petals, a soft, magical shimmer that brings the whole place to life.
"It's nice," I murmur, my voice softer than I intended.
"It is," Silas replies. "I've been coming here since I was a child. It's always been my favorite place." He walks ahead, his boots crunching over the gravel path, and stops by an empty stone fountain. Sitting on its edge, he pats the spot beside him.
Oh. He wants me to sit next to him? Don't mind if I do.
I take the seat, brushing my fingers across the cool stone. For some reason, my mind drifts back to my conversation with Shira. Her voice overlaps with Silas's mother's words, both of them assuming—no, insisting—I have feelings for him. And, well... they weren't wrong. But it's still weird how that's the first thing people seem to think of.
"Did my mother say something weird to you?" Silas asks suddenly, breaking the silence.
I glance at him, caught off guard. The light from the garden hits his face just right, making his features glow like he's been kissed by the sun itself. Thankfully, he's not the actual sun—otherwise, I'd have burned to ash by now.
"Not really," I manage to say, turning my gaze away before I stare too long. "She just mentioned I'm free to help you with your mission."
"That's great." Silas exhales, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I'm glad it all went well… even if it was a little weird." His voice trails off as he hums in thought, his expression distant.
I snort, unable to help myself. He's not wrong—it was weird. Like mother, like son, I suppose. But if I'm being honest, Silas's peculiarities are part of what made me like him in the first place.
"Anyway," he continues, gesturing around the garden with a boyish grin, "this place has been here for ages. Before I was even born. Actually, before my mother was born. It's been here since the academy was founded."
His excitement is infectious. He looks like a puppy stumbling over his own tail, too thrilled to contain himself. It's... kind of adorable.
I bite back a smile, coughing awkwardly into my fist to keep my composure. That gets his attention. He stops mid-sentence, tilting his head at me like I've just interrupted something important.
"You okay?" he asks, concern flickering in his eyes.
"Yeah," I say quickly, waving him off. But I'm not really paying attention to the garden anymore. The academy's beauty—its mix of ancient stone and modern magic—fades in comparison to how Silas looks right now, so unguarded and happy.
I swallow hard. Snap out of it.
"Ah," he says after a moment, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm rambling again. We should probably head back, huh? You already skipped a class for me. Your parents are gonna kill you."
I shake my head, a small laugh escaping before I can stop it. "They wouldn't even notice. Besides, I've done this before." I shrug. "No big deal."
Silas punches my shoulder lightly, his lips curving into a pout. "You bum. You always say you're too lazy to study, but skipping? Really? You're unbelievable."
I roll my eyes. "That's no longer your business."
He huffs, crossing his arms and pouting harder. It's ridiculous. And honestly? It's impossible not to grin.
Silas is too cute. Kath was right about one thing, at least.
—
The next time we used the warp, it wasn't as bad as the first time. My vision didn't spin the way it had before, and I didn't feel like my stomach would turn inside out. I chalked it up to being less nervous this time—earlier, I'd been a bundle of frayed nerves, unsure of what to expect. Now? I was getting used to it. Or at least I hoped so.
"How was it?" Shira greeted us, her voice calm and steady. She leaned casually against the wall, a steaming mug of something in her hand. Her dark eyes flicked over us with mild interest, though there was a sharpness in her gaze that made it clear she didn't miss a thing.
Silas threw his arms out like a victorious athlete crossing a finish line. "It went well! It's official, guys—we've got a new member on the team!" He grabbed my wrist and held it up, showing off the bangle now snug around it, as if it were some kind of trophy.
Shira's gaze dropped to the bangle, her brow furrowing slightly. She studied it for a moment, then shot me a pointed look before rolling her eyes. "Well," she said, smirking, "let's not waste the day. We've got a lot to plan for our next step."
I bit back a groan. A break would've been nice. Honestly, I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a solid twenty-four hours. But this mission was important, and Silas had gone out of his way to vouch for me—he'd even gotten his mother to give me her protection. The least I could do was keep up. Besides, with the bangle, I didn't have to worry about being hunted down and killed by some rogue mage. That was a win, I supposed.
"Alright," Silas said, clapping his hands together, "we can use the training room."
Training room? I blinked at him. They had a training room? In this house? Where?
I followed them as they headed toward what looked like an ordinary wall beside the kitchen. Shira stepped up to it, placed her hand against the surface, and—just like that—the wall shimmered and a doorway appeared, glowing faintly.
Ah. Magic. Of course.
The doorway led to a staircase that spiraled downward. I followed them into what turned out to be a massive underground space. Calling it a "training room" felt like a gross understatement. It was enormous—large enough to park twenty cars, at least. The floor was smooth yet firm, resembling polished marble, but it wasn't slippery underfoot. The walls appeared to be wood at first glance, but when I pressed my hand against one, it was cold. Metal, maybe? Reinforced, no doubt.
"So," I said, glancing around, "a training room. Interesting."
Shira hummed in response, clearly unimpressed by my awe. "It's also our meeting room," she explained. "One of the safest places in the house. The walls are heavily enforced—if a spell or projectile hits them, it dissipates harmlessly."
To prove her point, she summoned a sleek, black pistol out of thin air. The weapon materialized in her hand like it had been waiting for her call. Without hesitation, she aimed at the wall and fired. The shot rang out, a deafening metallic clang echoing through the space. When the smoke cleared, there wasn't a single mark on the surface.
I gawked. "Is that… safe?" I blurted, watching as the gun vanished back into nothingness.
Shira shrugged, her expression unreadable. I wanted to ask why a mage like her was carrying a gun, but before I could, Silas looped an arm around my neck and pulled me aside, grinning. "Relax. We're just having a meeting today. No training. Unless, of course, you want Shira to train you." He chuckled, the sound light and teasing.
I frowned. "If she's okay with it, then sure," I said, trying to sound indifferent.
Silas let out a delighted noise, practically bouncing on his heels. "That's the spirit! You shouldn't let your vampire powers go to waste. I mean, sure, you're a normal vampire, but that doesn't mean you're useless!"
What a wonderfully backhanded compliment. "Thanks," I said flatly, unsure whether to take offense.
"Anyway!" Silas clapped his hands together. "Let's sit on the floor and get started. Sorry we're not exactly formal today—we weren't expecting an official meeting. But Shira and I have a plan to go over."
The three of us settled on the floor in a loose circle, legs crossed. Silas nodded at Shira, who took the lead.
"So," Shira began, her tone sharp and businesslike. "We're searching for Minerva. Here's why."
Silas muttered something under his breath, and a thick stack of stapled papers materialized in his hands. He held it up triumphantly, and I couldn't help but let out a small, impressed "Cool."
He blinked at me, his ears going pink as he quickly looked away. Weird.
Shira rolled her eyes at the exchange, her look practically screaming, Stop flirting with my idiot.
Clearing his throat, Silas began. "If you don't already know, there are seven purebloods who serve directly under Dracula—Vlad Dracul himself. Minerva is one of them. Or was, anyway. About a year ago, she disappeared."
I tilted my head. "And the others?"
"Chaos," Shira said bluntly. "The other six purebloods started tearing things apart looking for her. We don't know if they're acting on Dracula's orders or their own, but Minerva was the only one keeping them in check. Without her…" She trailed off, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Let's just say things are getting worse."
I frowned. "But I thought you said she was… I don't know, just as bad as they are? When you talked about her earlier, it sounded like she'd done her fair share of terrible things."
"Oh, she has," Shira said, her voice sharp with irritation. "Why do you think she got her position as the First Pureblood? Did Silas not tell you about the history?"
I hesitated. He might have. My memory wasn't the best.
The look on my face must have given me away because Silas burst out laughing, while Shira sighed in exasperation. "Unbelievable," she muttered.
"Right," Silas said, still grinning. "Here's the short version. The original six purebloods? Minerva killed them. Took their powers for herself. That's how she became Dracula's… uh…" He glanced at Shira for confirmation. "Wife?"
"Consort," Shira corrected. "Possibly. It's unclear. But she's almost as strong as Dracula himself."
"Right," Silas continued. "Point is, she's dangerous. And yeah, she's done some awful things. But she also kept the other purebloods—and the rest of the vampires—in line. Since she disappeared, they've been wreaking havoc."
I hummed in thought. "So you want her back to… rein them in? Couldn't you just kill the others?"
Shira sighed heavily. "If we did that, we'd have an all-out war on our hands. And Dracula? He's been eerily quiet. If he's planning something—like, say, opening a portal to hell—that's a whole other problem."
Silas rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "Yeah. Let's not think about that for now. Our job is to find Minerva. She's the only pureblood who hasn't turned any humans into vampires—except for you." He gestured to me.
"Ah," I said, not sure how to feel about that.
"So," I asked after a pause, "what does that make me?"
Silas hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with the air of someone trying to solve a puzzle. "Well, I don't know for sure. But there's no denying you're already special in a way that sets you apart from other vampires. This might be because Minerva is your benefactor. Though, even then, that's just a theory." He paused, his lips quirking into a bright smile.
"Purebloods can't pass down their power through a simple bite. So maybe… maybe you're just special in your own way."
What a polite way to call me weird. How nice of him.
"I do think," Silas continued, his tone growing more serious, " And you meeting Minerva might be the key to helping us talk to her properly. She's known for treating the normal vampires—her 'children,' as she calls them—with more care than she does other purebloods. If anyone can help us, it's you."
Shira nodded in agreement, clasping her hands together as she pressed her lips into a thin line. "I believe so too."
I shifted awkwardly under their intense gazes. "Well, in that case, I'm in your care, I suppose. Just tell me what to do, and… I guess I'll do it."
Silas clapped his hands together enthusiastically. "Great! You can trust us with your life. We won't let anything happen to you." His grin widened, and then he turned to Shira. "Oh, and you should definitely train him. It'll help if he learns to control his strength. He's going to need it."
Shira's eyes narrowed, and she let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes in my direction. Her expression was sharp enough to cut through stone—or, in this case, the tension in the room. I shivered under her pointed glare.
Training, huh? As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. In my time as a vampire, I'd discovered a few… unusual abilities. Abilities I wasn't sure if other vampires had—or even should have. Maybe now was the time to ask.
"Actually…" I began hesitantly, drawing their attention. "I think I have some… skills. I'm not sure if they're normal."
Shira raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Skills?" she echoed. "Like what?"
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "Uh… let's see." I started counting off on my fingers. "I can float. Charm people—well, sometimes. I've managed to summon wings, but only a few times. Lately, I can't seem to anymore. Oh, and my fangs. They're… different. Both the upper and lower ones elongate, not just the top." I trailed off, wracking my brain for anything else. "I think that's it. I don't really remember much else."
When I looked back at them, I was met with silence. Both Silas and Shira were staring at me, their faces frozen in shock.
"Wait…" Silas finally managed, his voice a near squeak. "Are you saying… you've had these abilities this whole time?!"
"Uh… yeah?" I replied, confused by his reaction. "Is that… bad?"
Silas practically lunged forward, his face uncomfortably close to mine. "Shira!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in excitement. "Do you know what this means?"
Shira's expression had turned deadly serious, her brows drawn together. "It means he might be a Servant Vampire," she said flatly.
I blinked at her, my confusion deepening. "A… what now? Isn't this normal for a vampire?"
"It's not!" Silas practically shouted, his voice ringing in my ears. "Servant Vampires are rare! They're incredibly strong—basically an extension of the pureblood they serve. Their power is unmatched among normal vampires. Oh, my divines…" His voice trailed off as he grabbed my face with both hands, practically gushing. "No wonder you're so special!"
Before I could protest, Shira stepped in, prying him off me with a firm hand. Silas looked like a child being scolded, but he didn't seem to mind.
"Sebastian," Shira said firmly, her sharp gaze locking onto mine. "Why didn't you tell us any of this before?"
I shrugged. "It didn't seem important. I don't use those abilities much. They just… happen sometimes."
She let out a frustrated sigh, muttering something under her breath. Silas, however, was still practically vibrating with excitement. "This is incredible!" he exclaimed. "You're not just any vampire. You're connected to Minerva by blood in a way that's… profound. You're bound to her—her wishes, her whims, her desires. And that connection might be our key to finding her."
Shira grabbed my arm suddenly, pulling up my sleeve to examine my skin. Her touch was clinical, her eyes scanning for something I couldn't see. "A Servant Vampire should have a mark," she muttered. "Where's yours?"
"A mark?" I repeated, frowning. "I don't have anything like that."
Her brows knitted together in frustration, and she let go of my arm with a sigh. "Strange."
"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Silas interjected, waving a dismissive hand. "The fact that he's a Servant Vampire already raises our chances of finding her. That's what matters."
I nodded slowly, trying to process everything. "Well… I guess I still don't know much about this world—or about my kind. But if it's possible, I'd like to learn. And I still want Shira to train me. I want to be able to pull my own weight so you don't have to keep protecting me."
Silas gasped dramatically, clapping a hand to his chest like a proud parent. "My boy!" he cried mockingly, patting my back with unnecessary force. "You're growing up so fast!"
I shot him a glare, but he only grinned wider. Shira, for her part, remained quiet, her expression unreadable as her eyes lingered on me.