The town was deserted—but not abandoned. Silence hung thick, broken only by the distant hum of insects gnawing beneath the earth. Sunlight spilled in thin, jagged shafts over the cracked stone streets, but the air remained heavy, stagnant. Too still for a place meant to be forgotten. Dust drifted along the edges, and yet the marks of something living—something watching—remained.

D’s boots barely stirred the dirt as he moved through the remains. A black iron gate, twisted and half-open, creaked faintly in the hot breeze. Though faded by years, the touch of the Nobility was unmistakable—too refined, too perfect to belong to human hands. Yet it felt wrong. Rushed. As if someone—or something—had left in haste.

Rumors weren’t enough. Not for this. A pureblood offspring—if it existed—wasn’t just a rarity. It was a threat. Or a promise.

In the world of the Nobility, blood was everything. The ancient families who still clung to their faded dominion placed immeasurable value on lineage. True blood—unlike the turned—stood as a symbol of power and the right to rule. If a child of pure blood survived here, they would be both a prize and a danger. Hunters would come. Humans, terrified of a new tyrant rising from the ashes. Other Nobles might see them as the future—proof that their kind could rise again.

D paused. The faintest vibration passed underfoot—something moving deep beneath the surface. For a moment, the air itself seemed to pull against his senses. A protective ward? Or a cage? Whatever lay below had not been abandoned. Not completely.

Left Hand stirred against his palm, the voice dry and mocking. "You feel it, don't you? Someone's been busy. But not too busy to leave a little mess behind. Think it's still alive?"

D didn't answer. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took another step forward. If it was alive, the question remained—was it a creature to be slain, or something worth protecting?

His voice, low and smooth. "If it's a pureblood... the hunters won’t stop. Neither will the Nobility." He paused