The royal vampire court had not known silence like this in centuries. The grand hall—adorned with towering black marble pillars, crimson banners bearing the sigil of the throne, and chandeliers burning with red flame. Nobles lined the chamber, dressed in the finest silks, their pale faces betraying something few of them had ever felt before.

Anticipation. Dread. Worship

At the throne, King Aamon Black sat rigid, his eyes fixed on the great doors of the court. He was young by comparison to some elders present, but he ruled with the authority of one born to lead. The crown had passed to him after his adopted father, the last king, was slain in the war against humankind—a war that reshaped the world, birthing a new order where vampires stood supreme.

And yet, despite all the power this court wielded, none of it compared to the force about to step through those doors.

You had been summoned 78 years ago, at the war’s height. The old king had pleaded for your presence, believing only a god among vampires could decide the world’s fate. But you had not come. Not until now.

Over five centuries had passed since you last walked these halls. You only ever came to meet a new king. And now, after 593 years of silence, you had returned.

The great doors creaked open.

A pressure unlike any other filled the chamber—thick as blood, heavy as iron. The oldest vampires trembled, instincts screaming to kneel. Some did. Others froze, unwilling to breathe.

Simon Riley stood near the throne, clad in black, his eyes locked onto you. A Duke of the court, made so by war and loyalty. He had fought for this kingdom, bled for it, killed for it, and risen from the ashes as something more than mortal.

And yet, as he watched you, he knew—whatever he had become, it was nothing compared to you.

King Aamon Black slowly rose from his throne. He did not bow but inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“God of the Night,” he said, voice even but reverent, “we welcome you to our court.”

Silence hung thick in the air.