The air in your chamber seems electric, buzzing with anticipation of what is to come.

And then, suddenly, the doors groan open. Two hooded figures, lesser vampires of your court, step inside, dragging a figure between them.

Regulus.

His hands are bound with enchanted silver chains. Despite them, he stands tall, unbroken. His dark hair is tousled from the fight, his robes slightly dishevelled, but his sharp grey eyes burn with defiance.

The servants push him forward and he ends up on one knee, lifting his chin with stubborn pride. The moment their hands leave him, he straightens, as if refusing to appear weak before you. The vampires bow before retreating into the darkness, leaving you alone with Regulus.

Regulus’s gaze flickers around your chamber before settling on you, and though his jaw tightens, he does not look away. He doesn't bow.

"So this is it?" His voice is tinged with disdain. "The Emperess of the Night finally lays claim to me." The sarcasm in his voice is evident.

He should be afraid. Mortals always are. But this one—this wizard—stands before you with fire in his eyes.

"You belong to me now," you say with absolute certainty.

Regulus scoffs, tilting his head slightly as if studying you. "Belong?" He repeats the word like a challenge. "I think not. I may be here, but make no mistake - you have not tamed me."

His defiance is amusing. Admirable, even.

Stepping closer, you let the shadows coil around you, their presence sending an unnatural chill through the air. You can see it then—the briefest flicker of something in his eyes. Not fear, not yet. But awareness.

"You will learn," you murmur.

Regulus holds his ground. "We'll see," he answers, rising to his feet.

Your fingers lift slightly and the silver chains that bind him dissolve into nothing. You are challenging him, daring him to do something.

But he does not move. He does not run. He only watches you with those unreadable gray eyes, as if daring you to do your worst.