Simon Ezekiel and King Ragna sat in the palace hall, their eyes glued to the massive screen where Luna was speaking.
"This is happening again! My eyes always play these stupid tricks on me. This one is too much! Hell no," Simon muttered, rubbing his eyes hard, trying to scrub away what he thought was a hallucination.
He had experienced strange visions before—but this felt different. Too sharp. Too real.
"Too bad this is not one of your eye tricks. It is reality," King Ragna said grimly, his gaze unmoving from the screen.
Simon looked again. Luna was still there, speaking confidently to the world. The same Luna he thought he knew—except this version had fire in her voice and something untouchable in her eyes.
'Reality!' That word felt ridiculous. Like a meme crashing into his ears.
Ezekiel stood beside them, his posture frozen. He didn't move, didn't blink. His mind screamed at him to rationalize it, to find some explanation.
Was Luna herself truly saying these things? With such calm, such power? It was impossible.
But there she was—unshakable on screen, as if she'd been born for this moment.
**********
A week passed, but the world didn't collapse. Surprisingly, everything remained steady.
Humans, werewolves, and vampires coexisted without incident. Luna's company thrived under her command, as if she had been leading it all her life.
In the Philippines—now the epicenter of supernatural power—stood the vampire kingdom. The werewolves and witches had also made their homes there. With rising tensions around the world, King Ragna moved quickly. He called for a grand gathering—a venue that would bring supernatural beings together, especially the rash and dangerous ones.
Now, every supernatural kingdom, every pureblood vampire from every corner of the globe, had gathered in the Philippines' largest ceremonial hall.
The room shimmered with color and power.
Pureblooded vampires draped in deep crimson moved gracefully through the space, their presence commanding.
Regular vampires, clad in shades of cool blue, mingled more cautiously.
Humans—those few powerful enough to be invited—stood out in bright yellow, the color of old wealth and political sway.
Werewolves wore earthy brown, standing tall with their natural pride.
The witches, cloaked in flowing black, radiated quiet power from the corners of the room.
Laughter and chatter echoed through the marble hall, weaving under the crystal chandeliers.
"I have been waiting for this day to come," the vampire king declared, his voice rising above the hum of the crowd.
"Please have fun. Let's no longer fight and maintain this peace."
They raised their glasses. The clinking of crystal was sharp, followed by a chilling sound—half toast, half unspoken promise.
Luna and Teresa stood in a far corner, clinking their glasses together. The crowd buzzed with laughter and toasts, the golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the hall. Ezekiel wasn't far from King Ragna, silently raising his glass and drinking his blood with calm precision.
"Humans and vampires can never be at peace," Luna muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowed on the celebration like it was a mockery of everything real. A strange bitterness coiled in her chest.
Ezekiel, who had been scanning the crowd with practiced indifference, paused. He turned slowly and glanced in her direction. He had definitely heard that.
"Boss, what are you saying?" Teresa asked, snapping her head up. She stood right in front of Luna, but her voice sounded distant, unfocused—like Luna wasn't even in the room anymore.
"Nothing. I'm just happy for the reunion," she lied, a faint, cold smile curling on her lips. Her voice was smooth, but her hands were trembling slightly, hidden behind the folds of her dress. No vampire heard her quiet fury; the others were too busy basking in the illusion of peace.
"Now can you live peacefully with your food? It doesn't exist." The thought echoed again in her mind. "Humans were the only ones meant to walk this Earth. Creatures like these—" she glanced at the pale faces around her "—they were never supposed to be here. Especially the blood-sucking ones."
Vampires.
Rage twisted through her chest like a knife. A memory, sharp and violent, stabbed its way forward—Ezekiel, his mouth crimson, calmly drinking from a trembling woman. The next morning, Luna had found that same woman lifeless, shriveled like a flower drained of sun. The image haunted her. Her blood boiled beneath her skin, hot and merciless.
"I'll kill them all," she whispered with venom, each word cutting like broken glass.
Ezekiel was no longer focused on the party. The music, the guests, the noise—all of it faded. His eyes locked on Luna. Something dangerous flashed in them. He wanted to kill her right now. Or maybe... he wanted to understand her. And that infuriated him more.
Luna stood abruptly, the chair scraping softly behind her. She couldn't stay here. The stench of blood, the sound of glasses clinking—it was unbearable.
"Miss, where are you going? The banquet is still ongoing," Ezekiel appeared beside her, his voice deceptively polite.
"I don't feel too well. I need to go home and get some rest," she said coolly, refusing to meet his eyes. She turned her back to him without another word and walked toward the grand hall doors, each step deliberate.
Ezekiel followed before he even realized what he was doing.
"Then let me drive you home, milady," he offered, almost as if compelled.
"Thank you, Milord, no need for that. My driver will take me," she replied without a glance.
"Oh, come on—"
"Ezekiel, leave me alone and go enjoy your stupid party!" she snapped, her voice sharp enough to silence the air around them. She stormed toward the black SUV waiting outside, her heels clicking like a war drum on the marble.
Ezekiel stood there, stunned. No one had ever dared to shut him up like that.
Frustrated, he clenched his fists and turned back toward the banquet. Inside, the mood hadn't changed. Simon was surrounded by a small group of human girls, his effortless charm making them giggle like schoolchildren.
"I love your red eyes," one of the girls praised, her eyes dreamy.
"Yes, you're so handsome," another confessed, her fingers nervously brushing her hair behind her ear.
"Hahaha, I know, I know. But you—" Simon pointed teasingly at the first girl, "you look more like an angel."
She blushed instantly. "Do I really look like an angel?" she asked, almost breathless.
"Yes, dear. That is why I love you," he said, smoothly taking her hand. His lips brushed the back of her elegant fingers like it was routine—and maybe it was.
Lena watched from a corner, her arms crossed, her expression tight. She slowly shook her head, clearly unimpressed.
"I'll take you out, my love, and I'll spoil you," Simon added with a grin, eyes locked on his chosen girl.
"Wow, you're so lucky!" the others squealed.
"Thank you," she murmured shyly.
Simon had always admired this girl. But even so, he was still a mother*cker.
"Simi? Seems like you're having fun," Shane appeared with a glass of blood in his hand, swirling it lazily.
"Yes. Why?" he asked, glaring at Shane with a flash of irritation.
"King Ragna called for all the princes," he informed, tone casual despite the seriousness of the message.
"So where the hell is Ezekiel? Call him first. Go call him now!"
"I can't find him. That's why I'm calling you first."
Without waiting for a reply, Shane turned on his heel and strolled off in search of Ezekiel. He walked with his usual carefree swagger, as though the world owed him no urgency. The banquet was dying down anyway—many guests had already filtered out, the music fading, the air now heavy with leftover chatter and the scent of blood.
He found Ezekiel seated in one of the dimmest corners of the garden, far away from the glow of chandeliers and curious eyes. The space was almost deserted, save for the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional flicker of torchlight.
"Cuzy, you're bored? Why?" Shane asked with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.
"Yes, of course. As usual. Luna left so soon, so I'm bored," Ezekiel muttered, resting his chin in his palm.
"Will you like me to kidnap her?" Shane offered with a mischievous smile.
Ezekiel shot him a sharp look—one that screamed 'You want to ruin everything?' Shane quickly cleared his throat and composed himself. Ezekiel wasn't someone to joke with—especially not when it came to her.
"King Ragna said we should report back to the palace immediately," Shane announced, voice suddenly serious. Without another word, Simon turned and left.
"Give me a fuken break," Ezekiel muttered, pushing up from his seat with an annoyed sigh. Moments later, he too disappeared into the shadows.
At the palace, King Ragna sat tall on his throne, his presence commanding and cold. Beside him stood a woman with impossibly long black hair that swept the floor like a velvet train. Her face bore the grace of a woman in her fifties, but her eyes—sharp and ancient—betrayed her true age: thousands of years.
The princes lined up without a word—eight in total. First stood Ezekiel, silent as always. Beside him, Simon adjusted his collar. Third in line, Maximus exhaled impatiently, his fingers twitching.
"Why have you called us here, my king? And why is the prophetess here?" Maximus questioned. His voice was clipped—he was known as the vampire prince with no patience and little regard for ceremony.
"She has a prophecy," the king answered gravely.
At once, the air shifted. Every prince straightened.
"About who?" Ezekiel's voice was low, almost emotionless. He rarely spoke—but when he did, everyone listened.
"Luna," the prophetess replied, her voice like wind brushing over cold stone.
"Speak!" Zeke demanded a hint of edge in his tone.
"It's about her blood, my prince," she began, her eyes glinting with an unsettling calm. "It has the power to destroy Lusifa. It also has the power to break the curse upon every normal vampire. Her blood can heal, can kill—and any supernatural being who drinks it will become the strongest of all beings."
Silence fell like a shroud. The weight of her words gripped the room.
"I always knew there was something special about her blood. The way it smells," Simon said quietly, almost to himself, stunned.
"Not only that, my prince," the prophetess continued. "She is destined to die. And Prince Ezekiel... is the chosen one to end her. She can only fall into his hands."