“The Echo of the Hunt”

Gabriel

Blood dripped from the blade, forming dark puddles on the cold ground. Still warm. Still fresh.

The sound of heavy breathing filled the silence. Mine, my brothers'—and the ragged gasps of the last remaining vampires.

I looked around.

Raphael leaned against a crumbling wall, his fingers clenched around his lance—as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.

Michael sat on a toppled table, his fingers pressed against the wound on his left arm, blood seeping between them.

"Damn beasts," he muttered, tearing a strip from his coat to bandage the wound.

Not fatal. But a sign.

A sign that we were still not good enough.

Raphael

"That could have gone horribly wrong."

My voice was rough, exhausted.

"But it didn't," Gabriel replied.

I shot him a quick glance. The same unwavering expression as always. I wasn't sure if that reassured me—or drove me insane.

Michael grimaced as he tightened the cloth around his arm. "Isaac is going to tear us apart for this."

"He was watching," Gabriel said, straightening slowly. "He already knows."

And sure enough—when we turned, Isaac was already there.

Motionless.

His coat hung loosely from his shoulders, his gaze sharp as a blade.

He let his eyes travel over us—like he could see straight into our thoughts.

Then he spoke.

Isaac

"You're still alive. Unexpected."

Gabriel placed his hands on his hips. "And?"

I stepped closer.

The scent of blood was heavy in the air—not just that of the vampires.

"You're too slow." My gaze swept over their wounds. "You fight as if your enemies were still human."

Raphael shook his head. "But we won."

I took a deep breath.

"A victory means nothing if you don't survive it."

It took a moment for the weight of those words to sink in.

Then I turned away.

"Come. We need to talk."

The Prayer After the Battle

Gabriel

Before following Isaac, we gathered around the dead vampires.

It wasn't a sign of respect.

It was a sign of our faith.

I knelt, pressing a bloodstained hand to the ground. The others did the same.

Then we began to pray.

Gabriel, Raphael, and Michael (together):

"Dominus, we have fought the darkness and prevailed, not by our strength alone, but by Your will.

Let not our pride blind us.

We are Your blades, but our souls belong to You.

Guide us, as You once guided the warriors of Your light.

Amen."

Our voices faded within the cold walls of the ruins.

I didn't know if God was listening.

But I knew that we had to hear it.

That we had to remember why we fought.

Michael

I stood up slowly, my body aching.

Gabriel pulled his sword from a dead vampire's corpse and wiped the blood off in one smooth motion against his coat.

Raphael slung his lance over his shoulder.

None of us spoke.

The prayer was finished.

Now we had to move on.

Elara Duvall

Michael

The streets of London were empty as we followed Isaac back to our hideout.

The rain had turned the filth into dark rivulets, slowly trickling down the cobblestones.

When we reached the old church, someone was already waiting for us.

A woman in black, her posture upright, her gaze sharp as a blade. Dark hair cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders—eyes filled with calculation.

Elara Duvall.

I didn't like her.

She was the one who had given us the job back then—the one that had nearly gotten us killed.

And now she stood here again, her hands wrapped in black gloves, watching us like she was deciding whether we were still useful.

"You're still alive," she finally said, tilting her head slightly.

Gabriel stepped forward. "You sound disappointed."

"Not disappointed," she replied coolly. "Surprised."

I didn't know if that was a lie.

Gabriel

Isaac sank heavily onto a bench, his hands resting on his knees.

Elara studied him briefly, then stepped closer.

"You don't look well, Crowe."

His expression hardened, but he said nothing.

I noticed how, for just a fraction of a second, his hand brushed against his chest.

Then he let it fall again.

"Say what you want, Elara."

She sighed softly. "Fine. You proved yourselves. You're not dead. But your hunt didn't go unnoticed."

I frowned. "What kind of attention?"

Her lips curved into a thin smile.

"Your little hunt has drawn eyes."

Raphael

A bad feeling settled in my chest.

"Whose eyes?"

Elara took her time answering. Then she spoke just one word.

"Valerius."

Silence.

Even Isaac froze.

Then he slowly lifted his gaze.

"This is a bad joke."

Elara shook her head.

"The absolute truth, Isaac."

I didn't know who Valerius was.

But from the look on Isaac's face, I could tell it was bad. Very bad.

Michael

"And who the hell is Valerius?" I finally asked.

Elara slowly turned to face me.

"The one who truly rules London."

My stomach twisted.

"You mean Lilith?"

A quiet laugh.

"Lilith plays a game. Valerius owns the board."

Gabriel

I looked at Isaac.

His fingers dug into the armrest of the bench, his knuckles pale.

Then, slowly, he closed his eyes.

"So we've made enemies."

Elara lifted her chin slightly.

"You were enemies before you even knew you were hunters. You've just now realized it."

Silence.

Then she stepped back, adjusting her gloves.

"My part is done. You have an enemy—so do what hunters do. Find him before he finds you."

With those words, she turned and disappeared into the night.

Isaac

I waited until she was gone.

Then I stood up slowly.

A dull pain rippled through my chest.

I paused, closing my eyes for a moment.

Not now.

Not in front of them.

I took a deep breath, then spoke.

"Valerius is no ordinary vampire."

Gabriel lifted an eyebrow. "Then what is he?"

I hesitated.

Then I looked them in the eyes.

"He is London's oldest living vampire."

Another moment of silence.

Then Michael, dryly: "Fantastic.