Chapter 12: Marriage?

Elijah's gaze darkened, a flicker of rare astonishment breaking through his composed demeanor. "I beg your pardon?" he murmured, his voice smooth yet edged with intrigue. "Marriage? Surely, you jest."

Michael walked past him, stopping by the window, his gaze locked onto the crowd pulsing to the music below. Lights flashed over the sea of bodies, but his expression remained unwavering. "I mean it," he said, his voice firm.

Elijah turned with measured grace, slipping his hands into his pockets. "If you speak the truth, then you must understand—no vampire would accept such an offer. Our kind endures far beyond the fleeting breath of mortal years."

Michael exhaled slowly, the weight of his decision settling in his chest. "That is why I offer myself."

Elijah stilled, his expression unreadable. "Yourself?" He arched his brow. "That changes nothing—"

"I have awakened the Lycus bloodline."

Michael faced him fully now, his gaze unwavering.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then, a slow, knowing smile curved Elijah's lips. "Ah… so that is how it is." His voice carried the weight of centuries, laced with amusement yet sharp with calculation. "The last of the Lycus bloodline was wiped from this world long ago. And yet, here you stand—a relic of a forgotten power. How… fascinating."

"You know of it… of course you do," Michael said, though his words carried more certainty than question.

Elijah's lips curved slightly, his gaze thoughtful. "Naturally. Lycus, the son of a goddess, the first true wolf born from the Beyond. We vampires have crossed paths with him before." He paused, as if recalling a distant memory. "He was a creature of great wisdom, his fur shone like the very sun. But his offspring… they were another matter entirely. Their existence disrupted the balance of power, igniting wars across the ages. Fortunately for us, Lycus chose not to involve himself in such quarrels."

"Wait, you meant him?" Michael's eyes widened, a spark of curiosity lighting his gaze.

Elijah nodded, his voice calm. "Yes. The last time I saw him was nearly a thousand years ago." He paused, as if lost in the weight of that memory. "But that's neither here nor there. Let's return to the matter at hand. You've awakened your bloodline, which means you possess a significantly extended lifespan. This changes things. I'll need to speak with His Highness before we proceed further. And, as you know, it's been proven that werewolves and vampires can… reproduce. He'll be quite intrigued by this."

"If what you say is true, then it's only a matter of time before the enemy strikes," Elijah said, his tone hardening.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He answered quickly, listening intently before his face darkened. After a tense moment, he hung up and turned back to Michael.

"We did find numerous vampire ashes in London," he continued, his eyes widening. He let out a quiet chuckle, as if the situation amused him. "Well, it seems I may have miscalculated. It appears we do, in fact, have a common enemy after all."

A thousand miles away, within the shadows of a towering castle, a man sat upon his throne, his posture regal yet weighed down by centuries of power. His eyes, ancient and fathomless, scanned the empty expanse before him, calculating, cold, as though time itself held no meaning.

The stillness was pierced by a low voice that echoed through the vast chamber, its resonance carrying the gravity of ages. "Your Highness," one of his attendants bowed, holding a phone out toward him with reverence.

The man's gaze flickered toward the phone, then back at the vampire who dared to interrupt his silence. His voice was like the echo of a forgotten storm, calm but undeniably imposing. "Why do you disturb me?"

"It's Elijah, my lord," the vampire said, his tone respectful, almost cautious, as he extended the device.

The ancient vampire's eyes narrowed slightly, unreadable as ever, before he gave a slow, deliberate gesture, a silent command for the phone. With a swift, almost effortless movement, he took it from the vampire's hand, his long fingers brushing the device. "Ah, Elijah. How have you fared, my old friend?" His voice held the weight of centuries, soft yet filled with ancient wisdom. He paused, allowing the silence to stretch, as if contemplating the long years between them.

"Dracula, it's been a while," Elijah's voice came through, smooth and measured, a familiar note of respect woven into his words.

The two spoke at length, the conversation drifting until Elijah, with a subtle shift in his tone, finally revealed the heart of his call. He outlined the recent deaths of vampires in London and the weapon, Sálfrekr, that had been used on a noble.

A rare chuckle rumbled from the ancient vampire's throat, his lips curling into a smile that carried the weight of countless years. "Hahaha, that pup—offering such a thing without his father's consent, I presume?" His grin deepened, a knowing gleam in his ageless eyes. "If what you say is true—and I do believe you—then I would gladly offer my daughter's hand in marriage. The chance for wolves and vampires to unite as powerhouses... Finally, we would have the strength to face those from beyond."

Down the hall, a girl with rose-pink hair stood, her eyes mirroring the soft hue of her locks, listening with quiet focus. For a moment, her heartbeat quickened, a soft pulse that betrayed her calm exterior. She had never found a man worthy of her—none possessed the power she held. But this Michael, the one Elijah spoke of, was different. The Lycus bloodline flowed through him, a power she'd heard of before, though not from him directly. Whispers of his laziness had reached her ears, yet something about him sparked her curiosity. How intriguing. She couldn't help but wonder.