The Meeting of the Vampire Lords (2)

The names began to fall, one by one, carried by measured, cautious voices — sometimes laced with barely veiled pride, often weighed with the care of a chess move where each word meant more than just a name.

Some spoke with military clarity, others with feigned detachment, but all knew that behind the nomination lay more than a tournament — it was a maneuver, a gamble, a message cast across the entire table.

Then came Anarael's turn. She did not rise. She looked at no one. She didn't even need to breathe differently.

In a calm, even, implacable voice, she pronounced her choice like a sentence, something decided long before the meeting began, as if the words merely formalized a truth sealed in another age.

— I choose Lukaris.

A shiver ran through the assembly. Not a sound, but a dull ripple, a discreet shock, almost physical, that seemed to spread through the air like a restrained vibration.