"Escalated Fate"

Varek stood before the mirror, the silence broken only by the rhythmic drip of the faucet. He stared at his reflection as if trying to pierce through it—searching for something beneath the surface. His hand slid through his white hair, letting the strands fall over his shoulders. That color had become a constant reminder of who he was… and the burden of his bloodline.

His violet eyes, cold and piercing, didn't see himself. They searched for echoes of his brothers in the mirror.Sanathiel—trapped in the eternity of an immutable fate.Sariel—chained by the need to break free from even himself.

—And me? —he thought, his chest tightening under the weight of responsibility. —Am I different… or simply doomed to repeat their mistakes?

He turned slightly, revealing the tattoo that stretched across his back—a burning hourglass, each ember grain falling slowly, counting down a time he could never halt. On his arm, the symbol he was born with: the ouroboros—a serpent devouring its own tail, marking the eternal cycle of immortality and regeneration.

Sanathiel, unlike his brothers, bore a triskele on his right shoulder, the unrelenting flow of time—past, present, and future—etched into his flesh. The beginning of the end.

Sariel's skin bore chains across his back, ending in an arrowhead that curled behind his ear—his eternal struggle against an unseen weight… one that linked him to someone else.To Rasen.

—It's monstrous, what we are, —Varek muttered, running a hand over his face as if to erase the fatigue etched into his bones.

His voice echoed through the bathroom, bringing no comfort. No matter how he fought it, he was trapped in the cycle of his lineage—forced to bear a curse he never chose. He clenched his fists until his nails pierced his palms.

There was no time to falter. Not now. Not while there was still so much to do. As long as he breathed, he would shape his own destiny—even if it meant destruction.

He turned on the shower. The water coursed down his body, washing away the blood of the night before. But though the blood was gone, the stain remained—etched in his soul.

True blood never disappears.

—Call Dr. Darían —he ordered, voice sharp and cold.

At the doorway, Elliot leaned against the frame with his usual mix of sarcasm and disapproval.

—He already gave me Rasen's coordinates. No need to call.

Varek turned, his gaze a storm of exhaustion and resolve.

—And Aisha? What do you know of her?

Elliot crossed his arms, resting his head against the wall.

—We've got Skiller. That should be enough.

Varek's jaw clenched.

—No. It's not.

With a flick of his fingers, he ordered Skiller to be brought in.

The vampire was dragged in—bruised, bleeding, but not broken. His body bore the marks of interrogation, yet his eyes still burned with defiance.

Varek stared at him without emotion.

—Expose him to the sun. Bleed him out.

The guards obeyed without question. They dragged Skiller outside, into the first rays of dawn. His skin began to sizzle. He clenched his teeth, refusing to scream, but his body convulsed under the pain.

Varek watched from the shadows. No satisfaction. No remorse.This wasn't revenge.It was necessity.

But then… Skiller snapped the chains binding him.The energy locked within him erupted.

He lunged at the nearest guard, sinking his fangs deep into the man's neck.The sound of tearing flesh echoed—wet, feral.Blood spurted, painting the cold stone floor.

Skiller's eyes gleamed crimson. His once-weakened body now surged with unleashed fury. He rose tall—deadly and unstoppable.

Before the second guard could react, Skiller was on him.Claws.Screams.A spray of red.Another life extinguished.

Standing in the carnage, drenched in blood, Skiller radiated a savage triumph.

From a distance, Varek watched—calm, unreadable.His violet eyes tracked each movement with cold calculation.

At the doorway, Elliot let out a slow breath, somewhere between irritation and dread.

—Are you seriously just going to let this play out? —he muttered, sarcasm laced with concern.

Varek didn't flinch.

—Handle it.

The command was lazy. As if the massacre before him didn't even merit a second thought.

He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Skiller growled low, baring his fangs at Elliot—a warning.

Elliot clicked his tongue.

—You always leave the dirty work, don't you, Varek?

He stepped forward carefully, reading Skiller's every twitch.

Meanwhile, Varek moved deeper into the mansion.The air was icy—not from cold, but from purpose.He paused before a tall window.The blood-red moonlight poured through, bathing his face in carmine.

His violet gaze narrowed.A slow, bitter smile curved his lips.

—Aisha… you'll never stop being mine.

The words weren't a plea.They were a curse.A declaration.An obsession.

Then, he vanished into the darkness—leaving only the echo of his steps and the chilling weight of his vow.