High among the forested mountains, where the White Castle stood like a living painting, a discreet and elegant figure glided between the ancient trees. The wind, stirred by his movement, brushed against the leaves as though paying them reverence. The towers, carved with flawless precision, seemed to breathe through the centuries, immortal witnesses to a long and forgotten history.
That ghostlike presence moved with effortless skill, barely touching the air and disturbing the silence with a funerary grace. The castle gates, guarded by two stone cherubim—half beast, half man—opened as if answering an unseen will, inviting the night hunter to cross the threshold.
Inside the first chamber of the Alabaster Castle, the eternal Isaiah waited in the dim light, his gaze fixed upon the entrance. At his side stood Hassis, an androgynous specter of majestic delicacy. His dark skin rivaled the myth of the night itself, and his eyes, like liquid obsidian, radiated a beauty as sharp as a ritual dagger.
Astilbe's footsteps echoed, slipping into the heightened senses of the immortals. His entire figure reflected in pupils that regarded him with disdain, as though he were an actor condemned to repeat the same scene far too many times.
Astilbe inclined his head slightly, allowing his melodious voice to drift through the air.
—Has something happened, Hassis?
The specter returned an enigmatic smile, deadly in its charm.
—That man has returned.
Astilbe straightened with elegant composure, though his eyes immediately sought Isaiah's. The two held each other's gaze in a heavy silence, laden with something that required no words: the anticipation of a storm.
—How do you know something like that? —he finally asked, never looking away from the vampire.
—Elek told me, —Hassis replied calmly.
The information sank into Astilbe's mind. A consecrated predator, he thought. A carnivore without equal—a threat to every Child of Blood.
The room fell into silence, broken only by the faint crackle of the tall lamps casting unmoving shadows. Isaiah, impassive, turned away. His empty, unsettling gaze revealed nothing more.
—Isaiah! —Astilbe called.
But the vampire had already stepped away with the indifference of someone burdened by an unforgiving fate.
—I'm leaving.
When his silhouette vanished into the shadows, Hassis spoke with the calm of someone who knew far too much.
—He's already heard the entire story, and he's in a foul mood... especially because Hellery is involved.
Astilbe narrowed his eyes.
—Is that why he didn't appear at the festival to help us protect the minister?
Hassis released a sigh that seemed like a whisper from the castle itself, then sank languidly onto a black velvet sofa.
—No one disobeys Belzblehem. Not even Hellery. And yet that day...
Astilbe cut him off, his voice edged with reproach.
—Simeí could have killed us.
The specter looked at him calmly, the obsidian of his eyes gleaming with irony.
—Even if Hellery had been there, Isaiah would never have exposed her to such danger. Now you're the only one who still wants to complain.
Discomfort flickered across Astilbe's face. The words were as true as they were unfair.
—Then... —he said hesitantly, his voice almost a whisper—where is the consecrated predator? Where is Lucieno?
—All we know is that he has returned to the city. Hellery is searching for him desperately. Belzblehem will call a meeting when he deems it necessary.
Astilbe remained motionless before sitting beside Hassis. A half-contained fear stirred deep within his thoughts. He represented uncertainty itself—Lucieno, a being feared even among his own kind, as terrifying as the highest-ranking demons.
—If you're so troubled, —Hassis murmured, letting a smile creep across his lips—perhaps you should go look for him yourself. Belzblehem and Hellery might not be enough.
Astilbe looked away, caught between fear and his own conscience.
—I want nothing to do with someone that troublesome.
Hassis's laughter sliced through the air like a blade—pretentious, sharp, and as revealing as any truth. For Astilbe's fear was no less than his own. And in the end, in that world of hierarchies and immeasurable power, Lucieno embodied everything that defied the very order of their existence.
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