Silence.
A suffocating silence filled the royal chamber.
Even the storm outside seemed quieter.
As though the world itself was listening.
Damian stood motionless.
His crimson eyes remained fixed on Fenrir.
The First King.
The creature beneath Darkheart.
The prison.
The seals.
Everything was already difficult enough to believe.
Yet his father had just implied something worse.
Something about him.
Something they had hidden for eighteen years.
The prince slowly clenched his fists.
His nails dug into his palms.
He barely noticed.
"What does that have to do with me?"
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
The kind of calm that appeared before a storm.
Fenrir remained silent.
For several moments nobody spoke.
Then Damian laughed.
A short laugh.
Without humor.
"You know."
The king lowered his gaze.
That alone answered enough.
Damian felt anger rising.
Again.
Always secrets.
Always half-truths.
Always silence.
For eighteen years.
The prince took a step forward.
Then another.
Until he stood directly in front of Fenrir.
Not as a child.
Not as a prince.
As a man demanding answers.
"Tell me."
Fenrir looked at him.
For the first time since Damian was born...
The Vampire King looked uncertain.
That realization terrified Damian.
Because his father was not a man who doubted.
Not a man who hesitated.
Not a man who feared.
Yet now...
There was hesitation in his eyes.
And that meant the truth would be ugly.
Very ugly.
Finally Fenrir spoke.
"Do you know why vampires and werewolves hate each other?"
Damian frowned.
The question felt random.
Yet he answered.
"The Ancient War."
Fenrir nodded.
"For over twelve thousand years."
"Twelve thousand years of blood."
"Twelve thousand years of slaughter."
"Twelve thousand years of revenge."
His voice grew colder.
"Kingdoms burned."
"Entire races vanished."
"Continents changed."
"Millions died."
The prince listened silently.
This much he already knew.
Every child knew.
The war between vampires and werewolves was older than recorded history.
It had shaped the world.
Created kingdoms.
Destroyed civilizations.
The hatred ran so deep that many didn't even remember why it began.
They simply hated.
Because their ancestors hated.
Fenrir continued.
"Then one day..."
"The prophecy appeared."
Damian immediately became attentive.
Prophecy.
There it was.
The word he had heard whispered throughout his childhood.
The word people never explained.
The word connected to him.
Scarlett closed her eyes.
Almost as if she already regretted where this conversation was heading.
The king walked toward the shattered window.
Rain struck his face.
Yet he ignored it.
"The prophecy was discovered by witches."
"The oldest covens."
"The most powerful seers."
"They saw the future."
His voice became lower.
"They saw the end."
Damian felt a chill.
"The end of what?"
"The world."
The answer came instantly.
No hesitation.
No uncertainty.
The prince froze.
For a moment he thought he misunderstood.
The world?
Fenrir slowly nodded.
"The gods would return."
"The seals would weaken."
"The First King would awaken."
"The old war would begin again."
Damian felt his heartbeat quicken.
The king continued.
"And when that happened..."
"The world would die."
Another silence followed.
The storm continued outside.
Yet inside the room...
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The atmosphere felt heavier than iron.
Then Fenrir said something that changed everything.
"The prophecy also spoke of salvation."
Damian's eyes narrowed.
Salvation.
A way to stop it.
A way to survive.
The king turned toward him.
"The Child of Twilight."
The words echoed throughout the room.
Ancient.
Powerful.
Dangerous.
"The one born between blood and moon."
"The one carrying two royal bloodlines."
"The one capable of standing above vampires and werewolves."
Damian suddenly understood.
At least partially.
His mouth felt dry.
No.
Not possible.
Yet somehow...
He already knew.
Deep inside.
He knew.
Fenrir looked directly into his eyes.
"The prophecy spoke about you."
The world seemed to stop.
The prince stood motionless.
The words echoed repeatedly inside his head.
"The prophecy spoke about you."
About him.
Not someone else.
Not a future child.
Not a distant hero.
Him.
Damian Rake.
The room became very quiet.
Then Damian laughed.
A genuine laugh this time.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was absurd.
"So that's it?"
The king frowned.
"What?"
"I'm some chosen hero?"
Damian shook his head.
Disbelief filled his voice.
"That's what you've hidden for eighteen years?"
Fenrir remained silent.
The prince continued.
"Then why are you all afraid?"
Nobody answered.
And that was when Damian realized.
That wasn't the whole truth.
Not even close.
The prophecy wasn't why they were scared.
Something else was.
Something much worse.
The prince's smile slowly vanished.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Scarlett looked away.
Sirius remained silent.
Fenrir sighed.
Then he finally revealed it.
"The prophecy had two endings."
Damian froze.
The king continued.
"In the first..."
"The Child of Twilight saves the world."
The prince waited.
Because he knew there was more.
Much more.
Fenrir's crimson eyes darkened.
"In the second..."
His voice lowered.
"The Child of Twilight becomes the Second King."
The room became deathly silent.
Even the storm outside seemed distant.
The Second King.
Damian immediately understood the implication.
The First King nearly destroyed the world.
A Second King...
Would finish the job.
His heart suddenly felt cold.
Very cold.
Fenrir spoke again.
"The witches never agreed on which future was real."
"Some believed you would save everyone."
"Others believed you would become the greatest monster in history."
The prince stared.
Unable to speak.
For the first time since waking up...
Fear appeared.
Not fear of death.
Fear of himself.
The king continued.
"The gods saw the same future."
"The werewolves saw the same future."
"The vampires saw the same future."
"And all of them came to the same conclusion."
Damian already knew the answer.
Before Fenrir even spoke.
"They wanted me dead."
Fenrir nodded.
The prince laughed again.
Bitterly.
Of course.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The strange looks.
The whispers.
The fear.
The hidden conversations.
The overprotectiveness.
They weren't protecting him.
They were protecting him from everyone else.
Including their own allies.
The realization hit harder than any sword.
Because for the first time...
Damian understood something.
His existence itself was a threat.
Not because of what he had done.
But because of what he might become.
The room remained silent.
Until another tremor shook the castle.
BOOOOOOM!
This time everyone nearly lost balance.
The floor cracked.
A piece of the ceiling collapsed.
Dust filled the chamber.
Far below...
Something roared.
A roar so ancient.
So powerful.
That every vampire inside Darkheart froze.
Every single one.
Damian felt it.
Not with his ears.
With his blood.
The roar resonated inside him.
Like a call.
Like recognition.
Like family.
The realization made his stomach twist.
Then the voice returned.
Clearer than ever.
Stronger than ever.
Inside his mind.
"My prince."
Damian froze.
The others immediately noticed.
Scarlett became pale.
Fenrir's expression darkened.
They knew.
They knew exactly what was happening.
The prince's breathing accelerated.
The voice continued.
"Come."
The floor trembled again.
"I have waited long enough."
Another chain snapped somewhere beneath Darkheart.
CRACK.
The sound echoed through the entire castle.
And far below...
Deep within the ancient prison...
The First King slowly began to stand.
After thousands of years.
After countless ages.
After an eternity in darkness.
He was finally waking up.
And he was waiting for Damian.