CHAPTER 68: VEYLAN D'ACRYON
HAZEL'S POV
The silence inside the grand obsidian throne room of the Nocturne Dominion didn't just feel empty; it felt structural. It was the kind of absolute, oppressive quiet that had been engineered over thousands of years to make anyone who wasn't born of the undying blood feel entirely disposable. The floating crimson crystals overhead continued to pulse with a slow, hypnotic rhythm, casting long, bleeding shadows across the polished black glass floor that separated our defensive little delegation from the massive volcanic dais.
The atmosphere in the hall shifted completely the moment Veylan D'acryon spoke. The Vampire King remained carelessly draped across his throne of solid volcanic rock, the heavy scarlet silk of his robes pooling around his feet like freshly spilled veins. He was seductive, calm, and infuriatingly amused by my absolute refusal to be intimidated by the grand display of immortal aristocracy.
