The moment Lane's feet touched the ground, something within him shifted entirely.
The golden hue of his eyes, which once resembled molten sunlight, had vanished.
In its place was a deep, bloody crimson that glowed in the darkness like two burning gems.
He stood rooted to the spot, his gaze now sharp enough to pierce through the thickest shadows of the night.
Around him, strange orbs of light were gripped by wooden posts like the talons of a predator.
Casting a supernatural glow across the grounds.
The chill of the night air brushed against his skin.
Lane rubbed his hands together and then gripped them tightly, seeking to contain the rising warmth within his own frame.
As he brought his hands before his face, his red eyes noticed that the dirt-smeared palms had now left dark, muddy stains on his pristine white military coat.
He hesitated for a heartbeat, then lifted his hand into the air, feeling the cold breeze slip between his fingers.
He moved forward without a sound.
Shadowy trees and flowers that bloomed only in the silence of the night surrounded him, but his destination lay elsewhere.
Eventually, he found himself standing before a massive black gate.
It was as dark as the void and firmly shut.
Lane touched the cold metal, and when it did not yield, he silently turned back.
On his return, his gaze caught a different path.
This trail was unlike the one he had taken before—it was straight and clear.
He followed it until he emerged directly in front of the main entrance of the palace.
The vampire guards on duty immediately bowed their heads the moment they saw the small figure.
"Shall we open the door for you?" one guard asked in a low, respectful tone.
Lane offered no answer.
His crimson eyes scanned the guards' faces, but they remained void of any emotion.
He walked past them in silence and sat down on the floor.
Leaning his back against the wall right beside the guards.
This strange behavior left the sentries exchanging bewildered glances.
They could not comprehend why the Queen's 'Fiance' was sitting on the bare ground.
He remained there for a long while.
Finally, one guard mustered the courage to speak.
"You should head inside; the cold is settling in."
Lane still did not react.
He simply continued to stare into the darkness with those red eyes, perched against the wall.
A predator waiting for a sign only he could recognize.
A sentry rushed out from the interior of the palace, his breathing shallow and hurried.
"Have you seen the child out here?" he asked the guard stationed at the entrance.
Without uttering a word, the outdoor guard slowly shifted his gaze toward the wall.
Where Lane stood as motionless as a stone carving.
The guard who had been searching felt a surge of relief, but it was quickly replaced by dread.
When he saw Lane's pristine clothes now marred by dirt.
"You must come inside with me at once," he said in an authoritative tone.
Lane did not even blink.
He simply stared at the guard with those burning crimson eyes.
As if the words were reaching his ears but failing to penetrate his mind.
When no response came, the guard reached out and grabbed Lane's arm.
Attempting to pull him toward the entrance.
The moment their skin touched, something like a jolt of electricity surged through Lane.
With a violent jerk, he wrenched his arm free and performed a powerful leap.
Landing a significant distance away from the guard.
He stood there in total silence, yet his posture radiated the lethal grace of a predator.
The guard shuddered; he knew that failing to bring this boy back could mean a sentence of death.
He began to plead, "Please, come inside... the Queen is searching everywhere for you!"
Lane's lips remained sealed.
He stood his ground, unyielding.
The guard moved to try and take him by force once more.
But as he looked into Lane's steady, cold, and red gaze, his hands trembled and he froze.
He realized that this child was no longer something he could control.
The sentry turned back, scurrying through the palace corridors until he reached the grand hall.
Where opulence and silence lived side by side.
He moved directly toward the royal throne where Astria was seated.
Without wasting a second, he dropped to his knees, lowering his neck in a gesture of absolute submission.
And spoke in a quivering voice:
"Queen... your Fiance has been found, but... but he is not at all willing to come back inside."
Astria sat upon her magnificent chair with an air of absolute dominance.
One leg was crossed elegantly over the other, and she rested her face against the palm of her hand.
The dim light of the chamber cast harsh shadows across her features, making her look formidable.
The moment the words 'Fiance' and his 'refusal' hit her ears, her sharp eyes began to pierce through the guard like a cold blade.
"Not willing?" Astria's voice was a deadly whisper.
She tapped her fingers slowly against her cheek.
But the smoldering jealousy and rage in her eyes told a much darker story.
The silence in the grand hall was so profound that the rustle of Astria's silk gown echoed clearly as she rose.
She stood up from her royal chair, her face a mask of icy composure.
Her black "up-down" style gown trailed behind her.
The hem sweeping across the polished floor with a regal and terrifying hiss.
She began to walk toward the exit of the hall.
Her pace was deliberate, filled with an unsettling suspense.
As she neared the threshold, without turning back and without slowing her stride.
Astria lashed her hand through the air with violent precision.
A lethal, invisible 'Slash' tore through the air, striking the kneeling guard directly across the neck.
The sentry didn't even have a moment to gasp or realize what had happened.
He remained in that same submissive posture as his body slowly disintegrated into black smoke and embers.
Within seconds, he was nothing more than a pile of ash.
Astria did not pause for a heartbeat, nor did she cast a single glance back at the remains of the vampire she had just executed.
As she reached the main chamber doors, the two guards stationed there hurriedly pulled the massive valves open.
Their eyes caught sight of the fresh pile of ash on the floor, and their throats went dry.
They instantly lowered their gazes, a shiver running down their spines.
"Clean up this ash," Astria commanded.
The words floated through the air like a cold warning rather than a mere order.
She strode through the main corridor toward the palace's most massive outer gateway.
The heavy doors, crafted from stone and ornate wood, were pushed open by two other guards with all their might.
The biting night air struck Astria's face, but the smoldering heat in her eyes was far more intense than the cold.
As she stepped outside, the sentries there bowed in deep respect.
But Astria's eyes were not searching for any guard.
Her sharp gaze locked onto the spot where Lane stood.
Lane—still clad in his dirt-stained white coat, his crimson eyes glowing in the dark.
Remained standing exactly where he was, as if he had been waiting for his Queen to descend.
There was a terrifying urgency in Astria's stride.
Without a word, she clamped her hand around Lane's wrist with a grip of iron.
And began dragging him toward the palace interior.
Lane was practically running to keep up with her.
Because of his smaller stature, he had to take two steps for every one of hers, struggling to maintain his balance.
His breathing grew heavy and ragged, yet his lips remained tightly sealed.
Not once did he try to wrench his hand free.
As they ascended the grand marble staircase, Astria's grip tightened even further.
The vampire guards and maidservants lining the corridors didn't dare lift their eyelids to look at the pair.
The entire hallway was drowned in a haunting silence.
Broken only by the sharp click of Astria's heels and the frantic scuffing of Lane's boots.
When they reached the doors of the royal suite, the sentries threw them open instantly without waiting for a command.
Astria hauled Lane into the room, and once they reached the center, she released him with a violent flick of her wrist.
The momentum of the jerk sent Lane reeling toward the bed.
His body collided with the edge of the plush mattress, but his feet were still on the floor.
Unable to regain his balance from the sudden force, his knees struck the hardwood floor with a dull thud.
He quickly grabbed the edge of the bed with both hands to steady himself, preventing a total fall.
Astria stood over him, her chest heaving with a mixture of rage and adrenaline.
She noticed a faint scratch on Lane's leg where he had hit the bedframe.
A thin, crimson line of blood was beginning to bead on his skin.
Lane offered no resistance.
He remained there, kneeling on the floor in front of her.
He straightened his back and tilted his head up toward Astria.
Those glowing, blood-red eyes locked onto her face—holding neither a complaint nor a trace of pain.
He watched his Queen in absolute silence, as if accepting her wrath as a gift.
The heavy atmosphere of the room had now transformed into an unspoken, electric confrontation between the two.