The old weak vampire lay half-sunk in his coffin, the dim red glow of the chamber lamps catching the cracks in his skin.
Rivik's breath came slow and uneven, like every inhale scraped against something sharp inside his chest. He held the medallion in one trembling hand, and when he lifted his gaze toward Ivira, the weight of a century pressed through his eyes.
"Ivira…" he said, voice thin and shaking. "I am… old. I am tired."
He paused, and the pause dragged so long the blood maids shifted uneasily.
"I have carried this family on my back for far too long," Rivik continued, and every word came out strained, like it cost him fragments of his life. "I fought wars when I was still young. I crossed borders to gather blood for this clan. I faced monsters greater than any of you have seen. I shed blood, my own and others, until the land remembered my name." His fingers curled. His voice cracked. "But time… time eats even those who cling to pride."
He shut his eyes, letting the truth hang in the cold air.
"My bones hurt. My blood dries. Every day I feel more of my strength slipping away. Every night I wake, and I am weaker than the night before. Now that these severe wounds have been inflicted upon me…" He hissed softly, grimacing. "I can feel them rotting deeper. I don't know how long I can still hold a bloody sword, or even stand without support."
The old man shook his head slowly.
"Yes, I am tired… painfully tired. More than any of you could ever understand."
Ivira stared in silence.
Cain stared with quiet neutrality.
The room grew heavy.
Rivik lifted the medallion higher, letting its dark metal gleam.
"But even as I age," he whispered, "I can still see greatness, Ivira. And you… you are remarkable."
Ivira's eyes trembled.
She did not breathe.
"You were strong the moment you were born," Rivik said, voice gaining a spark of pride. "Stronger than your sisters. Stronger than me at your age. I am sure you carry the Moonshade bloodline in a way none of us ever did. You broke through faster than anyone expected. You endured responsibilities without complaint. And now you stand at the eighth stage when others your age struggle at the fourth."
His voice rose, gaining more warmth than he had shown in years.
"You will become powerful. You will reach a height I never did. You might surpass even the Dukes if you keep growing. You will not be shackled by fear, Ivira. You will be a Moonshade that the world will fear and respect."
Then his expression soured the moment he glanced at Cain.
"And you useless brat," Rivik muttered under his breath, snorting loud enough for the maids to flinch. "Try not to embarrass her further."
Cain kept a straight face.
Inside his mind, he rolled his eyes so hard it echoed.
Rivik turned back to Ivira, ignoring Cain completely as if he wasn't worth the effort.
"You must protect your sisters," he said, and his tone became firm and long, stretching with the weight of expectation. "You must protect them with everything you have. They depend on you more than you know. Your second sister has too little talent but is so fierce. Your youngest is too naive. Only you have the strength to shield them. Only you have the will. When danger comes, you cannot waver. You must keep them safe even if it breaks you. Even if the world falls against you, you protect them."
He kept going, words intense, pounding like drums.
"You are their pillar. You are their hope. You are the future they can look toward when darkness floods our doors. You must lead them. You must show them the way. You must become the shield that keeps the Moonshade alive. I am entrusting everything to you… because no one else can bear this burden."
Ivira stood frozen, her hands trembling at her sides.
She didn't look at Cain.
She didn't dare to.
But inside her mind, a storm churned.
He… he was right. Cain was right. Father actually gave me the medallion. It means… everything he said… everything about becoming the Master…
Her stomach tightened.
Her breath felt heavy.
She couldn't even hear her heartbeat.
Finally, she whispered, "Father… why would you give me this?"
Cain's voice slipped quietly into her mind like a whisper of smoke.
Of course he had to. If you become Master, then you will be the one held responsible for attacking the Lycannis Family, not him. When the Crimson Blood King learns you made the move, he will think you're arrogant. Not wise. He'll think you tried to impress him. He'll become furious. And then he will wipe out the Moonshade Family before he has no choice but to deal with the Lycannis Family himself.
Ivira's eyes widened so far they almost shook.
"No…" she mouthed silently. "That can't…"
Before she could fully process it, Rivik spoke again, voice swelling with pride.
"Ivira Moonshade," he said, and the words spilled endlessly, "you are worthy. You broke through so young. You surpassed expectations. I'm sure that your bloodline is the purest in our Moonshade past generations. Your talent was too good. You carry the strength of ten warriors with it already. Your potential is limitless. The eighth stage is nothing to you. Soon you may reach the ninth. Then the tenth. Perhaps even touch the Heavenly Blood Realms one day."
He kept going, praising her talent, her future, her genius, her destiny, his voice rising like a priest chanting praise for a goddess.
Cain internally snorted.
Old man, your excuses are obvious. But your daughter's brain probably slid into her big titties, so she won't notice anything.
Ivira's ears burned bright red.
She quickly faced the other direction, mortified.
Cain's voice echoed in her mind again.
Hurry. Ask him to drop blood on the medallion. He won't. I'm sure he won't complete the ritual. But if you're dumb enough to push it… well, that works for me. I'll use the fallout to make you despise me and then get myself free of this family.
Ivira swallowed hard.
She didn't want to ask.
She didn't want to say it.
She didn't want to test if Cain was right.
"…I am not sure," Ivira finally said aloud.
Rivik blinked.
"What? Why?"
Ivira hesitated, teeth biting into her lip.
"Father… I don't think I am qualified."
"What?" Rivik barked, stunned. "How could you not be? You're the most qualified!"
"I…" She struggled to find words, struggled to speak clearly as her mind raced, and then began to explain in a long, trembling voice. "I am too young, father. I don't have enough experience. I don't know the political webs. I don't understand all our enemies. I don't understand alliances. I don't know how to handle the pressure of being the head. I worry I might make a mistake. I might bring danger instead of safety. I might lead the Moonshade Family into disaster. I don't want to be the one who makes us fall…"
She continued, speaking her fears, all the ways she felt unprepared, all the risks she saw, all the things she had never dared to say.
Rivik stared at her, stunned.
Cain blinked in surprise as well.
She's this cautious? Hmph. Seems she's not just pretty big boobies. She actually has a brain too.
Ivira didn't hear that without reacting. Her cheeks flushed even darker, and she almost tripped over her own breath.
Rivik finally said, "Ivira. You are the best suited. None of your sisters can take this burden. I am too injured. If you don't accept this now, we will face punishment. The Moonshade cannot go without a leader. The Crimson Blood King will take it as an insult. We must appoint you. We don't have a choice."
Ivira looked down, then whispered, "Yes, Father…"
Rivik breathed out in relief.
"What do we do now?" he asked urgently. "If I die before naming a successor, the Crimson Blood King may see it as a crime. I can feel my life draining. The injuries he inflicted… they are eating me alive."
Ivira gently stepped closer.
Then she said something none of them expected.
"Father… you won't die. I think I might know the cure."
Suddenly, silence fell.
Cain froze.
Rivik froze.
The blood slaves froze.
The maids froze.
Everyone stared at her with wide eyes.
"What?" they all breathed at once.