The entrance to the court looked like an abandoned opera house.

Which, technically, it was.

Prague had dozens of buildings like this — beautiful things left to decay slowly beneath old money, political corruption, and time.

Most humans walking past the cracked marble steps never noticed the movement beneath the structure.

That was intentional.

The vampire world survived because people preferred reasonable explanations over terrifying ones.

A homeless man sleeping near the alley.

A flickering basement light.

A delivery truck arriving too late at night.

Humans edited danger out of their own memories constantly.

Lucien climbed the underground staircase without making a sound.

Behind him, Cassian Vale continued talking despite receiving no encouragement whatsoever.

“You disappeared for six hours,” Cassian said. “Again.”

Lucien didn’t answer.

“The council’s already nervous.”

Still nothing.

Cassian sighed dramatically before adjusting the sleeves of his dark coat as they descended farther underground.

“You know, most immortal rulers occasionally pretend to care about public stability.”

“I do care.”

“You vanished into Prague during an active Church investigation.”

“I was investigating too.”

Cassian glanced sideways at him. “Right. And the silver-haired hunter involved in said investigation is merely a coincidence.”

That finally earned him a look.

Not hostile.

Just tired.

Cassian smiled faintly to himself.

There it is.

Progress.

The underground corridor eventually widened into something vast enough to swallow sound whole.

The Night Court had originally been built beneath the city during the seventeenth century when vampire clans still believed secrecy alone could protect them from extinction.

They learned otherwise eventually.

But old instincts remained difficult to kill.

Massive arches stretched overhead, disappearing into darkness above candlelit balconies and black marble columns. Velvet-draped lounges curved around the edges of the chamber where low conversations murmured beneath the sound of distant violin music.

No mirrors.

Never mirrors.

Vampires avoided them less out of superstition and more because immortality already forced enough self-awareness onto a person without accidental reflections at every turn.

As Lucien entered, the atmosphere shifted almost immediately.

Conversations quieted.

Eyes followed him.

Some respectful.

Most cautious.

Fear aged differently inside immortal creatures. It became colder over time. More practical.

Cassian moved slightly closer as they crossed the main floor.

“You could at least try looking approachable.”

“I am approachable.”

“You once made a duke cry because he interrupted your book.”

“He interrupted twice.”

Cassian laughed softly under his breath.

For someone nearly four centuries old, he still carried himself with an irritating amount of charm. Dark curls falling loosely around sharp features, gold rings glinting beneath candlelight, expensive suits tailored too well for someone technically classified as a war criminal in eleven countries.

Humans tended to underestimate him because he smiled easily.

Most of them regretted that eventually.

A vampire server passed carrying crystal glasses filled with dark red liquid.

Lucien ignored them.

He hadn’t fed properly in days.

Not because blood was unavailable.

Because Prague had unsettled him in ways he preferred not examining too closely.

You have her eyes.

Even now, the memory returned too clearly.

Not the hunter herself.

The expression she made afterward.

Controlled.

Guarded.

But underneath that—

confused.

Lucien disliked how much he remembered details about people.

Immortality turned memory into a disease eventually.

Especially painful memories.

They reached the elevated council platform near the back of the chamber where several elder vampires already waited.

Lady Morvena sat at the center.

Ancient.

Elegant.

Dangerous in the quiet way sharpened knives were dangerous.

Silver-white hair framed a face beautiful enough to feel unnatural, though the boredom in her dark eyes suggested she’d lived long enough to stop finding immortality impressive.

“You’re late,” she said.

Lucien sat across from her. “The city traffic was unbearable.”

One council member snorted softly into his glass.

Morvena remained unimpressed.

“Prague is unstable.”

“So I noticed.”

“The Church is mobilizing.”

“They’ve been mobilizing for centuries.”

“Not like this.”

That part interested him slightly.

Lucien leaned back in his chair, one arm resting loosely against dark velvet as violin music drifted faintly through the lower court below.

“What happened beneath Saint Vitus?” Morvena asked.

He watched candlelight flicker across the crystal chandelier overhead before answering.

“Something old.”

“That narrows it down beautifully.”

Cassian settled beside one of the marble columns nearby, listening quietly now.

Lucien’s gaze shifted back toward the council.

“The bodies were ritualistic. Not feeding casualties.”

Morvena studied him carefully. “And the hunters?”

“They arrived before containment failed completely.”

“Containment,” another elder repeated slowly. “Interesting word choice.”

Lucien looked toward him.

“Accurate word choice.”

Silence stretched briefly across the council chamber.

Not tense yet.

But thoughtful.

Several elders exchanged glances subtle enough humans never would’ve noticed.

Lucien did.

Of course he did.

He’d spent centuries watching politicians lie in seventeen languages.

Finally Morvena spoke again.

“You think the Church opened something deliberately.”

“I think someone did.”

“And the Van Helsing girl?”

There it was.

Lucien’s expression remained neutral.

“Commander Seraphina Van Helsing.”

“Is that her full title now?” Cassian asked lightly from the background. “That’s unfortunate. Hard to fit dramatically into conversation.”

Morvena ignored him completely.

“You singled her out publicly.”

“She was already investigating.”

“You used her surname.”

Lucien didn’t respond immediately.

Because the truth sounded irrational even inside his own head.

Because the moment he saw her standing beneath ruined cathedral light with silver in her hand and blood on her coat—

memory stopped feeling buried.

Four hundred years disappeared in a single heartbeat.

And for one impossible second—

he thought he was looking at Evelyne again.

Not identical.

No.

Seraphina carried herself harder than Evelyne ever had. Sharper around the edges. More controlled. Like someone taught to weaponize loneliness instead of survive it.

But the eyes—

God.

The eyes were almost cruel in their familiarity.

Lucien realized the council was still watching him.

Carefully.

Waiting.

“She’s competent,” he said finally.

Cassian nearly choked on his drink.

Morvena narrowed her eyes slightly. “That is an extraordinarily diplomatic description coming from you.”

“She didn’t panic.”

“She pointed silver at your throat.”

“Yes,” Lucien said calmly. “That’s generally how hunters work.”

A faint smile threatened briefly at the corner of Cassian’s mouth before he hid it behind his glass.

Morvena leaned back slowly in her chair.

“You’re interested.”

“No,” Lucien said automatically.

Cassian laughed out loud this time.

The sound echoed embarrassingly through the chamber.

Lucien didn’t even look at him.

“You disappeared for six hours after meeting her,” Cassian said helpfully. “That’s the most emotionally involved behavior I’ve seen from you since the Ottoman Empire.”

“I was investigating Prague.”

“You stood outside a moving train for nearly twenty minutes before deciding to board it.”

The entire council chamber went still.

Lucien turned his head very slowly toward Cassian.

Cassian smiled pleasantly into complete silence.

“What?” he asked. “You think I wouldn’t notice?”

Morvena looked deeply exhausted suddenly.

“Wonderful,” she murmured. “The ancient predator king has developed feelings.”

“I have not.”

“You followed her train.”

“I was verifying whether she’d discovered anything.”

Cassian nodded sympathetically. “Naturally. Very professional stalking.”

Lucien stared at him long enough that most people would’ve become uncomfortable.

Cassian only smiled wider.

Unfortunately, immortality had given him confidence instead of wisdom.

Before the conversation could deteriorate further, movement near the lower entrance interrupted the chamber.

A messenger approached quickly through the candlelit hallways beneath the court.

Young vampire.

Nervous.

Carrying sealed parchment.

Lucien recognized the wax crest immediately.

Oracle territory.

That was unexpected.

The messenger bowed before offering the document carefully.

“For the Night King.”

Cassian’s expression lost some amusement at that.

Nobody liked receiving prophecy letters.

They rarely contained good news.

Lucien broke the seal silently.

The parchment inside looked old enough to crumble at the edges.

Only a single line had been written across it in dark ink.

He read it once.

Then again more slowly.

For the first time that evening, his composure shifted visibly.

Small.

But real.

Cassian noticed immediately.

“What is it?”

Lucien’s eyes remained fixed on the page.

When he finally answered, his voice had gone quieter than before.

“The seal beneath Prague is failing.”

Morvena straightened slightly.

“And?”

Lucien looked back down at the parchment.

At the final line written beneath the prophecy.

Only seven words.

The holy daughter will open the gate.

For several seconds, Lucien said nothing at all.

Then, very carefully—

he folded the parchment closed.