Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 278: So… Who Wants to Save Eira?

"So," the vampire continued, glancing at Sir Kai with an unreadable expression. "You wished to speak with me? Well, here I am. What is it?"

"My Lord, Eira is in trouble. We need your help. Our king requests your intervention," Sir Kai said, his voice steady despite the weight of his words.

The vampire tilted his head slightly. "And what, exactly, is happening in your kingdom?"

Sir Kai hesitated, biting his lower lip. A great question—one he wished he had an answer to. He had been away too long, and frankly, he had no idea what fresh disaster had unfolded in his absence.

Would the ancient vampire appreciate honesty? Probably not. But he wasn’t feeling creative enough to lie.

"I’m not sure," he admitted. "I was sent to find the Nightshade Coven. At first, the mission was to prevent an uprising. But now... things have taken a darker turn. I fear it’s more dangerous than we anticipated. However, I don’t have the full picture."

He took a breath, forcing himself to meet the vampire’s piercing gaze. "Please, My Lord, grant my kingdom an audience with the Nightshade Coven. We need you."

The ancient vampire remained silent, his gaze fixed on Sir Kai, who knelt desperately on the cold dungeon floor. The silence dragged on, thick and uncomfortable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the vampire sighed. "I shall relay your request to my guests. We’ll see what—if anything—we can do for your kingdom."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit.

Sir Kai lurched forward, his voice raw with desperation. "Please, My Lord! I beg you—have mercy! My kingdom needs your help!"

But the vampire didn’t pause. He simply disappeared into the shadows, leaving Sir Kai alone with his unanswered prayers.

***

"So, it’s true. That ridiculous jolt of power we felt the other day—it actually came from the Blood Moon child," Isaac said, rubbing his chin.

He was the youngest among them, though calling him ’youngest’ was a bit of a joke—he had been turned mere minutes after the rest of the originals. Not exactly a baby vampire.

Griswold scoffed, crossing his arms. "That surge was massive. Nothing like this has ever happened with the previous Blood Moon children. We all felt it, didn’t we?"

His sharp gaze swept over the others before he snorted. "Don’t tell me you actually believe one Blood Moon child alone is responsible for that kind of power."

Griswold was one of the most aggressive of the originals, and he made sure everyone knew it. He also happened to be ridiculously strong—meaning he could be as loud and skeptical as he wanted, and no one was dumb enough to tell him otherwise.

"It’s true," said Silvia, the vampire who, more than anyone, weighed all sides of an argument as if she were some judge.

And in many ways, she was. Fair and wise, she had earned the respect of even the most stubborn among them. Though not the oldest of the originals, her word carried weight, and when conflicts arose, it was her judgment everyone sought.

The ancient, goddess-like vampire—who, if lineage meant anything, should technically be everyone’s great-great-great-grandmother—crossed her long, elegant legs and leaned back into the sofa with the kind of effortless grace that made mortals weep.

"It doesn’t hurt to be cautious," she said, tapping her fingers against her arm. "We still have no idea how that surge of power happened. If it really did come from a Blood Moon child, we should probably figure out why this one decided to break all known records. It nearly knocked us off our feet."

Her lips curved slightly. "Unprecedented power rarely comes without consequences."

One particular original vampire sat deep in thought, chin resting on his fingers, eyes fixed on some invisible point in the air. Lennix was not exactly famous for his wisdom—or for having an impressive reservoir of knowledge.

But every now and then, he managed to contribute something useful, mostly through his rather... unconventional way of thinking.

"What is it, Lennix? Anything you’d like to share with the rest of us?" Ulysses, the owner of the manor and the unofficial moderator of these meetings, finally spoke up.

Lennix blinked as if just remembering he was in a room full of people. "You remember that one ancestor who really screwed things up with a Blood Moon child? The werewolf one? Could this be related to him?"

A pause.

Then Sandor—the walking embodiment of self-righteousness—huffed. "But he was expelled from his seat, wasn’t he? Why would the other ancestors let him waltz back in after the disaster he caused? That damned ancestor should be spending eternity repenting for his sins."

"Yes, yes," Lennix waved a hand, unfazed. "But what if... this is his repentance? I mean, think about it. Vampires, werewolves, humans—we all have this strange habit of doing the same stupid thing over and over, hoping for a different result as some twisted form of redemption."

Silence.

"...So what you’re saying," Orien said slowly, "is that the guy who nearly destroyed everything might be trying again?"

Lennix shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

"The surge of power came from Eira, didn’t it? Where was that disaster of an ancestor from again?" Elwin asked, rubbing his temples like he already regretted the conversation.

Elwin, the oldest of the originals, was basically the vampire world’s reluctant dad. He was the one who had discovered the means to become a vampire and had handpicked the first to be turned. Some revered him. Some tolerated him. But none could ignore him.

"He’s not from Eira if that’s what you’re worrying about," Perseus replied. As the group’s walking encyclopedia, he delivered the answer with the confidence of someone who had never once said, I don’t know.

Elijah, the vampire equivalent of an overachieving detective, leaned forward. "Look, whatever caused that power surge, it had to have come from Eira. Even if there was another force involved beyond the Blood Moon child’s awakening, it still originated there. We all felt it."

He gave the group a pointed look. "Eira is ground zero."

Ulysses, who had spent most of this discussion wearing the exhausted expression of a man who desperately needed sleep, finally spoke up.

"That kid—the soldier who spied on us and then stormed in here uninvited—he mentioned his kingdom was in peril. Maybe whatever mess they’re dealing with will give us a clue about what’s actually going on."

A heavy pause settled over the room.

"So, what’s the plan? Do we actually go there, or should we just sit back, relax, and wait until we see their kingdom go up in flames?"