Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 279: Ancient, Powerful, and… Stubborn as Hell

You’d think that ancient vampires, after centuries of existence, would be the wisest of their kind, right? Well... not exactly. If anything, age didn’t make them wiser—it just made them more stubborn.

Saving a kingdom meant exposing themselves to the outside world.

And after spending centuries perfecting the art of staying hidden, living in self-imposed obscurity when they could easily have ruled over mortals as gods (or been hunted down by them), was it really worth risking all that for a single kingdom?

Sure, the balance of the world might be at stake. But did the ancient vampires care enough about the world to actually do something about it?

They had called an emergency meeting when they first felt that surge of power—but that was less about concern for humanity and more about self-preservation.

Any unknown force powerful enough to rattle them was a potential threat, and vampires had survived this long by not ignoring potential threats.

Even when whispers of the young emperor’s suspicious movements reached them, they remained hesitant. They weren’t sure if interfering in worldly affairs would work out well for them.

But then came another surge of power—stronger this time. And far more malicious. That was when doubt started creeping in. Maybe this wasn’t just the Blood Moon child’s awakening. Maybe they had underestimated something far worse.

Isaac leaned forward, frowning. "That child awakened five years ago. Why would she suddenly go on a rampage now? If she was going to lose control, wouldn’t it have happened then?"

"Yes, that’s a valid point," Elwin said, nodding. "Either something happened to her recently that triggered this... or it was something else entirely."

"Why do I have a hunch it’s the latter?" Lennix muttered, waving his hands dramatically like he was trying to catch an invisible mosquito. That was his signature move when deep in thought.

"Didn’t you feel it? That power was different. It wasn’t just strong—it was evil. Like, really, really evil. This wasn’t just another power surge from a Blood Moon child. It was... wrong." His fingers clenched into fists. "It felt evil. There was so much darkness in it."

Silvia tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with something close to concern. "I felt it too. At first, I thought I was imagining things, but it was different. And it only grew more malicious. I highly doubt that this leak of power came from the Blood Moon child alone."

She paused, her fingers drumming against the armrest of her chair. "Blood Moon children are inherently neutral. None of them are born evil. That’s why the prophecy says they can either become the salvation of this world or its destruction. But ultimately, they make that choice."

Ulysses sighed. "The environment around them and the people who influence them also play a role. But at the end of the day, the Blood Moon children aren’t destined to be good or bad. That choice is theirs."

Perseus crossed his arms. "Okay, but let’s back up for a second—what if this dark, terrifying power has absolutely nothing to do with us? What if it’s just, you know, someone else’s problem? Do we have to get involved? I, for one, enjoy my current state of living peacefully without being bothered by trivial problems."

"I’m sure we could beat whatever’s behind this power," Griswold said with a shrug. "But the real question is... do we have to? My life is already complicated enough. Why throw myself into another mess when I don’t have to?"

Now, Griswold’s life was complicated, but not because of some grand, tragic reason. No, Griswold had a... unique marital history.

You see, he had been married several times—not because he was disloyal or a serial heartbreaker, but because staying with one person for too long made faking his identity unnecessarily difficult.

No matter how much he trusted a woman, there were risks. Her family might come looking for her, she might refuse to move to a new town every few decades, or—worst of all—she might want kids. And nothing complicated an immortal existence more than leaving behind a bloodline.

So, to avoid that headache, Griswold simply changed wives every few decades, slipping into new identities and new lives.

It was a perfect system—until, of course, a few of his past wives accidentally met each other.

And now, instead of worrying about an ancient, possibly world-ending evil, Griswold was dealing with the far scarier wrath of multiple exes, all demanding answers.

Including his current wife.

Griswold sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I’m already in deep trouble as it is. You think I want to add an ancient world-ending evil to my plate? Absolutely not."

"Oh, I see," Sandor snapped, throwing up his hands. "So we’re just going to sit here and let the world implode? Just kick back, sip some blood, and watch the chaos unfold?"

He shot a glare around the room, frustrated. "Do none of you have a conscience? Not even a tiny, shriveled-up shred of empathy left in those ancient, stubborn brains?"

Typical Sandor—forever the moral compass in a room full of people who had lost theirs centuries ago.

He exhaled sharply, pacing now. "How long have we been at this? How much longer do you all intend to waste arguing instead of doing something? While we’re here debating whether or not to get off our immortal asses, we could have actually figured out what’s going on!"

His fists clenched, jaw tightening with barely restrained anger. "Eira needs us. A whole nation of vampires—our descendants—need us. They’re practically our family."

Elwin, who had been listening with the kind of patience only a centuries-old vampire could muster, finally sighed. "Family? That’s... ambitious, Sandor." He tilted his head. "Even I, the one who created this immortal race, wouldn’t go that far."

"That’s right! Why should we stick our necks out for them?" Griswold said, seizing the moment to shut down any talk of noble sacrifice. "They’re not even family. At best, they’re distant cousins we’ve never met."

Sandor groaned. "Are you seriously this selfish? Does no one here care about doing the right thing? At all?" He scanned the room, looking for even a flicker of support.

Silence.

The heavy silence was abruptly shattered—not by one of the originals, but by a Nightwatch soldier who slammed his fist against the door.

Given permission to enter, the soldier stumbled inside, still catching his breath. "A message," he wheezed. "From King Valentin of Eira. It’s directed to Sir Kai."

A beat of silence. Then Lennix frowned. "Who the hell is Sir Kai?"

"The soldier locked up in the basement, My Lord."

Recognition flickered across a few faces.

"Oh. That guy."