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Chapter Five: The Warning
The sun had barely set when Lucian returned to Noel. His steps were quiet, careful, but his heart raced with urgency. He had to find the boy—the only human who had shown him mercy.
Noel was outside his cottage, arms full of herbs and cloth. When he spotted the familiar figure emerging from the pines, his eyes lit up with surprise and relief.
“It’s you! Where have you been? I was looking for you.”
Lucian stepped closer, eyes gentle but anxious. “I had to go, but now I’m back. You’re in danger. They’re coming.”
Noel’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Before Lucian could explain, a sharp voice sliced through the air like a blade. “Step away from him, Noel!”
It was Father Gabriel. His boots crunched against the gravel as he strode forward, cloak billowing. The moment his eyes landed on Lucian, something in him snapped.
In a blink, he pulled out a pistol and fired.
The shot cracked the silence. Lucian gasped as the bullet tore through his shoulder. He stumbled back, catching himself on a tree.
Noel’s breath caught. “No!”
“Stay away from that creature, Noel!” Father Gabriel shouted, eyes full of fury and fear. “He’s not what you think he is!”
Lucian gritted his teeth, wincing. “I came to warn you. Please…”
But it was too late. The gunshot had drawn others. The hunters emerged from the trees, swift and merciless. They descended upon Lucian, chaining his wrists with iron shackles etched in ancient runes that seared his skin.
As they dragged him away, Noel called out, heart pounding. “Wait! Listen to him first! He’s not here to hurt anyone!”
But his cries were drowned by the rush of orders, the clinking of chains, and the shadows that swallowed Lucian whole.
The heavy door creaked shut behind them as the hunters dragged Lucian into the depths of the old church. The air turned colder with each step, damp and heavy with age. The basement smelled of old stone, mildew, and something faintly metallic—silver.
They threw Lucian into a small cell, its bars forged from pure silver. The metal hissed against his skin, burning wherever it touched. He winced but made no sound.
“Keep him in there,” Father Gabriel ordered. “He won’t escape. He’s too weak.”
As the group moved upstairs, loud voices echoed through the church hall—heated arguments about Noel’s involvement, about whether the boy could be trusted. The name Noel repeated like a curse and a question.
Meanwhile, the boy himself crept quietly down the spiral stone steps, a candle in hand, heart thudding in his chest. The door to the basement moaned open. He slipped inside.
“Hey…”
The vampire stirred, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dark cell. When he saw the boy, his expression softened.
“You came…”
“I had to. Are you okay?” Noel stepped closer to the bars, gripping one despite the faint sting of warmth it gave off.
Lucian looked at him, puzzled. “You know what I am. And yet… you’re not afraid.”
Noel gave a small smile. “I was afraid… but not of you.”
There was a pause. A stillness. Then the boy said, “What’s your name?”
Lucian hesitated, then answered, “Lucian.”
“Noel,” the boy replied softly. “That’s mine.”
A quiet silence settled between them before Lucian finally spoke again, voice low. “I didn’t want to drag you into this… But I owe you the truth.”
And he told him. Everything.
About the vampires. The scrolls. The hunt. The scent Seraphine had caught. How it led them here.
Noel listened, wide-eyed, barely breathing. He wasn’t just caught in this by accident—he was part of it. Somehow, it all revolved around him.
“I have to tell them,” Noel said. “They need to know you’re not the threat. That there’s more to this.”
Lucian looked up at him, concern flickering in his eyes. “Be careful.”
Noel gave a reassuring nod, turned, and climbed the stairs—candle flickering in the drafts. He walked to Father Gabriel’s study, hand raised to knock—when he paused.
Voices inside.
“…we should’ve told him. He has a right to know.”
“No. If he ever found out the truth about his parents—about what they died for…”
Noel froze, his blood going cold.
“I thought he was just a normal orphan,” said another voice, lower, strained. “But if Seraphine is right, and the scent matches—then he’s the one. Their child.”
Noel took a step back, breath shallow. Their child?
The candle shook in his hand.
Everything he thought he knew was unraveling.
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