Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Three
~Author’s Pov~

The sound of blades clashing echoed through the courtyard, sharp and unforgiving. Sunlight hit the marble stones in harsh streaks, casting long shadows over the training grounds. Lucien moved like a beast possessed—fast, precise, and merciless.

“Again,” he snapped, slamming a guard to the ground with a hard kick to the ribs. 

The man groaned, coughed out blood, and rolled to the side. Another guard hesitated at the edge of the ring, his eyes darting between Lucien and the fallen man. 

“I said again!”

The poor idiot stepped forward, clearly not wanting to but knowing he had no choice. His hands trembled around the hilt of his blade. Lucien lunged at him before he could even raise it. 

Steel met steel, but only for a moment. 

Lucien twisted his sword from his grip and slammed the hilt into his gut. He crumbled with a grunt. The next one rushed in, trying to catch Lucien off guard, but I was already there, dragging him down by the collar and planting a knee into his chest hard enough to crack bone. 

“Who’s next?” He growled, his voice low and dangerous. 

They hesitated. 

A normal training routine had turned bloody. 

Lucien could smell fear as it lingered. He fed off it. Not because he liked hurting them—but because it was better than thinking. 

His head was about to bust open. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about what was going on between him and Elias. He was confused. He had no idea what to do.

He needed to get rid of his irritation before he could deal with him. The both of them were hot headed. He wasn’t used to pacifying people. He never had any reason to do so. 

But this boy?

He was different. 

Lucien wouldn’t find peace, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate if he didn’t make things right between them. 

He wanted to go back to the way he was before—before Elias came. But he couldn’t even let him go because he was addicted. 

“Come on,” he hissed. “You call yourselves elite? Fight me like it!”

One stepped forward. Poor bastard. He didn’t even last thirty seconds. 

The others hovered back, clearly unsure whether this was training or suicide. 

“Cowards,” Lucien muttered, wiping blood from his knuckles. 

Then he heard it. 

A slow clap. 

“Bravo,” Nyx’s voice rang out, sarcastic and infuriatingly amused. He had just got back to the palace when he got whim of what was going on in the training ground. He had to step in because if he had left it to their elder brother, things would go more wrong. 

“Truly, a masterclass in demoralizing your own men.” 

Lucien didn’t even look at him. “Leave, Nyx.”

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, tossing his coat aside and stepping onto the field. “You are bleeding half of your men force. Let me take a turn before you turn here into a graveyard.”

He drew his twin daggers with a theatrical flourish and rolled his shoulders. “Besides, you look like you are about five seconds away from committing war crimes.”

“You are not helping,” Lucien said flatly, raising his blade. 

“Wasn’t trying to.”

They clashed. 

The two brothers hardly fought except a few times and it was to train themselves. Nyx and Lucien’s relationship wasn’t perfect. They disagree most of the times too but it was better than Lucien and Jae’s relationship. 

Nyx was fast. Always had been. Annoyingly unpredictable, too. He ducked Lucien’s my strikes with mock ease, his laugher echoing in the yard as they exchanged blows. 

“Is this because your boy annoyed or you annoyed him this time?” He teased mid-swing. “Or is this just how you impress him now—beating up anyone who breathes near you?”

Lucien snarled and pushed harder, forcing him to block instead of dodge. 

“Hit a nerve?” He asked, less teasing this time. 

Lucien didn’t answer. 

The rhythm changed. Nyx stopped holding back. His eyes narrowed, and his next few strikes had purpose. Intent. Lucien blocked them all, but he felt the heat rising. 

“You left Lighter’s pack. You didn’t tell anyone where you were going,” Nyx said between breaths. “Do you know how that looks to the court? To your enemies? You are getting more reckless. You are not a fucking Prince anymore. You can’t just disappear.”

“I don’t owe anyone an explanation,” Lucien snapped, knocking him back with a violent swipe. 

“You owe your people,” he said, digging his heel into the ground to steady himself. “And maybe your brother, while we are at it. Not everything is about you and your dramatics.”

Lucien paused. 

Just for a second. 

It was all Nyx needed to disarm him. Lucien’s sword clattered to stone. Nyx stood there, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling, the grin wiped clean from his face. 

“You are allowed to be upset,” he said, quieter now. “But you don’t get to take it out on everyone else. Manage your affairs.”

“Fuck off,” Lucien replied before he turned away. 

~ELIAS’s POV~

It was already late afternoon and my head was pounding. 

Sorin had handed me a thick, faded book earlier—something about vampire lineage and blood rights—and I swear I had read the same paragraph at least twelve times. 

“Vampiric inheritance is determined not solely by bite or blood ritual but by the arcane resonance present in noble houses dating back to—“

I squinted. “What the hell does that even mean….?”

I rubbed my temples, hunched over at a long wooden table deep inside the palace library. Sunlight flittered in through tall windows, crushing a dreamy glow across the ancient volumes surrounding me. It would have been cozy, maybe even romantic, if my brain wasn’t fried and my neck wasn’t cramping from reading this nonsense. 

Absolute nonsense. 

Sorin appeared silently, like he had been doing for hours now. Like he had just materialized from the air. I looked up and gave him a sheepish smile. 

“You have questions,” he said simply. 

“Uh, yeah. I have so many questions,” I admitted, leaning back with a sigh. “I’ve been trying to understand this chapter on vampiric history, but it’s written like someone drank three bottles of wine and then tried to sound smart.”

That actually earned me the tiniest smile from him. “These texts weren’t written for human readers. It takes time. Read it with a calmer mind.”

“That’s not easy when you are one confusion away from throwing the book out the window,” I muttered. 

He chuckled under his breath. “Patience, Elias.”

I shut the book gently and looked around. 

“This place is huge,” I said. “Like, I didn’t even know half these rooms existed.”

“This palace was built to be a fortress first, a home second,” Sorin replied. “Most of its secrets remain untouched even after centuries. Especially by outsiders.”

Maybe I was truly dull. 

I didn’t understand still. 

“You mean humans?”

He nodded. “You are the first in a very long time to walk these halls without being…..hunted.”

“Wow. Comforting.”

Sorin gave me knowing glance but didn’t answer. 

He looked chilled. 

Like someone who knew a lot in his head. 

Someone I could trust. 

“Can I ask you something else?” I said. 

“Of course.”

“There’s this…..dream I had. When I was unconscious, I think. It felt too real to just be dream.” I hesitated. “There was a forest. A really dark one. Cold. And a boy. Looks like me. Long hair, fangs, glowing eyes.”

Sorin’s eyes sharpened. “What did he say?”

“I don’t remember everything. But it felt like….like he was waiting for me. Or watching me. And it wasn’t scary…, but familiar somehow.”

“You should tell the king.”

I blinked. “Lucien?”

Sorin nodded slowly. “Dreams in this realm are not always dreams. Especially not ones tied to blood. The king needs to know.”

I sighed. “He’s not exactly in the best mood to talk right now.”

“Then wait. But don’t forget.”

I glanced back at the book in front of me. 

“I’m not sure I will survive another chapter of this without hallucinating,” I muttered. 

Sorin walked away without responding.