CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 4

"Zah’reth nujta, veth riel."

Deep, echoing, in a language older than the stars.

"Zah’reth nujta, veth riel!"

The voice again—louder, harsher. A command. A curse.

Lucian stood in the middle of a blackened field, the sky above him cracked with veins of red lightning. Smoke curled from the ground, thick and acrid, tasting of blood and ashes. The air pulsed with unseen power—heavy, suffocating.

Figures moved around him, cloaked in tattered robes, their faces hidden. They spoke rapidly, each word dripping like venom.

"Velan thros di’akar. Shira veth sul!”

Their chants twisted the very air, making it hum and ripple.

Lucian’s heart thundered against his ribs. His fingers twitched by his side, aching for a weapon he did not remember holding.

In front of him, Elias knelt—

but it wasn’t Elias, not truly.

This version of him was clothed in something strange—elegant, ceremonial, stained dark at the edges with what could only be blood.

His eyes—those damnable, unforgettable eyes—shone with something between defiance and heartbreak.

Lucian tried to speak, but his throat burned.

No sound came out.

One of the cloaked figures stepped forward. A gnarled hand extended. In its palm—a dagger.

Black metal. Ancient. Humming with a malicious life of its own.

"Darth ven’ta. End it."

The figure hissed.

Lucian stumbled back, shaking his head. “No... I won’t... I can’t.”

But his body betrayed him.

His hand reached out.

His fingers closed around the dagger’s hilt.

It felt alive—breathing, whispering in a tongue his mind rejected but his soul remembered.

Elias raised his head.

Tears streaked his face, but he did not plead.

He smiled—broken, beautiful.

Lucian’s heart shattered.

"Zah’reth nujta, veth riel!"

The figures roared again, stamping their feet, the ground trembling beneath them.

“No!” Lucian shouted. His voice finally tore free, ragged, desperate.

“I won’t hurt him!”

Elias whispered something.

A word Lucian couldn’t understand—but it filled him with unimaginable sorrow.

It sounded like forgiveness.

The dagger in Lucian’s hand burned against his palm, demanding blood, demanding obedience.

"No..."

His voice cracked.

His body moved on its own.

One step. Two. Three.

Elias closed his eyes, accepting.

Not fighting.

Not running.

Lucian fell to his knees in front of him.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, the dagger shaking in his grasp.

"I’m so sorry."

Elias opened his eyes, and for a moment, Lucian thought he saw something impossible there—

not fear, not pain—

love.

The dagger plunged forward.

Lucian screamed, fighting it, but it was his hand—his strength—that drove it into Elias’s chest.

Warm blood spilled over his fingers.

Elias gasped, body jerking.

Lucian caught him before he fell.

Held him tightly, pressing their foreheads together.

“No, no, no...” Lucian sobbed, the world around him blurring, melting into darkness.

The cloaked figures raised their arms, triumphant.

"Veth shira sul!"

"The bond is broken!"

The ground split open.

Flames roared up, engulfing everything.

Lucian held Elias’s lifeless body tighter, refusing to let go, even as the fire consumed them both.

In the last flicker of light, he saw himself—

Not as he was now.

No.

Older.

Worn.

Dressed in robes heavy with gold and crimson.

A crown of black iron upon his head.

And Elias—

In white, glowing faintly, like a fallen star.

Their roles set. Their fates sealed.

And then—

"Vel'an dreth."

A whisper in his ear.

Lucian snapped awake with a ragged gasp, bolting upright in the darkness of his bedroom.

His chest heaved. Sweat poured down his temples. His hands shook uncontrollably.

The room was still.

Too still.

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

What the fuck was that?

He pressed trembling fingers to his face.

The dream clung to him, vivid and visceral, like barbed wire wrapped around his soul.

"I stabbed him..." he whispered, staring at his hands as if expecting them to still be bloodied.

A voice brushed against his ear—soft, almost kind.

"Forget."

Lucian froze.

The dream—the memory—slipped from his mind like water through broken fingers.

No matter how hard he tried to grasp it, it was gone.

The terror, the sorrow, the fire—

all of it

gone.

He was left only with the hollow ache of knowing he had lost something vital.

Something he should never have forgotten.

Somewhere in the mansion, a door creaked.

A chill wind swept through the cracked window.

Lucian lay back down slowly, staring at the ceiling with wide, haunted eyes.

What was he forgetting?

Lucian hadn't slept the rest of the night. Not that he needed to anyways. It was just a formality. Vampires didn't sleep much.

Morning came dull and grey, mist curling against the mansion windows. Lucian finally pushed himself out of bed, running a hand through his unruly hair. 

He needed to see Elias.

The thought wasn’t rational. 

Elias stood by the stove, fussing with the kettle, pretending he wasn’t aware of the presence leaning against the doorframe.

Lucian watched him silently, arms crossed over his broad chest, head tilted slightly — like a predator studying prey.

Elias dared a glance and instantly regretted it.

Lucian looked devastatingly good. Tousled dark hair, a loose black shirt clinging to his strong frame, and that same unreadable look in his silver eyes. It was infuriating. And distracting.

"You’re up early," Elias said, voice cracking slightly.

Lucian said nothing.

He just smirked — that slow, devastating smirk — and pushed off the doorframe, making his way across the kitchen in easy, confident strides.

Elias’s hands shook as he poured water into the mugs. He tried to pretend Lucian wasn't coming closer, tried to pretend his heart wasn't about to hammer its way out of his chest.

And then—

Strong hands gripped his waist.

Elias yelped, almost sloshing hot water over his fingers.

"L-Lucian!" he gasped, spinning around, but it was too late.

Lucian had already pulled him flush against his body.

Elias froze.

They were so close he could feel every line of Lucian's body, the heat rolling off him in waves. His breath hitched — and that was when Lucian moved, hoisting him effortlessly onto the counter.

“Hey—!” Elias squeaked, trying to push him back, but Lucian only growled low in his throat and stepped between his legs, hands still gripping his waist.

Elias opened his mouth to say something — anything — but Lucian was faster.

Lucian leaned in and captured Elias’s mouth with his own.

Elias whimpered against his lips, his hands instinctively clutching Lucian's shoulders.

The kiss was rough. Possessive. Mind-stealing.

Lucian kissed him like he needed to consume him — like he’d waited an eternity for this and wouldn't let him go now.

Elias tried to push him away again, but Lucian only deepened the kiss, tilting his head to ravage his mouth properly.

A whine escaped Elias before he could stop it.

Lucian growled again, a sound so low and primal it vibrated through Elias’s whole body.

God, he was losing it.

He clutched at Lucian’s shirt desperately, nails digging in, trying to find something to ground himself.

And then—

Lucian shifted, pulling him even closer, until Elias could feel him.

The hard press against his thigh.

Elias gasped into the kiss, stiffening in shock.

Oh god.

Oh god.

He’s hard.

Panic exploded through him like wildfire.

With a strangled yelp, Elias shoved at Lucian’s chest, somehow managing to wriggle free. He slid off the counter clumsily, nearly knocking over the mugs in his haste.

Lucian just stood there, breathing heavily, a dark, lazy smirk curving his swollen lips.

Elias, red-faced and mortified beyond belief, pointed a trembling finger at him.

“You—! You can’t just—!” he stammered.

Lucian said nothing. He only licked his bottom lip slowly, watching Elias with that same unreadable hunger.

Elias’s face burned hotter.

He stumbled back toward the kitchen door, heart slamming in his chest.

God, god, god, what the hell was wrong with him?

He’s a vampire! his mind screamed.

He’s a goddamn vampire and I’m acting like some lovesick idiot!

He practically bolted out of the kitchen, feet pounding against the stairs as he ran up to his room.

Once inside, he slammed the door and leaned against it, panting.

He buried his face in his hands.

“What the hell was that?” he whispered to himself, voice shaking.

His lips still tingled.

His whole body still trembled with leftover heat.

Elias groaned, sliding down the door until he was sitting on the floor.

This is insane, he thought miserably. Absolutely insane.

He tried to will himself to calm down — to forget the way Lucian's hands had felt on his waist, the way his mouth had devoured his — but it was hopeless.

Just when he thought he might get a grip—

A sudden, sharp flash of memory blinded him.

A field.

Dark red sky.

Someone screaming.

A glint of a silver blade.

Lucian.

Elias gasped, clutching his head as the images surged and then flickered out just as fast, leaving him dizzy and breathless.

“What the hell was that?” he whispered again, voice raw.

Did I just have a memory about Lucian?

What's going on with me?