Chapter 3: Awakened

Chapter Three

♠ Lucian♠

“Prince Lucian” A soft, delicate voice whispered low.

A pair of red eyes snapped open to darkness. For a moment, he thought he was blind, until the stale air pressed heavy against his chest.

He tried to move, but his limbs felt like stone, unwilling to cooperate.

With a ragged breath, he shoved upward. The weight above shifted, and a sliver of golden light cut through the black.

Faint sconces shimmered like fire trapped behind glass. Lucian looked down—and froze.

His hands were skeletal, skin stretched thin and colorless, bones ridged with cracks. Every inch of him felt wrong, fragile, decaying.

He pushed upright, legs trembling, yet he stood.

Across the chamber, a tall mirror stood He couldn’t remember it ever being there, but something pulled him closer.

His reflection stopped him cold. A thin figure stared back—more corpse than man, skin hollowed tight to sharp bones.

But the eyes—his eyes—burned red, cutting through the ruin of his body.

Lucian’s gaze swept the chamber. Yes… it was his, but not as he remembered. The ceiling glowed with strange lights

Strange objects cluttered every corner—TV screens, couches, glass tables that turned on their own.

Once, he had been stronger—untouchable. Now, he felt like ash waiting to scatter.

How long had he been gone? His last memory was falling down a hill.

Soft footsteps echoed and Lucian stiffened, his red eyes snapping toward the door.

Whoever it was, they were light—too light to be another creature apart from his own but that didn’t mean he left his guard down.

The door creaked open, and a young man stepped inside, hair like burning copper under the flickering bulb.

His eyes widened as he caught sight of Lucian unsteady form in the center of the room.

Silence stretched. Then awe split his face into a trembling smile.

“My lord” The man breathed, dropping down to his knees in respect at his supreme. “At last… you’ve awakened.”

Lucian opened his mouth, but only a rasp came, raw from disuse. The sound was jagged, alien even to him. He tried again, forcing words past cracked lips.

“…Who…. are you ?”

“My name is Marcus Salvatore. Third of my line to keep watch here, my lord.”

Lucian’s lips parted “…Salvatore?” He remembers the name, how could he not, when it was one of his best of men.

Marcus lifted his gaze. His face was sharp, unlined, a youth that should have belonged to a man in his thirties

Yet his eyes carried decades—fifty years. But in the vampire world, still a mere child.

“My family swore to your bloodline long ago. My grandfather—”

“I know him.” Lucian cut in. He didn’t need family history—his throat was parched, raw for liquid. Not the usual kind.

“I am thirsty,” he rasped.

Marcus gave the faintest smile, as though he’d been expecting those words. “Then it’s good I prepared. You’ve been restless these past nights—growling in your sleep. I knew the time was close.”

He bowed slightly, stepping back. “Come with me, my lord. What you need is waiting.”

Marcus guided him down the hall, footsteps echoing off polished stone that no longer felt like the castle he knew.

Everything hummed faintly, glowing with strange cold lights embedded in the ceiling— artificial things that weren’t fire, weren’t flame.

What sorcery…? Lucian’s crimson eyes narrowed, glowing through the corridor.

Marcus caught his curious glance, smiling faintly. “The world has changed much while you slept, my lord. More than words can capture.”

Lucian’s gaze snapped to Marcus. “How long?” His voice frayed with hunger and disbelief.

Marcus bowed his head, hesitating as though the answer might provoke wrath. “If I am not mistaken… twelve centuries. Twelve hundred years, my prince.”

The number pressed into Lucian. His lips parted, but no words came.

Twelve centuries? Wars, kingdoms, bloodlines, would be ashes now, long turned to dust.

Even the moon had watched a thousand generations die while he rotted in darkness.

He finally rasped, “The world I knew… gone?.”

Marcus inclined his head respectfully. “Yes, my lord. Human empires have risen and fallen. Their cities climb higher now, built of steel and glass. They live by lights that never burn out, carriages without horses.”

He glanced up at his supreme. “It is an age of wonders… and of laws.”

Lucian’s fangs ached, thirst drowning out the details.

Marcus placed a hand on the door before them—the one leading to the basement. Damp air rushed in as Lucian inhaled sharply, fangs lengthening against his lips.

But when his gaze fell on the creature tethered in the center, his body stiffened.

A deer.

Tall, antlers branching like a mockery of a crown, its sides heaving in panic. Its wide eyes filled with terror.

Lucian’s head snapped to Marcus, disbelief burning into fury.

“WHERE. IS. MY. MEAL?” Lucian growled at Marcus who smiled faintly, almost eager, as if this were some honor.

“Here, my lord. Strong, healthy and fresh from the forest.” The deer stumbled against its restraints.

Lucian moved before Marcus could blink, a blur slamming the younger vampire into the wall.

His hand wrapped on Marcus’s throat, pinning him with terrifying ease despite his weakened state.

“You dare mock me?” Lucian’s eyes burned like open fire, his voice a low thunder. “You bring me animal’s blood? Have I fallen so low that carrion is all I’m given?” Marcus choked, gripping Lucian’s wrist in panic.

What had he done to deserve such harshness?

His voice broke. “Forgive me—please—! My lord, it is not mockery! The council forbids human blood now. It is law. You’ll draw their wrath if—if you drink—”

The grip tightened, the young vampire’s feet scraping helplessly against the wall.

Lucian leaned in, fangs bared inches from Marcus’s face. “Law? Council?” He spat the words like poison. “I bow to no council.” His fangs lengthened as he spat.

“And I do not drink from animals.” Lucian grip shifted, fingers digging harder into Marcus’s throat. “Perhaps I should drink from you instead.”

“My lord… please…” Marcus’s breath hitched. His hands clawed at Lucian’s wrist, fear flickering in his gaze.

“If you take me, who will guide you? Who will show you this new world?”

For a long, deadly moment, Lucian said nothing. Hunger screamed for blood—but another instinct curled in his mind.

Marcus was right. Without him, Lucian would be blind in this new age, stumbling among strange laws and creating enemies which he wouldn’t mind.

With a hiss, Lucian released him and Marcus collapsed against the wall, clutching his throat, gasping for breath.

“Do not mistake this for mercy. You still draw breath only because you are… useful.”

Marcus swallowed hard, nodding quickly, his copper hair damp with sweat. “Y-yes, my lord.”

Lucian’s dark hair fell like a curtain across his face as he turned away, his burning gaze toward the deer, lip curling in disgust. “Fetch me clothes.I will hunt my own meal.”

Marcus’s eyes widened, “But the council—”

Lucian’s head snapped back toward him, and the younger vampire fell silent at once under that crimson stare.

“I said,” Lucian repeated, each word like the strike of a blade, “I will hunt my own meal.” Marcus scrambled to his feet, still rubbing the bruises healing at his throat.

Before Lucian could blink, Marcus vanished. Lucian narrowed his eyes, tracking the faint retreat. “Fast… but unrefined.” he muttered, almost disappointed.

Moments later, the door slammed open as Marcus returned with garments.

Dark trousers, a black shirt, and a long coat with a high collar. “My lord,” he said, slightly breathless, “these are the finest of the era. They will conceal you.”

Lucian plucked the coat, letting the fabric spill down. “This? So light. A gust of wind could tear it apart.”

Marcus bowed unable to say anything in fear not to trigger anger.

Lucian dressed without ceremony, shrugging into the shirt as they loose freely against his wasted frame.

When he pulled the coat across his shoulders, his mane of long black hair cascaded over the collar, framing his gaunt face and crimson eyes.

He turned toward the mirror. The creature of rot was still there, but cloaked in black, with his long hair loose and untamed, he resembled not a corpse—but a revenant prince risen from a grave of centuries.

A rasping laugh stirred from his chest.

“Hmph. Not the armor of kings… but it will suffice to strike fear.”

——

After dressing, they both walk towards the great doors that loomed before Lucian, tall and heavy with iron bands.

He expected Marcus to push them open, as was custom—yet before the man could touch them, they shuddered and swung wide on its own.

Lucian froze. No hand. No wind. No spell. Just… like that?

He stepped out slowly. For the first time in twelve centuries, he tasted night air again.

It struck sharp, laced with scents he did not recognize. The mansion’s exterior rose above him, familiar stone towers dressed in glass and steel.

Majestic, yes… but modern.

His black hair spilled over his shoulders as he tilted his head back and sneered. “A palace made for men who have forgotten what kings look like.”

Marcus hovered behind him, silent as a shadow.

At the edge of the drive crouched a sleek, low creature of metal. Lucian narrowed his eyes. “What in the hell is that?”

Marcus’s lips twitched. “A car, my lord. A first-edition Lamborghini. She’s yours.”

Lucian scoffed. “Lamborghini?” He circled it, fingers grazing cold glass and rubber wheels. “It sounds like a dog’s name.”

Marcus allowed himself a faint smile. “She will carry you faster than any horse.”

“Faster than a horse?”

In a blur, stone cracked under Lucian’s boots as the world bent to his speed. In less than a heartbeat, he stood at the far end of the courtyard, hair whipping in the wind.

He looked back at Marcus, still standing beside the silent beast.

Lucian’s lips curved into a smirk as he shouted. “Tell me, Marcus… do these machines bleed when they die?”

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