Chapter 9
The morning sun barely pierced the enchanted windows of the Orientation Dome. Inside, thirty-one chosen candidates stood in awe beneath a vast vaulted ceiling, surrounded by floating runes, whispering winds, and walls that pulsed with quiet, glowing breath.
At the center of the room stood a tall figure cloaked in midnight black — calm, poised, and radiant with an eerie stillness.
Her crimson eyes swept across the hall like blades.
"I am Lara. Royal Vampire of the Northern Nation. Daughter of the Nightspire Council and former High Executor of the B Empire."
Her voice was like silk over steel — elegant, yet impossible to ignore.
"I am not your enemy. Nor your mentor. I am your mirror. What you reflect back will determine whether you ascend… or vanish."
The candidates stiffened.
"Before you're trained by the Four Kings, it is my task to ensure you understand where you now stand — and how quickly you can fall."
She raised her hand. A shimmering Empire sigil appeared behind her — four intertwined emblems, each glowing with the essence of a different Nation.
"These are the Ten Laws of the Empire. Break them — and you disappear. Uphold them — and you rise."
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Lara's Laws (Spoken aloud)
1. Obey the Four Kings without question.
2. Your bloodline, gifts, or titles do not place you above the Empire.
3. Feeding upon or harming another candidate is forbidden.
4. Duels require official sanction. Unauthorized combat means exile.
5. Inter-National secrets are protected by oath. Break it — commit treason.
6. None may enter the Gate of Light without explicit clearance.
7. You represent your Nation. Honor that role with every act.
8. Spiritual Emblems are burdens, not trophies.
9. You are always watched. Even when you dream.
10. There is no return. You become the Empire — or you fade.
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Solla leaned toward Nate, arms crossed and brow furrowed.
"So… zero margin for error, huh?"
Nate whispered back, trying not to move his lips,
"I've seen friendlier war briefings. And this is just orientation."
Lara's eyes flashed toward them like a hawk catching motion.
"You may whisper in the dark… but even shadows listen. Speak, if you have something worth saying."
Solla straightened, clearly caught off guard.
"Ma'am… what if someone breaks a rule by accident?"
Lara tilted her head slightly, her gaze unreadable.
"Intent matters. But impact matters more. Some 'accidents' destroy cities. Others end lives. Choose your steps wisely, Asyan."
⸻
From the back, Doniglao raised a hand.
"With respect… what if survival in the field demands we break a rule?"
Lara paused for a moment, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"Then bend it—without breaking it. That's what separates warriors… from Wildlings."
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Then a voice rose — crisp and clear.
Eula, the sharp-eyed hunter, stepped forward. Her movements were precise, her aura coiled like a bowstring.
"Some of us were raised to kill without hesitation. Are we still expected to follow these laws… even in battle?"
Lara approached her slowly, her voice steady.
"Yes. Because here, instinct is no longer your master. The Empire is. If you can't tame your nature, then you're not a hunter — just a beast."
Eula met her gaze, the tension between them palpable. Then, with a short nod, she stepped back.
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A heavy, thoughtful voice followed.
"What of honor? Some of us move slow… but we think deep."
It was Mervdi of the South Nation — a proud Tortellian prince, his turtle-like form standing firm near the edge of the chamber.
Lara bowed her head slightly, respectfully.
"Your race may move slow, Prince Mervdi… but your loyalty moves mountains. And honor—" she paused, "—is the one unspoken law above all others."
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Suddenly, a tall warrior strode forward — axe on his back, shoulders broad, face unreadable. Mr. Wils of the Western Woodborne Tribes.
"I don't trust vampires," he said bluntly. "But I trust my blade. You expect us to follow rules crafted by your kind?"
Lara stepped toward him, stopping only inches away.
"I did not write these rules," she said coldly. "I bled for them."
Mr. Wils stared for a long moment… then gave a grunt of approval.
"Fair enough."
⸻
Other Notable Candidates in the Hall:
• Suthra of the Riverlands stood quietly near a glowing pond-like section of the floor. Her liquid form rippled with unease.
• Maria and Uksanya, butterfly-winged twins from the Western Skies, fluttered gently above the group, whispering in tones only they could understand.
• Eliyah, a golden-eyed siren, softly hummed a melody to calm her racing heart.
• Adryn, a blue-haired fairy scholar with a glowing book, raised her hand to ask if meditation hours were mandatory.
• Anez, a horned demon hybrid, stood at the back with arms folded, cold eyes watching everything — saying nothing.
Lara slowly walked among them all, eyes absorbing every breath, posture, and flicker of emotion.
"This Empire is not built from one race, one voice, or one soul," she said quietly. "Harmony is not your beginning… it is your destination."
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Final Words
Lara returned to the center of the room. Her voice fell to a whisper — yet somehow, every syllable echoed.
"You will fail. You will fall. That is not a question."
"But if you rise… it must not be for yourself."
She turned toward Van Staden, who had remained silent all morning — a prince cloaked in silence.
"Even you, Prince. Especially you."
Van looked up, his voice low but steady.
"I intend to rise. But not alone."
Lara's expression shifted—just slightly. Almost a smile.
"Good. Then perhaps… the Empire still has a future worth defending."
Without another word, she turned and disappeared into the shadows. The great door sealed behind her with a soft hiss of magic.
⸻
As the group dispersed toward their quarters, a few lingered near the edge of the courtyard — still processing what had just unfolded.
Suthra exhaled deeply, her water-like body shimmering with tension.
"That vampire's intense."
Doniglao nodded.
"She's not wrong, though. One mistake out here… and it could all fall apart."
Solla looked up at the sky, stars beginning to pierce the fading light.
"At least we're not walking this path alone."
Van, standing beside them, gave a small but genuine smile.
"Not anymore."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the thirty-one stood scattered across the courtyard — uncertain, untested… but no longer lost.
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Lara: The Night-Born Prodigy
Born under the Eclipse of Damlag — when the moon turned blood-red and the wind whispered through ancient bones — Lara was marked by fate before she ever opened her eyes.
A daughter of House Vikael, the feared vampire lineage of the North, she grew up surrounded by power, prophecy, and death. Unlike her siblings, Lara was not gifted with brute strength or charmcraft, nor did she wield the seductive mind-powers of her kin.
Instead, she possessed something far rarer: an unnatural stillness, a perception so sharp it made even her elders uneasy. Her crimson eyes — the "Owl Eyes," as whispered in vampire lore — were said to see beyond masks, into the very soul.
By forty — barely adolescent by vampire standards — she had already:
• Exposed three royal traitors,
• Thwarted a demonic ambush,
• And deciphered the forgotten tongue of the owls — a language lost to time.
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The Bond with Crucko – The Last Watcher Owl
On a mission to the cursed Ruins of Karmada, Lara was sent to eliminate a vampire warlord accused of heresy. There, she found not a tyrant, but a blind white owl — untouched by time, surrounded by bones.
The owl wept. And Lara, breaking protocol, offered it a single drop of her blood — not as command, but as kinship.
That owl was Crucko — one of the last Watcher Owls, celestial beings said to judge the soul of the one they choose.
In that moment, they bonded.
From then on, Crucko has never left her side. Some whisper he sees futures. Others say he guards her mind from ancient vampiric madness.
Lara never confirms either. When asked, she only replies:
"I see what others overlook. I listen to what is unsaid."
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The Fall and the Rise
As High Executor, Lara once led the Empire's deadliest missions — until she refused to slaughter a desert tribe falsely accused of treason.
She stood trial. Confessed her defiance. And stepped down before she could be stripped of rank.
The Empire, recognizing her unmatched insight, offered her a new role — one that would shape the future rather than destroy the past.
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The Watcher of the New Era
Now, Lara stands at the Gate of the next generation — not to teach, not to coddle, but to test. Her gaze cuts deeper than any blade, and her words weigh more than law.
She is no longer a killer.
She is the mirror.
And the fate of the Empire may very well rest in the reflections she leaves behind.
To be continued…