Lilith
Enoch Mansion
Thornhill,
Vanker Island
Northern isle
Kingdom of Ashtarium
North American continent
December 6th 6414
I woke reluctantly, my body heavy, my mind slow to catch up with the world around me. But as my senses sharpened, I realized I was no longer in the Dungeon's suffocating dark. I was back in the room I had been staying in—within the Enoch Mansion.
The familiar space felt different now. My vision was clearer, every detail crisp. I could hear everything: the faint rustle of the curtains, the quiet hum of the world outside… and the subtle, careful breath of someone seated beside me, trying their best not to disturb me.
I turned my head and met Sanders' gaze. He sat in his usual black attire, his posture formal, as always. But his crimson eyes—they watched me with an intensity I hadn't seen before.
Instinctively, my hand rose to my chin. The scar that had always been there beneath my lower lip—the small, constant reminder of something I had never fully understood—was gone. In its place, my fingers traced the edges of something new. The Mark. The Runic brand that now claimed me.
"Did you know?" I asked, my voice quiet, but steady.
Sanders nodded, not flinching. "Yes."
"The Kain bloodline… it's not just part of the Children of the Light, is it?" I said, the pieces falling together, the weight of truth settling on me. "It's tied to the Vampiric race as well."
"That is correct."
I felt my breath catch, the realization burning through the fog of denial I had lived with for so long. I had known I was descended from the Children of the Light—my mother's family, the Avrams, had made sure I understood that much. But this… this other truth, I had always pushed aside, buried where I wouldn't have to face it.
"You've always known," Sanders said quietly. "But you refused to see it."
"Is that why you brought me back here?" I asked, heart pounding, the question heavy with suspicion.
Sanders' gaze didn't waver. "The late king always intended for you to return here, when the time was right. But he died before he could make it happen. I gave him my word. I promised him I would bring you home."
"So he knew," I whispered, the final piece sliding into place. "He knew coming here would awaken the Kain Vampire within me."
"It seems that was his wish," Sanders said, his voice solemn. "And my duty was to ensure you survived the awakening. And now… you have." The room felt colder somehow, the weight of legacy pressing down on me. I had crossed a threshold that could not be uncrossed.
"Why?" The word fell from my lips like a breath I hadn't meant to release. I stared at Sanders, my heart pounding beneath the weight of it all. "Why would he want me to have this power?"
Sanders held my gaze, his crimson eyes steady, his voice quiet but firm. "Because it is your duty to protect Her Highness—Princess Ariella Ashtarmel."
The name struck me like a bell tolling in my mind.
"And to protect her from King Rafael and his forces," Sanders continued, "you need power, Lilith. Power enough to stand against what comes. I only fulfilled what the late king entrusted to me. The rest… the path ahead… that is yours to walk."
He rose then, his long black coat rustling softly as he turned to leave. His footsteps echoed on the marble floor as he crossed the room, the door closing behind him with a finality that left the air heavy and still.
I sank back against the cushions, my gaze falling to my hands. I flexed my fingers, feeling the thrum of mana coursing through me—the mana lattice within denser, stronger, more intricate than ever before. My veins seemed to hum with energy, as if the very essence of who I was had been reforged.
"Aeternum," I thought, reaching inward.
Yes, came the familiar voice, steady and present at last.
"You're back," I said, the tension in me easing, if only slightly.
Yes.
"Good."
Without hesitation, I summoned the vessel of Aeternum, letting its magic envelop me. The world shifted, folding in on itself, and I found myself once more within the pocket space—the vast library of Aeternum. The towering shelves stretched endlessly, packed with tomes, scrolls, and relics of forgotten knowledge. The air smelled of old parchment and ancient secrets.
I walked slowly through the library, my footsteps soft on the polished floor. My mind felt clear now, my resolve hardened. There was no more room for doubt.
"Aeternum," I said aloud, my voice steady as I stopped before one of the great shelves. "Tell me everything there is to know about Laplace."
The light of Aeternum's core flickered once, as if in acknowledgment.
Very well, it said, and the room seemed to draw in a breath—ready to unveil the truths I had long been denied.
As Aeternum's voice began to speak, the library darkened—not with shadow, but with depth. The flickering lights along the towering shelves seemed to dim, as if the space itself understood the gravity of what was about to be revealed.
Scrolls floated from their resting places. Tomes opened on their own. Diagrams, runes, maps of old realms and dead stars glowed faintly in the air. Aeternum's knowledge wasn't just words; it was presence—a tapestry of memory and truth woven into this hidden refuge.
And as the first strands of Laplace's story began to weave themselves around me, I felt it: the crushing weight of history, of consequences echoing across ages.
Laplace…
That name echoed through the hollow spaces of my mind, a poison that had seeped deeper with every revelation, every truth unearthed. Since I'd uncovered the reality of the armored knight—Loridien's tragic past—that name had lingered like a stain I could not wash away. The shadow that had shaped Loridien's fall. The architect of Thornhill's endless cycle of destruction and resurrection. The unseen hand that had drawn me, Ariella, and all those I cared for into this storm of blood and ruin.
He was the force behind the nightmare—the storm that had already stolen so much, that threatened to take more.
And now, here I was. No longer a pawn blindly stumbling through his design, but one who chose, of her own will, to step into the abyss that bore his name.
For a fleeting moment, I felt it—the urge to look away. To retreat. To close my eyes and pretend there was still another path—one where I might cling to ignorance, to the fragile illusion of peace. But I knew better. Peace had always been a lie, a brittle mask over the face of inevitability.
My blood pulsed with the truth now. The Mark of Kain burned beneath my skin, steady and relentless, like a second heartbeat that refused to be silenced. A reminder: Power always demands its price.
And I had already begun to pay.
The visions took shape before me: wars lost to time, entire worlds swallowed by entropy's hunger, faces marred by ambition, twisted by grief, hollowed by faith turned to fanaticism. A tapestry of ruin, of choices made in arrogance or desperation. And at the center of it all—always—stood the shadow of Laplace. I felt my resolve harden, like steel tempered in fire.
No more running.
I had been shaped by choices not my own, burdened by legacies I never asked for, haunted by destinies whispered over me before I could speak for myself. But now—I would choose to see. To know. To face what waited beyond the veil. Let Laplace's truth be laid bare. Let me see him for what he was—so that, when the time came, I could end what he began.
"Aeternum," I thought, the weight of my decision anchoring me in this moment. The first page of an ancient tome unfurled in the air before me, its parchment aglow with threads of starlight, as if the universe itself wove its secrets into its fibers. "Show me everything. I will not look away."
And then the knowledge began to pour forth. Slow at first, deliberate—like the first crack in a dam. Then faster, unstoppable. A flood of truth, of memory, of history written in shadow and blood.
I braced myself, and I watched.