[Main POV]
The first light of dawn breaks over my bed, streaming through the bedroom window like the light of the world itself coming to wake me. I rise, still groggy with sleep, and find myself in a beautiful room. I'm at the Volturi castle. The chamber is majestic and elegant, but it pales in comparison to my own room in Neberu.
Once I'm fully awake, I start getting dressed. It feels a bit odd, in a way. For the past thirty years, I've had attendants who handled these small daily tasks for me. A fleeting thought crosses my mind, pulling a chuckle from my lips, and I speak aloud:
"Imagine if I forgot how to get dressed?"
I laugh softly to myself. It's always good to start the day with a smile—I remind myself of that as I walk toward the door.
As I open it, I'm met by an elderly man standing just outside, as if he'd been waiting for me to wake. Seeing him, I greet:
"Good morning, Moses. How was your night?" I ask while walking up beside him.
"My night was excellent, young master Morpheus. I just have to get used to not sleeping anymore," he says with a slight smile, though I sense a trace of genuine sorrow beneath it. After all, sleeping, eating, and sex are among life's greatest pleasures.
His words make me grateful, once again, to be a hybrid. I get the best of both worlds—the power, strength, and perks of being a vampire, without the burdens of immortality. I can still eat, sleep, and live like any human being. Life still flows within me.
After that brief reflection, I say:
"How about we take a walk through Sparta today, after we talk to Aro?" Before he can answer, I take the opportunity to ask another question—one I already know the answer to, but it never hurts to double-check:
"Moses, when you were near me and Sulpicia… did you see any future where someone overheard our conversation?"
I ask just to be sure. I had already made certain no one was nearby before I spoke with her. But with Moses, it's always best to confirm. He's my very own 'Alice'—only better. I joke that Moses's powers are like Alice on steroids. I'm still chuckling at the thought when he finally replies. He turns to me with a formal bow and says:
"No, sir. In none of the possible futures I've seen did anyone overhear your conversation with Miss Sulpicia."
His answer brings me some relief—not that I fear Aro getting jealous or anything like that. At this point, I'm far stronger than Aro, or any member of the Volturi coven for that matter. I may be in the heart of enemy territory, but if anything were to happen, I could escape easily. I might not be able to kill him yet, but once I'm back in Egypt, I have no doubt my vampire guard could resolve any issue that might arise.
After thirty years of development, my army numbers nearly one hundred vampires—the best of the best. Elite in both intellect and combat, trained in martial arts and warfare.
Each vampire in my guard could easily take on two newborns in battle. They're real warriors. The techniques of the future have turned them into living weapons. And among those hundred vampires, by my last count, at least thirty possess supernatural gifts. Most are relatively minor, but a few are truly combat-effective, which would tilt any fight overwhelmingly in our favor.
I remember Daniel, one of our training chiefs, recently telling me about a promising young recruit who, after turning, developed an elemental control gift—an incredibly rare trait among vampires. Even after all these years and the many vampires I've encountered, I've only seen such a gift in Kéfera, Zuberi, Eirikr, and myself.
In my case, however, I wouldn't exactly call it a gift. The origin of my powers is different. It's not a gift in the traditional sense.
I let that line of thought go and walk alongside Moses toward Aro's chambers. I don't ask about the conversation again—I know it wasn't overheard.
We reach the castle's central door—a structure far more imposing than any other. Made of ancient spruce wood, its surface bears time-worn grooves. Black ironwork, etched with forgotten symbols, frames its edges as though sealing in some primordial secret. The doorposts are carved with scenes of vampire conquests, radiating the grandeur of those who dwell within. It's a colossal door—tall enough to intimidate the bravest of warriors, wide enough to let armies through, and heavy as though it bears the weight of the ancient world itself.
I pause behind it for a moment, feeling the ancient, cold energy pulsing from the wood. Then, with a firm push, I open it.
Inside is a vast hall, large enough to comfortably hold dozens of people. The high ceiling is supported by columns sculpted with Gothic figures and ancestral shadows, as if touching the very heavens of the castle. The black marble floor reflects the flickering light of torches mounted along the walls, casting a dance of shadows and glints that deepen the solemn atmosphere.
Ahead, a few seats are arranged with near-ceremonial precision. In one of them sits Sulpicia, her eyes fixed on me with a gaze full of tenderness—but laced with a silent, persistent sorrow that refuses to fade. Beside her rests Aro, seated on a well-crafted throne—meticulously made, yet lacking, to my eyes, the refinement and architectural grandeur of the throne I built in Neberu. It lacks soul. It lacks history.
Further ahead are my aunt and her mate, Marcus. He watches me with a spark of life in his eyes—a look almost boyish, as if my presence rekindled something in him that had long gone cold.
To my surprise, the first to speak is Marcus. Radiantly, he rises from the throne and walks toward me, exclaiming:
"Morpheus! It's been ages, my boy! I've missed you… and that fiery gaze of yours. Things around here have been so dreadfully dull without you. Let's just say Aro isn't exactly the life of the party—and he has a unique talent for draining all the energy out of the room."
He says the last part with a sardonic smile and a healthy dose of sarcasm. I can't help but laugh. This talkative, warm Marcus is nothing like the grim figure depicted in books and movies. And there's only one possible explanation for his mood: the event that's about to unfold—my aunt's death.
An event I honestly hope never comes to pass. Because… I don't want to be forced to kill Aro. Cold and bizarre as he may be, in this life, he's been a father figure to me—whether I like it or not.
I push those thoughts aside and step toward Marcus, embracing him like old friends reunited after years apart. I say:
"Marcus, you haven't changed a bit. Haven't aged a single day. Almost makes me believe you're immortal," I joke. Then, with a more restrained tone, I add, "Actually… I heard some things about you—and they weren't exactly good news."
My gaze sharpens, more serious now.
I pull away from him and, with a swift movement, summon my power. Giant spears of ice rise all around me—sharp, menacing. Marcus quickly steps back, dodging with practiced speed, his eyes wide with confusion and alarm.
"Morpheus, what the hell is going on?!" he demands, his voice raised, crimson eyes locked on mine.
Everyone looks stunned—except Didyme. She knows me well enough to have seen this coming the moment Marcus and I finally crossed paths. I ignore the others and declare:
"You, Marcus… started seeing my little Didyme without even asking for my permission."
My voice is firm, heavy with disapproval. Marcus eases up a bit as the reason for my outburst becomes clear, and he quickly tries to explain:
"Morpheus… in my defense, you weren't here. If you had been, I definitely would've asked. I'm sorry, but I couldn't wait around for you to return. I was completely in love with her. I tried holding back for months, but the feeling just kept growing… stronger every single day."
I listen, and slowly, the ice spears begin to melt. The tension fades, and I finally say:
"This time, I'll let it slide. But know this—if you ever hurt her… I'll make you beg for death."
I say it coldly. Only I could mess with Didyme. Anyone else who tried to hurt her… would burn in hell—by my own hand.
That's when Aro, who'd been watching everything with his usual icy, calculating stare, decides to speak:
"My son… you truly haven't changed. Now that you've returned, our Volturi coven will grow beyond anything ever imagined. We'll dominate every other vampire clan. The vampire world will kneel before us."
I let him speak for a moment, but before he gets too lost in his delusions of grandeur, I cut in:
"I didn't come back to join your coven. I came back to build my own."
I meet his gaze as I say it. Aro, who was still mid-monologue, falls silent at once, glaring at me with barely contained fury. But Didyme, Sulpicia, and Marcus remain calm. They knew—had always known—that I was born to have wings of my own. To fly higher. To reach peaks they never dared to dream of.
To be continued…
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[A/N] If you've read this far, thank you! And since I'm terrible at handling compliments, please, insult me instead!