The hall glowed with amber firelight, flames flickering from sconces carved into the black marble walls. Gold and crimson banners hung overhead, each emblazoned with the crest of the five elders. I’d expected the ceremony to feel romantic — maybe even sacred — but it was neither. It felt like standing trial.
Akasha stood at the far end of the room, resplendent in a gown that looked woven from moonlight and blood. The others flanked her — Cain like a living statue, Marcus brooding, Lestat disinterested but alert. Valaid watched with quiet calculation, his eyes constantly shifting between Alex and me.
Alex stepped forward, the weight of centuries evident in every movement. He wore no crown, but his presence demanded reverence all the same. “By the law of the blood,” he declared, his voice
