Eclipsed by Blood

Family Ties

"He was never meant to exist."

Lenora’s voice sliced through the thick silence, as sharp as a dagger’s edge. The four figures surrounding the long polished teak table sat in the flickering candlelight, their shadows writhing against the cold stone walls like trapped souls. The air felt suffocating, each sibling casting a long, predatory gaze at the others.

"I fail to see why he’s still part of our bloodline," Lenora continued, her crimson-embroidered black dress swishing as she crossed her legs. Her fingers tapped a slow, rhythmic beat on the table—like the pulse of something about to break free.

Kaier, the eldest, remained motionless at the head of the table. His eyes, dark and unblinking, took in his siblings with a quiet authority that seemed to swallow the space around him. His silence was commanding, as if the room itself bent to his will.

"Enough, Lenora," Damien, the second-born, finally spoke, his voice calm and almost disinterested, as if he were debating whether it was worth the effort to get involved. "Lucero is our brother, whether you like it or not."

Lenora’s lips curled into a sneer, her gaze darting to Damien. "Brother? Does that mean we’re all cursed by his existence now? We bear this shame for a reason."

"I agree with Lenora," Darren, the third-born, spat, his words seething with contempt. "Lucero is a bastard. A failed experiment. The product of Father’s desperation. He’s the stain on our line. We’d be better off without him."

Damien’s eyes flicked between them, a slight twitch in his brow showing he wasn’t entirely indifferent. He didn’t speak immediately, his fingers absently drumming on the table. His gaze finally settled on Kaier, the eldest. Kaier’s stillness only intensified the pressure in the room. It wasn’t his voice that commanded respect, but the weight of his silence.

"Enough," Kaier’s voice was low, almost a growl. His gaze swept across them all, his power palpable. "Lucero… is mine to deal with."

Every sibling understood: the conversation was over before it had begun. Kaier’s word was law, and they all knew it.

One by one, they dissolved into the shadows, leaving Damien alone with Kaier. Kaier didn’t glance up, but his awareness was absolute.

"You stayed."

Damien stepped forward, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed as though he were just observing. "You wear that mask like a god, Kaier. But I’ve seen beneath it."

Kaier’s eyes narrowed, his voice lowering to a dangerous murmur. "You’re scared."

Damien raised an eyebrow, his tone flat and unconcerned. "Scared of what Lucero is—or what he's connected to?"

A tense silence passed. Kaier’s fingers twitched, the claw-like nails gleaming, but he didn’t strike. Yet.

"Do you want to die, Damien?"

The words were quiet, but they carried the weight of a thousand years.

Damien exhaled slowly, shrugging as if the conversation wasn’t of great consequence to him. "The same way you killed our mother?"

The room seemed to freeze. A deafening crack filled the air, and in an instant, Kaier was across the room, his claws at Damien’s throat. The power was overwhelming, suffocating, yet Damien’s expression remained impassive.

"One more word," Kaier growled, his voice colder than death itself, "and I’ll send you to her."

Damien’s voice rasped, barely audible through Kaier’s grip. "Go ahead. You know as well as I do—something is coming. Something tied to him."

Kaier’s gaze faltered for a split second—a flicker of doubt, of guilt? But it vanished as quickly as it appeared. With a final growl, he released Damien, the weight of his presence still suffocating.

"Leave."

Damien didn’t waste a second. He turned and walked out without another word, his footsteps echoing in the room. His voice hung heavy in the air.

"Sooner or later, Kaier… you won’t be the one in charge."

And then he was gone.

Kaier remained motionless, his thoughts not on Damien anymore. They were on her.

The one Lucero hadn’t met yet. The one whose presence haunted his every dream, pulling at his soul like invisible threads in a storm.

---

LUCERO’S MANSION

"You have an appointment in forty minutes, sir."

Eduardo’s voice was calm, but his eyes—old and knowing—betrayed the quiet tension in the air. Lucero didn’t respond. His dark eyes stared off into the distance, his gaze lost in some unseen horizon. Shirtless, he sat on the edge of his bed, fingers absently tracing the smooth surface of the silk sheets.

"Cancel it," Lucero murmured, his voice distant, detached.

“The board is expecting you,” Eduardo replied, his voice steady, unwavering.

Lucero’s fingers dragged slowly over the silk, almost as if searching for something just out of reach.

"Black or red?" Eduardo asked, motioning to two suits laid out.

"Black."

Lucero barely glanced at the options, his mind far from the mundane matters of business. It wasn’t the meeting, the board, or the ever-growing empire that consumed him now.

It was her.

The girl with the invisible thread tied to his soul.

Her pain called to him in the dead of night. He felt it, like a whisper in the dark, pulling at him—scratching at the edges of his consciousness.

He hated it.

And yet… there was no escaping it.

---

THE DRIVE

Lucero stepped out into the crisp night air, the world beyond him spinning, loud and ignorant. The SUV idled, ready to take him wherever he commanded.

“How long until the meeting?” he asked, his voice low, almost bored.

“Fifteen minutes,” Eduardo replied, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, never once glancing back at his employer.

Lucero adjusted his sleeve absently. "Too long."

They veered off the main road, the city’s neon lights fading as they wound through quieter streets. The hum of the engine was the only sound—until Lucero spoke again, his tone calm, almost too calm.

"Branch off."

The driver obeyed without question, not needing an explanation.

Eduardo met Lucero’s gaze through the rearview mirror but said nothing. He’d long learned to trust his instincts, the same instincts that had kept them both alive for centuries. But tonight, Lucero’s instincts were different.

There was something more.

A heartbeat. Not his own. A whisper. Not from his lips. A name, unknown, but one he could feel in the marrow of his bones.

Lucero leaned back against the seat, his dark eyes scanning the blurred cityscape.

She was out there. He could feel her waiting. Even if she didn’t know it yet.