“It’s what you’re truly good at,” Zoltan piled on. “The entire kingdom of Visio is thankful you’ve acknowledged that.”

“Before we go into the throne room, might I ask you all a question?” I interjected, eager to break through the tension that had threatened to suffocate the entire reception hall. Kalon’s eyes were casting spears at Corbin and Zoltan, but he had not participated in the conversation. When I spoke, however, he was quick to reply.

“Of course, Sofia. Ask away.”

“My peers and I have noticed many similarities between our species and yours,” I said. “Enough to make us wonder whether we have an ancestor in common, perhaps. Have the Aeternae ever left the solar system?”

Petra frowned, but there was an affirmative answer in her eyes. I could almost see it. “A long time ago, explorers set out to try and find out how far our interplanetary ships could take them. Not all of them returned, and we do not know what happened. There were no methods of communication outside Visio, during that era.”

“Do you think our people might’ve helped create yours?” Kalon asked.

“The thought has crossed our minds, only we were made by entities we now refer to as the Elders,” Derek explained. “They did not have bodies of their own, and they belonged to Cruor, a world far from ours. They made it to Earth and infected the humans with their dark essence. And the vampires evolved from this peculiar blend.”

“One possibility is that the Elders were, in some way, related to the Aeternae. Maybe the very Aeternae who left Visio for their explorations. Although, I have absolutely no idea how, given the Elders were strange, dark, spirit-like creatures,” Tristan said, scratching his dark stubble. “Still, it’s becoming increasingly difficult for us to consider vampires completely unrelated to the Aeternae.”

Zoltan nodded slowly. “Yes, well, technically speaking, I’d be correct in assuming the only noticeable difference between us is your sensitivity to light.”

“We could do some tests on one another,” Petra suggested, a little too enthusiastic in her proposition. “Find out exactly how alike we are.”

“High Priestess, we should address this with the Lord and Lady Supreme, first,” Corbin replied dryly, pointing at the western archway. “The throne room is through there.”

Petra gave him a brief scowl but complied, motioning for us to follow her as she walked us through several tearooms. Each of these spaces was decorated in a slightly different fashion. The walls were loaded with antique paintings in gilded frames, brass candleholders, and plush, velvet curtains. Frilly gold embroidery adorned the decorative pillows. The furniture was sturdy but elegant, reminding me of designs I’d seen in Versailles exhibitions.

The lights were dim, and I had a feeling the drapes had been pulled and the candles lit in order to accommodate our vampiric condition. It was a flattering thought.

“Your theory about a distant relationship between us is not far-fetched, but it is rather difficult for us to prove,” Petra said as we crossed a third tearoom. This one had been made up in shades of satiny dark green with golden accents. “As I was saying earlier, the Aeternae are usually born, not made. Those who choose to transition into an Aeternae are either Rimian or Nalorean, and therefore considered… impure.”

“Not of an original lineage, that is,” Kalon replied. “That is not to say they’re treated differently. Respect on Visio is given to everyone, until it is lost.”

“How does one become an Aeternae?” Esme asked.

“The process involves being drained of one’s own blood before drinking that of an Aeternae,” Kalon said, eyeing her intently. “The Aeternae who was chosen for the task must drink as much blood as possible, until but a drop is left. Then, the patient is given the blood of the Aeternae who drank them dry. By morning, the transformation process is complete. The retractable fangs and claws evolve. The enhanced strength and speed. The heightened senses. Everything becomes… amplified.”

It sounded similar to how vampires were made, though certainly not as drastic. It made me wonder… were we the lower version of the Aeternae without even knowing it? Had the Elders truly come from them, somehow?

“I admit, I am as intrigued as you are.” Petra sighed. “The similarities are impossible to ignore.”

“Now I’m wondering how the Elders of Cruor came to be,” Derek added. “We never had the chance to learn more about them. They were so evil, so intense and dangerous. We simply had to destroy them before they wreaked havoc on our planet.”

“Would we be able to send a crew to Cruor? We haven’t considered that, since they were all gone,” I said to him.

He shrugged. “When we go back, perhaps. Remember, there is something about that place. It just oozes evil and darkness. Even with the Elders gone, it’s still incredibly toxic.”

My husband was right. It was why immunes were cursed to never become vampires themselves, because of how sick Cruor truly was. My immunity had been cured there, but the time I’d spent among the Elders in their dark home had left some permanent scars on my soul, in a way. I didn’t wish that experience upon anyone, even with the Elders gone.

“I think we can discuss this further at dinner, later tonight,” Petra replied. “We’re about to enter the throne room.”

A sprawling hallway opened up before us, with white walls and golden lights, pristine silk drapes and perfumed flowers in painted ceramic vases. My lungs were instantly filled with sweet scents of late spring, making me close my eyes for the briefest of moments.

Beyond it, visible through a tall archway, I could see the throne room.

We went in, and I was instantly struck by its enormity. Its walls were covered in black wallpaper with delicate gold embroidery details—leaves and vines stretching and swirling up and down, thickened at the corners.

Titanic columns held the domed ceilings, connecting the luscious black marble floor to the celestial paintings above. Gold leaves adorned the capitals, their stems following the carved lines of the shaft.

Guards were present here as well, along with an Aeternae whom I assumed was their captain. His helmet was bigger, with a variety of colored feathers hanging from the top. He stood close to the throne platform, which was elevated so the Lord and Lady Supreme were always above the people, looking down on us.

Black dragon-like creatures sculpted from raw, black marble blocks were positioned in all four corners of the room, in groups of three, all snarling at us, their beady eyes so dark, I could almost swear there was life in them. They reminded me of Shaytan’s Infernis sculptures—only those were horrible creatures that he could bring back to life, using the snippets of swamp witch magic he’d tortured Lumi for.

“Your Graces.” Zoltan was the first to greet the lord and lady, who sat in their distinctly elaborate throne chairs. They were equal in size and similar in their construction, with soft leather cushioning and gilded armrests. “The foreigners have arrived.”

We stopped about twenty feet from the platform, rendered speechless by the sight before us. The Lord and Lady Supreme of Visio were splendid Aeternae, tall and beautiful in every respect. The lord was a dashing specimen, with vibrant, crude green eyes and soft brown hair, which had been cut short beneath the elegant gold band which he wore as a crown. There was a small dimple in his chin, and two more appeared as he smiled at us. I could see why he made a good ruler—his charm and charisma were blatantly obvious. This Aeternae could get anything he wanted with just a smile.

The lady was a gorgeous creature, an aura of mystery lingering around her. It was difficult to read her expression or even get a glimpse of what she was thinking, but she had stunning features. Her hair was a golden river flowing down her back and shoulders. Her eyes the color of fresh amber. Her neck long, giving her delicate, curvy figure a certain air of unending grace.

Their clothing was equally stupendous, as they’d opted for matching pale blue brocade with gold velvet capes and embroidered details. For the lord, a well-fitted tunic brought out his athletic frame, with long, knee-length calfskin boots to complete the outfit. The lady’s dress hugged her torso before widening beneath her hips. I could see the toes of her gold-tipped shoes from where we stood. Artists from across the worlds would’ve had a field day painting them, all day long, without getting tired of their splendor.

“Lord Supreme Acheron Nasani and Lady Supreme Danika Nasani welcome you to Visio,” the captain of the guards announced, his tone sharp and loud enough to echo through the entire room. “State your names for Their Graces.”

Zoltan, Corbin, Petra, and Kalon stepped to the side, giving their rulers a full view of our group. In perfect synchronicity, we bowed before them and introduced ourselves, following a previously discussed script. Back home, we’d drawn several possible scenarios, many leading beyond this meeting point. The “take me to your leader” jokes had been plentiful at the time.

“I am Derek Novak, of Earth’s Shade. A vampire and a leader of my people.”

“Sofia Novak. His wife. His partner. Also a vampire,” I said, my gaze fixed on Danika.

“Esme Vaughn, vampire, anthropologist, lieutenant in my people’s protectorate.” We’d agreed not to use the GASP name straightaway, but Esme and Tristan had made a good point of at least letting them know that we had one military figure among our ranks, not wanting to come across as completely defenseless.

Her introduction captured Kalon’s interest, his eyebrows arched with surprise. “Lieutenant?” he asked. “In your army, or what? What protectorate are you referring to?”

“Shush, Kalon. Don’t interrupt our guests now,” Petra hissed, silencing him.

It made Esme smile, as Tristan presented himself to Acheron and Danika. “I am Tristan Vaughn, vampire and anthropologist.”

“Not a lieutenant yourself, then,” Acheron replied, slightly amused.

Tristan shook his head. “My sister and I share many interests, but combat isn’t one of them.”

“And I’m Amal. My species is known as the Faulties. Our history is rather short, but my purpose here is as a scholar and scientist.”

Danika’s head tilted to the side, almost unnoticeably. “What fault would you possibly have? You are absolutely ravishing.”

Amal’s cheeks turned pink, and she lowered her gaze. “I often asked the same thing, Your Grace. Our maker is no longer alive to rectify that.”

“Your maker!” Acheron exclaimed. “Someone made you?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Amal replied.

Acheron then looked at Nethissis. “And who might you be?”