Ethan suddenly stood, the crimson cloak over his shoulders shifting as if caught in an unseen current. His long red hair billowed softly, and his golden eyes gleamed with an almost ethereal light. A hush fell over the great hall as he descended the stage with steady, confident strides. Every movement was deliberate, exuding authority and an unshakable presence that made the air heavier.
The congregation exchanged uncertain glances. This was supposed to be a moment of celebration, a new era for the Smith Clan. Yet, their newly appointed Patriarch's actions stirred a different kind of tension. Some clenched their fists, others watched in quiet anticipation. What was he doing?
Ethan came to a stop before the gathered members of the clan, his gaze sweeping over them like a monarch assessing his kingdom. His eyes held no contempt, only an understanding—a certainty that made even the most skeptical feel exposed under his scrutiny.
Not a smirk, not a hollow expression of politeness, but a quiet, confident smile that carried the weight of someone who knew exactly who he was and what he represented.
And then, his voice resonated—not just in the air, but within the very minds of those present.
"Good people of the Smith Clan. Most of you do not know me—not truly. You have heard my name whispered in passing, spoken with curiosity, doubt, or even fear. You know of my bloodline, of the power that runs through my veins. But today, I stand before you, not as a rumor, not as an outsider, but as your Patriarch."
A murmur passed through the crowd. Some in approval, others in uncertainty. Ethan let them process his words before continuing.
"I am Ethan Smith Junior. Son of Princess Madeleine Elmira Smith. My father... I never knew him. I am an outcast, an anomaly—a mixed blood to many. But that is not what defines me. What defines me is something far greater."
His golden eyes seemed to brighten, casting a faint glow across the hall.
A shiver ran through the congregation.
"I know you can all feel it."
Some of the elders stiffened their expressions shifting from skepticism to something far more unsettled. Even those who had never met Ethan before could feel it—the strange, intrinsic connection between them and their new Patriarch. It wasn't just a bond of blood or allegiance. It was something deeper. Something fundamental.
"We are bound by more than just the name of this clan. We are connected by something that transcends lineage, something that cannot be denied or undone."
A pause. A slow inhale.
Then, Ethan's expression turned sharp, his voice laced with an almost imperceptible edge.
"There is one among us who does not connection."
A suffocating stillness fell over the room, the weight of Ethan's words pressing against them like a heavy storm cloud. The tension was palpable, thick enough to taste in the air. Some glanced around uneasily, their gazes flickering over their fellow clan members. Who was he referring to?
Ethan's gaze remained unwavering, his golden eyes like twin suns piercing through the gathered crowd.
Whoever it was, they had already been seen.
Ethan's smile widened, not in mockery or amusement, but in something deeper—something predatory, yet devoid of hostility. It was the look of a hunter recognizing something precious, something irreplaceable. His golden eyes gleamed as his voice resonated through the silent hall.
"This person is not an enemy," he said, his tone calm yet absolute. "She is something more—an ally, a companion, a friend... family."
Gasps spread across the room. Murmurs of confusion and disbelief rippled through the crowd, but none could bring themselves to speak against him, not after the sheer weight behind his words.
Elaine, who had been seated at the far end of the hall, suddenly felt her heart hammer against her ribs. Her breath hitched as Ethan's gaze settled on her, unrelenting, piercing. A strange heat crept up her spine, different from fear, yet not quite comforting either.
Why is he looking at me like that?
She wanted to shrink back, to disappear, but something held her in place. Her entire body tensed as she felt the vibrations beneath her feet—the unmistakable sensation of footsteps approaching. Heavy, deliberate, filled with purpose.
Then, something else.
Her long, sharp nails trembled, almost as if resonating with the nearing presence. It wasn't just her body reacting. It was something deeper, something primal.
The voice was soft yet deep, threading through her mind like silk over steel. She had heard it just seconds ago, yet this time, it was different. Closer.
Her eyes flickered through the curtain of her overgrown hair as a strong, clawed hand entered her vision.
Before she could react—
"Patriarch! She's a curse! Don't—!"
A voice rose from the crowd, followed by a chorus of shouts.
"She has no place among us!"
The words cut through the air like knives, filled with venom and disgust.
Ethan's voice was like a thunderclap in a storm. Cold, menacing, final.
The entire hall fell into a suffocating silence. The temperature dropped instantly, an eerie chill creeping into the very bones of those present. The weight of his command pressed against them, stealing the breath from their lungs.
No one dared to utter another word.
Ethan's golden eyes, now tinged with a burning red, settled on Elaine fully. He took in her frail form, his gaze running over every detail—the scars marring her bare feet, the hardened, overgrown nails that spoke of neglect rather than nature, the bruises that littered her exposed skin, some fresh, others old and yet to fully heal.
Her long, tangled hair cascaded to the floor, almost swallowing her entire form, so much so that it could serve as makeshift robes if she chose not to wear clothes. But it wasn't just the physical state of her that enraged him—it was the lifelessness in her posture, the quiet acceptance of the abuse she had endured.
His voice was quiet. But everyone heard it.
It was dangerous. It was suffocating. It was laced with something far more terrifying than just anger.
Affection. Empathy. Love.
And that was what truly unsettled the onlookers.
Why was their new Patriarch—their Origin—so enraged over her? A cursed child? A failure of a vampire?
How did he even know her?
Confusion ran rampant through the hall. But Ethan ignored them.
He already knew the answer.
He had felt it the moment he laid eyes on her.
And he wasn't the only one.
His wives-to-be, his companions, his destined ones—they had felt it too. Elaine wasn't just some neglected outcast. She wasn't just another abandoned soul.
The realization crashed over Ethan like a tidal wave, reaffirming everything he had come to understand in recent days.
The connection between him and the Smith Clan—the connection he held with all dwarves and vampires across the world—was one of blood, of origin. He was their progenitor, their source. But soulmates?
That was something deeper.
They were his very being, the extensions of his soul.
And right now, one of them stood before him, beaten, ridiculed, cast aside like worthless filth.
His power surged violently in response. The urge to purge the entire hall, to erase those who had done this to her, was almost unbearable.
A soft, exhausted voice whispered through his mind.
That wasn't his thought.
Ethan's gaze snapped to Elaine.
She wasn't speaking aloud.
But still, her voice had reached him.
'Elaine...' he called, testing the bond.
Her head tilted slightly, strands of hair shifting to reveal pale, tired golden eyes.
'I can't talk. I'm dumb, so...' Her mental voice was quiet, hesitant, tinged with self-consciousness.
Ethan's expression softened for the briefest moment.
The thought slipped out unconsciously.
A chorus of voices suddenly rang in his head.
'You can hear us?' he questioned, addressing his wives-to-be.
'Well... yes,' Carmen replied.
'We'll talk about it later,' Andriel said, her tone unreadable.
Ethan exhaled sharply.
Right now, he had something far more important to deal with.
He turned his attention back to Elaine, reaching out toward her gently, his expression softer now, but no less determined.
'You are mine, Elaine. And no one will ever hurt you again.'
"Grandpa." Ethan's voice was now devoid of emotion, cold and unwavering.
"Grandson." Vlad's voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension as if he knew what was coming.
"Do you know of her?"
"Did you know what she is?"
A brief silence hung between them before the older man finally spoke. "I did."
"Then why?" Ethan's golden eyes gleamed with restrained fury.
"I'm sorry for my incompetence, but I had no idea of this," his grandfather admitted, his expression grave. "She was supposed to be under the care of one of the elders."
"So, you're saying you didn't notice anything?"
The air grew heavier as Ethan took a step forward. The elders seated around the grand hall shifted uneasily, the tension thick enough to suffocate.
"Her power is elusive even for me," his grandfather continued his voice steady but laced with regret. "It makes her almost invisible."
"Are you trying to justify your failure?"
"I'm not," the older man answered solemnly. "I will accept any punishment you deem fit for my blindness, but I swear to you, I truly knew nothing of this."
Ethan exhaled slowly, his sharp gaze sweeping across the council of elders. "Who is the elder in charge of her?"
A tense stillness filled the room. Some of the elders clenched their fists, others averted their gazes, the weight of his words pressing down on them like an unbearable burden.
Vlad, Seraphina, Ethan's wives-to-be, Trevor, and Lamair turned towards them, their piercing stares adding to the suffocating pressure.
Finally, one of the elders hesitantly opened his mouth. "It..."
A piercing scream cut through the air.
"Beasts! Ancient beasts!"
A female vampire with striking red hair tied in a bun shot to her feet, her face drained of color before she collapsed onto the cold marble floor. Gasps and murmurs erupted in the hall, but before anyone could react, the world outside darkened.
A massive shadow loomed over the grand hall, swallowing the light as if the heavens themselves were being eclipsed. The temperature dropped, and an eerie silence settled over the assembly.
A deafening thump shook the ground. Dust and fractured stone trembled beneath the impact, cracks spider-webbing across the floor. The weight of an unfathomable presence bore down upon the hall.
A voice. Cold, emotionless, and dripping with something dark and merciless.
"My king. We are back."
The words slithered into the room like a death sentence, sending a shiver down the spine of all who heard it.