CHAPTER 33: THE SAME BLOOD

Devon’s breath froze in his lungs.

The lights flickered back to life in a violent stutter, illuminating the room in a harsh white glare. His heart hammered painfully against his ribs, as if trying to claw its way out. A shadow stood inches away, one that should not, could not exist.

Yet it did.

And it wore his face.

Same sharp jaw, ash-brown hair that fell messily over the forehead, same pale skin marked from old wounds. Even the faint scar by the eyebrow, the one Devon got when he was nine, reflected perfectly like a mirror.

Except the eyes.

Devon’s eyes were warm, tired, and always holding that tremor of fear he never quite managed to extinguish.

But the man before him...

His eyes were molten silver.

Cold. Ancient. Powerful.

And he looked amused.

"Long time no see, brother." The man’s smile deepened, softening his features and yet making them infinitely more dangerous. "We finally met."

Devon staggered backward until his legs hit the edge of the bed.

"B-Brother...? No. No, I... I don’t have a brother." His voice broke, trembling with every syllable.

He never had siblings. Never.

He would remember if he had one.

Wouldn’t he?

The man tilted his head, as if studying an insect pinned under glass. "Ah... so they erased that too."

"Who?" Devon whispered.

"You’ll remember soon enough." The man stepped forward leisurely, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark coat, moving with a confidence Devon recognized instantly, because it was his confidence, or rather, the confidence Devon could have had if he grew up unbroken.

"Stay away," Devon warned, summoning his magic out of pure instinct. His fingertips burned with runes that carved themselves into the air, glowing deep crimson.

The man’s silver eyes flicked to the symbols, then to Devon’s trembling hands.

"You really learned to bleed for power? How primitive." His smile sharpened. "But I suppose it kept you alive... little brother."

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" Devon yelled, voice cracking under fear. "Who are you? Why do you, why do you look like me?"

The man blinked slowly, as if the answer was obvious. "Because we are twins."

Devon felt the world tilt. His ears rang. His knees threatened to buckle.

Twins?

No.

No.

Impossible.

He would have known. Someone would have told him. His mother would have. The thought shattered before it fully formed. He didn’t remember his mother’s face. He didn’t remember anything before he turned nine.

The man watched the panic flood Devon’s expression and nodded, as if satisfied. "Good. Your mind is starting to open again."

Devon tried to breathe, but his lungs refused to cooperate. "You’re lying..."

"If I wanted to lie," the man said casually, "I wouldn’t use this face. I have many."

Devon’s blood ran cold.

Shapeshifting.

Magic well beyond his own.

Whoever, whatever this man was, he was powerful enough to manipulate the mansion’s magic, dominate the air itself, and slip past Lucien’s guards and protective barriers as though they were made of cobwebs.

"Why are you here?" Devon whispered.

The man stepped closer. Devon could feel the air shift, pressure rising, magic thickening, like the world itself acknowledged the stranger’s presence.

"Because the vampires want you for your bloodline," he said simply. "But they don’t understand."

A pale hand lifted, gently brushing a strand of hair behind Devon’s ear. Devon flinched violently.

"They don’t want you," the man murmured.

His eyes gleamed. "They want me."

Devon’s breath hitched. "Then why... why did they attack me? Why Elias? Why the pack?"

The man shrugged lightly.

"You were easier to reach. A convenient lure. And the boy..." He exhaled as though unimpressed. "They know someone like you will risk your life for a child."

Devon’s pulse stuttered. "How do you know that?"

"Because I’m your mirror," the man said softly. "I’m everything you were supposed to be... before they stole your life."

Devon froze. The room suddenly felt too small, the air too heavy. His thoughts scattered like frightened birds. "I don’t... I don’t understand."

"You will." The man leaned in, his face only inches away.

Devon struggled, but the stranger gripped his chin gently, almost brotherly, except for the power humming beneath his skin.

"Listen closely, Devon."His tone dropped to something colder. "The vampires demanded the Luna because they think you inherited the original bloodline. But you didn’t."

Devon stared, confused and shaking.

"You inherited the weaker half." The man smiled. "I inherited the throne."

"T-Throne...?" Devon echoed.

The stranger’s eyes softened, but it was a dangerous softness, like a blade wrapped in silk.

"We were born from one of the oldest magical clans," he said. "A lineage the vampires and witches wiped out centuries ago. But our parents hid us. Split the power between us."

Devon’s throat tightened.

Split.

"As twins," the man added. "One vessel for light. One for shadow."

"Which one am I?" Devon whispered, dread pooling in his stomach.

The man’s grin widened. "You, Devon... are the light."

Devon felt the breath ripped from his lungs. Because he felt anything but light. He was broken. Poisoned by fear. Running from monsters he thought only existed in nightmares.

"That’s impossible," he whispered. "I can’t even control my magic. I can barely stay alive..."

"But you did stay alive," the man cut in sharply, voice tightening for the first time. "Even when they tortured you. Even when they cast you out. Even when your own pack tried to kill you."

Devon recoiled.

How did he know?

"How long have you been watching me?" Devon whispered, horrified.

"Since the day they threw you into that river."

Devon’s chest constricted painfully.

"I don’t believe you." His voice trembled, raw. "I don’t. You’re lying. You’re lying!"

The strange man stepped back at last, giving Devon space to breathe. But his voice lowered into something darkly amused.

"Believe me or not, little brother," he murmured, "it doesn’t matter."

He placed a hand against Devon’s sternum. Devon gasped as a pulse of sheer magic surged through him, awakening a sleeping storm inside his veins. The stranger’s silver gaze bored into his.

"They are coming for you," he whispered. "The vampires. The covens. The shadows."

Devon trembled, unable to speak.

"And when they do..." The man stepped back into the doorway, his silhouette stretching unnaturally in the flickering light. "...you will finally realize who your true family is."

The lights blinked once, twice.

The man’s form blurred, dissolving into a ripple of darkness.

And then.

He vanished.

Devon dropped to his knees, gasping, the room spinning around him. He had only one thought left, sharp and terrifying.

Lucien needs to know.

But another thought followed, colder and far more dangerous.

If that man was truly his twin...Then the world was in far greater danger than any massacre or vampire attack. Because something ancient was waking. And it wanted him.