CHAPTER 342: LEGENDS II

ADAM

Edward Brekan, ex Alpha King of our kind in this regions, and self-proclaimed historian of everything worth knowing, looked at me like I had just grown a second head.

His eyes flicked from me to my brothers, disbelief thick enough to cut through.

"Don’t you three do any research at all? Didn’t you hear what I said earlier?" His voice thundered through the meeting room. "Or do you think the old books in the library are there for decoration?"

I bit back a groan, exchanging a glance with Noah and Daniel. We’d spent the years training armies, managing colonies, and pulling the pack out of debt—but apparently, not reading enough dusty books made us ignorant fools.

None of us replied.

The silence stretched long enough that even the candle flames seemed to lean away from it. Finally, Edward exhaled and rubbed his temples, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like ’spirits save me from my own offspring.’

"The Ancients," he began again, his tone softer but no less grave, "were the first hybrids of their kind. Children of angels and humans—humans born with pure minds, or souls so innately good the gods took notice."

He leaned back in his chair, eyes distant now, like he was looking through time itself. "They were the strongest of all supernaturals. Stronger than witches, faster than vampires, wiser than most gods. But not immortal."

That caught my attention. "They could be killed?"

He nodded. "Yes. And most were. Centuries ago."

"How?" Noah asked quietly.

"By betrayal." Father’s jaw tightened. "A trickster mage—power-hungry and proud—offered to join them, to become one of their kind. But the Ancients refused him, for his heart was tainted. So he allied with the vampires instead. Together, they crafted the spell that led to the Ancients’ fall. One that burned even through divinity. One by one, they died."

His voice lowered to a near whisper. "Since then, it is said that none has walked this world again."

A heavy stillness fell. The weight of lost legends pressed down on us, and for a second, I could almost imagine those beings—luminous eyes, the raw power that must have radiated from their touch.

"They don’t walk under the sun either, do they?" I asked, remembering what he’d said earlier about the vampires.

Father shook his head. "No. The same curse that gave them power tied them to darkness. Though unlike vampires, they were not creatures of death. They were... something between."

Something between. Not light. Not dark. Balanced. The thought made my skin prickle.

"Perhaps," Edward said after a long pause, "the Chief God granted them the Abstenum out of mercy. To sustain their power when the heavens turned their faces away. I wish they were still around."

His eyes softened with a rare glint of something like admiration. "They were the perfect opposites of vampires—pure where vampires are vile, merciful where vampires are cruel. They’d have been the only real match against them."

I huffed a humorless laugh, crossing them off my list. "Well, they’re not here now, are they? So how the hell do we win this fight?"

No one answered.

"How do we protect our people?" I pressed. "Because I don’t think praying to the goddess alone will keep the vampires out of our borders."

"We could... hire help. Mercenaries. Rogues. Fighters from the outer regions who aren’t tied to packs." Noah.

Father frowned. "And pay them with what, exactly?"

I turned to him slowly. "What do you mean?" A sarcastic question, to say the least.

He hesitated, then sighed. "I’m sure you are already aware of the low funds in the royal coffers..."

I stared at him, fury burning up. "Of course, I am aware. I just don’t understand why you were trying to please the Queen of the southern witch community with gifts and banquets when our pack was neck deep in debts!!"

Edward’s expression tightened.

"Did you think of the treasury then?" I barked. "Did you think of your people when you were spending our resources on witches and parties?"

He flinched, just slightly, and for the first time in years, I saw a flicker of shame cross his face. But not a single word of apology left his lips.

Typical.

I pushed away from the table, pacing. "You talk about the Ancients and gods and mercy—but it’s our soldiers who will bleed when this war begins. Not the witches you entertained. Not the royals you dined with."

"Adam," my stepmother said softly, but I ignored her.

Father opened his mouth, perhaps to defend himself, but I cut him off.

"The contest money," I said sharply. "The tournaments. The events. We’ve been earning from them for months. That money could—"

"Ah," he said, his eyes lighting faintly. "Then there’s still—"

"No," I snapped. "That money won’t be for your use."

His face fell.

"You can go for another cruise with your wife," I said coldly. "You’re not needed here."

The silence that followed was deafening. Daniel’s lips parted, Noah’s eyes widened, and even the queen looked taken aback. But I didn’t care.

I turned on my heel and walked out before any of them could say another word.

–

The corridor air was colder than inside, but it did nothing to cool my rage. My boots struck the marble floor in harsh, echoing thuds as I walked.

Every thought tangled into the next—vampires, the colonies, the people who depended on me. The ones outside the magic domes, unprotected, unaware that monsters were already at their borders.

Damn it all.

And what was I doing? Arguing in gilded rooms while blood was probably being spilled in the dark.

Helplessness burned through me like acid.

I slammed my fist against the nearest wall. The marble cracked.

I was trying. But trying wasn’t enough.

I needed action.

I stalked into my office, my mind working fast.

"Catel," I said, pressing the intercom rune on the desk.

Moments later, the door opened, and my Beta stepped in, sharp-eyed and silent as always.

"You called, my King?"

"Yes." I straightened. "I want a message sent to every Beta in the territory. They’re to gather immediately. We’re forming a delegation."

His brows furrowed. "A delegation?"

"To the neighboring packs," I said. "Tell them we have reason to believe the vampires are gathering. We’ll need help if they strike in numbers."

Catel hesitated. "And if these packs refuse, sire?"

"Then we remind them what happens to packs that stand alone," I replied grimly.

He nodded once. "And what of our own people?"

"Call a council meeting. Elders, commanders, high-ranking officers—everyone. I want them in the main hall before nightfall. No excuses."

"Yes, sire." He turned to leave, but I stopped him.

"Catel."

He paused, looking back.

"Send extra patrols to the colonies outside the domes," I said quietly. "If the vampires come, they’ll strike there first."

Understanding flashed in his eyes. He bowed deeply. "It will be done."

When he left, the room fell quiet again.

I stood there for a long while, staring out the window at the dark stretch of land that was mine to protect. My father’s words about the Ancients replayed in my mind, twisting into something bitter.

We didn’t have gods watching over us. We didn’t have sacred warriors of light.

All we had... was me.

And that would have to be enough.