The Demonfire estate stood quiet beneath the cloak of night, its grand halls bathed in low amber light. The echoes of earlier violence hadn't reached its walls, but inside, every heart bore its weight.
Upstairs, a door creaked open.
Tyler stepped into a room untouched by time. Ara's room.
Everything was still as it had been: soft lavender curtains drawn just slightly, the scent of wild lilacs faint but lingering, her books stacked neatly by the windowsill. And there, on the center table, was the golden urn, a delicate piece, engraved with floral vines and Ara's initials, surrounded by small charms and a faded ribbon Ania had placed days ago.
He approached it slowly, his hand reaching out but not quite touching.
His knuckles clenched.
"That bastard…" he muttered, voice cracking in the stillness. "Mocking her like she was just a name in a story. Like she wasn't real."
The weight of the memory bore down on him, the way Volton had smiled, the way he said "Poor Ara," like it was a joke meant for the wind to carry and forget.
"She was our heart. And he----he twisted that memory like it was a dagger he could play with."
His breath trembled. He turned his back to the urn, covering his eyes with a hand. "I should've said something. Hit him harder. Done more."
A soft rustle behind him broke the moment.
Ania stood at the doorway, her small hands clasped in front of her.
She said nothing at first. Just walked in, slow and steady, like she'd done it a hundred times before.
Then, she reached for Tyler's hand.
"You don't have to say anything," she whispered. "Auntie Ara knows. She already knew how much you loved her."
Tyler looked down at her, eyes glassy.
Ania smiled, small and gentle. "She wouldn't want you to be angry. She'd want you to laugh loud again. To eat too much and fight over TV shows. She'd want you to stay being my big brother."
He crouched, arms wrapping around her as he pulled her close.
"I miss her so bad, princess," he said, voice low in her hair.
"I know," she whispered, hugging back. "Me too."
They stayed there for a beat, two hearts, one grief, until Tyler ruffled her hair, his smile wobbly but sincere.
"C'mon," he said, rising to his feet. "Let's go check on the others before they start a riot."
Together, they walked down the curved staircase into the estate's main lounge, where the rest of the Demonfire clan had gathered.
Slacovich sat at the head of the low table, jacket off, tie loose, a glass of untouched whiskey in front of him. Sofie leaned beside the window, arms crossed, gaze unreadable. Diego stood by the fireplace, tossing a poker between his fingers. Harry lounged on the couch, now cleaned up but still bandaged. Li, ever silent, had one leg crossed over the other, her tablet propped in hand as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
All heads turned when Tyler and Ania entered.
"She's got the boss's timing," Diego murmured, nudging Li.
Slacovich straightened in his seat, softening only slightly at the sight of the child. "Ania. Tyler. You're alright."
Ania nodded, then walked up to them like she had every right to be there. Because she did.
"Can we talk about it now?" she asked. "About that man? About what happened?"
There was a pause.
Then Slacovich gestured to the empty seat between him and Sofie.
"Sit," he said. "We'll talk."
And just like that, the family circle closed in tighter.
Because if Volton thought mocking Ara would shake the Demonfire clan-
He had just lit a fire that would burn until answered.
Slacovich's jaw tightened as he sat beside Ania, struggling to keep his anger in check. His voice was low, almost a growl, but measured, like a storm barely contained. "Volton Hellgazer… he is not just another enemy. He is the seventh mutated human. Until he showed up, we didn't even know someone like him existed."
He swallowed hard, pain flashing in his eyes. "We only ever wanted to live in peace, to protect our family without drawing attention. But Volton… he has other plans. Plans that threaten to tear everything apart. He doesn't want peace. He wants chaos."
Slacovich's gaze darkened with memories that still burned fresh. "It was because of him that Ara died. That loss---" He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay calm. "---made it clear we have to stop Volton. Not just for us, but to prevent more deaths, more pain."
He reached out, resting a steady hand on Ania's shoulder, his voice softening. "He's dangerous, and he won't stop until everything we hold dear is destroyed. But we won't let that happen. We have to be strong, for Ara, and for all of us."
Just as the family settled into a fragile calm, thinking what happened earlier was nothing more than Volton's warning, an unsettling greeting, two men suddenly crashed through the gates of the Demonfire estate.
Slacovich's eyes snapped open, his body instantly rigid. He knew exactly who they were.
"These… are the Reapers," he said quietly, the weight of the word sinking heavy in the room. "Just like Stacy, they were once humans, experimented on, turned into vampires, then mutated again to become something far more dangerous. Stronger. Ruthless."
The intruders moved with deadly precision, their presence like a shadow stretching across the estate's grandeur. The battle was coming, and this time, it wasn't just a warning. It was a direct strike.
It happened in a blink.
One of the intruders vanished from the gate, and reappeared beside Slacovich like a blur of darkness. Before anyone could react, the figure slammed a palm into Slacovich's side, sending him flying across the marble-floored hall. The sound of the impact cracked like thunder, Slacovich's body crashing through a wooden column with a force that left splinters hanging in the air.
"Slacovich!" Sofie shouted, voice sharp with fury and panic.
Li didn't hesitate. Her eyes had already tracked the second assailant. With cold precision, she spun around and grabbed Ania, lifting her into her arms. "Harry!" she barked.
Harry, who had just stepped into the room, froze in the doorway.
Li rushed toward him and pressed Ania into his arms. "Take her. Now."
"But----" Harry started.
"Go to Nicholson!" Sofie's voice snapped like a whip. "Get her to safety and don't look back!"
Harry didn't argue further. He wrapped his arms tightly around Ania, who clung to him with wide eyes and a trembling voice. "Big brother, what's happening?"
"Nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart," Harry whispered, stepping back with her in his arms. Then, with a deep breath, his pupils sharpened, fangs bared, and a surge of power rippled through him.
His form shifted.
Black veins crawled beneath his skin, his muscles tightened, and with a powerful leap, dark wings unfurled from his back, sleek and bat-like, with a faint shimmer under the moonlight. His jacket flared as his feet left the ground, shattering the nearby window with a forceful thrust of wind.
Ania gasped softly, burying her face into his shoulder, but he held her firm and close.
"Hold on tight," he murmured.
And in the next breath, they were airborne, soaring high above the estate, past the tree lines and mountain shadows, racing toward Nicholson's hidden quarters deep in the forest. The wind howled around them, but Harry didn't slow. Not until Ania was safe.
Behind them, the war had begun.
The room shook.
Glass cracked. Stone groaned. The moment Harry vanished through the sky with Ania, the air inside the estate dropped several degrees. And then they saw them.
The two intruders stepped forward into the flickering light of the shattered chandelier. Or rather, what was left of them.
Their bodies were twisted, part man, part nightmare. Bones jutted at unnatural angles beneath stretched skin. Veins glowed faintly with a crimson hue that pulsed like a heartbeat. One had a jaw that hung loose, unable to close fully, while the other's eyes glistened black with no whites left, sunken deep into a pale, almost translucent face. Every breath they took rasped, like their lungs weren't meant for air anymore.
And yet… they moved with purpose.
No words. No demands.
Just a sound. A low, gurgling snarl from deep within their throats, animalistic, broken. As if whatever humanity they once had had long since rotted away.
Slacovich narrowed his eyes. "Reapers," he muttered, his voice cold and tight with disgust. "Blu wasn't bluffing…"
Tyler unsheathed a blade, its edge gleaming. "They're not even fully stable," he hissed. "What the hell are these things?"
But there was no time for questions.
With a sudden burst of speed, one of them lunged, straight at Diego. The other slammed both clawed fists into the marble floor, cracking it wide open as it charged for Slacovich again. Its limbs moved erratically, but its force was deadly. It didn't care for precision, just destruction.
Li had already vanished from the entry hall's main floor, reappearing above with dual blades in hand, surveying their movement with sharp, calculating eyes.
"This isn't just a message," she said through clenched teeth. "They're testing our limits."
"Then let's show them," Slacovich growled, dodging the swipe and countering with a bone-crushing blow to the creature's ribs.
But the thing didn't cry out. It didn't even flinch. It just twisted unnaturally, its head rolling nearly 180 degrees to fix its empty gaze on Slacovich again.
A new kind of war had arrived.
And it had no voice, only violence.
Before anyone could fully reposition, the creature let out a strangled, ear-splitting screech. Its partner mirrored it, and both launched forward simultaneously, a blur of corrupted limbs and inhuman speed.
Diego raised his weapon.
Tyler gritted his teeth.
Slacovich moved to intercept.
And just as Li dropped down with blades gleaming mid-air-----
------everything turned to chaos.