The air felt heavy with the weight of eternity. The private study was a room steeped in quiet elegance and history. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, each shelf filled with ancient tomes and manuscripts, their spines worn and faded by time. A large, ornate desk sat at the center of the room, its surface cluttered with old papers, maps, and fragments of forgotten knowledge. The heavy drapes, a deep crimson, framed the tall windows that overlooked the sprawling grounds outside, where the last light of dusk bled into the sky. A faint scent of parchment and aged leather filled the air, mingling with the soft glow of candlelight that flickered from the brass candelabra. It was a room frozen in time and that’s how Arthur liked it.


    He sat in his chair, his eyes tracing the symbols sketched in his notes—some familiar, others lost to time. The artifact Elena had found still haunted his thoughts, its inscriptions like whispers from the distant past. He had recognized pieces of it, but they were fragmented, incomplete, and worse, they were beyond his reach. The missing pieces were on sacred ground—places he could never tread, cursed as he was.


    It gnawed at him, the thought of the mortal woman unknowingly walking a path that could lead to her undoing, or worse, the world’s. He needed to guide her without revealing too much, without jeopardizing everything. But how? How had she found it? Why her?


    His mind was a storm, but he pushed the thoughts aside as the time for the council meeting drew near. There were twelve loyal to him — the original fallen, once brilliant beings of light, now vampires, walking in eternal darkness. They would need to hear of the artifact. They would need to understand the gravity of its rediscovery.


    Arthur rose from his desk, straightening his charcoal-gray suit as he made his way to the meeting chamber. His reflection flickered briefly in a gilded mirror—a reminder of the creature he had become. The long corridors of his estate were quiet, the only sound the soft tread of his shoes on polished marble floors.


    The council awaited him in the ancient chamber, a room as timeless as the beings it now held. The original vampires sat around a long, mahogany table, their postures graceful yet tense. Though they wore the modern-day clothes of their adopted lives—tailored suits, sleek dresses—there was an ethereal quality to them, a reminder of their angelic origins. Despite their immortality, the lines of weariness and burden lingered beneath the surface, invisible to human eyes but palpable in the way they carried themselves.


    Arthur took his seat at the head of the table, his gaze sweeping over the familiar faces. “Brothers, sisters,” he began, his voice steady, though heavy with the gravity of his words. “ One of the divine artifacts has been found.”


    A murmur rippled through the room, some glances exchanged, others faces unreadable. These were beings who had seen and lost much, but hope was a dangerous thing.


    Isodel, her hazel eyes piercing, was the first to speak. “We have searched for the artifacts for centuries, Arthur. What makes you believe this is more than another false hope?”


    Arthur’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained calm. “I saw it with my own eyes. The markings, the ancient language—it is no counterfeit. It is a true fragment of the key.”


    “But what of its power?” asked Cassius, his voice deep with concern. “We’ve spoken of this key, this promise of redemption, but what if we are chasing illusions? Perhaps our attention is better spent elsewhere. "


    “ Are you so ready to abandon hope Cassius?” asked Talima, a blonde-haired vampire to Arthur''s left.


    “ Cassius met her gaze, unwavering. “I suggest we consider the possibility that redemption may never come. Perhaps we must accept our punishment and do what we can in this world, without fantasizing about returning to the light.”


    “We didn’t fall for idle fantasies, Cassius,” Arthur replied, his voice low but firm. “We were led astray only because we sought the good of mankind. Do we not deserve to give ourselves a path back to the Creator?”


    Isodel’s voice cut through the room. “ My sources tell me that Lucian hunts for this artifact as well. To what end, I cannot say but I know, as we all do, that he is not attempting to seek redemption. Are we willing to risk this artifact falling into his hands and perhaps unleashing a power we do not understand?”


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    A silence followed, thick with uncertainty. They all knew Lucian’s ambitions, knew the destruction he was capable of.


    Arthur’s gaze swept the room, and this time, his voice softened. “I am aware of the risk we take but I will not let it fall in Lucian’s hands..”


    “And what of Theo?” Cassius’s voice cut through the silence. “He walks dangerously close to Lucian’s grasp. How do you propose we mitigate that risk?”


    Arthur’s heart clenched, the mention of Theo stirring emotions he had long tried to suppress. “Theo is my responsibility.”


    Cassius’s expression hardened. “He is a liability.”


    Arthur shot him a glare, but before he could respond Eryndor cut in.


    “Perhaps the artifact should be destroyed.”


    The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them like a dark cloud.


    “If it cannot be used for redemption, then what purpose does it serve?” Eryndor continued. “We have lived among men for centuries, guiding them when we could. We have made our peace with the world we now inhabit. Why risk everything on a dream of salvation that may never come?”


    A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Some nodded, their expressions grim.


    Arthur’s eyes blazed with defiance. He stood abruptly, slamming his hands down on the table with enough force to send a tremor through the wood. His voice rose, filled with a righteous fury. “Will you all sit here and pretend that you do not feast on the blood of the innocent? That there are not fledglings born by your hand who have killed in our name?” His eyes burned as he glared at each of them. “If we destroy the artifact, we are not only ending our chance at redemption—we are condemning humankind to our existence. We are dooming them to an eternal night, where monsters like Lucian will rule unchecked. Is that the world we wish to leave behind?”


    The room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of his words suffocating. Even those who had murmured agreement before now sat motionless, their expressions dark with contemplation. Arthur’s eyes swept the table, daring anyone to challenge him.


    Cassius broke the silence, though his voice was quieter now, less certain. “And if the artifact does not bring redemption, Arthur? What then?”


    Arthur’s gaze softened slightly, but his resolve did not waver. “Then we will find another way. But we cannot give up. Not now. Not when we stand on the precipice of something greater than any of us.”


    Another silence fell, but this time, there was no murmuring of dissent. Slowly, reluctantly, heads began to nod in agreement.


    Arthur remained standing, his eyes cold and sharp. “Lucian will stop at nothing to gain control of this artifact. We cannot afford to let it fall into his hands. We will retrieve the remaining fragments, and we will decipher its purpose.”


    The council remained silent, and with that, Arthur dismissed the meeting.


    As the others began to file out, Arthur remained behind, his hands braced against the table, his thoughts swirling like a storm. He had hoped for more from them, but doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve. The artifact was a double-edged sword—salvation or damnation—and he knew they were all teetering on the precipice.


    The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. Arthur looked up to see Darius approaching, golden locks catching the lamplight, his dark eyes filled with concern. Of all the council, Darius had always been his closest ally, the one who had stood by him in times of doubt.


    Darius stopped a few feet from him, his voice low. “Arthur, I worry.”


    Arthur let out a slow breath. “You’re not alone in that.”


    Darius’s expression softened, his voice tinged with sorrow. “I, more than most, know the weight of that fateful decision, Arthur. I carry the burden of all those souls lost just as you do. I know how deeply you yearn to return to the light, but is that possibility worth wading into unknown waters?”


    “If there’s a chance to undo what we’ve done, Darius,” Arthur replied, his voice quieter now, “I have to believe it’s worth the risk.”


    Darius hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the ancient symbols on the table. “If you believe it is so, then I will follow you. But not all our numbers feel as I do. They worry that Theo’s involvement clouds your judgment. I know how much the boy means to you Arthur but-”


    “ Theo has nothing to do with this Darius. I would be of the same mind whether or not he was involved.” Arthur said with a finality to his tone.


    Darius nodded. Stepping back as Arthur retreated into his study. Alone once more, Arthur’s thoughts turned back to the artifact—and to the choices that lay ahead. The path to redemption, if it existed at all, would not be easy. But he had come too far to turn back now.