a/n – I wrote this chapter to Forever and more by Jaguar Sun, just in case any humans want to get an idea of the vibe. It’s in the OMEGA Spotify playlist already!

Alright, enjoy!!!!

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Luciel’s POV

“You could have told me.”

“Told you what?”

“Luciel.”

“That is my name.”

While Maeve sets about boring a hole into the back of my skull, I keep my eyes fastened to the snow cloud rising just along the coast. It is a beautiful storm by all mundane accounts, and that is exactly how the humans would see it.

They would say it is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence and blame it on some shift in the atmosphere or the alignment of the sun and Venus— or whatever Atieno and the other mages decided it should be. In the end, it would appear as a storm to them, and all their instruments would testify that it is so, leaving them none the wiser to the vampires moving within it.

“You could have told me that you surfaced.”

I look to Maeve, not surprised to find her lips turned down, her black eyes steeled by her upset. It is an expression I know well, though it differs somewhat under the open daylit skies.

“You look younger under the sunlight,” I note, head tilting. “Where are all your wrinkles?”

“Luciel,” she grits, and my lips split apart.

“You were enjoying the celebrations,” I explain, shrugging a shoulder.

She looks at me as though I have become slow. “And?”

“And I did not think I had to disturb you with such unremarkable news,” I reply, before I leave her behind and continue onwards.

I had broken from our tunnels with the rest of clan and run with them at the start, but drifted away when it came time to better scout the path ahead. Maeve had chosen to tag along, which I did not mind. I just preferred it didn’t come with the commentary.

I keep to my task now, edging ahead of the towering snow plumes until I stop atop a mountain high enough to keep an eye on the distant human stations while the clan runs around them. 

They were not usually stupid enough to leave them when the weather appeared dangerous, but one should never count on a human to be wise.

I stoop low, watching from my perch that is wonderfully quiet, until Maeve finds me again.

“How was it?” She asks before she’s even come to a full stop, and I have to swallow my sigh.

Annoying as she was being, disrespect shown towards Maeve’s concern for me would ensure I suffered a fate not even the Gods could save me from.

“Fine,” I admit as I straighten. “I did not react, if that is what you are wondering. I walked out from under the ice, I sat under the stars, and I returned shortly after.”

I do not bring up my conversation with the Gods after a lifetime spent mocking them in her presence, and I do not tell her that I have surfaced several times over since. That was between the Gods and me.

“You enjoyed it?”

“Maeve—”

“I’m being serious,” she promises in a quiet enough whisper to draw my gaze back to her.

The violence has left her eyes, leaving behind nothing but familiar care, flickering hope, and— is that relief?

I look away, but it is too late. My chest tightens, struggling to contain the guilt that mounts with cruel vindication. 

How long had Maeve been waiting for this day?

How much time had passed her by while she recovered and watched me fail to do the same?

I knew that she thought that my escaping the caves was integral to moving on, but I suppose in wanting to avoid anything that might make me move on, I’d ignored how much my resistance worried her— not as my second-in-command, but as my friend.

“I did,” I reply finally, and I do not worry about whether or not that is entirely accurate.

I had gone to the surface almost every night following the first, so I suppose I had to enjoy some measure of it. I felt little of anything as I sat there, steadily sinking into the snow, but I went.

“It was fine,” I decide, desperate for this conversation to be over. “And before you ask, no, I did not see the wolf.”

Maeve cackles loudly, and I match her with a smile as I study the open snow.

Amongst all the celebrations, news of a ghost wolf had sprouted up within the clan. It had been spotted twice now by distant scouts, but no true sightings have been found.

Obviously, it was the result of too much blood consumption, or more likely, a trick from one of the mages to stir up some fun as we neared the end of our celebrations, but that did not stop the clan from entertaining tales of it.

As fast as the wind and nearly invisible at night, it had become a favoured fiction, but strictly that, because we all knew that wolves did not live in Antarctica.

The land fauna here was limited to birds, seals, penguins and vampires.

“I will leave it a little longer before I speak to Atieno,” I say as Maeve sobers herself. “He will ensure whichever mage is behind it puts a stop to it by the end of the festivities.”

Maeve hums and leaves it at that while we track the path of the clan. Their feet thunder across the ice, booming like thunder within the make-shift storm. They run with all their might, reinstating our claim on this beautiful continent, and I watch on with pride and something else far greener.

“Will you continue afterwards?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you continue to come up after the celebrations have passed?”

Maeve had always entertained the most annoying obsession with questions.

She was not inherently talkative. In fact, she was usually conservative with her words— usually. She changed when she was comfortable, and worse yet, when she was curious. When Maeve needed to get to the bottom of a matter, the questions spewed out of her one after the other.

She only stopped when her curiosity was sufficiently sated or she was explicitly told to stop. But even then, the ceaseless questions lived behind her unflinching stares, silently blaring at you to put it to rest.

“I have not thought that far ahead,” I admit, and it is the truth.

My thoughts regarding my future stretched as far as the following day and not one more.

I once thought that was dangerous enough for the title of pylen to be passed by another, but the clan had unanimously decided that my foresight for the next day was better security for them than years ahead planned by another.

I disagreed, but the clan spoke as one, and while I failed to serve myself, I would never fail in serving them.

As for the matter of surfacing, I could consider that I likely would return above ground tomorrow, and even later this evening, but as for whether or not the habit would persist after the celebrations concluded and the concept of ‘change’ was quietly abandoned with it, only time knew.

“If you do,” Maeve begins with unfamiliar carefulness. When I peek at her, it shines in her eyes, “or want company for it,” she swallows, “know that I am here.”

My chest tightens once more, but this time it is because warmth pours into it with abandon. 

“You always have been,” I whisper as I open the hand between us, “and we could live forever, and still I would never be able to thank you enough.”

Maeve quietly slides her fingers into mine as she steps into the space beside me. She clasps my hand and squeezes it tightly. I do the same, neither of us willing to let the other go.

“Do not let that discourage you from trying,” she murmurs after a moment, and my laughter echoes across the mountain range as it bursts out of me.

Maeve tries to quiet hers, but it is a failed endeavour as we smile at one another. She wears a familiar grin, one that I have not glimpsed in far too long. I savour the sight of it, as I do her, and squeeze her palm once more before I free her.

“We have to keep going,” I remind, with a nod forward, “lest we fall behind.”

She returns the gesture, and together we carve the path forward, minding that none stray off course or over the edge until we have circled our way back around.

The entrances to our tunnels were many in number, with some hidden within the mountains, others buried in random openings just enough to hide from prying eyes. But even if one were to somehow find their way into the tunnels, with the magic they were imbued with, that unwelcomed soul would die before they ever found our home or a way back out.

Luckily, the penguins had learned not to make such foolish exploits generations ago.

Standing guard, I watch as our numbers dwindle as the clan slips into those hidden entrances, returning underground to enjoy the last of the celebrations. They would claim no more than another week, and then, we would need another three or four to recover.

Gods, help us when it came time to check just how much of the blood stores we’d depleted.

I set aside such thoughts for now as I watch them return home before I set off on my own again. For all our capable scouts and mages, it was a pylen’s responsibility to ensure that none were left behind, so I see to mine now without Maeve’s company.

I run along frigid edges, my eyes and ears tuned to catch any distant call or strange noises, but the path remains empty and undisturbed, leaving me to run freely.

It doesn’t dawn on me at the beginning that I am not running as fast as I can, that I am looking at more than the path ahead, that the muscles in my face strain while I fill my lungs even though I do not need to.

I do not register it, do not even recognise the peculiarity of any of it until I come to a stop at the very brink of an ice shelf, and then suddenly, it is exceedingly obvious that I am savouring this.

I could be back beneath the ice by now, returned home in the quiet I know and have made my brace for the last set of centuries, but instead, I stand out here.

The ocean sails ahead of me, stretched out as far as my eye can see, bobbing faithfully while it hides its true stillness beneath. I once sought that stillness out at every turn, diving whenever the opportunity presented itself, and even when it did not.

I shift a foot forward.

The cold used to hurt at first, even with my heart as still as it was, but at some point, I grew used to it. To the sting that my mind put away once it learned that I would survive it. Then, I was swimming all the time, and not just the quartered pools beneath the ice, but the sea.

I would swim with the travelling pods, greeting the newest members as close as they would let me, admire the auroras from beneath its surface, or foolishly try to swim to the bottom of a seabed that had no true end.

I sway forward, chasing old memories that gather on the horizon until the present forces me back.

Stepping from the edge, I blink until I remember myself, and the world greys around me compared to the one living in my memories. I stare out at the seas for a while longer before I turn and finish my task. 

I round the continent’s edges until I am sure I am the only member of my clan still lingering above the surface. It is easy not to be distracted this time when everything has been filled in with thick grey lines.

The world has dulled again, returning to its former melancholy to all of me but the part that still stands at that perch. It stares out at the oceans and continues to overlook a world I had long hid from, and no matter how I try to tug it back to me, it refuses to budge from the brightness of that moment.

Grimacing, I search the area around me until I spot a familiar mountain ridge that hides one of our entrances just below its base. My speed takes me to it in the blink of an eye, and I do not hesitate to lift my foot to break the sheet of ice and snow hiding it, but the rest of me does as a strange scent finds me through the wind.

I still, before I turn myself back around. 

I scan the open ice, but there is nothing around me for miles, not even a heartbeat, but— 

I tilt my head and breathe in to read the blood notes written within the air.

It is a weaker iron tone than I know the penguins to have and the seals too, which dismisses the idea of a nearby conflict, but— I frown as I try to catch it again.

It is a faint thing that was likely a few days old, but it was sharper than most of the animals’ faithful scents. It is strangely sweeter too.

My frown deepens as I search for footprints.
We left the humans to their devices because they’d never ventured into our territory, but if they were beginning to, then I’d need to call my council to decide how best to dissuade them of such notions.

But the scent did not resemble human or anything else I knew. It was wholly unfamiliar and disturbingly pleasant.

I glance around, eyes peeled for any movement, but the surface remains still where the winds do not lift glittering snowflakes behind it.

Lips twisting, I turn and finally break the ice. Tracking it would not take long, but I’d rather not risk myself getting lost in memories again. 

In any case, it was more likely that I’d been hibernating for so long that I no longer recognised basic scents, and if I were mistaken, then it could be dealt with once the celebrations were over. 

Maeve claimed I was too laxed at times with the clan, but I remembered how it felt to enjoy such festivities without the shadow of responsibilities. I would not disturb that for any of our clan.

Whatever it was, we would deal with it after the celebrations, but not a moment before.

———————-

THEY ARE SO CLOSE TO MEETING AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

THOUGHTS???????

Thoughts on the clan run??? On the Maeve and Luciel moment??? On his solo moment with his memories??

It’s a short chapter I know, but I didn’t want to drag it out because this really was just to get the last glimpse of Luciel and the clan before he meets Peter. I wanted to explore the aftereffects of him surfacing but also what that run looked like for them

I’m so obsessed with Peter being some kind of myth that they’re all joking about and soon enough they’re all gonna be like, wait that was real?!? loooool

I’m excited for the meeting!!! It’s coming up and I think I may even do a double update next so you guys aren’t left with any cliffhangers. If I do, it’ll take a little while and I’ll give updates on my board, insta and in the OMEGA chatroom on Patreon!

But that’s all for now! If you enjoyed, remember to vote and comment!

Until next time,
Byeeeeeeee Humansssssssss