The dawn's first light crept through the windows of the villa, casting long shadows across the polished floors. Cyrus, his movements heavy with the weight of recent events, made his way towards the prophet. The elderly man was busy arranging luggage in one of the cars, his once-fluid motions now sluggish and labored. New wrinkles etched his face, testament to the toll of recent battles.

"What do you want, Cyrus?" the prophet's voice carried a hint of weariness.

Cyrus paused, choosing his words carefully. "I'm leaving in a few days. I didn't want to go without seeing you." Despite their differences and disagreements, Cyrus couldn't deny the profound impact the prophet had on his journey. Everything had started with him, after all.

A ghost of a smile flickered across the prophet's face. "Thank you for this attention. I'm leaving too in a few days. My luggage first, and then me." He tapped the vehicle, which promptly vanished, slipping beyond the magical wards that protected the villa.

Cyrus's brow furrowed. "Why? The bites still need you."

The prophet didn't respond immediately. Instead, he began walking towards the vast forest that surrounded the villa, its ancient trees standing as silent sentinels. Cyrus fell into step beside him, matching the older man's measured pace.

As they ventured deeper into the woods, the prophet broke the silence. "Do you remember I told you to be careful with your canine?" A light cough punctuated his words.

Cyrus nodded, instinctively reaching out to steady the prophet as he stumbled slightly. The older man regained his balance and smiled, revealing his teeth. In that moment, Cyrus froze, realization dawning on him like a cruel sunrise.

"My old jaw couldn't take it," the prophet explained, his voice tinged with resignation. "My canine was broken."

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Cyrus felt his heart constrict as the full weight of the prophet's condition became clear. The violent blow from Nemesis had done more than just injure the prophet - it had shattered his very essence. The broken canine had stripped him of his magical powers, reducing him to a mere shadow of his former self.

Cyrus clenched his fists, a maelstrom of emotions churning within him. The prophet he had known was gone, replaced by this frail figure before him - a walking memory of a life once lived. The bitter irony wasn't lost on Cyrus; the prophet could no longer remain among the bites he had led for so long.

"Don't be sad," the prophet said, his voice softer now. "Everyone of us has to leave one day. I guess I will have to be the first. Take good care of yourself and don't come to see me anymore." With those parting words, he turned and made his way back to the villa, leaving Cyrus alone with his thoughts.

The young man's mind whirled as he walked back to the villa, his feet carrying him automatically while his thoughts raced. He found himself reflecting on the prophet's complex character - judgmental at times, yet not inherently malevolent. His hands slid into his pockets as his thoughts drifted to Neno, then to Leora. A bittersweet smile tugged at his lips; he was going to miss them all.

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Lost in his reverie, Cyrus nearly collided with the queen in one of the villa's ornate corridors. Her appearance gave him pause - she looked unwell, her complexion pallid and drawn. A nagging question formed in his mind: wasn't the primordial canine supposed to heal them? Or was this malady born of something else entirely?

As if reading his thoughts, the queen spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Transforming humans into bites has costs, but they only appear when they die." A light cough punctuated her words.

Cyrus remained impassive. Whatever afflicted the queen was no longer his concern. Her fate - be it life or death - held no sway over him now.

"What do you want, queen?" he asked, his tone devoid of emotion as he made to walk past her.

"You don't have to leave," she called after him, forcing him to halt. "I am the queen. I can make you stay if you accept my offer. You will have everything - your father's liberty, you can keep Leora, and additionally, you can have me. Everything a man could wish for. You know what I want in exchange."

Silence fell between them as Cyrus weighed her words. The offer was tempting - his father's freedom, a life with Leora, power beyond measure. Any reasonable man might have jumped at such an opportunity. Yet, his principles stood firm, unyielding mountains in the face of temptation. He could never accept becoming a lab rat, nor could he do anything to harm Leora.

His hesitation was brief. Hands still in his pockets, he resumed walking.

"You can stay for a week," the queen's voice rang out, a note of desperation creeping in.

"I don't want to," Cyrus replied, his resolve unwavering.

Frustration colored the queen's tone as she made one final attempt. "It's not a question but an order. You will stay for a week, just so she cries more after you leave."

Cyrus ignored her completely, pulling open the door to his room and stepping inside. He settled himself at his console, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's been a while since I've played," he mused aloud.

"Will you teach me how?" A soft voice came from behind. Cyrus tilted his head back to see Leora joining him on the sofa. She had changed, now dressed in a way that accentuated her natural beauty, a feast for his eyes.

"You can't learn. It's too complicated," he said, preferring the idea of sleep to the prospect of teaching her. It had taken him a full day to master the commands; he had no desire to spend hours explaining something she might not grasp.

Yet, as they began to play, his assumptions were quickly shattered. Hours flew by, and to his astonishment, Leora proved to be a quick study.

"I won!" she exclaimed, jumping off the sofa with a triumphant smile. "Too complicated, you said. How come you took a day to learn this?"

Cyrus stared at her in disbelief. "It was just luck. Let's start again."

As they continued to play, Leora's skill only seemed to grow. "Damn! You cheated!" Cyrus finally exclaimed, tossing aside his headset in frustration.

Leora's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Might be. I used mind control to copy all your moves. This way, I learned twice as fast."

Cyrus didn't know whether to laugh at her ingenuity or cry at how thoroughly she had bested him. A sly smile spread across his face as an idea formed. "Let's play another type of game. With less tissue."

Leora froze for a second before her eyes widened in realization, her face turning as red as a tomato. "No way!" she exclaimed, but her tone held more playfulness than refusal.

Cyrus grinned like a hungry wolf, chasing after her as they ran around the room, their laughter filling the air. He caught her by the waist, and they tumbled onto the bed together. As he gazed into her eyes, his hand tracing the contours of her body, they surrendered to a night of passion.

The days that followed were filled with joy and laughter. Cyrus spent most of his time with Leora, occasionally joined by Neno. The trio made the most of their remaining time together, creating memories to cherish in the uncertain future that lay ahead.

As the end of his stay approached, Cyrus found the courage to contact Mariline. It was time to settle things between them, to face the consequences of his actions and the complexities of his emotions. With a heavy heart but a clear conscience, he prepared himself for a conversation that would bring closure to one chapter of his life, even as he stood on the threshold of another