Kyon's First Person Point Of View.

Conrad steepled his fingers, leaning back slightly in his chair. His eyes settled on me—not with hostility, not with impatience, but with something worse. A quiet certainty. The kind of look a man gives when he knows he’s already won.

"You can leave if you wish," he said, his voice smooth, composed. "But I would suggest you weigh your options carefully... after you listen to what I have to say."

I exhaled slowly, my jaw tightening.

I should walk.

I should turn and leave before he plants something in my head—something I can’t get rid of. But I didn’t move.

Conrad’s lips curled at the edges, as if he knew. "Good. Then let’s begin."

He shifted slightly, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest. "I imagine you think you understand the nature of your existence. That you are simply… unique. An anomaly, a Daywalker, alone in this world. But have you ever stopped to wonder—why?"

His voice was almost too casual, too light. Like he wasn’t dangling something important just out of my reach.

I frowned. "I don’t see how that concerns you."

"Oh, but it does," Conrad mused. "Because you are different. Not just in the way you exist, but in the way you… resist. And that is something worth considering, don’t you think?"

A chill crawled up my spine.

He wasn’t just talking about my nature.

He was talking about something deeper.

"Afrika is home to many strange things," Conrad continued, tilting his head. "Older things. Things that the modern world has long since forgotten. And yet… here you are. A creature unlike any other we’ve encountered. A vampire—yet not. A hunter—yet hunted."

His gaze flickered, assessing me. "Tell me, Kyon. Do you think that is merely coincidence?"

I forced my expression to remain still.

This was bait.

A deliberate attempt to pull me in, to make me ask the questions he wanted me to ask.

But the worst part?

I wanted to ask.

Because some part of me knew—he wasn’t wrong.

Still, I crossed my arms. "If you have a point, make it."

Conrad exhaled softly. "Very well."

He leaned forward, his voice dipping lower. "There are forces in this world that do not tolerate uncertainty. They hunt what they do not control. And right now, you are an uncertainty."

I didn’t need him to spell it out.

He was talking about them—the hunters. The ones who had been watching, waiting. The ones whose men I’d killed tonight.

The ones who would be coming.

"Do you think they will hesitate?" Conrad pressed. "Do you think they will stop and consider the circumstances of your birth? Or will they simply see you for what you are—a loose end that needs cutting?"

I clenched my fists.

I knew all this.

I had known it from the moment I revealed myself. But hearing it laid out like this, hearing it spoken with such cold detachment, made it feel more... real.

More inevitable.

"But you already knew that," Conrad continued, reading my silence. "What you may not have considered, however, is that you are not just a threat to them."

His eyes gleamed. "You are a threat to us."

I frowned. "To you?"

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"To all of us," he corrected, eyes glinting. "Do you understand what you have done tonight? You severed a Blood Link, Kyon. Do you even realize the gravity of that?"

A cold weight settled in my stomach.

I hadn’t thought about it beyond the moment itself. Beyond survival.

"So what?" I said, but even I could hear the slight hesitation in my voice.

"So what?" Conrad repeated, amused. "A Blood Link is not just a connection through blood, my boy. It is a connection to the soul. You tore apart something that should not be severable. Do you think the council will take that lightly?"

I forced myself to hold his gaze.

"The council?" I scoffed. "The council wasn’t there. They didn’t see it."

"No," Conrad agreed, "but whispers travel, and vampires are a paranoid species. Even if the council does not act immediately, others will. A being that can manipulate a soul is a threat to any vampire. It upsets the balance. Do you think those who have ruled for centuries will allow that?"

The realization settled uncomfortably in my mind.

This wasn’t just about power. This was about hierarchy. Order. The very structure of their world.

"You act like I did this on purpose," I said.

Conrad’s smile deepened. "Intentions matter little when the results are the same. You did what was thought to be impossible. And impossibilities make people nervous."

The room felt smaller.

Tighter.

"A Daywalker is already an impossibility," Conrad mused. "But one who can sever a Blood Link?"

He let the words hang in the air.

And suddenly, I understood.

This wasn’t just about me being a new breed of vampire.

This was about what I had done.

Severing a Blood Link wasn’t just a trick. It was more than just breaking a bond between two vampires.

It was manipulating the soul.

I had touched something I wasn’t supposed to touch.

And now, there would be consequences.

"You may have gained freedom from Faraday," Conrad said smoothly. "But you have also made enemies of those who would see such power erased."

I swallowed hard.

Because he was right.

I hadn’t thought about what this meant beyond my immediate survival.

A Blood Link was sacred. It was a tie between sire and fledgling that spanned centuries. A connection to the very soul.

And I had shattered it.

"What you have done, Kyon," Conrad continued, voice quieter now, "has never been done before. Not in our long history. Not by the Council. Not by the ancients. And certainly not by humans."

His fingers curled slightly. "You are an anomaly. An aberration. And if I were you… I would start watching the shadows."

My breath came slower now, more controlled.

"You think I don’t already?"

Conrad chuckled. "Ah, but you have only been looking for threats in one direction. The hunters, the humans, the ones who would see you as a monster."

His eyes darkened. "But what of the ones who see you as a disruption?"

"The council?" I scoffed. "The council wasn’t there. They didn’t see it."

"No," Conrad agreed, "but whispers travel, and vampires are a paranoid species. Even if the council does not act immediately, others will. A being that can manipulate a soul is a threat to any vampire. It upsets the balance. Do you think those who have ruled for centuries will allow that?"

"You act like I did this on purpose," I said.

Conrad’s smile deepened. "Intentions matter little when the results are the same. You did what was thought to be impossible. And impossibilities make people nervous."

I exhaled sharply. "So what? They’ll come for me?"

"Perhaps not the council," Conrad mused. "But insecure noble houses? Other vampire covens? There will be those who see you as an anomaly that needs to be erased."

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to think.

He wasn’t lying.

Maybe he was exaggerating. Maybe he was framing it to his advantage. But the truth beneath his words was real.

I had broken something sacred.

And there would be consequences.

"And then, of course," Conrad added, "there’s the matter of your compulsion."

My blood ran cold.

I didn’t respond.

Because I didn’t need to.

He saw it.

He knew.

"You compelled an elder vampire," Conrad murmured. "A thousand-year-old soul. Do you know how many of our kind can do such a thing?"

His lips curled. "None."

I forced my breath to stay steady.

"You make it sound bigger than it is," I said.

Conrad laughed softly. "Do I?" His gaze flickered toward Kadir. "Perhaps our dear Kadir would like to weigh in? Tell me, Mualim… could you compel a 1000-year-old vampire?"

Silence.

Then—

"No," Kadir admitted, his voice neutral.

It was like the floor shifted beneath me.

Kadir. The man whose Psycho Flux could shake an entire building. The man who had felt like a presence beyond human comprehension the first time I met him.

Even he couldn’t do it.

I clenched my fists.

"And you?" I asked, my voice low. "What do you want?"

Conrad leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "Me? I am merely a man who enjoys knowledge. And I think it would be a shame if a unique creature such as yourself were to be… wasted."

"Wasted?"

"Yes," Conrad said. "By running. By pretending you can remain unnoticed. Because you cannot, Kyon. Not after tonight."

"It was a fluke," I said finally. "I didn’t even realize I did it at the time."

"Perhaps," Conrad allowed. "Or perhaps… there is more to you than you realize."

His fingers tapped once against the table. "And that is where the real danger lies, Kyon. Because now… others will want to find out."

I held his gaze, my breathing steady.

I wanted to deny it.

To say none of this mattered.

But deep down, I knew—

He was right.

I had done something impossible.

And impossible things… never go unnoticed.

Silence stretched between us.

Then, Kadir’s voice broke it.

"It’s not possible."

We both turned to him.

He was watching Conrad carefully. "Forcefully entering a mind through Psycho Flux… it creates fragmented memories. Unstable visions. Whatever Kyon saw in Faraday’s mind—it would be incomplete at best. Useless at worst."

Conrad’s smirk didn’t waver.

"Perhaps.

A moment of quiet.

Then—

"But do you really want to take that risk?"

The weight of his words settled like a noose tightening.

And for the first time, I realized—

I didn’t just hold a piece of the past.

I held secrets.

Secrets that could get me killed.

And worse—

Secrets I hadn’t even begun to understand.