Kyon's First Person Point Of View.

The room was heavy with tension, but I had learned to wear tension like a second skin. It had been pressing down on me ever since this night began, ever since Conrad made it clear that my existence wasn’t just an anomaly—it was a problem that needed to be handled.

I had managed to hold my ground so far, but it was getting harder to ignore the weight of every gaze in the room.

Harvey. Lawrence. Kadir.

Three seasoned Flux users. Three minds far sharper and more experienced than mine. I could only hope that my efforts to remain unnoticed would hold, that none of them would sense the shifts in energy as I tried to inch my way closer to Psycho Flux.

Because if they did—if they realized exactly what I was attempting—then everything could come crashing down in an instant.

This was a game of subtlety.

A game I couldn’t afford to lose.

I needed to be careful.

Every time I had used Psycho Flux before, it had been messy.

Too forceful. Too crude.

It was like trying to wield a scalpel with the hands of a butcher—there was no precision, only the crude mechanics of forcing my way through. And that kind of brute force wasn’t going to work here.

Not now.

Not with them watching.

So I took a breath—not physically, but mentally, if that even made sense.

I let my thoughts settle.

I quieted my mind until it was still, until the constant noise of my own doubts faded into something resembling clarity.

And then, in the silence, I felt it.

The Pulse.

It wasn’t sound.

It wasn’t something I could hear with my ears.

But it was there—a quiet thrum, an invisible web connecting the people in this room.

I had been too distracted before to notice it properly. Too focused on the threat Conrad posed. Too caught up in the weight of my own situation.

But now, with my mind steady, I could feel the echoes of their intent.

Faint. Subtle. But undeniably present.

And that’s when it happened.

“What are you doing, boy?”

The words weren’t spoken aloud. They didn’t need to be.

The moment I even started shifting toward Psycho Flux, Kadir felt it.

I should have known better.

I should have expected it.

His presence turned toward me, sharp and deliberate. There was no accusation in his tone, just curiosity. A quiet kind of amusement, like he was watching a child try to walk for the first time.

Damn it.

Even with all the caution I had taken, even with all my effort to remain subtle, he had noticed the shift in my intent.

I kept my expression neutral. I didn’t react outwardly.

But my thoughts moved quickly, weighing my next move.

There was no point in denying it.

I had already been caught.

So I let my thoughts reach out to meet his, responding through The Pulse.

“Why hesitate?” Kadir continued before I could answer. “Just say the word, and you will walk out of here under our protection. His threats mean nothing.”

His threats.

He meant Conrad.

I felt a bitter laugh threaten to rise in my throat.

Kadir made it sound so simple.

Like all I had to do was make a choice, and suddenly everything would be fixed. Like I could just decide to side with them, and Conrad’s authority over this situation would vanish into thin air.

It wasn’t that simple.

It never was.

And besides—if they truly wanted me to walk away under their protection, then why hadn’t they intervened yet?

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Why had they been watching in silence, letting Conrad dictate the pace of this conversation?

I didn’t bother hiding the edge in my response.

“Then why are you silent?”

The words hit like a sharp tap against the surface of The Pulse.

“You’ve said absolutely nothing since he started indirectly threatening me.”

For the first time, I felt a slight shift in Kadir’s presence—like a ripple in still water.

Not irritation.

Not offense.

Just amusement.

Like he had been waiting for me to ask that exact question.

“Everything eventually falls on your choice,” he answered smoothly. “We can’t be seen making that for you.”

A deliberate pause.

And then—

“Besides—”

A slow shift in the Pulse.

I could almost feel his smirk.

“You’re a big boy now.”

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

There it was again.

That same casual, almost dismissive way he spoke—as if none of this was as serious as it actually was. As if I was just overcomplicating things.

I wasn’t.

This was my life.

“Your future is yours alone to decide,” Kadir continued. “But at least with us, you stand a chance of still holding on to your humanity.”

That made me pause.

My humanity.

I had been so focused on surviving—so focused on figuring out how to get out of this situation alive—that I hadn’t even considered what came after.

To Conrad, I was nothing more than a resource.

A commodity.

Something valuable, not because of who I was, but because of what I could become.

But Kadir…

He was implying something different.

That with them, I could still be myself.

That I wouldn’t have to become…whatever Conrad had in mind for me.

And then, he added something that sent an entirely new shockwave through my thoughts.

“To them, every drop of your blood is worth its weight in gold.”

A pause.

A shift.

And then—

“And that’s without even considering the fact that you can use Flux.”

“Or that you’re a daywalker who has not awakened.”

My entire thought process came to a screeching halt.

A daywalker who has not awakened.

I had assumed I was being hunted because I was an aberration. A mistake. A threat to be wiped out.

But if what Kadir was saying was true—if I wasn’t just some mistake but rather something valuable—

Then I had been thinking about this all wrong.

“Wait. What?” I sent the thought immediately. “I thought I was a threat to be eliminated.”

Kadir’s voice was calm, unwavering. “Think, boy.”

“If you were that dangerous, Conrad would have killed you the moment he had the chance. Amidst all the chaos, all the moments he could have ended your existence, he didn’t. Why?”

I swallowed hard.

He was right.

If I was such a massive threat, then why hadn’t Conrad killed me when he had the chance?

Why hadn’t he just ended things back in the beginning?

Because your bloodline is unique.

A cold feeling curled in my gut.

My bloodline.

There was something there—something I hadn’t been told.

“What about it?” I demanded. “What do you know?”

Silence.

A deliberate shift in the connection.

He wasn’t going to answer me.

Instead, Kadir’s voice returned, smooth as ever. “Not important right now.”

I clenched my jaw. Damn it.

Why give me just enough to make me question everything—only to stop there?

“Nevertheless,” Kadir continued, “we are all awaiting your decision. You must choose as soon as possible.”

No pressure or anything.

I exhaled slowly.

I already knew I didn’t have time.

I already knew that every single second that passed made my position weaker.

I had wasted enough time.

It was time to take the gamble.

I took a slow breath, steadying my mind. The conversation with Kadir had given me more questions than answers, but I didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on them.

Right now, I had a job to do.

I needed to focus.

I shifted my attention inward, pulling myself away from the surface-level tension in the room and diving deep into my subconscious. It was like sinking beneath still water, letting the noise of everything above fade away.

This next part—the real challenge—was something I had never done before.

Vampire Compulsion.

I had only just begun to grasp the mechanics of Psycho Flux, but now I was about to mix in something that was an entirely different beast.

Flux required intent.

Compulsion required control.

And I had neither.

From everything I had learned tonight, Vampires could use Compulsion almost instinctively.

It was a natural extension of their abilities, a fundamental part of their existence. A fully realized vampire could bend the minds of others with nothing more than a glance, weaving their will into the thoughts of their victims like it was the easiest thing in the world.

But I wasn’t a fully realized vampire.

I wasn’t even awakened.

I had never tasted blood—not once.

And because of that, I had no idea how effective my abilities would be.

There was no precedent for someone like me.

A Daywalker who could use Flux. A half-vampire who had never awakened.

I wasn’t sure if that made me an anomaly or an abomination.

But at this moment, I had no choice but to gamble.

Because failure wasn’t an option.

From what I had observed tonight—from Conrad, from Faraday's memories of the way vampires took control of their victims—Compulsion worked on a few simple principles.

First, the vampire had to make direct eye contact with their target.

The eyes were the conduit, the bridge between the minds. A vampire’s gaze was more than just sight—it was a gateway, an open door through which influence could pour in.

Second, the vampire had to issue a command.

It wasn’t enough to simply will something to happen. The thought had to be shaped, structured, given clear form and intent.

And lastly, the victim had to be susceptible.

The stronger the mind, the harder it was to control.

Older vampires could always control younger ones, but the reverse?

That had never been the case.

A younger vampire, no matter how skilled, couldn’t override the mind of an elder.

And even worse—I wasn’t just younger. I was unawakened.

This should have been impossible.

But I had seen what Faraday did to his victims.

I had witnessed the way he threaded his will into their thoughts, watched how he twisted their perception with nothing more than the right pressure in the right places.

Maybe…just maybe, I could do the same.

There was one other issue.

I couldn’t be obvious.

Vampires always used eye contact when compelling someone, but that wasn’t an option here.

I couldn’t just turn and stare directly at Elijah Gerard—not with Conrad watching me so closely.

If I was even the slightest bit blatant about this, he would see.

He would know.

And that would be the end of it.

I had to be strategic.

Subtle.

I had to try and slip in under the surface—weaving myself into Elijah’s mind without Conrad ever realizing it.

The odds were against me.

But I was getting used to that. I closed my eyes.

Not physically—mentally.

I shut out the room.

The tension.

The weight of all the watching eyes.

I let everything else fade until only one thing remained:

Elijah Gerard’s mind.

I reached for it cautiously.

No force.

No aggression.

Just a light touch—like pressing my fingers against the surface of a locked door.

I knew what would happen if I tried to push my way in.

I would be repelled.

It would be like slamming into an iron gate—the resistance would throw me back, and the momentum of that failure could even backfire, pushing me out of my own focus entirely.

I couldn’t afford that.

Not now.

Instead, I stood before the gate and knocked.

Metaphorically speaking.

I let my presence brush against his mind, testing for an opening.

Would he let me in?

Or would he push me away?

I had no idea.

But there was no turning back now.

This was the gamble.

And I had already placed my bet.