The auditorium wasn’t vast in the way mortal halls tried to be impressive. It was vast in a quieter, truer sense. The ceiling arched high above, layered with translucent stone that shimmered like moonlit clouds, revealing glimpses of sky thatdidn’t correspond to any single direction or time of day. Rows of seats flowed downward in gentle terraces, carved from pale stone that warmed beneath your feet, as if it remembered every gathering that had ever taken place there. At the center, the floor dipped into a shallow circular platform, its surface inlaid with silver strings that pulsed faintly, responding to presence rather than command.
It was beautiful and felt right, which mattered today of all days.
Twobble stood near the front, hopping from seat to seat with a clipboard he absolutely didn’t need, waving his arms and calling out names with exaggerated importance.
“All right, fangs to the left, claws in the back, capes and hats off, please. This is a sacred space, not a cloakroom.”
A few vampires chuckled, while others rolled their eyes, but none of them ignored him.
Lady Limora moved through the aisles with effortless grace. She spoke quietly to clusters of vampires, murmuring reassurances, smoothing ruffled nerves. Her authority was as natural as breathing.
Nova stood closer to the center, hands folded loosely in front of her. Her green eyes were tracking patterns no one else could see.
She wasn’t directing so much as aligning thoughts and energy, ensuring that when the moment came, the magic would settle instead of resist.
Stella, of course, was holding court.
With tea.
She stood at the ready with a teapot in hand, speaking animatedly to a group of older vampires whose expressions ranged from delighted to scandalized. Every now and then, laughter rippled outward from wherever she stood, lightening the mood without undermining the gravity of why they’d been called.
Seeing all of them together like this was… astonishing.
Vampires didn’t gather lightly. They were creatures of patience and habit, more inclined toward private councils and long memories than large assemblies. Many lived isolated lives, from what I heard, but you’d never know it seeing this.
Some wore elegant, old-fashioned clothing that spoke of centuries past, while others dressed more practically, blending modern styles with subtle nods to tradition. Their eyes gleamed in the shifting light, sharp and alert, and their fangs were undoubtedly at the ready.
I took a seat near the back at first, wanting to observe, to feel the shape of the gathering before stepping into it. As I settled, the Academy seemed to sigh, the air growing warmer, the silver threads in the floor pulsing once in quiet approval.
That approval mattered more than I wanted to admit.
I’d been making decisions on instinct and information and a whole lot of hope lately, and now what I was about to ask of many seemed so much larger than me.
The vampires continued to arrive, filtering in through side entrances that appeared and vanished as needed. Each one seemed to know exactly where to go, guided by an internal compass tuned to the room itself.
Twobble trotted over to me, lowering his voice. “See? Smooth. I told you they’d listen.”
“I didn’t doubt that,” I murmured. “I doubted whether they’d all come.”
He grinned. “Oh, they are coming. The Academy doesn’t open this place unless it means business. Just the fact that they came when Lady Limora snapped her fingers should say it all.”
I glanced around again, taking it all in. The way conversations overlapped without clashing. The way old rivalries seemed to soften under the weight of shared concern. The way the room held them gently, encouraging unity without demanding it. I wondered if there would ever be a time where orcs, shifters, Fae, vampires, witches and more could settle in the same circle of hope and peace.
Lady Limora met my gaze from across the auditorium and gave a small nod, her expression unreadable but steady. Nova followed her gaze, then offered a faint smile of her own.
Stella raised her teacup toward me in a casual salute. I couldn’t help smiling back.
Eventually, the murmurs began to quiet on their own, conversations tapering off as attention drifted toward the platform, which signaled it must be my time to say something.
For a moment, I simply breathed and stood, trying to push the nerves away that suddenly slipped through me.
Keegan walked into the room and settled next to Nova.
As I stepped forward, the vampires watched with calm intensity, their gazes alert but not unkind. They weren’t here to be commanded. They were here to be consulted and acknowledged.
My mind suddenly quieted in that way that comes from knowing you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, even if you don’t yet know how the story ends.
Whatever came next, we would face it together.
