Lucien’s laugh echoes through the atrium. “Watch closely. This is what happens to those who defy me.” Dark energy radiates around his hand as he prepares to deliver a killing blow. The sphere’s light pulses in sync with his gathering power.
Time seems to slow. I see everything with horrific clarity – the resigned acceptance in Evelyn’s eyes, the twisted pleasure in Lucien’s expression, the desperate fury on my companions’ faces. The barrier between us ripples like heat waves over desert sand.
Then something shifts.
The sphere in Lucien’s hand flares blindingly bright. Purple light streams from the cracks in its surface, but now there’s something else – a golden radiance pushing through the fissures. The competing energies create a discordant hum that sets my teeth on edge.
“No,” Lucien whispers, his eyes widening in genuine fear. “No, no, NO!”
The sphere explodes.
The blast throws everyone back. Shards of crystal scatter across the marble floor like deadly rain, each fragment trailing purple and gold light. The screen shatters with a sound like breaking glass, and raw power floods the atrium in a dizzying wave.
Through the swirling chaos of energies, a small figure materializes. My vampire eyes adjust quickly, but I still struggle to process what I’m seeing. A squirrel – an ordinary-looking squirrel – stands on her hind legs amid the destruction, casually brushing crystal dust from her fur.
“Well,” Poppy says, her tiny voice carrying effortlessly through the stunned silence, “that was unnecessarily dramatic.” She stretches, tail fluffing out. “Though I suppose being trapped in that thing would make anyone a bit tetchy.”
Lucien’s grip on Evelyn’s throat loosens in shock. “What—?”
“Oh, put her down,” Poppy sighs, waving a paw dismissively. The gesture sends Lucien flying across the atrium. He slams into the far wall with enough force to crack the marble. Evelyn drops gracefully to her feet, straightening her clothes as if she’d merely stumbled.
“Really,” Poppy continues, examining her claws, “you’d think after all this time, vampires would learn not to be so grabby. It’s quite rude.”
I watch, dumbfounded, as this small creature – this supposedly simple familiar – radiates more power than I’ve felt in my life. The air around her shimmers with golden light, and the very foundations of the building seem to tremble in her presence.
Lucien struggles to his feet, fear replacing his usual arrogance. “You are mine to command.” His voice quavers. “Mine! The magic commands it.”
“If you think I’m going to put up with another minute of your shit, you must be nuts,” she says, then shoots a quick look at us. “I said ‘nuts.’” She snickers. “Get it?”
Lucien looks like his head is about to explode. His hands begin to form convoluted forms in the air, darkness creating a void between his palms that begins to expand. I stare at it inhorror, realizing that what he’s creating is a vortex, a black hole designed to create anti-matter. He’s going to blow everything up.
Shadowmaster is already preparing a counterattack.
It isn’t necessary.
I watch in stunned disbelief as Poppy regards Lucien with what can only be described as profound irritation. It’s an interesting expression for a squirrel.
“You know what?” she says, examining her tiny claws. “I’ve had just about enough of you.” Her tone carries the same casual disdain one might use to discuss a particularly persistent mosquito.
Lucien’s hands freeze mid-gesture, the void between them flickering uncertainly. For the first time since I’ve known the man, I see genuine fear in his eyes. Not the calculated display he sometimes puts on, but raw, primal terror.
“Wait—” he starts.
Poppy sighs dramatically. “Nope. Done waiting.” She snaps her fingers – an absurd gesture from a squirrel that would be comical if not for what happens next.
There’s no grand display, no light show, no dramatic explosion. One moment, Lucien stands there, darkness swirling between his palms, mouth open in protest. The next, he simply…ceases to exist. Not even ash remains. Just empty space where one of the most powerful vampires in history stood seconds ago.
The silence that follows is absolute. Even the dust motes seem to hang suspended in disbelief.
Morgan Shadowmaster’s jaw actually drops – something I never thought I’d see. Darick blinks rapidly, as if trying to reset his vision. Soren takes an unconscious step backward. I find myself frozen, struggling to process what I just witnessed.
Poppy brushes her paws together as if disposing of crumbs. “Well,” she chirps brightly, “that’s better. He was turning into a real buzzkill.”
“What just happened?” Marina sounds bewildered.
“The squirrel canceled Lucien Marlow,” Selene responds drily.
“Bit anticlimactic, if you ask me,” Darick says.
