CHAPTER 478: DRAKE AFTER HIS PUMPKIN

"She’s my Pumpkin!" His voice cracked as he shoved the door open. "I have to find her—I have to! Every moment wasted is one more where she could be in danger!"

The sun outside welcomed him like a cruel omen. Light lashed against the earth in sheets, the weather still through the narrow streets.

Without hesitation, Lucius stepped forward into it—no cloak drawn, no protection, no thought of the deadly consequence.

"Lucius!" Alaric’s voice thundered, deep and commanding, as he appeared at the doorway with vampiric speed.

In the blink of an eye, he was beside his friend, his strong hand clamping onto Lucius’s arm like iron.

Lucius snarled, fangs flashing. "Let me go, Alaric! She needs me! Jean could be hurt—she could be calling for me right now!" He wrenched against Alaric’s grip, but the younger prince’s strength was unyielding.

"You’ll die before you take three steps," Alaric growled, his eyes gleaming crimson in the sunlight. "The sun will melt your skin to bone. Tell me, brother—what use will you be to Jeanie then? A pile of ash in the street cannot save her!"

Lucius’s chest heaved, torn between fury and despair. The rain’s mist had already begun to hiss against his skin where droplets kissed his face.

He shook, trembling, not from weakness, but from the sheer violence of his need to run, to act.

"She’s all I have!" His voice broke, and for a fleeting instant, his strength faltered. His eyes, usually so guarded, brimmed with raw, unmasked agony. "If something’s happened to her—if I lose her—I will not survive it."

Alaric’s hold softened, though his tone remained firm. "And you think she would forgive you if you threw yourself into the light like a fool? Think, Lucius. Jean needs you alive, not destroyed. She needs her vampire whole enough to fight for her."

The elder vampire trembled, sun sizzling as it glared at his cloak. His fingers curled helplessly into fists.

Alaric, seeing the crack in his defenses, reached into the shadows of the doorway and drew out a long, sleek black umbrella. Its fabric gleamed dark as raven feathers, enchanted with vampiric runes etched along the handle. He pressed it firmly into Lucius’s chest.

"Take this," Alaric said, his voice low, almost pleading. "Take it, and live long enough to find her. Melted and dead, you’ll never see Jean again. But alive..." His eyes met his brother’s, fierce yet steady. "Alive, you can tear the world apart until she’s back at your side."

This umbrella barely protects him but he has been putting himself out there for months now for her.

Lucius’s breath rattled, his shoulders shaking. He stared at the umbrella, at Alaric, at the storm beyond.

For a long, agonizing heartbeat, he resisted—then, with a choked sound of surrender, his hand shot out and gripped the handle so tightly his knuckles whitened.

His dark eyes burned, glistening with a fury sharpened by grief. "I will find her," he whispered, the vow laced with venom and despair. "Whoever took my Pumpkin... they will beg for death before I am done with them."

And with that, Lucius unfurled the umbrella in a swift, violent motion, its canopy spreading wide like a bat’s wings.

He stepped into the day, shielded now but seething, the night swallowing him as he strode through the light with vengeance burning in every step.

Alaric lingered for a moment in the doorway, watching his brother disappear into the storm, his own jaw clenched tight. Then, like a shadow, he followed.

Alaric watched Lucius’s figure vanish into the blistering sunlight, cloak whipping like a shadow torn loose, until he was nothing but a dark smudge in the distance.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move after him. Not this time.

Instead, he turned to his wife, his eyes softer though still heavy with the weight of worry.

"We should let him look for her," he murmured, reaching for her hand. "How about we go and look into the mirror we got from the pirates? I think...it’s finally time."

Salviana’s lips pressed together, her shoulders dipping with a melancholy sigh. Her gaze lingered in the direction Lucius had fled, her heart aching for the vampire’s broken cry of where is Pumpkin?

"He will find her," she whispered, almost as if convincing herself.

"Yes, he would," Alaric agreed, his voice steady but edged with something unspoken. "But we cannot sit and wait while shadows move around us. Come on."

He laced his fingers around her wrist, not pulling, but guiding, his warmth grounding her as they walked together. Outside, their carriage was still waiting, flanked by knights who stiffened at their approach. With a wave, Alaric dismissed them—this journey home was theirs alone.

The ride was silent but taut, every hoofbeat on the gravel echoing like a countdown. Salviana leaned against the window, staring at the blur of trees and stone walls rushing past, while Alaric sat close, his hand never leaving hers.

When at last they reached their chambers, the air inside felt heavier, charged. Alaric closed the door behind them, shutting out the world, and strode to the dresser. He reached into the locked chest and carefully drew out the object wrapped in dark velvet.

The mirror.

Its frame was old gold, tarnished and warped as if by salt and sea winds. Across its surface, faint etchings shimmered, marks said to have been left by a mermaid’s fingers, her gaze pressed into the glass until it had trapped something—truth, or curse.

Alaric held it out to her, his expression solemn.

"It’s time."

Salviana hesitated before taking it, her divine presence brushing against the mirror like a spark against dry tinder. The glass seemed to ripple, as though it were alive, as though it knew who she was.

They walked to the bed, the chamber faintly lit by candlelight, shadows dancing across the stone walls. Alaric sat with the mirror balanced in his palm, its surface dull and dark like the stillness of a lake at midnight. It was no ordinary glass—etched with runes along its silver frame, faintly pulsing as if alive.

"Are you ready?" he asked, voice low, almost reverent.

Salviana swallowed and shrugged, though her heart hammered. "Is it dangerous? I think I’m ready."

Alaric nodded. He carefully handed her the mirror, his cool fingers brushing hers. Then he moved behind her on the bed, lifting her hair away from her shoulders with one hand while his other pressed reassuringly against her back. "Ok... let’s go."

The divine lady held her breath and tilted the mirror before her face. At first, it reflected only her own wide eyes. But then the glass rippled, liquid-like, and swallowed her reflection whole.

Salviana gasped. The mirror no longer showed the room—it showed somewhere else. Dark woods stretching beneath a blood-red sky.

What is this place?