Chapter 190: The Throne.

A quiet pulse flickered behind Lucifer’s eyes.

He stood still in the middle of the throne room. Luna remained at his side, but her attention had shifted to the shadows around them. Valecar said nothing, simply returned to his seat, legs crossed again like nothing had happened.

And then—

A voice. Calm. Old.

"So you’ve finally met him."

Lucifer didn’t react outwardly. He barely blinked. But he heard it—deep, layered beneath thought. Not from the room.

Damaris.

His father’s voice settled inside his skull like a whisper that had always been there.

"Valecar. My first creation. Before the clans, before the bloodlines... he was the prototype. The first vampire born from my will alone."

Lucifer said nothing, not even in his mind. He just stared at the vampire king seated across from him.

"I made him loyal. Pure. Not corrupted by demonic blood or diluted through generations. But I made one mistake."

Lucifer waited.



"I gave him a heart."

In the silence of the room, Valecar rested his chin on his knuckles, studying him.

"He wasn’t born like you. He didn’t crawl out of the Void or awaken to power. I made him. With my own hands. He saw me as a god. Loved me as a son loves a father. But the moment I disappeared..."

Damaris paused.

"He believed I abandoned him."

Lucifer shifted slightly. Luna tilted her head at him, sensing the tension.

"He claimed the throne in my absence. Built the realm around himself. Declared it his birthright. I didn’t name him king. But no one questioned him. And he made sure they wouldn’t."

Valecar’s fingers tapped once against the armrest. Just once.

"He’s strong. Not stronger than you—not anymore. But enough to kill anyone who doubts him. And smart. That’s where he’s dangerous."

Lucifer’s expression didn’t change, but his thoughts sharpened.

"He plays the long game. He builds slowly. Controls the nobles through debt and blood pacts. Keeps the common-born weak. He doesn’t believe in unity. He believes in rule."

There was a flicker of emotion in Damaris’s tone then. Not guilt. Not sadness. Something sharper.

"He was never meant to lead. But he thinks this world owes him something. He thinks I owe him something."

Lucifer’s hands stayed at his sides, loose and open. But his mind was moving.

"His strength is raw. Pure vampire magic. Older than the blood arts you’ve seen. He bends shadows like limbs. Commands beasts born from marrow. He has a crown forged from my own blood. A relic. It amplifies his control over lesser bloodlines."

A pause.

"But his weakness?"

Lucifer waited.

"He doesn’t believe anyone else is worthy. Not even the throne. Just him. That pride... it isolates him. And he hates being alone. Hates it more than death."

Lucifer blinked.

That was it.

That tiny fracture.

Damaris went on.

"He keeps a mirror locked in his chambers. Not because he wants to see himself—but because he talks to me through it. Every week. Even now. Pretending I’m still listening."

Valecar raised a hand and poured himself wine from the silver goblet beside the throne. He drank slowly, as if he hadn’t just lost twenty-three men to the very guest standing in his hall.

Lucifer stepped forward.

One pace.

Valecar didn’t flinch.

Lucifer’s voice was low, casual. "You talk to yourself often?"

Valecar set the goblet down. "When there’s no one worth talking to, it helps."

Lucifer smiled faintly. "Maybe if you ruled better, someone would stay."

Valecar’s eyes hardened. "You’ve been in my realm less than an hour. And all you’ve done is kill my men and throw accusations."

"I didn’t accuse you of anything," Lucifer replied. "Yet."

The tension thickened.

"Push him," Damaris said inside his head. "You’ll see it. He wants control. But he’s always one insult away from snapping. He hides it well—but the rage is there."



Lucifer turned to Luna. "Go wait outside."

She didn’t move. "You sure?"

He nodded once. "I won’t kill him."

Luna held his gaze for a second longer, then finally stepped back toward the door. It creaked open and shut behind her.

Valecar watched her leave, then leaned forward.

"What do you want?"

Lucifer stayed quiet for a beat.

Then: "The throne."

The words weren’t loud. But they cracked through the air like a whip.

Valecar’s pupils shrank just a fraction.

"You think you can take it?"

"I don’t have to," Lucifer said. "You’ll give it to me."

Valecar laughed. A short, bitter sound. "You’re confident."

"No," Lucifer said. "I’m right."

Valecar rose slowly from the throne. His height matched Lucifer’s. Maybe even a little taller. But power didn’t come from height. It came from weight.

Lucifer stood like the world bowed under him. Valecar stood like he wanted it to.

They stared at each other.

"He’s testing you now," Damaris said. "He won’t attack here. Not yet. But if you push too far, he’ll try to humiliate you first. Make you kneel. That’s his game."

Lucifer spoke calmly. "You’ve ruled long enough."

"I’ve earned it."

"You inherited it."

Valecar’s eyes sharpened.

"There it is," Damaris said. "You’ve hit the nerve."

Lucifer stepped in close. Close enough that the room felt smaller again.

"I’m not here to be your enemy," he said quietly. "But you’re not a king. Just a placeholder."

Valecar’s jaw clenched.

"I built this realm," he growled.

"No," Lucifer said. "You kept it from falling apart. That’s different."

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, softly:

"I saw them," Valecar said. "The way they looked at you when you walked in. Even the nobles. They didn’t see a stranger. They saw something old. Something real."

Lucifer said nothing.

"You have his blood," Valecar muttered.

Lucifer nodded. "All of it."

Another silence.



Then Valecar stepped back.

And smiled.

"You think I’ll give it up that easy?"

Lucifer’s smile matched his.

"No."

His voice was quiet.

"I think you’ll fight."

And that was what he wanted.

Because now there were no more masks.

No more games.

Just two kings in one castle.

And only one throne.