Chapter 267: Vampire Killing Arrtifact

Aira had barely settled in her seat and scooted her chair closer to the table when King Jared began to speak. His voice was low but clear, each word measured with the weight of authority as his eyes fixed directly on Zyren."This is Brilla," he said at last, gesturing toward the only woman seated near him before moving to introduce the others with crisp precision. "Harned, in charge of warriors. Kannedy, and Falson. You may see them as you see your lords."

He didn’t elaborate, nor did he bother to explain the deeper hierarchy or customs that governed his pack. His words were brief, stripped of ornament.

Zyren, lounging comfortably in his chair, gave a faint glance toward Lord Noctare, who understood instantly and began his own introductions. "Lord Noctare," he said, inclining his head politely. "Lord Virelle. Lord Drehk. Lord Lythari."

That made up everyone present. No guards had been allowed inside the hall—just the two kings, their chosen representatives, and Aira. The air was heavy, filled with restrained caution and the faint undercurrent of rivalry that lingered like smoke between the two leaders.

"Before we begin," Jared said, his tone firm and slightly cold, "to put everyone’s mind at rest, I would prefer Lady Aira to display her power—to ensure that no one here is an imposter." His gaze swept the table with quiet severity, and though he didn’t say it aloud, he clearly expected resistance.

Zyren’s response came quickly, his expression unreadable. "Sure. If she wants to," he said casually, his voice smooth but distant, making it clear that he was not commanding her to do anything—merely allowing her the choice.

Aira hesitated only briefly. Since she wasn’t healing anyone and would only be letting her aura flow, it wouldn’t violate the agreement she’d made with the hunter houses. Slowly, she rose to her feet, a quiet calm settling over her as she exhaled.

Her power unfurled like a slow-moving tide, spreading across the hall in ripples. It brushed against everyone present—measuring, searching, and confirming what eyes alone could not.

Still, she continued until every presence in the hall had been checked—including Zyren, on whom she lingered longer than necessary, her heart tightening with some faint, irrational hope that she might uncover something—some truth—about him that she didn’t yet understand. But there was nothing.

When she finally withdrew her aura and settled back into her seat, her voice was quiet but steady. "There are no Zygons among us," she said. Still, doubt flickered beneath her words. If there had been one, she knew there were only two possibilities: either the Zygon’s power far exceeded her own... or she herself was compromised in ways she didn’t yet grasp.

With the check complete, the tension in the air eased slightly, and the true meeting began. Jared was the first to speak again.

"I’m sure most of you have already guessed why we werewolves are here," he said. His tone carried the hard edge of a man who had seen war too many times before. "The Zygons are a menace. If allowed to live, they’ll take over—and wipe us out before we even realize it."

Zyren’s lips curved into a faint, sly smile. "Isn’t that a good thing?" he asked lightly, and though his tone was smooth, it was steeped in provocation.

Jared’s golden eyes narrowed. "Us," he said pointedly. "All of us."

But Zyren merely leaned back, lounging in effortless arrogance. His fingers tapped idly against the arm of his chair as he responded. "But we have Lady Aira. With her powers, waging war against the Zygons would be easy. Clearly, you’re here to ask for help."

His tone was taunting, almost dismissive, as if to remind Jared that he was the one in need—and that Zyren knew it.

A low growl rumbled from Jared’s throat, his eyes brightening into molten gold, but he restrained himself with visible effort. Zyren only seemed more amused, that dangerous smirk still lingering on his lips.

"We both know it’s not as easy as you make it sound," Jared said finally. "That’s why you haven’t done it yourself. We have no information on their true numbers. Worse, one of them has already proven capable of causing massive destruction." His voice dropped lower. "Some of them can wield magic, Zyren. Imagine what their leaders can do."

He paused, letting the weight of that truth hang in the air before continuing. "You’re strong, Zyren, but even you aren’t strong enough to take them on alone. That’s why I’m here—to offer help."

Zyren tilted his head slightly to the side, the faintest hint of mockery playing in his gaze. Jared sat upright, regal and unflinching, exuding the commanding aura of a king who would never bow.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and taut. No one else dared to interrupt. Even the lords, seated in rigid patience, kept still.

Aira could feel Clara’s eyes on her, watching her closely. But instead of returning the look, Aira focused on the discussion at hand, pretending not to notice. Clara’s earlier proposal still lingered in her mind—its promise, its danger.

An artifact that could sever all bonds, Clara had claimed. A necklace she would have to wear in secret. But artifacts like that... they were never simple, never harmless. There was always a price.

There was a reason those relics from the last war had been hidden, locked away, and nearly erased from history. Aira had read enough of the old records to know better than to trust Clara’s sweet tone or her feigned innocence.

Still, her thoughts were a jumble when Zyren’s voice cut through again.

"You’re offering help?" he said with a quiet laugh. "Well, we don’t need it."

The pride in his tone was unmistakable, and the glint in his eyes dared Jared to argue. The werewolf king’s fury was visible, his knuckles tightening until they turned pale, but he mastered it—barely.

Just when it seemed Zyren would rise from his chair and leave, Jared’s hand shot into his coat pocket. His expression hardened as he drew out a small box and placed it firmly on the table between them.

"I’ll give this to you," he said, his tone low, almost dangerous. "A werewolf artifact—as a sign of goodwill."

The words hung heavy in the hall. Even Zyren’s lazy posture stiffened slightly, though his face betrayed nothing.

Aira’s gaze drifted to Clara. The expression on her face—shock, dismay, and something darker—made Aira’s heart tighten. The connection was instant, the realization cold and sharp.

She knows the artifact.

’She looked stunned and dismayed... she knows the artifact,’ Aira thought, her mind racing. She remembered Clara’s own promise—to give her an artifact that could kill Zyren.

And suddenly it made sense.

Jared wasn’t just a diplomat here; he was playing a much deadlier game. The gift he offered wasn’t a gesture of peace—it was a move meant to destroy his enemies.

’Is that the artifact that can kill any vampire?’ she thought, her breath catching. Her eyes flicked back to Clara, who—unlike before—refused to meet her gaze.