The Dark Moon Society had its headquarters in New Sheer, hidden in plain sight. Unlike the grandeur of the Mondec Empire, their base was a dark, dungeon-like stronghold located beneath an old public library near a church. The entrance was inconspicuous—a narrow stairwell tucked behind towering bookshelves filled with dust-covered tomes, leading to a damp, pebbled pathway.
Toff followed Bret through the dimly lit corridor, his boots crunching against the uneven stones. The scent of ancient parchment, damp stone, and something faintly metallic filled the air. The deeper they descended, the heavier the air felt, as though unseen eyes watched their every move.
Finally, they reached a wooden door, unmarked and ordinary, yet radiating an aura of secrecy. Bret pushed it open without hesitation, revealing a vast underground chamber.
The room was lit by dragon-designed lamps hanging from chains, their flickering flames casting eerie shadows along the rough stone walls. A massive wooden table dominated the center, its surface scarred by time and the weight of countless war councils. Around it, several figures sat in silence, their faces half-obscured by the dim light.
At the head of the table sat an old man with piercing yellow eyes, his presence commanding the room. His silver-streaked hair was slicked back, emphasizing the sharp angles of his face. Though his posture was relaxed, his aura exuded both wisdom and danger.
Bret bowed slightly before stepping aside, allowing Toff to take the floor.
The old man's gaze bore into him, unreadable.
"I am Don Ermont Sebastian," he introduced himself. "Fourth generation of the Sebastian Clan, one of the oldest werewolf bloodlines." His voice was deep, laced with authority, the kind that had been forged through war and survival.
Toff stood frozen for a moment before nodding. "Toff Silvano."
A chuckle came from beside Don Ermont.
Toff turned, his breath catching for half a second.
The man beside him was beautiful.
His bronze skin glowed under the dim lights, accentuating his sculpted chest and strong shoulders. He sat casually, leaning back in his chair, yet his presence was magnetic. His dark brown eyes were locked onto Toff, studying him with open curiosity and something else—a flicker of interest.
Don Ermont gestured towards him. "This is Stefano, my grandson. He's one of our most skilled warriors."
Stefano smirked, his full lips curving upward. "You can just call me Stef." His voice was smooth, carrying the slight huskiness of someone who had seen battle but still carried youth in his tone.
Toff hesitated, unsure how to react to the intensity of Stefano's gaze.
Bret, standing at his side, scoffed. "Stef, could you maybe not undress him with your eyes? He just got here."
Stefano laughed, unabashed. "Can you blame me?" His gaze flickered back to Toff, a playful glint in his eyes. "He smells… different. Like something rare."
Toff's cheeks burned slightly, and he quickly shifted focus. "What exactly is this place?"
Don Ermont leaned forward, his expression growing serious. "This, Toff, is the heart of the Dark Moon Society—the last true resistance against the Mondec Empire."
Murmurs rose from the others in the room. One of them, a woman with short-cropped silver hair and sharp, wolf-like eyes, crossed her arms. "Why is he here, Don Ermont?"
Stefano stretched lazily, rolling his shoulders. "Because he's special, obviously."
Bret gave him a warning glare. "We didn't come here to flirt, Stef."
Toff cleared his throat. "What exactly do you mean by 'resistance'?"
Don Ermont's expression darkened. "The Mondec Empire has ruled the night for centuries, oppressing those they see as beneath them—which includes both humans and our kind. We werewolves refuse to be slaves to their power." His fingers tightened against the table. "For years, we have fought in the shadows, but Vlad is growing stronger. He is hunting anyone who threatens his reign."
"And you think I'm one of those threats?" Toff asked.
Stefano leaned forward, his voice a low murmur, "Vlad doesn't send an army after just anyone."
Bret and Don Ermont exchanged a glance before the old man spoke again. "Toff, you're more than just a target. You're a key piece in a war that's been brewing long before you were born."
Toff swallowed hard, a sinking feeling settling in his gut.
Stefano suddenly stood, stretching as he moved closer. He tilted his head, smirking as if he enjoyed watching Toff squirm under his gaze.
"Relax," he said. "No one's asking you to pick a side right this second." He then leaned in slightly, whispering, "But I'd stay close if I were you. It's more… fun that way."
Toff rolled his eyes, though he felt his heart thud just a little harder.
Bret huffed. "Gods, you're insufferable."
Stefano just grinned. "And you love me for it."
Don Ermont cleared his throat, cutting off the banter. "Enough." His yellow eyes locked onto Toff once more. "The Mondec Empire will not stop hunting you. Whether you like it or not, you are now part of this war. And we… we may be your only hope of surviving it."
The weight of the words settled over the room, heavy and unshakable.
Toff exhaled slowly, realizing that there was no turning back now.
Bret bowed respectfully. "We need your help. The killings in the city—someone's trying to frame us."
Don Ermont steepled his fingers, his piercing yellow eyes glinting under the flickering dragon-shaped lamps. "We are aware. And we suspect the vampires, but we do not know if they are from the Mondec Empire or… outsiders."
Toff, sitting beside Bret, tensed. "Outsiders?"
Alexa, arms crossed, spoke up. "There have been whispers of rebel vampires. Ones who refuse to follow Mondec's rules."
Gilbert leaned back in his chair, the candlelight catching the sharp angles of his face. "So you're saying it's rogue vampires causing the chaos?"
Before Don Ermont could respond, a sound rippled through the underground chamber—distant howls, eerie and urgent. The room fell into silence, every werewolf in the room turning their heads towards the massive doors at the end of the hall.
Then—BANG!
The doors burst open with a force that shook the walls. A werewolf, bloodied and barely standing, stumbled inside, leaving a trail of red across the cold stone floor. His breaths were ragged, his chest rising and falling erratically.
"They're here," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.
Then, with a sharp exhale, he collapsed, revealing the silver dagger embedded in his back.
A chilling silence fell over the room.
Then, as if summoned by the dying wolf's final words, a tall, pale figure strode through the entrance.
His presence was suffocating. He was dressed in fine black robes, embroidered with silver patterns that shimmered under the dim lighting. His long, platinum hair cascaded over his shoulders, and his crimson eyes glowed with malice. A faint smirk played at his lips, exuding both arrogance and amusement.
"I apologize for the interruption," he said smoothly, his voice rich like silk yet laced with poison. "But I believe we have unfinished business."
Bret's stomach clenched. That voice. That face.
"Samael," Gilbert muttered, his voice laced with pure hatred.
The leader of the Rogue Vampires let out a soft, mocking chuckle. "Ah, Gilbert. You always had a way of disappointing both sides. And now, you've dragged your son into this mess."
Before anyone could react, a sharp gust of wind swept through the chamber, carrying with it the scent of death and blood. More figures materialized in the shadows—vampires, draped in black, their fangs glinting like daggers.
Then they attacked.
In an instant, the room erupted into chaos.
A vampire lunged, and a werewolf met him mid-air, their bodies colliding with bone-crushing force. Claws slashed through fabric and flesh, fangs sank into skin, and steel blades gleamed as they clashed against each other.
Alexa, eyes blazing silver, whispered an incantation, and a blast of golden fire erupted from her palms, engulfing two vampires in searing heat. They screamed, their skin crackling before they collapsed into ash.
Gilbert moved like a shadow, fangs bared, tearing through enemy ranks with brutal efficiency.
Toff barely had time to react before Samael was suddenly in front of him, moving faster than the eye could see.
"You don't belong in this world, boy," Samael sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're an abomination."
His blade flashed.
Toff tried to move, but Bret tackled him out of the way just as the dagger splintered the wooden table where he had been sitting.
Toff hit the ground hard, his vision spinning. Bret was already back on his feet, unsheathing his own dagger, his expression hard and furious.
"Stay the hell away from him," Bret snarled.
Samael grinned. "Oh? And what are you going to do, little wolf? Bite me?"
In a blur, Samael vanished—only to reappear right behind Toff.
Before he could react, something inside Toff snapped.
A pulse of raw energy exploded from his chest, radiating outward in a powerful shockwave.
Samael was thrown back, his body slamming into the stone wall so hard that the impact left a crater in the rock.
The battle halted.
Even the rogue vampires froze, momentarily stunned by the sheer force that had just emanated from Toff.
Don Ermont's golden eyes widened. "Impossible," he murmured. "He's… awakening."
Samael groaned, his limbs twitching as he tried to move, but before he could recover, Gilbert was on him.
Gilbert sank his fangs into Samael's throat.
Samael's screams echoed through the chamber, his body thrashing wildly. He clawed at Gilbert's arms, but the grip was unrelenting. Dark veins spread across his face, his once-glowing eyes dimming.
Then, his body crumbled into dust.
The remaining rogue vampires hesitated—then, realizing their leader was gone, they retreated into the shadows, vanishing into the night.
A stunned hush fell over the room.
Alexa exhaled, pushing sweat-matted hair from her face. "Well… that escalated quickly."
Bret pulled Toff up, his hands gripping Toff's arms tightly. "Are you okay?"
Toff panted, his body still buzzing with raw energy. "I don't know what just happened."
Don Ermont took a slow step forward. His gaze bore into Toff's very soul. "I do," he said grimly.
He glanced at the remnants of the battle—the shattered table, the burnt corpses of vampires, the dust that had once been Samael—before his gaze returned to Toff.
And in that moment, his next words changed everything.
"You are not just an ordinary boy, Toff. You are something far more dangerous. And now… every creature of the night will be hunting you."