Destined {𝕄𝕀ℕ𝕊𝕌ℕ𝔾}

Chapter Seventy-Six

Hyunsik stared straight ahead, his eyes blank, focused on something further than just the empty, white wall. Night had fallen, and two more beds in the infirmary had been claimed. For the briefest of moments, his eyes swept across the room until they landed on Minho's dormant figure.

Vampires did not sleep. They didn't need the constant rejuvenation of energy; yet, it was common for Fledglings to grow overwhelmed and return to human habits, forcing their bodies into a state of conscious slumber.

That was not what Minho was doing. He seemed to truly, really be asleep. His lips pressed into a thin line; it made sense, he supposed, with the recent developments. The sight of glaring red eyes had been stamped into his memory, etched and burned there; he was unable to think of anything else for too long before his mind drifted back to those eyes.

"What have we awoken?" he whispered, hands clenching into tight fists. For a Fledgling to own red eyes – it was near impossible. It had taken him centuries of building his strength to acquire his own, and, still, less than one percent of all vampires had achieved what he had.

Most hadn't lived to see the many centuries he had – he considered them lucky.

His stare turned back out the window, and the dull, fading moon slipping between rolling clouds. He didn't know how long he'd been staring out this window, only that it had been a long time. Slowly, he turned to face the item he'd stolen; he knew, deep down, that the answers would be kept within it.

It only made sense – they'd attempted to kill Jisung right after Minho had turned. That meant something, he knew it did, but he knew he would only find the answer within the folds of that ancient tome.

There was another question that nagged at the back of his mind, poking and prodding until it, too, consumed his thoughts. Jisung had been attacked when he was most vulnerable. How could the King have known that? He wouldn't have attacked without the hope of killing him, he'd be showing too many of his cards all at once. He wanted him dead, right away. The answer to that question, however, was as blatantly obvious as the reason behind the attack.

There was a traitor amongst them.

When he thought about it, how many sharp ears had walked just beyond those doors as they'd discussed things – important things? How many had masked their presences as he and Jisung talked privately within his study?

His jaw clenched tighter, eyes sharpening. This was a problem. They'd have to be careful; very careful. Their next move would be critical – their next move would determine how this war would play out.

And they needed to win.

~#~#~#~#~#~

"DAMMIT!" The roar that echoed through the empty, stone chamber seemed to rock the castle itself as Chan threw a fist through the wall, a crater forming beneath his cold flesh. His hand dropped to his side, unmarred, and he chuckled darkly.

How long had it been since he'd truly felt pain? It had been too long to remember; the older he got, the stronger he became, leaving no release from the pain in his heart. Though, he doubted any physical affliction could ever deal as much harm as his darling had.

But he would not give up on him; he refused. What was broken could be fixed with a little healing, a little medicine. That's right; that's what had happened. His darling was broken, corrupted by the thoughts of a wolf who would do nothing but harm him, who would do nothing but put him in danger.

He could do so, so much better. No, he would be better. He would protect his love from any and all harm; they'd live comfortably in this castle he'd slowly built from the ground up. They'd live together – forever. Yes, that was right; that's what the universe wanted. Why else would they revive his darling so many times?

To give them a second chance.

But each time, it seemed, there was always that one obstacle that was meant to test their love; once they passed the test, all would be well and right. He'd let his love fall into the clutches of that test, that corruption, that evil; he would not let it happen again.

The third time's the charm, people often said. This time, he found himself agreeing with them. After this lifetime of pain, he deserved the happiness of having his love in his arm; after all the good he'd done for his people, for the world around them.

Yes, he deserved this.

Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. Slowly, a smile flitted onto his lips. He would win this war, and he would win back his love, no matter the cost. His eyes flickered upwards, settling on the mess he'd made, at the red, gleaming eyes staring at him through the darkness beyond the hole.

As he turned, soft growls echoing behind him, he laughed, the sound echoing into the darkness behind him as he walked away, swallowed whole.

This war would finally come to a close – andthey would win. It was only a matter of time.

A/N: My project is slowly going to shit, it's worth 30% of my grade, and of course, of course, my laptop isn't compatible with the video files, and I have no idea if the IMovie file will work any better. Damn.

Q: blahblahblahblahblah

A: Yeeeeeeee

(Please ask me questions I'm desperate)

Lots of love,

~Emilie