Luther's gaze lingered on the red moon above the open ceiling, its light spilling over the marble like blood over white silk. His voice lowered, rougher now — as if it scraped through memories he'd buried too deep for too long.

"The last time this moon burned red…" he whispered, "the air smelled of celebration. Not death."

And before he realized it, he was back there — that night, two decades ago.

The halls had been alive that evening.

Music echoed across the crimson-lit spires of the old colony, the laughter of vampires young and old blending with the rhythm of a thousand heartbeats. Lanterns hung from every balcony, crimson ribbons fluttering in the warm wind. The red moon — rare, sacred — had risen over their skies like a divine blessing.

Children ran barefoot through the gardens. Lovers danced under fountains spilling wine instead of water. And in the center of it all, the highborns — Luther among them — gathered in the grand cathedral, robed in silver, performing the ancient rites that bound their kind to the blood of the moon.

Selene stood beside him then. The same gentle smile she always wore, soft but proud.

She had been holding his hand, whispering, "Look at them, Luther. This is what peace looks like."

"Peace… huh?" Luther chuckled.

Selene then pulled him close and whispered in his ear. "By the way, in a few months, you will be sleep deprived."

"Hmm? What does that mean?"

Selene placed Luther's hand onto her stomach and grinned. "The fifth one is on the way."

Luther's eyes widened in surprise. "You don't mean—"

But peace never lasts long when humans are near.

It began with a distant hum — faint, like thunder over mountains. Then it grew louder. Louder still, until even the music faltered and the sky began to shake.

The first explosion came from the west tower.

Luther had turned, instincts already screaming, when a fireball swallowed half the sky. The tower fell like a pillar of burning glass, its collapse silencing the music in a single horrifying breath.

Then came the screaming.

Humans — thousands of them — descended from the clouds in iron machines, their lights blinding, their weapons roaring. Bolts of plasma ripped through the air, shredding everything in their path. The colony's defenses shattered in minutes.

Luther's kin fought back, wings unfolding, claws drawn, but they were met with things not meant for mortal hands — alien cannons, pulse rifles, orbit-guided drones. He remembered the children — their cries, their tiny forms reduced to ash before they even knew what was happening.

Selene had run toward them, shouting orders. She had always been the calmer of the two — the one who believed coexistence was possible.

She never made it back to him.

The last time Luther saw her alive, she was shielding a group of fledgling vampires behind a collapsed altar, her body glowing faintly with light as she deflected incoming fire. Her lips moved — not with fear, but with prayer. Then the sky split open, and she was gone.

He remembered kneeling in the ashes when it ended — the red moon still burning above, a silent witness to slaughter. The humans looted what remained, dragging corpses, harvesting vampire hearts for their alchemy, laughing as they tore fangs from the dead as trophies.

They left when there was nothing left to take.

That night, the colony of the purebloods — the heart of vampire civilization — was erased from the world.

Luther blinked, and the past dissolved. But the screams still echoed somewhere in the back of his mind.

He stood before Selene's statue again, his voice low and trembling. "They came with machines that burned even our shadows. They called it justice. They said we were monsters."

He clenched his jaw. "But monsters don't celebrate under the moon. Monsters don't teach their children to dance. It was never justice. It was greed. It was humans doing what they always do — destroy what they can't understand and covet what they can't have."

His eyes burned brighter, the crimson moon reflected in them like molten glass. "That night, I buried my family. I buried my brothers, my friends, my wife… and I buried the last of my mercy with them."

He turned away from the statue, his voice tightening to a hiss.

"They burned our children and called it victory. They fed on our corpses and called it survival. They stole our blood, our cities, our history — and still pretend to be civilized."

His voice rose, rumbling through the chamber like thunder. "That's what humans are. Greedy. Weak. Pretending to be righteous while feeding on ruin. They destroy what they can't control, envy what they can't match, and then write poems about how noble they are."

The moon's red deepened, the same hue as the night that destroyed everything he loved.

Luther looked up at it, his words now cold, clear, and final.

"They call us cursed. But it's them who carry the curse. The curse of greed. Of envy. Of endless hunger. They will destroy everything — even themselves — just to feel powerful for one more generation."

He looked back at Selene's statue. "That's what Eleanor has fallen for. That kind of creature. The kind that murders, steals, consumes—and calls it progress."

He turned away, his cloak dragging against the floor. "I should have let him die. Let the sea take him. But no—now he lives under my roof, breathing air that belongs to my kind."

His eyes lingered on the red moon one last time. "If there's one truth left in this cursed universe, it's this—humans and vampires were never meant to coexist. One will always rise by stepping on the other."

He closed his eyes, voice fading to a murmur.

"Selene… if your soul still lingers anywhere near this world, forgive me. I'll do what you never could."

He turned toward the throne, his shadow stretching long beneath the blood-soaked moon.

"Soon enough… I'll make humanity remember why they once feared the dark."

While Luther was recalling the night of the tragedy, Reva was cleaning Xavier's body while two healers healed his wounds.

And Xavier… was witnessing yet another prophecy.

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