The Brotherhood Of The Damned.

The chamber was dim, the only light spilling in from the slanted moonbeams through the cathedral-like windows. Elijah stood at the head of the room, his goblet in hand, watching as Williams Conrad made his entrance. The elder vampire's footsteps were deliberate, each one echoing faintly in the silence.

"You've made yourself quite comfortable in Sharman, Elijah," Williams said, his voice smooth but cutting. "Almost too comfortable, I'd say."

Elijah turned, his expression calm, though his grip on the goblet tightened imperceptibly. "You make it sound like I've grown lax, Williams. But Sharman remains under control."

"Under your control, perhaps," Williams said, his red eyes gleaming faintly. "But control is a fragile thing, and you've let rumors grow unchecked. The council does not take kindly to negligence."

Elijah smirked, though there was no warmth in it. "Negligence? You mean the half-blood boy? An anomaly, nothing more. Manageable."

Williams stepped closer, his presence filling the room. "Manageable? Tell me, Elijah, do you truly believe that? Or is it that you're too arrogant to admit you've underestimated what he represents?"

"And what does he represent, in your expert opinion?" Elijah asked coolly.

Williams' voice dropped, each word deliberate. "A reckoning. A hybrid immune to our weaknesses and theirs. Stronger than vampires, more stable than humans. He challenges the balance we've upheld for centuries."

Elijah tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "You mean the council's balance. And now The Mualim are interested as well?"

Williams' expression darkened. "They are more than interested. They see him as a threat, a force that could upset everything they've built. You've heard of their discipline—their centuries spent mastering Flux. They will not allow a wildcard like this boy to undermine their efforts."

"And yet," Elijah said, taking a sip from his goblet, "they are dying all the same. The Mualim's mastery of Flux doesn't grant them immortality."

"No," Williams said, his tone sharp. "But it grants them focus. They've lived longer and sharper than any human Flux user could dream. And now, they see their decline mirrored in the boy's potential ascent."

Elijah raised an eyebrow. "So they'll make a move."

"They already are," Williams said. "And if you don't act, they'll reach him first. Or worse—he'll fall into the hands of the hunters."

Elijah's smile returned, this time laced with something colder. "So the solution is to let you handle it? You, who think yourself above the rules of my city?"

Williams' gaze hardened, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow colder. "The solution is swift action. Something you seem unwilling—or unable—to take."

Elijah's lips parted to retort, but Williams raised a hand. "Don't misunderstand me, Elijah. I'm not here to play politics. I'm here to prevent chaos. And if you won't do what's necessary, then I will."

The silence between the two ancient beings crackled with unspoken tension, a battle of wills that seemed to thicken the very air in the room. Elijah leaned casually against the side of his desk, his fingers idly spinning the stem of the goblet in his hand. He appeared at ease, but his piercing gaze locked on Williams betrayed the coiled tension beneath the surface.

Williams stood tall, his grey suit immaculate, his presence as commanding as a storm cloud rolling in over a quiet sea. His crimson eyes gleamed faintly in the low light, their depth hinting at countless centuries of cunning and power.

"You speak of chaos," Elijah began, his tone light but edged with steel, "but what I see is an outsider meddling in my affairs. You may be older, Williams, but this city answers to me. Don't confuse your age with authority."

Williams chuckled, a low, humorless sound that reverberated through the chamber. "Age and authority are not mutually exclusive, Elijah. But you are mistaken about one thing." His voice dropped, the cold edge of it slicing through the air. "This is not your city. It belongs to the bloodline. To the council. You are merely a steward—a piece on the board, whether you care to admit it or not."

Elijah's lips curved into a sharp smile. "A piece? Interesting perspective, coming from a man who hasn't stepped out of the council's shadow in centuries."

Williams took a step closer, his movements deliberate, predatory. "You think you're clever, Elijah, but cleverness will only carry you so far when the scales tip. And they are tipping. You've let rumors spread, let the hunters grow bold, and now this... half-blood boy threatens everything we've built. The Sanguis Antiquus does not tolerate negligence."

"Negligence," Elijah repeated, his voice laced with amusement. "That word again. Tell me, Williams—was it negligence that allowed a young, ambitious upstart like me to build one of the most powerful covens in Europe? Or perhaps the council is simply losing its grip?"

A faint growl rumbled in Williams' chest, low and warning. "Mind your tongue, boy."

The faint mockery in Elijah's smirk vanished, replaced by an icy calm. "Do not mistake my hospitality for weakness."

Williams moved in a blur, closing the distance between them in an instant. The goblet in Elijah's hand toppled, shattering on the floor as Williams' hand gripped his throat. The force of the motion cracked the wood beneath Elijah's boots, and for a moment, the younger vampire hung suspended in the air.

"You forget yourself," Williams hissed, his voice venomous. "I was tearing through armies before your bloodline had a name. Do you truly think you can stand against me?"

Elijah's eyes glowed faintly, and in an instant, his body dissolved into shadows. Williams' hand grasped nothing but air as Elijah reformed several feet away, his expression calm but his stance now poised, predatory.

"You'll find," Elijah said smoothly, "that I'm not so easily cowed."

Williams turned to face him, his movements deliberate as he adjusted the cuffs of his suit. "So you've learned a few tricks. Impressive. But tricks won't save you from what's coming."

Elijah's smirk returned, colder than before. "And what is coming, Williams? A lecture? Another council lapdog sent to remind me of my place?"

Williams' form blurred again, this time appearing directly in front of Elijah, his hand raised. Elijah intercepted the strike, their hands colliding with a shockwave that rattled the windows and sent a tremor through the floor.

"I'm no lapdog," Williams said, his voice dangerously low. "And this is no lecture."

The two vampires moved faster than the eye could follow, their strikes blurring into streaks of shadow and flashes of crimson eyes. Elijah ducked under a swipe from Williams, countering with a strike to the older vampire's side that landed with a resounding crack. Williams barely flinched, retaliating with a powerful kick that sent Elijah hurtling into a bookshelf, splintering it into shards.

Elijah rose from the wreckage, his movements fluid despite the debris clinging to his tailored coat. He dusted himself off with exaggerated care, his smirk unfazed. "You hit like a relic," he said, his voice dripping with mockery.

Williams' expression didn't change, but the air around him seemed to grow heavier. "And you fight like a child."

The chamber erupted into chaos once more, the two vampires clashing with a ferocity that defied the limits of their surroundings. Williams struck with the precision of centuries, each blow carrying the weight of his experience. Elijah countered with speed and cunning, exploiting every opening with a ruthless efficiency that betrayed his younger, hungrier nature.

At one point, Elijah launched himself into the air, his form twisting as he shifted into a swarm of black bats. The creatures circled Williams, their screeches echoing like a chorus of shadows. But Williams didn't hesitate; his form blurred again, his hand lashing out to grab one of the bats mid-flight. In an instant, the swarm coalesced back into Elijah, who landed with a flourish a few feet away.

"Showy," Williams remarked, his tone almost bored. "But predictable."

"And you're as charming as ever," Elijah shot back, lunging forward with a speed that left the air shimmering in his wake.

Their strikes collided again and again, the force of their blows cracking the marble floors and shattering the remaining windows. Dust and debris filled the air, but neither combatant seemed to tire, their supernatural endurance keeping them locked in a deadly dance.

Finally, Williams caught Elijah's wrist mid-strike, twisting it with enough force to send a faint crack echoing through the chamber. He used the momentum to slam Elijah into the wall, pinning him there with an iron grip.

"You think you've built something here," Williams said, his voice a growl. "But you're just a child playing king in a city that will burn the moment the council tires of your arrogance."

Elijah's lips curled into a defiant snarl, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "Better a king than a fossil clinging to the scraps of a bygone era."

The insult landed like a blow, and for a moment, it seemed as though Williams might strike. But then he released Elijah, stepping back with an air of disdain.

"You have fire," Williams admitted, his tone begrudging. "But fire without control is destruction. Remember that, Elijah."

Elijah straightened, brushing the dust from his coat. "And you'd do well to remember, Williams, that this city is mine. Whatever the council has planned, it won't change that."

Williams gave him a long, appraising look, his crimson eyes narrowing. "We'll see."

Without another word, Williams turned and strode toward the shattered windows. He paused at the edge, casting one final glance over his shoulder.

"The boy will be found," he said, his voice carrying a note of finality. "And when he is, you'll have a choice to make. Pray you choose wisely."

With that, Williams stepped off the ledge, his form vanishing into the night.

Elijah watched him go, his expression unreadable. The room around him lay in ruins, the aftermath of their confrontation a stark reminder of the power Williams wielded.

But as Elijah stared into the darkness beyond the shattered windows, a faint smile curved his lips.

"Let the council send their relics," he murmured to himself. "This city doesn't bow to ghosts."