Anthesis of Sadness
Chapter 81: The Front Page of the Obsidian Messenger

Chapter 81: The Front Page of the Obsidian Messenger

The next morning, as with the beginning of every day, I had settled into the suspended dining room.

The table was still warm, infused with the gentle heat of the night. The servants moved in the background, invisible and precise, embodying that discreet rigor that characterized the household.

Outside, the Ember Garden was slowly waking beneath the golden glow of a volcanic sky, heavy with long shadows and amber dust.

A morning like so many others, on the surface.

I was waiting for the ritual delivery. And it finally arrived.

A steward in dark livery placed before me an object protected by several discreet seals: the monthly journal.

But not just any. The Obsidian Messenger.

The most prestigious — and most feared — publication of the demonic continent.

Distributed to the four corners of the world, even beyond the dark seas, into forbidden enclaves where even the living fear to speak its name.

Its headlines had the power to give birth to legends... or to destroy entire bloodlines with a single stroke of ink.

I slowly unrolled the first page.

The paper, supple and thick, carried the scent of fire and black ink, almost alive.

And I froze.

Me.

My face, reproduced with an almost disconcerting precision, sat at the center of the front page. My expression — calm, but intense, the shadow of a warrior’s smile on my lips — captured a fragment of an instant I hadn’t even known I had shown.

And my name... Written in black letters on a background of golden ash.

Dark. Majestic. Undeniable.

I read it again. Once. Twice.

A vertigo ran through me. Not fear. Not pride.

A raw vertigo, strange, as if a part of me had detached to observe the scene from outside, unable to believe what it was seeing.

It was real. Terribly real.

’A NEW VAMPIRIC ERA

Lukaris Thalaris Von Eskarion

First being to receive the title of Grand Varkh since the Era of Sovereign Flames.A historic upheaval has shaken the millennia-old foundations of the demonic continent: for the first time in nearly three centuries, the legendary title of Grand Varkh has been granted.

And not to just anyone.

It is a vampire, a being long relegated to the margins of demonic castes, who has just shattered the chains of history and established himself as a figure of excellence, power, and influence.

Lukaris Thalaris Von Eskarion, also known as "the Vaarkhyr," is now recognized as one of the greatest nobles of the continent. In only a few lunar cycles since his public appearance, "the vampire of lust" has not only adapted to the rigorous codes of the Great Houses, but has become their living symbol.

The Grand Varkh: a forgotten title... until todayVanished since the Era of Sovereign Flames, this title had not been granted in 273 years.It was reserved only for individuals who had reached such a level of military, political, and mystical recognition that they could be considered equivalent to Demonic Dukes.

This thunderous return of a Grand Varkh was neither anticipated nor contested. The Council of the High Forgemasters of Zagnaroth, along with several Obsidian Houses, unanimously approved the ascension.

Zagnaroth, bastion of shadow and elitism, finally opening up?What makes the achievement even more remarkable is the setting in which it occurred: the region of Zagnaroth, known for being the most closed, rigid, and distrustful of non-demonic races on the continent.

And yet, it is there that he built his legend.There that he was knighted by Lord Xagros himself, master of the Furnace, one of the most feared and respected mythical beings in the world.

A manor, a fortune, an adopted daughter... a budding dynasty?Like the most powerful bloodlines, Thalaris Von Eskarion is not content with being a solitary figure.He has already passed on his name, officially raising his adopted daughter, Lysara Thalaris Von Eskarion, to the rank of noble. An unprecedented decision, hailed as an act of total legitimization and a powerful message to all Houses: blood is no longer the only source of greatness.

Icon of power and refinementDescribed as a model of wealth and refined indulgence, Thalaris Von Eskarion blends vampiric elegance, ancient rituals, and demonic practices with impressive mastery.His manor — The Suspended Fortress of Eskarion — is already dubbed by some as the black jewel, housing unique artifacts and forgotten blood secrets.

Conclusion: A legend is risingCharismatic, feared, respected.Lukaris Thalaris Von Eskarion is no longer a name to be learned.It is a name to be remembered.’

I set the journal on the table, letting my fingers glide across the cover for a moment as if to anchor this moment in reality.

The letters kept dancing in my mind, lingering, vibrant, burning like invisible embers beneath my skin, refusing to go out.

Around me, an unusual silence had fallen, dense and almost tangible, like a heavy fog suspended in the warm air of the room.

Even the servants, usually impassive and composed, seemed to vanish into the shadows, carefully avoiding my gaze, as if they sensed the gravity of the moment.

I took a deep breath, slow, heavy, trying to push back the strange vertigo threatening to overwhelm me.

I didn’t need to reread the article. I already knew this title, etched not only in the shifting ink of the Obsidian Messenger, but in the eyes of others.

I had read it in their unusual silences, in their slightly more careful gestures, in the way they bowed lower without daring to say my name.

It wasn’t just an honor. It was a burden.

A blazing burden I had neither sought nor refused.

A new responsibility, silent, inevitable.

"Lysara is going to be unbearable," I murmured to myself, a crooked smile trembling with an emotion I didn’t yet have the courage to name.

I could still feel that icy echo running along my neck, like a shiver from another world — that unreal vertigo that grips you when an entire life shifts in a single breath.

I, a wandering vampire, outcast, landless and masterless, scorned fugitive in the chronicles of the world, now found myself forever engraved in the annals of lands known to hate my kind more than anything.

I had succeeded.

Against all odds. Against all logic. Against fate itself, it sometimes seemed.

But that morning, beyond the acrid pride pounding in my temples like an old ally returned from the dead, beyond the silent recognition burning in my veins, what I felt... was an infinite gratitude.

Pure. Untarnished.

A gratitude for her.

For Lysara, who, without knowing it, had built that bridge between what I was and what I could become.

For this world, as cruel, as brutal, as devouring as it is, which had — in its savage way — offered me a second chance.An unexpected rebirth in the shadow of ruins.

I slowly took a sip of dark juice, trying to stifle the overwhelming emotion, letting the rough warmth of the liquid anchor me in the moment, tether me to reality.

And my gaze, once again steady, slid to a final, discreet line almost faded at the very bottom of the page...

"His adopted daughter, Lysara Thalaris Von Eskarion, is already considered a potential heiress of a nascent lineage."

I laughed softly, this time, unable to hold back the wave of tenderness and amusement swelling in my chest like a gentle, irresistible tide. A quiet laugh, muffled in my throat, but sincere, vibrating with a warmth that nothing, that morning, could dim.

Oh yes... I had no doubt about it.

She was definitely going to talk about it for weeks.

With that gleam in her eyes, that clumsy pride she still sometimes tried to hide behind her silences, never quite succeeding.

And as I savored that thought, teetering between silent glory and the fragile intimacy of the moment, a crystalline chime rose into the warm air, pure, almost unreal:

Ding!

A light sound, clear as a silver bell striking at dawn.

A discreet call, but full of promise.

I slowly raised my eyes, the smile still lingering on my lips.