Lulu

The dull grey cloak Dorian wore seemed to melt into the shadows of the corridor, a magical artefact designed to suppress his presence from the sharp senses of werewolves.

I walked beside him, still trying to process all the fragments of memory that had crashed into my mind back in the forest.

The man beside me was no longer just the feared “Blood Architect.” He was the man who used to carry me in his arms when I was little, who let me call him ‘Father’ when my real father wasn’t ...