The wind changed before she heard him. Amanda stood on her porch barefoot, the wood cold beneath her feet, a mug of untouched tea in her hands. Her skin prickled. Not from fear.
From recognition.
She turned before he reached the steps. Lucan looked the same. He always did. But something behind his eyes was tighter now.
No anger. Just calculation.
She didn't speak and neither did he. Not at first.
"You felt it," she said.
Lucan stepped up onto the porch.
"I always do."
Amanda turned and opened the door without asking if he wanted in. He followed. Once inside, she sat on the edge of the kitchen table and waited. Lucan didn't pace. He stood with his back to the wall, hands behind him.
A silence passed between them.
Then:
"It wasn't just a death," Amanda said.
Lucan nodded once.
"It was a message," she continued. "But not for me."
Lucan's voice was low. "No. For me. Through you."
She swallowed. Her fingertips were still blue. Her heart still beat out of rhythm. "I don't want to be that."
Lucan looked at her now, sharp.
"You don't have a choice."
That silence hurt. Not because it was cruel. Because it was true.
Amanda stared at the table. Her voice cracked slightly. "You left."
"I had to."
"No, you chose to."
Lucan's jaw clenched just once.
"I needed to see who would try to use you when I wasn't watching."
Amanda looked up.
"What did you find?"
Lucan stepped forward. Close now.
"I found someone bold enough to speak my name without knowing what it costs."
Outside, thunder rumbled once. Far away, but coming closer.
-----
Bon Temps had quieted, but it hadn't healed. The sky was gray, like it couldn't decide whether it wanted to storm or fade into nothing.
Bill sat in the living room of his house, Sookie on the couch across from him, her legs curled under her, arms tight across her chest. She hadn't looked him in the eyes in twenty minutes. She was talking, though.
That meant more than it used to.
"I don't know what he is," she said finally. "Not really."
Bill watched her carefully. "But you don't think he's only a vampire."
She nodded. "He drinks blood. He doesn't breathe. He moves like one. But… he's different."
"In what way?"
Sookie exhaled, shoulders dropping.
"When he walked into my house that night, when he looked at Maryann it felt like gravity changed. Like everything inside me backed away from him."
She looked up at Bill now. "But not out of fear. Out of respect. Like something old just stepped into the room and the rest of the world got quiet."
Bill's jaw tightened. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.
"And you let him in?"
"I didn't let him," Sookie said. "He was already there."
That silence fell again, one that lived between jealousy and dread.
Bill had heard the name before. Not from Eric, he never said his name. But others had.
Centuries ago. Whispers. Warnings. A vampire who disappeared from Europe, left no progeny, answered to no throne. Some called him dead. Others called him exiled. The stories never agreed on what he'd done. Only that when he moved, history bent around it.
"Did he hurt you?" Bill asked.
Sookie shook her head. "No."
"Did he glamour you?"
"No. He didn't even try."
"Then what did he do?"
Sookie hesitated.
"He looked at me like I was... irrelevant. Not in a cruel way. Just... like I wasn't part of the equation."
Bill stood. Crossed the room. Pacing now. "This town has seen gods, shapeshifters, madness, but we survived it. Him though?" He turned to her. "He doesn't come here for survival. He comes here when something interests him."
Sookie's voice dropped. "Amanda."
Bill nodded slowly.
"Yes. And that's what worries me. Because interest fades. And when it does, we'll still be here trying to clean up whatever's left."
Sookie stood now too, her arms crossed.
"He helped us."
Bill didn't flinch. "So did Maryann. Until she didn't."
Sookie took a step closer. "You're afraid of him."
Bill met her eyes.
"No. I'm afraid of what he'll ask of you… when he finally decides you're not irrelevant anymore."
-----
A broken steeple. Scorched rafters. A cracked foundation half-swallowed by the earth. Lucan stood where the altar used to be.
Eric approached from the southern tree line, Jacket unbuttoned, hands in his pockets, gaze sharp but unreadable.
Neither of them spoke right away. The air didn't demand words. Just silence and memory.
"You felt it," Eric said finally.
Lucan nodded once. "Amanda saw him die."
Eric raised an eyebrow. "You're sure it was him?"
Lucan's eyes didn't shift. "She said my name. Then she said his. He used her like a doorway."
Eric stepped onto what was once the aisle.
"Then that's impossible."
Lucan's tone was flat. "Apparently not."
The name Amanda spoke had been whispered only once before, in the dirt, beneath a burning abbey, after Lucan tore a man in half and left his soul screaming into the void.
Caelis.
One of Lucan's few creations.
A mistake.
Eric sat on what was left of a stone bench, one leg crossed.
"I thought you said you destroyed him."
Lucan turned slowly. "I did."
"Then how is he walking?"
The air shifted. Eric caught it too. Faint. Familiar. A signature neither of them had felt in centuries. It pulsed from the north, somewhere near the Mississippi border.
Caelis.
Not a ghost.
Not a rumor.
Alive.
And he wanted Lucan to know it. Lucan turned toward the scent. His voice was like stone scraping over iron. "He's not back."
Eric frowned. "Then what is he?"
Lucan stepped forward, coat flaring slightly in the wind.
"A message."