Unlike the hunters before them, Lyselle had already come to peace with the blood magic coursing through the air, barely flinching as Seraphine scowled softly. They could both tell the enchantment was already taking hold—Delwyn showing the most obvious signs as he reached for his longsword and loaded his wrist bow. The Master, however, held out a hand to stop him from attacking. Even in the midst of heightened emotions, Delwyn still respected the authority and power Lady Holt held, though he growled openly in frustration.

The newest member froze, flinching as if he wanted to run, yet something kept him rooted in place—no doubt the threat of death should he betray the Vigil. Then the woman moved, reacting differently than Ren had predicted. Her fists clenched, eyes snapping to Lyselle as if the huntress had betrayed her personally, vengeance beginning to burn behind her stare.

Still, none moved as Seraphine released a slow sigh, glaring at the vampiress before turning her gaze expectantly to Lyselle. After what felt like an hour, Lyselle finally replied,
[color=#9BA7C3][b]“I’m not dominated, and I’m not playing,”[/b][/color] she stated firmly, clearly on the defensive—though a flicker of nervous tension drifted toward Ren through the bond.

Holt raised an eyebrow before pressing her lips into a thin line.
[color=#7A6A53][b]“Lyselle… you have no idea what you are doing—what you risk. Come here before this gets out of hand.”[/b][/color]

[b]“Master Holt! I told you she was a—”[/b]

The experienced hunter was cut off mid-sentence as Holt snapped at him, her voice sharp with cold authority.
[color=#7A6A53][b]“Remember your place, Delwyn—you are a [i]guest[/i] here.”[/b][/color]

His anger was clearly getting the better of him, his posture rigid, as if he might attack regardless of the punishment awaiting him. Holt’s eyes returned to Lyselle.
[color=#7A6A53][b]“Get over here—now.”[/b][/color]

A flash of annoyance crossed Lyselle’s face, tension tightening her frame, but instead of faltering she stepped closer to Ren.

With determination driving her words, she replied,
[color=#9BA7C3][b]“I won’t… I can’t. Everyone taught me that vampires are evil, but there’s still humanity left in them. I’ve seen it myself—please, [i]just let us leave[/i].”[/b][/color]

That was when the woman behind the Master spoke, venom dripping from her tone.
[b]“Blasphemy! You sound like one of those Rising Sun heretics—I always knew you were a bad apple.”[/b]

[color=#9BA7C3][b]“I made up my own mind, Felicity…”[/b][/color]

Everyone in the Vigil knew of the Rising Sun—a sect of priests and hunters who believed there was more than met the eye. They preached caution, insisting that vampires and werewolves had once been human and that their humanity was not lost, only dulled by the curse they carried. Such beliefs made them deeply unpopular. Lyselle had never met one personally, but she often reflected on the whispered stories of Vigil encounters with them—and how none were ever left alive if the Vigil could help it, branded as tainted by evil themselves.

Once again, Seraphine raised her hand to silence the others and slowly narrowed her eyes at Renaissance.
[color=#7A6A53][b]“This is your doing, no doubt. Now we have no choice but to kill you—but I will not make it quick. Turning one of our brightest hunters against us is not something I’ll easily forgive, harlot.”[/b][/color] The bond flared and carried Lyselle's own emotions of anger and protectiveness, as if daring the Master to call her darling that one more time, her grip causing her knuckles to turn white.

Without another word, she signaled the others to attack.

Thanks to the spell binding the hunters’ emotions, only Delwyn and Felicity moved at first. Delwyn focused immediately on Ren, firing his bolt once more. The projectile looked like a metal ball at the end—likely concealing another silver-lined net. As predicted, his anger made him sloppy, though fast. He didn’t even wait for the net to deploy, crying out as he charged forward with his longsword.

Lyselle’s instinct was to guard her lover, flicking her knives outward toward the incoming bolt—but it was stopped mid-flight by another blade. She blinked in surprise, eyes snapping up to meet Felicity’s piercing gaze, cold ire etched across her face. The woman lunged forward, far more focused than before, her attention fixed solely on Lyselle, as if nothing else existed.

Thankfully, Lyselle knew Felicity’s tactics well—they had trained together countless times—and she knew jealousy had always simmered beneath the surface. Now, under Ren’s enchantment, that emotion had sharpened into something vicious, enough to send shivers down Lyselle’s spine.

As the battle unfolded, the new recruit lingered behind them, eyes fixed on Holt, standing rigid as if stillness alone might spare him from being called upon. The Master glanced back, lips curling into a snarl as realization dawned. She pointed sharply to the ground beside her, leaving him no room to refuse. When he finally stepped close, Lady Holt began to draw upon his skin—a sigil meant to dispel the blood enchantment Ren had cast. She worked effectively, drawing the lines like she had done this thousands of times before, and the vampire could feel her spell loosening its grip on him.

For now, it was one-on-one for the bonded pair.

But not for long.