Midnight Surrender-Chapter 78 Could it be? (AVOT)

Slaine stood defiantly, his lips curling into a malevolent, self-assured grin. Rhain remained stationary, his arms wrapped protectively around Daisy, both of them situated behind Lysander.

"You think killing me will be simple, Vampire?" Slaine taunted. "I possess as many lives as the vampires I’ve extinguished. Care to guess that number?"

"Lucky for both of us, then," Lysander retorted, unflinching. "I find myself rather bored, with ample time to kill you as often as you claim to have killed my kind."

Slaine’s laughter echoed darkly through the air. "Ah, but you assume you’ll have that luxury. What if I kill you first?"

He wasn’t bluffing, Rhain thought. He had many lives and that was very unsettling.

"Take Daisy and go," Lysander ordered without turning his head.

Rhain hesitated, reluctant to comply without understanding Lysander’s strategy. "I said go," Lysander reiterated, his voice tinged with urgency.

Still holding Daisy, Rhain made a move to withdraw, but Slaine had other plans. Springing into action, he lunged at Lysander, propelled by an almost supernatural burst of speed that exceeded even the remarkable agility typical of hunters. When the two men collided, Rhain could practically feel the raw energy of their confrontation crackling in the air.

Slaine’s hunter tattoos flared into luminous life, sending Lysander tumbling back and crashing to the ground. It was a sight Rhain had never expected to see—Lysander, an ancient vampire, susceptible to attack. But, in a mere blink, Lysander was back on his feet, visibly more cautious but undeterred.

Unable to turn away, Rhain found himself riveted by the life-or-death struggle unfolding before him. If Slaine was this formidable, then joining Lysander in the fight seemed like the logical course of action. But just as Rhain contemplated intervening, another brutal exchange between the combatants erupted. Slaine’s tattoos glowed menacingly, and yet Lysander had centuries-old tricks up his sleeve.

Utilizing his uncanny ability to disappear and reappear, Lysander momentarily disoriented Slaine. Seizing the opportunity, he thrust his arm through Slaine’s chest as if it were a blade, pulling it out with lethal precision.

Slaine crumpled to the ground, and for a suspended moment, all eyes were trained on him, waiting to see if his earlier claim had any truth. As it turned out, it did. Regenerating with alarming speed, Slaine sprang back up and knocked Lysander off his feet once again.

This was dire, Rhain realized. Lysander wouldn’t be able to maintain his vigor if he had to kill Slaine multiple times. After all, Slaine had likely vanquished hundreds, if not thousands, of vampires in his lifetime.

Gripping his weapon, Rhain took careful aim and fired, striking Slaine squarely in the chest. Slaine staggered, giving Lysander the opportunity to wrap his arms tightly around the hunter’s neck.

Rhain continued to shoot at Slaine as Lysander labored to sever the head from the body. Finally, Lysander tossed the head a considerable distance away. Would this be enough?

Astoundingly, Slaine’s headless body began to rise yet again—each resurrection seemingly faster than the last. An increasingly exasperated Lysander attacked before Slaine had fully reassembled himself.

Studying the fight, Rhain noted a distinct pattern in the glow of Slaine’s hunter tattoos each time he resurrected. An inkling of recognition flickered in his mind. Those symbols—they matched the ones on the stake he’d just removed from his brother Roy.

Seized by a mysterious intuition, Rhain felt a pressing need to retrieve that stake. Taking Daisy by the hand, he led her swiftly to their horse and mounted, urging the animal into a gallop.

"Rhain!" Daisy’s voice was nearly lost amid the rushing wind.

"I know. Just hold on," he yelled back. Time was of the essence.

Upon arriving at Tiberius’ residence, Rhain dismounted and helped Daisy down. Her face cycled through a torrent of emotions—horror, shock, and confusion—as she caught sight of his injured hand. But there wasn’t a second to lose.

He took her hand and led her inside. "Stay here until I return," he instructed.

"No!" Daisy’s voice was tinged with panic as she grasped his arm. "Where are you going?"

"I have to take care of something, Daisy," he said, placing his hand gently atop hers and locking eyes with her. Her eyes shimmered with worry and unspoken questions. "I will be back," he assured her.

Suppressing her emotions, perhaps for his sake, Daisy gave him a terse nod. "Be careful," she said, the words laced with a weight that made him pause, if only for a moment, before setting off on his urgent mission.

He raced back to the coffin where his brother had lain. Picking up the stake, he examined the symbols etched into it. They matched, just as he’d suspected. But why did he think this particular weapon would work? Hunters used magical weaponry to slay vampires, true, but would it have the same effect on a hunter?

Either way, he had to try. Rhain leapt back onto his horse and sped back to the battle. He arrived to find not just Lysander locked in combat with Slaine, but Tiberius as well— fighting two other hunters with exceptional fighting prowess.

Without hesitation, Rhain plunged into the fray, pressing the stake into Lysander’s hand. Confusion flickered briefly across Lysander’s features, but he was quick to understand to just trust him.

While Rhain and Tiberius engaged the two new hunters, Lysander focused his attention on Slaine, armed now with the mysterious stake.

Finally managing to subdue the two additional hunters, Rhain and Tiberius looked over just in time to see Lysander drive the stake into Slaine’s chest. An explosive burst of light and energy erupted from the stake and the tattoos on Slaine’s body, sending everyone sprawling.

Thrown back, Rhain crashed into the fortress walls, his body screaming in agony, as it collapsed to the ground. Through a disoriented haze, he spotted Lysander struggling to rise, covered in his own blood. Yet, somehow, he still resembled the dark, angelic figure of death that Rhain had perceived him as when he first met him, and just like that time, he came looming over him., extending a hand to help him up. With a grimace, Rhain reached out, bitterly placing his mutilated hand in his, but Lysander grabbed his wrist and pulled him up instead.

Together, they turned to behold Slaine’s corpse, which seemed to be undergoing a process similar to Rhain’s brother: a slow, ashen transformation spurred by the mystical stake still imbedded in his chest.

With a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, Rhain took cautious steps toward the lifeless form. He crouched down and, swallowing his uncertainty, extracted the stake from Slaine’s chest. He watched, fascinated and horrified, as Slaine’s body seemed to compress inward like molten lead, disintegrating until nothing remained but a pile of dust.

Just like Roy.

Could it be?