The royal medical wing had never seen such activity. Vampires who had maintained perfect composure through territorial wars and governance crises now moved with barely contained panic, their legendary self-control fracturing in the face of something none had ever witnessed before—their king, the progenitor of their entire species, completely unresponsive.

  Lucius sat motionless on an examination table, allowing medical staff to conduct their evaluations without resistance. His eyes remained open, occasionally tracking movement, but he offered no verbal responses. Blood samples were taken, neural monitoring equipment attached, and advanced diagnostic systems activated—technology preserved and enhanced since before the Evolution, now deployed with frantic urgency.

  The Council of Evolved gathered in the adjoining chamber, their normally measured discussions repced by urgent whispers and concerned gnces through the observation window. Nova paced restlessly among them, his transformed physiology unable to process the anxiety coursing through him.

  "This makes no sense," Maximilian muttered, reviewing diagnostic readings for the third time. "Physiologically, he's perfect. Better than perfect—his systems show optimal functioning in every measurable category."

  "Then why isn't he responding?" Nova demanded, his voice tight with tension.

  Baron Cassian shook his head. "In two thousand years, I've never seen anything like this. He's responded to crisis, challenge, betrayal—everything vampire society could throw at him—with perfect strategic precision."

  "And now he's just... gone," Sera added, her medical background evident in her clinical assessment. "Present physically but completely withdrawn mentally."

  Valerian alone maintained military calm, his posture revealing nothing of his internal state as he observed his brother through the window. Only those who knew him best might notice the slight tension in his shoulders, the barely perceptible clench of his jaw—signs of the profound concern beneath his composed exterior.

  "It's not physical," Valerian stated with absolute certainty. "Get me someone who understands the mind, not just the body."

  Nova looked up sharply. "A psychologist? For Lucius?"

  "For the being who has carried the weight of an entire species for two millennia," Valerian corrected. "For my brother who has never once in his existence allowed himself to be vulnerable, until now."

  The concept of Lucius—Subject 23, progenitor of all vampires, the most powerful being in existence—requiring psychological intervention seemed so fundamentally impossible that several council members exchanged concerned gnces. The very idea challenged their understanding of vampire hierarchy and power.

  "Find me someone qualified," Valerian continued, his voice allowing no debate. "Not from the noble houses, not from any political faction. Someone with genuine expertise and no agenda."

  Count Dominic cleared his throat. "There's a vampire in the Eastern Territories who specialized in trauma psychology even before the Evolution. Dr. Eliza Farhaven. When I implemented blood farm reforms, she developed rehabilitation protocols for resources who'd experienced severe psychological damage."

  "Get her," Valerian ordered. "Now."

  Dr. Eliza Farhaven arrived six hours ter, a slender vampire with observant eyes and an unassuming demeanor that belied her five centuries of existence. She carried none of the trappings of vampire nobility—her clothing practical, her manner direct, her focus entirely professional as she was briefed on the situation.

  "I'll need to examine him alone first," she stated, her tone making it clear this wasn't a request but a professional requirement.

  Nova started to object, but Valerian silenced him with a sharp gesture. "Whatever you need, doctor. But understand—that's my brother, not just your king."

  Dr. Farhaven nodded, her expression softening slightly. "I understand, Archduke Valerian. Family retionships will be central to my assessment."

  The examination sted over three hours, during which the Council remained in the adjoining chamber, their anxiety growing with each passing minute. When Dr. Farhaven finally emerged, her expression revealed nothing of her preliminary findings.

  "I need to speak with all of you," she announced. "Individually at first, then as a group. I need to understand exactly what happened before His Majesty's current state began."

  And so began what Nova would ter describe as the most exhaustive questioning process he had ever experienced—more thorough than any interrogation his former owner had subjected him to, more detailed than Lucius's governance assessments, more precise than Valerian's military debriefings.

  Dr. Farhaven started with Nova, leading him to a private consultation room where recording equipment captured every word, every expression, every microgesture.

  "Tell me exactly what happened before His Majesty became unresponsive," she began, her voice neutral but her gaze intensely focused.

  Nova described the Council meeting, Valerian's intervention, and the private conversation that followed—including his decration of love and Lucius's shocking response.

  "And his exact words when you told him you loved him?" Dr. Farhaven prompted.

  "'Not possible,'" Nova quoted. "Then he repeated my words like he couldn't understand them: 'You love me?' When I confirmed it, he said 'System error. Recalcution required,' almost like he was a computer that couldn't process the input."

  Dr. Farhaven made notes before continuing. "Had you expressed these feelings before this moment?"

  Nova hesitated. "Not explicitly. During our vacation, we became physically intimate. I thought the emotional connection was obvious, but apparently he interpreted it differently."

  "How did he interpret it?"

  "As... educational exploration. He thought I was just curious about physical connection after centuries of captivity."

  Dr. Farhaven's expression revealed nothing, but her next question cut directly to the heart of the matter. "Why do you love him?"

  The directness caught Nova off-guard. "What?"

  "Why do you love Lucius?" she repeated. "Not his position, not his power, not his role in vampire society. Why do you love him specifically?"

  Nova's answer came without hesitation. "Because he saw me when no one else did. Not as a pet, not as a resource, not as a symbolic victory over my former owner—but as a person with dignity and worth regardless of my status. Because despite waiting two thousand years and having more power than anyone in existence, he never once tried to control me or force his vision on me. Because he gave me genuine choice in everything, including the transformation that saved my life." He paused, then added more softly, "And because beneath all his perfect strategic pnning and control, there's a profound loneliness that he's carried since before the Evolution—something I recognize because I carried it too, for different reasons."

  Dr. Farhaven nodded, making additional notes before moving to her next line of questioning. "What do you know about his life before becoming King? Before becoming an Archduke? Before the Evolution itself?"

  What followed were hours of increasingly specific questions about Lucius's history, his retionships, his behaviors in various contexts, his responses to different types of challenges. The questions seemed endless, exploring every aspect of Lucius's existence that Nova had witnessed or learned about.

  When she finally concluded Nova's interview, Dr. Farhaven moved on to Valerian, whose session sted even longer—delving into childhood memories, their earliest experiences before the Evolution, Lucius's behaviors as a nameless street child, and the profound changes that occurred after his transformation.

  One by one, she interviewed every Council member, accumuting perspectives on Lucius across different time periods and contexts. Baron Cassian provided insights from the early territorial conflicts. Count Dominic shared observations from the implementation of blood farm reforms. Viscount Gabriel offered perspectives on Lucius's theological understanding. Each interview built upon the others, creating a comprehensive psychological profile that spanned two millennia of existence.

  Eighteen hours after Dr. Farhaven's arrival, the Council of Evolved gathered in the conference chamber adjacent to the medical wing. Lucius remained in the examination room, still unresponsive but physically stable, monitored by medical staff who reported no change in his condition.

  "I have conducted preliminary evaluations and reviewed all avaible information," Dr. Farhaven began, her professional demeanor unchanged despite the extraordinary circumstances. "What I'm about to say may be difficult to hear, but it's essential for understanding His Majesty's current state."

  The room fell silent, even Valerian's military composure showing signs of strain as they waited for her assessment.

  "Based on my evaluation, His Majesty is experiencing an unprecedented psychological crisis," Dr. Farhaven continued. "His current unresponsive state is not a physical condition but a psychological shutdown triggered by information his mind cannot integrate into his existing framework of reality."

  "Information?" Sera questioned. "You mean Nova's decration of love?"

  "Precisely," Dr. Farhaven confirmed. "To understand why this particur statement triggered such a profound response, we need to examine His Majesty's psychological development across his entire existence."

  What followed was the most comprehensive psychological analysis any of them had ever heard—questions upon questions designed to illuminate Lucius's internal framework. Dr. Farhaven asked about every retionship he had formed, every significant interaction, every pattern of behavior that might reveal his fundamental understanding of himself and others.

  She questioned Valerian about their earliest memories as street children, probing for details about their mother's treatment of them, their survival mechanisms, and the responsibilities Lucius shouldered from his earliest consciousness.

  She asked Nova to recall every conversation that touched on Lucius's self-perception, particurly how he had described himself in retion to others.

  She questioned the Council about Lucius's reactions to praise versus criticism, his responses to personal attacks versus governance challenges, his comfort with different types of authority.

  With each response, Dr. Farhaven built a more detailed picture of Lucius's psychological framework, connecting seemingly unreted aspects of his behavior across millennia into a coherent pattern. Her questions revealed a methodical approach to understanding not just what had triggered his current state, but the lifetime of experiences that had made him vulnerable to this particur trigger.

  "The pattern is consistent across all reports," she noted after several hours of this exhaustive exploration. "His Majesty demonstrates exceptional capability in crisis management, strategic pnning, governance implementation, and virtually every aspect of leadership. He responds to challenges with precise tactical assessment, anticipates complications centuries before they manifest, and adapts to unexpected developments with remarkable flexibility."

  She paused, reviewing her notes one final time.

  "I need more time to complete my assessment," she finally stated, closing her notes. "Based on everything I've gathered so far, I can formute a preliminary hypothesis, but I require additional information before sharing my conclusions."

  "How long?" Valerian asked, his military directness reflecting the urgency they all felt.

  Dr. Farhaven considered the question carefully. "Given the complexity of this case and the unprecedented nature of His Majesty's condition... I would like another twelve hours to organize my findings and develop appropriate recommendations."

  Valerian nodded, though the tension in his jaw revealed his frustration at the dey.

  "Twelve hours," he agreed. "And then we need answers."