Another night

Ilyana, brow furrowed in thought, nudged her sister's arm. "Sis, what do you make of that vampire?" she whispered, her voice barely louder than a rustle of silk.

Her sister, Clara, turned, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "What do you mean, dear?" she asked, her voice a soothing melody.

Ilyana leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss. "Isn't he strange? Did you see how he outperformed everyone the blessed, even the other notable geniuses? The ones from great bloodlines and clans! And I could tell, he was holding back, barely exerting himself."

Clara's smile didn't falter even for a brief moment. "But so was Lara, wasn't she?" she pointed out, gesturing towards the silver-haired woman across the room.