The world of mortals was loud, bright, and exhausting. For weeks, Count Elliot had forced himself to live like a fragile creature of flesh and bone in the damp marshes. But beneath the ancestral estate of House Sanguis, tucked away in the deep, freezing darkness of the family crypt, the true master awoke. The heavy marble lid of the sarcophagus slid open without a sound.
Elliot sat up, his pale skin gleaming like polished ivory in the pitch black. His lungs didn't need air, but his nose instantly caught a familiar, intoxicating scent. Standing beside the stone tomb was his most loyal servant, bowing low, holding a heavy silver chalice filled to the brim with warm, fresh, crimson blood.
Elliot took the chalice, his fingers cool against the silver. He walked out of the crypt and ascended the winding stone steps to his private chambers. He pushed open the heavy velvet curtains, stepping onto the grand balcony that overlooked the sea. The pale, silver light of the full moon washed over him .
He drank. The liquid was thick and metallic, instantly burning away the lingering exhaustion of the mortal world.
As Elliot drained the chalice, the first faint line of dawn began to paint the eastern horizon. Even from this distance, the mere sight of the rising sun made Elliot's skin crawl with instinctual dread. Without protection, a single direct beam of daylight would cook his immortal flesh into ash. It was a humiliating curse, one that kept his god-like species hiding in dark corners like rats.
But that was about to change.
"Is the laboratory prepared?" Elliot asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Yes, my Lord," the servant replied, bowing his head. "The master smiths and the blood-alchemists have gathered the rare metals. The molds for the daylight rings are ready. We only wait for the final, crucial ingredient."
Elliot smiled, his fangs catching the fading moonlight. The ingredient was already in his possession: the pure, untouched Amazon girl he had captured in the marshes and secretly transported back to Heavenport in chains. The ancient blood-magic required a horrific ritual—the heart-blood of a virgin Amazon, sacrificed at the exact moment the metal was forged. Once completed, these enchanted rings would shield House Sanguis from the sun's lethal rays, allowing me and my family to move freely in broad daylight.
With these rings, the vampires would no longer be creatures of the night. They would rule the daytime world, completely unstoppable. This was the true, secret reason Elliot needed to annex the Amazon lands; he needed a permanent, endless supply of Amazonian bloodlines to forge an empire that never slept.
"Keep her well-fed and heavily guarded," Elliot commanded. "Her blood is worth more than all the gold ."
"Of course, master. But we have an urgent matter," the servant reported, his voice trembling slightly. "The noble houses of the Assembly are moving. And they have struck first. A heavily armored transport carrying our midnight-harvested Wine was ambushed on the eastern road. The guards were slaughtered. The barrels were smashed. The border houses left their marks on the ruined wagons. The house war has begun."
Elliot's amber eyes narrowed into dangerous, slit-like pupils. They think they can choke my economy, he thought, a dark, predatory amusement twisting his mind.
"They want a war," Elliot murmured aloud. "Then I shall give them a massacre."
To destroy an alliance, one must cut away its foundation. Elliot closed his eyes and let the ancient blood-magic take hold of his physical form.
His bones shifted and cracked smoothly, shrinking into his chest. His velvet clothes melted into shadow, and his arms stretched, turning into leathery, midnight-black wings. Within moments, the noble count was gone. A bat took flight from the balcony, soaring silently into the cool night air above Heavenport.
From high above, the city looked like a playground of livestock. Elliot's enhanced senses could hear the heartbeat of every mortal below. He flew toward the red-light district—the filthy, alleys controlled by the lord, of brothel .
Elliot spotted his target. The brothel lord was walking down a secluded, cobblestone alleyway, surrounded by four heavily armed guards . They were laughing, celebrating .
Look at them, Elliot thought, soaring silently in circles above their heads. So arrogant in their iron armor. They think steel plates can save them from me.
Elliot dived.
He didn't kill them immediately. He wanted them to feel the terror. He shifted back into his human form just behind them, his boots making a soft click against the wet cobblestones.
"Who's there?" one of the guards barked, turning around with his sword drawn.
Elliot vanished into the mist before the guard's eyes could even register his face.
"Up there! No, behind you!" another yelled.
Elliot played with them like a cat plays with mice. He used his supernatural speed to blur past their vision, whispering their names into the cold wind, extinguishing the torches along the alley walls one by one until they were trapped in total darkness. He could smell their sweat; he could hear their hearts pounding like frantic drums. Yes, Elliot thought, tasting their fear on his tongue. Know what it means to be hunted.
With a sudden burst of violence, Elliot struck.
He caught the first border guard by the throat, his claw-like nails tearing through the man's leather collar. With one swift movement, he dragged him into the shadows. A sharp, sickening crunch echoed through the alley as Elliot tore his throat open, drinking deeply from the fountain of life. The blood of a soldier was hot and bitter, full of adrenaline.
The other three guards panicked, swinging their swords blindly into the dark. Elliot moved like smoke. He slid beneath a blade, drove his fist straight through the chest-plate of the second guard, and snapped the neck of the third, leaving their lifeless bodies slumped in the mud.
Now, only the brothel lord remained. The fat, wealthy noble was pressed flat against the stone wall, his expensive silk robes stained with the blood of his protectors. He was shaking violently, his sword dropping from his limp hand.
"Please," the lord whimpered, his eyes wide with horror as Elliot stepped into the moonlight. "Take my gold. Take my properties. I will vote for the annexation! I will give you anything!"
Elliot walked up to him slowly, his amber eyes glowing with a terrifying, ancient light. He leaned in close, his cold breath brushing against the lord's ear.
"You are a merchant " Elliot whispered, his voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. "You looked at my future livestock and saw nothing but cheap prostitutes for your filthy dens. You thought you could stand in the way of House Sanguis."
"I didn't know!" the lord screamed. "I swear—"
"Goodbye, my Lord," Elliot purred.
Elliot bared his long, silver fangs and buried them deep into the brothel lord's neck. He didn't just feed; he drained him completely, pulling every ounce of life out of the man's body until the lord's skin turned a hollow, shriveled grey.
When he was finished, Elliot tossed the empty corpse onto the pile of dead guards. He stood alone in the quiet alley, his senses overflowing with power, the warm blood of his enemies pulsing through his immortal veins .
Elliot smiled, transforming back into a bat, and flew off into the night .