The night was Dracula's domain, but tonight felt different. His newly rediscovered vulnerability to the sun weighed on him like a shroud. While Merlin and the Umbrian wizards rested or continued their daytime preparations, Dracula oversaw his Punishers, reorganizing their patrols, adjusting to the harsh reality of once again being prisoners of darkness. He stood on a shaded terrace of the building they used as their base, gazing out at the Caribbean Sea lit by a pale, sickly moon, when the shadows around him deepened unnaturally.
Three figures emerged from the night air, not with the ostentation of a portal, but as if the darkness itself had shaped them. They wore robes of a faded, threadbare red, their faces hidden by deep hoods, but Dracula could feel their power—a chaotic magic, yes, but attenuated, strained, almost brittle—and, above all, he felt their fear.
"Prince Dracula," said a female voice, raspy and cautious, belonging to the figure who seemed to lead the small group. She wore a crimson gauntlet on one hand, perhaps an insignia of rank or a focus of power. "We bring you greetings... and a proposition."
Dracula turned slowly, his red eyes glowing in the darkness. He recognized the energy signature, though weakened. "Red Wizards," he said, his voice a low murmur. "What unfinished business do you have with the night, you who served the traitor Eleonora?"
"Eleonora abandoned us," the woman retorted. "She used us and discarded us when she found greater power in the depths. We are... the last of the original Scarlet Circle. And we seek survival."
Survival, Dracula thought with disdain. The most basic motivation. And the most dangerous. "And you think that I, allied with those who would hunt you like rabid dogs, will offer you sanctuary?"
"We do not seek sanctuary," the Red leader said, taking a tentative step forward. "We seek a pact. A mutual benefit." She paused, weighing her words. "We know of your... recent difficulty with the sun. This is not the first time your line has suffered that weakness."
Dracula tensed. "What do you know of this?"
"Our order is ancient, Prince. More than Merlin suspects. In forgotten ages, when the first of your kind fought against the light of day, the Crimson Circle shared certain... knowledge. Secrets of the blood, of the shadow, rituals that could weave temporary protection against sunburn. Crude methods, perhaps, compared to the Elven rings or whatever you used, but methods nonetheless. Knowledge that could be... adapted."
Intrigue momentarily replaced suspicion in Dracula's mind. Knowledge of sun protection, however archaic... was an offer almost impossible to refuse in his current situation. "And what do you ask in return for these 'secrets'?"
The fear he had sensed earlier in the magi intensified. The Red leader glanced nervously toward the shadows beyond the terrace. "Protection. Not against Merlin, not even against cosmic horrors or the Fallen Watchers, though we fear them too. We fear something closer to home. Something... familiar to you."
"Speak clearly, sorceress," Dracula urged.
"The other creations," the woman whispered. "The errors of blood. We have seen them! Here, in the shadows of this global chaos. The Blood Faeries, more cruel and elusive than ever, hunting at the edges of cities. The Necrovampires, raising small armies of the dead in forgotten cemeteries. And the scaled beasts... the Dracovampires... we have found the remnants of their slaughter. They are real! And they are active! They prey on the confusion. They hunt humans and lost mages alike. They have decimated us."
Dracula felt a chill that had nothing to do with the sea breeze. His own memories, his own failures, were now an active and present threat, not just to him, but to these last remnants of Chaos mages.
"We are few," the Red leader admitted, her voice tinged with despair. "Chaos is a master who devours its servants. We propose this: we unite our remaining forces. Our forgotten knowledge of blood manipulation and elemental resistance could be the key to restoring your protection from the sun, or creating a new one. In exchange... your power, your Punishers... defend us from those abominations your own kind unleashed upon the world."
Dracula remained silent, weighing the offer. It was a pact with the devil, or at least, with his most chaotic and desperate servants. Allying with Red Wizards was a direct betrayal of the fragile truce with Umbra. But they offered a potential solution to his greatest weakness and confirmed a threat he himself feared. It was pragmatism versus principle. Survival versus honor.
Can I use them? he thought. Control them? The risk is immense... but the reward...
"Your proposal is... bold," she said finally, her voice carefully neutral. "And your fear is palpable. I do not trust your kind of magic, nor your loyalty." She paused. "But the information... is interesting. Tell me more about these 'secrets' about the sun. Prove that your knowledge has value. And tell me exactly where you found these... abominations. Where they lurk."
It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no, either. It was a door left ajar in the darkness.
The leader of the Red Wizards nodded slowly, understanding the implicit negotiation. "We will give you what we know, Prince Dracula. In the hope that you will see the mutual benefit... in the shadows we share."
An unholy alliance, born of fear and necessity, was beginning to be secretly woven beneath the Cancún moon. Dracula now had a new and dangerous card to play, but the price of using it might be higher than he imagined.