The chamber in Drezova was quiet, lit only by the crimson glow of candles that dripped slowly on blackened iron stands.
Valerian sat alone, reclining in a carved chair of obsidian, his hand wrapped lazily around a crystal goblet filled with fresh blood.
The liquid caught the candlelight as he swirled it, the faint scent of iron drifting in the air before the door burst open.
Bethany strode inside, her black leather jacket still fluttering from the night wind. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sharp as they landed on him.
"You're back," Valerian said, not moving from his chair. His voice was calm, smooth, but carried an undertone of authority that silenced even the most defiant of vampires.
Bethany nodded, stepping closer.
"Yes, my lord." She stopped just before him, studying his face. "Did you succeed? Did you find out more about Elowen... about her being the key to the Moon Relic?"
