The gray skies were torn apart by a wind that roared like an infuriated beast, threatening to devastate the earth. The gusts battered the stone of the building, making the foundations vibrate under the atmospheric pressure. Tree leaves struck the windows of the government building and the glass groaned under the impact, threatening to shatter inward.
Oceanic eyes, distracted by the din, despised the surroundings heavy with the scent of iron and death. The aroma was thick, sticky, clinging to a palate accustomed to coagulated blood. For a hematophage, such a nauseating scent should have been an intoxicating fragrance, but the scene unfolding before them rendered undesirable even that which they normally craved. Death there was not natural; it was corrupt.
—The stench of death is unbearable in here. Hellery, we must leave —said Elek, his melodious voice cutting through the heavy air and drawing the dark lady's attention.
—Isaiah, you say this is identical to what happened on the day of the festival, do you not? —Elek lifted one of the inert bodies as if it were a useless rag, exhibiting its macabre lightness.
The corpse's limbs hung dead, joints dislocated by brute force. The head fell back, showing the cerulean paleness of the skin.
—Simeí continues to move, leaving brazen tracks as a mockery toward us —Isaiah confirmed in a cold voice.
His shadow projected long over the bodies, appearing to feed upon them. Hellery sighed, voicing a conclusion obvious to all present, an omen that warned of the inevitable future:
—Isaiah, in every body there is a particular mark.
The silence that followed was heavier than the roar of the wind outside. Elek threw the body at the vampire's feet.
The thud sounded loud. On the mortal's back, a dark and blurred mark stood out with sinister clarity. The skin around the symbol was necrotic, as if something had burned the soul from the inside out.
—Samael... —he whispered, recognizing the sign of the one who announced his arrival upon the earth.
The name fell into the room like a sentence.
—Simeí is delivering these souls to Samael as a welcoming ritual for the Day of Darkness —declared Hellery, approaching Isaiah. Her eyes shone with concern, though her face remained expressionless; only her lips curled in a gesture of restrained irritation.
The temperature of the place dropped abruptly.
—Pure evil. Perhaps an insect has more value to them than we do —Elek snorted with disgust—. We have to deal with these bodies. All these men were murdered during the Prime Minister's dinner. Belzblehem will not examine this personally... What was our dear dark father thinking? Sending us as government dogs? This is the bloody war between temples and demons; we should not be sacrificed.
His voice bounced off the blood-stained walls, underlining the loneliness of their position. Hellery's serene face listened to the redhead's harsh words:
—The demonic empire is mobilizing. Their night approaches. The fight for human power between the Prime Minister and his brother only accelerates the inevitable...
The shadows in the corners stretched toward her. Hellery raised her hand, invoking the ancient gods of fire. The flames responded, devouring the bodies that had been subjected to the cruelty of evil.
The fire consumed the flesh with unnatural speed, reducing the evidence to black ashes that rose into the air like bone dust. In that world divided by power elites, the vampires had allied themselves with the central government to coexist between light and darkness. But the moment to open the gates of gloom before the eyes of the world was drawing near, and the beautiful prince would rise to seek vengeance in the eternal game between light and shadow.
Alarms blared, alerting of the fire. The high-pitched sound drilled into their sharp ears, mingling with the creaking of the burning structure. In that instant, a shadow passed through the flames, his voice a delicate and mortal chant:
—I thought you would be in the castle, sleeping like the dead.
Astilbe emerged from the infernal fire. The reddish light caressed his pale skin, increasing the ethereal transparency of his precious eyes. The ladies of death barely looked at him, aware that he claimed only Isaiah's attention. His arrival was never unexpected, yet it always adopted a form too human, reminding everyone of what they once had been.
His steps made no sound upon the hot ashes.
♱⏾⋆.˚