In the main stands of the ritual arena, the atmosphere remained very different from the forest inside the artificial dimension.
There, there was no smell of fresh blood or destroyed wood. There were no screams of monsters dying among black trees, nor the sound of blades passing through flesh. There was only the constant murmur of vampire nobility, the cold glow of chandeliers suspended from the vaulted ceiling, the whisper of expensive clothes shifting over luxurious seats, and an enormous magical screen floating above the center of the arena, displaying fragments of the Ascension Ritual in real time.
The stands were divided by status, bloodline, and influence. Lesser families occupied the outer sections. Vassal houses and administrative branches sat higher up. The seats near the center, however, belonged to the names that truly mattered.
Valentine.
Thorne.
Cross.
Other lineages too ancient to ignore and too proud to mingle.
