"I sense a few presences hiding," Seraphaine whispered, her voice barely a ripple in the cold air.
Dravien nodded instantly. "Got it." He closed his eyes, his ears flickering as they strained to catch sounds beyond the reach of human hearing. "Four on the left, hissing in the shadows. Five on the right. Vampires."
"Damn it," Iris muttered. The wagon lurched to a halt as the horses whined, their hooves dancing nervously. No matter how many times Iris flicked the reins, the animals refused to budge. "They won't move. We travel on foot."
The Sages disembarked one by one, their boots hitting the dirt with soft thuds. As soon as Iris unhitched the team, the horses bolted, disappearing into the black maw of the forest.
"Stay on your guard," Eiden commanded, leading the way. The forest grew denser, the shadows stretching across the narrow path like long, dark fingers. The air felt heavy and cool, filled with the rustle of unseen creatures. Dravien kept his ears angled outward until, after several tense moments, he finally relaxed.
"They're gone," he murmured. "Not a hiss, not a step. They've backed off."
The group pushed forward until the trees thinned, revealing a figure standing in the middle of the road. He wore a crisp black dress suit, his short black hair combed back perfectly, and his eyes glowed with a predatory red light.
"Hello, Great Sages," the man said, his hands clasped behind his back. "Lord Zeth was told of your arrival. He would like to see you. Please—come this way."
He turned and walked with unnervingly quiet steps, leading them through patches of dead grass and scattered stones. As they walked, the night air grew colder, thickening around them like a shroud. The road eventually opened into a wide, barren field that stole the breath from their lungs.
Dozens of tall wooden stakes rose from the earth, each impaled with a lifeless body. They hung as jagged silhouettes in the moonlight, swaying gently in the freezing wind. Beyond this field of carnage loomed a massive black castle, its spires twisting toward the stars like claws. Crimson light pulsed from the windows, and an oppressive aura radiated from the stone walls.
The guide led them through the gates into stone halls lit by dim, flickering red lanterns. Tables lined the walls, and upon them lay pale, motionless bodies. Vampires fed in the gloom, some with eerie calm and others with a slow, deliberate hunger. Every glowing red eye in the hall snapped toward the Sages as they passed. Hisses echoed off the ceiling, and fangs glinted in the dying light, the atmosphere thick with a volatile mix of hostility and curiosity.
"Right this way," the man said calmly, guiding them into a grand chamber at the end of the hall.
Inside stood a throne unlike any other—a living structure formed from attendants held in a ritualistic arrangement by dark magic. Their bodies were the seat, unmoving yet breathing, the entire throne pulsing with a faint, rhythmic life.
Sitting upon them was a man in a black dress suit, his skin as pale as marble and his red eyes burning with intelligence. His black hair fell to his neck, and in his hand he gripped a long red sword, its blade threaded with shifting veins of crimson energy. He leaned on the weapon like a staff, the tip resting against the floor.
Zeth's mouth curled into a wide, mischievous smile as he stared directly at Eiden.
"Hello, Eiden."