In the dark shadows of a snow-covered forest that remains untouched by man, a gothic-styled citadel lays directly in the middle of the woodland sticking out like a sore thumb. The gothic-styled palace is large, elegant, incredibly lavish, and heavily fortified. It had been built to remain hidden from the world by powerful sorcery. And so, the citadel had remained for hundreds of years.
Thick storm clouds hover on the horizon with the only light seen is the glimpses of distant stars. Under the complete cover of darkness, (since it is the new moon), despite the impending storm fancy carriages are pulled by winged steeds through the air. The sound of the flapping of wings is heard as dozens of bats flutter through the frigid air towards the gothic castle.
Not feeling the cold as mortals do, lesser vampires hired as servants in dark livery await the arrival of the higher-ranked vampires accompanied by guests. The lesser vampires had been firmly warned by the mid-rank vampires to not touch nor much less gain the attention of the rare magical guests at the citadel. These guests were not to be trifled with but rather were exceedingly dangerous.
The stream of bats one by one arrive on the snow-cleared pathway and transform into pale, gaunt dark-haired men, and women. There are a few exceptions as even among them, there are those who once in life possessed lighter colored hair. The vampires that arrive stride in warily rather than their usual confidence of middle-rank vampires of excellent pedigrees thanks to their blood sires. Rather the middle-rank vampires appeared to be uneasy causing the lesser vampires acting as servants to become even more wary and cautious.
An elegant flying carriage with a firm thud landed on the cobble-stoned path. The large, winged steeds are pitch black with bright red eyes that glow in the night. The winged steeds' breaths can be seen in the cold as great steams of puffs. Their hooves clatter loudly up the pathway as the lesser vampires brace themselves for the arrival of a high-ranked vampire or that of the rumored guests.
The elegant carriage rolls to a stop before the entrance of the castle. The lower-ranked vampire stiffly straightens at noting the crest upon the carriage. The carriage driver a lesser-ranked vampire leaps from the driver's seat to the ground. With great care, the coach driver opened the carriage door wide and bowed. "My liege, we have arrived."
An elderly, pale gaunt vampire with long silver hair and soulless black eyes emerged from the depths of the pitch-black carriage. The elderly vampires' eyes flicker over the lower-ranking vampires who all bow and greet the higher-ranked vampire. "Greetings Pontifex Luther."
Without formally acknowledging the lesser ranked vampires, the Pontifex Luther begins to move up the marble steps without a further passing glance. "Retrieve a bottle of 1912 elf-wine. It shall be a long night," he demanded in passing.
A lesser-ranked vampire obediently rushes off to obey, while the rest remain to greet the higher-ranked vampires and expected guests. A steady line of carriages continues to pull up until the last carriage arrives. There is a heavy unease in the air as the carriage driver with a terrified expression opens the carriage. A middle-aged female vampire emerges from within, a former witch, (and the replacement of Pontifex Victoria).
"Greetings Pontifex Delia," the lesser vampires chorused in greeting.
Pontifex Delia cut their greeting short with a sharp gesture of her finger. The lesser vampire startles in surprise until they see a second gesture, a warning. The lesser vampires fall silent in understanding. This was a stern warning to them for their safety.
A sinister hiss is heard from the depths of the carriage as gleaming serpent eyes peer eerily from the depths of the dark carriage. The lesser vampires stiffen at witnessing a large serpent as thick as a man's thigh emerge with a heavy slither. The serpent had a flat viper head with diamond patterns on its earthy green-scaled skin. The serpent maliciously flickered its tongue wide at them revealing poisonous large fangs at them.
"Nagini, behave yourself," a cold voice insincerely instructed.
The lesser vampires had rarely ever felt fear from a mortal, but the wizard before them filled them with great instinctive terror. The man if he could be called one is deathly pale almost skeleton-like with snake-lit slits for nostrils, but even worse crimson serpent-eyes that miss nothing. The wizard is tall, thin, and cloaked in dark robes. His fingers are long, sinister, spider-like with sharp-clawed blue-tinged fingernails. The lesser vampires had never met the wizard, but they all had read the Daily Prophet. This could only be one man, Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the leader of the fanatical group known as Death Eaters, who once was known as Tom Marvolo Riddle.
The lesser vampires find themselves unable to move as if small rodents trapped by the terrifying gaze of a hungry serpent. "Please follow me, Lord Voldemort," Pontifex Delia loudly said breaking the horrifying spell.
"Lead the way," Voldemort callously gestured following the former witch now a vampire.
The lesser vampires find themselves relaxing as the awful presence follows Pontifex Delia. Their attention is pulled back to the sound of footsteps as three more figures emerge from the depths of the carriage. The first is a wizard with a long scar across his face, the second is a male wizard with a spotted face, and the last is a witch with dragon pox scars across her face. The three of them were known to the lesser vampires as MaCann, Sirglide, and Bonnenne. They had been frequent visitors to the Citadel as of late. And what they desired only the higher-ranked vampires knew.
MaCann, Sirglide, and Bonnenne proudly follow the Dark Lord into the vampire castle. MaCann barely refrains from sneering, while Sirglide lustfully eyes a beautiful middle-ranked female vampire. The wench had refused Sirglide's advances, but sooner or later the wench would be in his bed. Either by her own will or by force.
Ignoring Sirglide's leering lances, Bonnenne carefully eyes the vampires. Unlike her co-partners, she had intentionally befriended several vampires to further the glorious agenda of their Dark Lord. Among is a young, tall, emancipated, middle-ranked vampire named Sangunini. It had not been difficult to gain the vampire's confidence since the middle-ranked vampire had a weakness for young females barely at the cusp of adulthood. It had been easy to find females of that age, especially among the fallen pureblood families, who were more than willing to sell their daughters into marriage much less as a bedmate to a vampire.
Bonnenne purposefully catches the eye of Sangunini, who slightly tilts his head at her. The vampire cautiously makes a familiar gesture to her both calming her and worrying her. It would seem that the entire vampire council would be in attendance tonight. That was both good and worrisome. Still, she had firm confidence in her master that he would be able to sway the vampires to their cause.