Was it the ethereal call of a forsaken siren or the lament of the newly anointed High Priestess of the Vampire Realm?
The Vampire King's eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat when he glimpsed the dagger embedded deep within the High Priestess's chest. Such a fatal wound would be the end of any mere mortal, yet here she was, barely holding on.
His mind, somehow still functioning amidst the chaos, found itself entranced by the intricate design of the dagger. It seems so familiar, he pondered, sifting through the vast archive of memories.
Drawing her closer, he inspected the hilt, delicately engraved with a name that matched its exquisite craftsmanship. "Hecate," he whispered, the name echoing softly through the eerie silence.
