Rosetta, Czar's pet panther, stalked her prey with only one intention in mind: to have a wholesome meal.
After thrashing apart the humble Maely abode, for reasons absolutely unnecessary barring sadistic pleasure, Czar Castello had set Rosetta's expectations for devouring over the magical bodies of those treacherous vampires if she found them in due time.
For Toril Maely had joined hands to work with Czar Castello in pursuit of Marlin Stewart and there was no way Czar was letting a person, no matter how genius, con him and disappear into thin air.
Rosetta, never once failing her master, had traced the Maelys to have hidden in the mainland of Brickery County, bordering Huxley, before nightfall struck.
In a snuck corner of a shady winding street was a red bricked apartment with fumes coming out of its open single hung window. Czar takes off his fogging helmet and places it on his bike seat.
"Stand Guard," He pets Rosetta's head and walks through the narrow doors, carefully un-hinging them with professional ease of his fingertips. He catches the scent of two vampires and freshly made steak with spegatti.
He walks up the staircase, kicking the door open at the end and walks inside the warmly lit room, only to find it empty.
"Slithering Vamps," Czar mutters to himself, pressing his lips in a straight line.
The food set on the table was steaming hot, Czar observed. The fireplace was still burning as Czar sat in front of its flaming heat. The seats were still warm and a water pot was boiling over the gas stove. Everything else around was eerily still.
The scent was still present though, and it irked Czar.
He stood in front of the two seater dining table, fingering one of the chairs, and stared at the empty cutlery set on the table. In the fork sitting before his eyes, there was a reflection.
What were they even thinking?
<3
Pristine pressed a hand against one of her imprisoning walls. A white synergy surrounded the area as the paint started to chip away, the cement appeared, withering and giving way to concrete bricks that powdered into non-existence all in a matter of miliseconds.
Pristine stepped out of her confinement and into the dreary hallway of the castle. The wall, as soon as Pristine pulled her hand away, regained its material life.
From the room beside her, where she concluded Edith to be held hostage, Pristine heard nerve wrecking shrieks and a lot of unnecessary banging going around.
"Hmph, sucks to suck I guess," Pristine shrugs to herself and speed runs through the lonely hallways, creeping down the staircases, until she stood mighty still around the corner of a hallway which led to the basement room. She snuck a peek to see a guard guiding Estella Crowne out of the basement room.
Along the line of the wall she was leaning on, Pristine found a table decorated with flowers. She picked a flower in hand and hid underneath the table's floral cover. She pressed the flower between her hands and suddenly it's fruity scent blossomed all around her.
"...and the jury sits in ten," The guard was saying while rounding the corner.
Pristine, hunched under the small table, stilling herself motionless. Any humanlike movement could be easily detected by their sharp senses.
"Will the the Royal Highness be attending it?" Estella's question lingers in the air as they walk past, taking their sweet time.
"The Royal Highness isn't present in the castle at the moment," The guard's reply sounds far off. Pristine keep a check on the sound of their footsteps— each sounding farther than the other.
Strike the iron while it's hot.
The crown prince isn't at the castle. Necromancer's army is coming. Estella Crowne has a secret letter.
This wannabe rebel territory is as good as captured.
Pristine's lips pull a smirk as she crushes the flower between her hands and crawls out of the table, speedwalking to the basement and breaking open her entery.
She looks around the algae covered walls and smiles at them, "Good work being my eyes."
<3
Toril Maely, stuck to the roof with his wife Nettie Maely, wildly eye-gestures her to speed out of the room. The eerie presence of lurking doom in the form of Czar Castello hangs right beneath them. They had been silently creeping right over his head for two minutes now, but it was becoming considerably harder. Their nails were not exactly grip material.
Nettie Maely, being the dedicated wife she is, agrees in a heartbeat. She had her priorities and the $50 manicure, with additional $30 charges for the rhinestones on her nails, were pretty high up on that list.
Just as Czar looks down at the fork, Nettie makes a run for it. Like a soft gust of wind she was about to pass easily— but Czar's twitching sense of scent was too good.
"I know where rotting flesh is when I smell it, you wannabe vampires," Czar growls, voice dipping octaves, as he catches Nettie mid run, by her apron, circles her in speed and all but bowls her through the brick walls. Like a fucking rolling pin.
Toril screams frantically.
The wall beside the window leaves a Nettie sized hole in it. "My poor, Poor, Nettie...!!"
"Don't run from me, cowards. Rosetta will take care of her."
Toril visibly calms down.
Vials of colorful fumes drop all around Czar. Toril Maley jumps down and stands still on the dining table. Red, yellow, black, purple smoke around him with a theatric fireplace burning behind him. He looked like an extravagant magician. A deceptive one.
The werewolf growls, picking up a flaming firepoker from the fire place to impale it through Toril's neck. The raw scent of betrayal was prevailing inside the room.
"That's too sharp to be wise," Toril tsks out, fiddling with his entire body.
"Well I don't intend to be wise," Czar spits out.
Toril presses his lips in a thin line, pulling a straight face, he grabs a tinted black vial and drops its churning green liquid contents on the floor.
"Well then, I presume, you are willing to give up on important information."
The green liquid spreads hastily, it's fumes surround the small perimeter of the room, corroding everything in it's way. Czar's leather boots melt away.
"You yap a lot for a traitor whose daughter I have, Toril Maely."
Czar whips around the firepoker, manipulating the air to whisk the green fumes away from his now blistering feet. He knows Toril's chemicals won't work until one of his breathing passages is blocked.
"Pristine can take care of herself," Toril rasps out.
Czar jumps , landing right in front of Toril's withering form. Czar points the tip of the lethal firepoker under Toril's chin. His breath hitches, hands instantly growing cold and sweaty. "Then why a babysitter?"
"Do you trust your brother?" Toril questions instead.
"Don't you dare jabber nonsense, Maely, we don't want you to die just yet."
Toril tip-toes back, edging to the table's end. Through his sweaty peripherals he saw the churning green fumes waiting underneath.
Czar drags the pitchfork against Toril's skin, drawing purple blood. Toril seethes. He knows he would be useless in a close handed fight with Czar unless he uses his tongue, fast.
"Your brother is planning to invade Aningmoon with Necromancer tonight!"
Stunned, Czar grabs Toril by the neck and hangs him down the table. A flash of his last conversation with Julius creeps into his mind.
"ANSWER ME, MAELY, WHY DID YOU BRING IN A BABY SITTER?! I LOATHE REPEATING." Czar seethes.
Yet, he remembers Jordan saying that Julius worked with Toril. What were these two lizards planning?
The redhead whimpers as his green fumes slowly corrode his shoes, making it's way to his feet. He feels the boiling steam tickle against his heels and screams out loud.
"S-she k-n-now-s t-too m-muc-h!" Toril coughs out, hanging pathetically.
He confessed easily. She must be a distraction, Czar concludes. Toril must have known I was coming to get him because of Julius...
"I don't want you bullshitting, Alchemist. You know I only need your hands and brain to work for me," Czar smiles as Toril desperately claws on Czar's wrist, trying to free himself.
This fucking snake was playing games harder than his level.
"I-i-it's t-tr-ue!" The alchemist chokes out, wheezing for air now. As if on cue, Czar's phone vibrates.
Czar drops the dramatic piece of shit in the green fumes. The redhead screams out, as his back and hair burn, trying to speed away, but Czar throws the firepoker right through Toril's flamboyant attire, pinning him to the wall instead.
Czar pulls his phone out, glaring at Toril's toasty hanging form, and checks the notification. It is a red alert from his security team.
Sucking in a breath, he all but spits out, "Speak." Two can play a game.
"I heard the Necromancer talking with Julius Castello about an invasion over your Aningmoon. It's going to happen tonight," Toril babbles.
What were you doing at the Necromancer's?
What do you want in return?
Why do you constantly betray everyone around you?
Why is a human in the picture?
How far will everyone go?
Czar wants to question but he doesn't.
Czar zones in on Toril's fluttering heartbeat, checking if the bastard was lying or not. He wasn't. Czar sniffs for Toril's scent and it lacks the sourness of deceit.
How romantic.
"If you are lying, I'll have your fucking dick chewed out."
<3
Her fingernail scratches against the wooden edge of the table sitting proudly in front of her. Her train of maids had done away with her measly captive appearance and as Estella Crowne sat in front of their castle's jury, she looking like a true Queen.
In the confines of the circular glass dome, surrounded by empty wooden seats, stoic looking guards and a train of her maids sat Estella.
Gone were her shabby raven tresses and pathetic white robe. The lady who sat in front of smirking seven men was embodiment of the word 'Elegance.'
Her raven hair were glossed, adorned with jewels and glistening jade accessories, pulled up in an beautiful braided bun. Her silver coronet glistened with authority under the hanging chandeliers. Her sharp electric eyes, under the protection of khol and mascara, intimated those before her. Her lush red lips pull themselves in a smile.
"I would like to take full responsibility for my actions," Estella speaks out, leaning forward to place her silken elbows on the table and interlock her bejewelled fingers. She chose to wear a ravishing black and green gown, bodice hugging her like an indomitable armor.
"Lady Crowne, uh, you know these are just— um formalities," One of the men scoffs out, fidgeting uncomfortably.
Estella's beautiful eyes shift to him, lips quirking on the sides. "You're too kind to me, Sir Nicholas." He goes into a coughing fit.
"Preposterous!" Another man grumbles. Estella knew this man. He was Sir Knightly, almost forcing his daughter in the line to be a crown princess. "We should deliver, Miss Crowne here, the harshest punishment possible! She dared to harm the holy body of our crown prince!"
He blindly points a finger at Estella.
"I would mind your manners if I were you. If crown prince Julius considered his holy body violated the he would have been sitting among us, deciding a punishment." The man beside Sir Knightly snaps, swatting his pointing finger away from Estella's regal form. "Apologies, Lady Crowne, but the Council has already decided on the verdict."
"The apology is all mine, Sir Benedict," Estella meekly bows her head in apology.
The council jumps out of their testicles.
All six of them standing up and bowing a full ninty degrees. Sir Knightly grumbles in his seat.
"Oh, kind Sirs, you flatter my irrelevance," Estella gasps out, jewel landen hands gesturing for all of them to sit, nubbing the beginnings of protests that were about to rise form their aged throats. "I would like to accept my punishment as quickly as possible, if you may."
"Oh, uh, um, o-of course!" Sir Andrews exclaims, sitting in the middle seat. He produces a scroll from underneath and stands up to read it out loud.
"The upstanding council of Aningmoon, after careful consideration of Estella Crowne's case, hereby concludes a verdict implemented henceforth. Estella Skyler Crowne is recommend reflection upon her wrongdoings and prohibited wilful phasing until the next full moon emerges—"
The glass doors shatter. Broken glass flings towards them.
Estella jolts up, along with the seven council members. Her train of maids huddle around Estella, providing protection as a hollow darkness lurks inside the hall.
Estella hears growls. She turns to look at the council members, they had already phased into their wolves, sensing the overwhelming darkness.
"Run, hide," Estella whispers to her maids. From the hollow darkness rise skeletal figures burning crimson through their blackened bones. A spine chilling cold perdominates the judgement dome. The shadows move forward, consuming light with each step they take forward.
Estella gulps. Worry later, take action first....but what are they up against?!
One of the wolves howl, another lunges into the darkness. Estella sucks in a breath for all they hear is pathetic mewling. Poor thing didn't know what hit him.
Safety of her people before anything.
Estella slides over the table as the Royal Knights lunge into the darkness, one by one, trying to hinder its pace.
"Run, through the window, call for backup!" Estella shouts, throwing a chair into the glass window. It shatters, creating an exit. The panicked crowd rushes into light.
"Escort the maids out, alert the Dame! Put the Castle in a lockdown! Protect the hostages!" She orders furiously as the leftover guards hurl into action.
Estella pulls a sword from one of the Knights, electric eyes blazing with ferocity. Dressed in a silken battle gown, pretty as a newly sprouted grass shoot, she runs to protect all that she can.
In the name of her kind.
Estella Crowne lunges into the darkness.