Trina prowled the forest, her mind fixated on the vile creatures she was hunting. The Queen's recent coldness toward her unnerved her. It was as though they were strangers, as if the bond between them had frayed beyond repair. Had her transformation so repulsed the Queen? The tension between them was suffocating, and Trina couldn't stand it. She had to fix this, and quickly. Perhaps bringing the vampire queen's head to her would catch her attention. That's what she would do. But to find that queen, she first needed to locate the village. Luckily, she had the abilities necessary for the task.
Despite her blackouts and constant thirst, Trina had grown accustomed to the hunger. It no longer overwhelmed her, but she still needed to feed. She discovered that she could shape-shift into the creatures she drained of blood. The duration of the transformation depended on how much blood she consumed, and while controlling these forms was difficult at times, she retained her abilities—often gaining new ones depending on the form she took.
At that moment, she was in the form of a wolf, hunting for the scent of blood. She believed that the creatures she sought would be near wherever the blood was fresh. Her vampiric form was better suited for tracking blood, but it would be too obvious—she needed to remain unnoticed. A wolf, on the other hand, though it always bore a crimson hue, would draw far less attention.
The night was deep, the air thick with the scent of fresh blood. It was intoxicating. Trina followed the scent, hopeful it would lead her to the village. Soon, she saw it—a carcass, left behind by whatever creature had killed it. "Did the beast just leave it here?" she muttered. Even monsters had a code—they should never waste a kill. As the killer had abandoned its prey, Trina would claim it. She was hungry, after all.
After gathering her strength and making camp, she settled in for the night, confident that she could handle any foe that might approach. The monsters she hunted were nocturnal, after all. The blood was satisfying, and the meat tasted even better. As dawn approached, she decided to rest—she would need all her energy for the hunt to come.
When she woke, the night was still stretching over the land, the faint glow of dawn just beginning to fade. She had no time to waste. But then she heard it—grumbling in the distance, accompanied by the faint sound of frightened children's cries. Something was attacking them. She needed to help.
The blood scent grew stronger with every step, the acrid tang of fear mixing with it. Was it the children's blood? She hoped not. As she drew closer, she saw the creature—a massive ogre, tearing through the landscape. Was this the same one that had left the carcass to rot? If so, it would pay for its disrespect.
With a growl, Trina shifted, her wolf form rippling into something more lethal. She would need her full strength to take on the ogre.
"Nice form," the ogre mocked, "too bad I have to kill you."
The fight was fierce. The ogre was strong and agile, but Trina was faster, her movements a blur of crimson. As she closed in, she noted the way the ogre shifted its weight—its ability to balance itself was unnerving. She couldn't afford to let the children see any more violence than they had already witnessed. A swift strike to the neck, and the ogre collapsed.
After a brief moment, Trina knelt to drink from the fallen monster's blood, unwilling to let its power go to waste. The children, strangely unafraid, watched her, their faces curious but calm. Wasn't it strange? They should be frightened. But Trina was too focused on her thirst to care, and after satisfying herself, she stood.
"Hello, children. Do you know the way to your village?"
"Yes," they replied.
"Good. I'll escort you. The woods can be a dangerous place, especially at night."
"Thank you, kind lady."
As they walked, Trina noticed the blood scent growing stronger again. Was it the ogre's lingering scent? No, something else. And now, in the distance, she saw gates that were all too familiar. That explained their strange lack of fear toward her. These children belonged to the very creatures she had come to despise.
"Is this your village?" she asked.
"Yes!" they answered.
Trina's anger flared as they neared the gates. Just being this close to these beasts sent waves of fury through her. She couldn't let it show, though. Not yet. She needed to keep calm—she couldn't afford to lose the Queen. Once inside, however, her disdain could no longer be contained.
"You vile beasts," she spat. "You've corrupted my blood and ruined the bond between the Queen and me. I've come for the head of your queen."
"Trina! Is that you? What are you—"
"Quiet! Don't call me that name!" The sound of their voices made her blood boil. "I'm here to claim your ruler's head. Bring it to me."
"But we don't have a ruler."
"Then I'll take yours instead," she sneered. "If you won't give her to me willingly, I'll cut off all your heads. Eventually, I'll get to hers."
Without further warning, she began her attack, unleashing all her pent-up rage. The bodies piled up around her, her strikes indiscriminate, fueled by a wild, bloodlust-driven abandon. The children's cries, the screams of the village's inhabitants—it all blurred into the background as she reveled in her violent urges.
When the bloodshed subsided and the world around her fell silent, she looked around, her senses dulled. The village was a graveyard, its streets soaked in blood.
"Even though I didn't get their queen," she muttered, satisfaction curling on her lips, "I've purified this land of those wretched beasts."