In another part of Eldoralth, a figure lounged in a dimly lit chamber, the air heavy with the scent of blood and incense.
Shadows twisted and writhed around the towering walls of the Vampyros citadel, casting a haunting glow over the lavish room.
Lirae Bloodveil, the Vampyros Apex, rested lazily in a chair, her legs crossed in effortless elegance. Her pale skin shimmered faintly in the soft, flickering light, and her violet eyes, filled with centuries of life and malice, glowed faintly from within.
At her side rested a blood-red lance, which continued to vibrate with intensity.
The room was silent as she traced her fingers lightly along the weapon's edge. Although she appeared youthful and radiant, her eyes betrayed the weight of the ages, reflecting a depth and cruelty that only someone who had lived for centuries could possess.
Standing before her was one of her many servants, an older man with sunken, hollow eyes and skin as pale as death.
