Above, the sky is not the inky blackness of night but a malevolent hue of dark red, as if the very cosmos itself mourned the unholy presence of its occupant. Fiery streaks of crimson lightning occasionally sear through the heavens, casting eerie illumination on the castle's grim façade. The air is thick with an otherworldly fog, a haunting mist that clings to the earth like a shroud, concealing the horrors that lurk within.
The Vampire King's Castle looms atop a jagged, desolate hill. Its towering spires, constructed from ancient obsidian stone, pierce the night sky like twisted, skeletal fingers. Moonlight barely dares to touch its sinister silhouette, casting eerie, elongated shadows that dance in macabre revelry along the barren, blood-red ground below.
The castle's walls, draped in thick, ivy-like vines of deep crimson, glisten with an unnatural luster, as if they thirsted for the essence of life itself. Massive wrought-iron gates, adorned with menacing, gargoyle-like statues, stand ajar.
Within the castle, Crown Princess Drusilla ventured into the ominous depths, The grand entrance hall stretched before her, a cavernous expanse of cold, black marble adorned with crimson tapestries that seemed to writhe with life. Chandeliers made from the twisted bones of some long-forgotten creatures cast an eerie, flickering glow.
Candle sconces lined the walls, their feeble flames struggling to pierce the oppressive darkness that clung to every corner. The air was thick with the scent of ancient books and musty tapestries, the very essence of secrets long held and forbidden.
Crown Princess Drusilla's footsteps echoed through the hall as she walked, each one sounding like a mournful dirge. Her gown, as black as midnight, rustled softly with each step, and a silver tiara adorned with blood-red jewels gleamed atop her platinum hair.
At the far end of the hall, a massive obsidian door stood, imposing and inscrutable. It bore intricate carvings of serpents, a testament to her father's dark reign. As she approached, the door swung open with a haunting creak, revealing a chamber beyond.
Inside, the throne room awaited, bathed in a surreal, crimson glow emanating from a ceiling adorned with hundreds of flickering candles. A blood-red carpet led the way to the throne, where King Vladis LeVane , her father, sat in shadowy grandeur.
The King was clad in regal, ebony robes, exuded an aura of formidable power, his eyes like pools of endless crimson flames.
Drusilla knelt before him, her heart heavy with trepidation, her voice barely above a whisper as she greeted him, "Father, I have a request."
***
He reclined in his chair, appearing impossibly young—a stark contrast to the decrepit facade he presented during public gatherings. His platinum hair cascaded over one shoulder in wavy disarray, and his piercing gaze bore down heavily on his daughter.
King Vladis LeVane leaned forward ever so slightly, resting a finger on the armrests of his throne, and regarded the princess with grave attention. He spoke in a smooth tone, "What is it you desire, my dear daughter?"
Drusilla hesitated only momentarily before responding, her words tumbling forth without regard for decorum, "Please, Father, aid Azrael. Lord Vaelorian has incarcerated him in the Vaelorian household dungeon and shows no intention of releasing him anytime soon."
King Vladis LeVane frowned slightly at his daughter's plea. "So, you wish for me to order Azrael's release?" He inquired, his brow furrowing in frustration.
Drusilla nodded, her eyes cast down, her lips forming a thin line. As her father contemplated his response in silence, she watched with bated breath.
"You are aware of the nature of Lord Vaelorian, are you not? Furthermore, why should I assist a half-blood like Azrael?" King Vladis replied, his frustration evident in his voice.
Drusilla's heart sank, and tears welled in her eyes. "But, Father..."
His gaze darkened. "Enough. This discussion ends here. Stay away from that boy. Do I make myself clear?" Drusilla nodded once more, rose from her knees, bowed her head slightly, and then marched toward the large double doors leading outside the royal chambers. She exited the room, closing the door behind her, and leaned against it, allowing herself a few moments to collect her thoughts. Her hands shook with rage. 'I don't like it... Why does Father have to look down on Azrael like the others?' Her fists clenched tightly by her sides.
"Your Highness, what a pleasant surprise," a man wearing an emerald cloak stepped forward, his face illuminated in the soft glow of a lantern. His jet-black hair was spiked with golden tips, matching his long pointed nails and wicked grin.
Drusilla glanced at the man and asked, "What is it that you want, Sir Mortis?"
"I just stopped by to say hello to the king and saw you here," his voice lilted in a syrupy drawl. Drusilla wrinkled her nose in distaste. Sir Mortis was one of the many spies her father had placed in the human realm. He was a full vampire and an annoying one.
"My father is still looking for Thorne, isn't he? That means Thorne did go to the human realm after his banishment," Drusilla said with a frown. She crossed her arms across her chest, her back stiffened in defiance.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you anything; this is between his Highness the King and me," he laughed, the sound grating on Drusilla's ears.
'So it's true. At first, it was just a hypothesis, but it is true; Thorne did go to the human realm despite everything! That damn brother of mine!' Drusilla thought.
"If you will excuse me, Princess," Sir Mortis bowed, walked past her, opened the double doors, entered, and closed the door behind him.
Drusilla came back to her senses and began to strode across the hallway to her bedroom . She arrived at her bedroom door, opened it and slammed the door shut.
'I'm sorry, Azrael. I wasn't able to convince my father. It seems I will have to continue visiting secretly,' she sighed, turning away from the door and walked towards the balcony, gazing out into the sky, as if searching for answers.
After several minutes of staring into the darkness, her right fang retracted as she brought her right thumb to the sharp tip and pierced through her flesh. A single drop of blood dribbled onto the white marble floor as a crimson streak, forming a red blood sigil with a symbol of a serpent eating its tail at the center.
"Take my form," Drusilla whispered, and within seconds, her blood began to materialize from the sigil. Her body shimmered and shifted until finally, she resembled Drusilla completely.
Drusilla's look-alike turned away from the balcony, walked back into Drusilla's bedroom, picked up a black cloak hanging from a small wooden rack by the bedside, and handed it to Drusilla.
Her look alike patiently stood at her side, awaiting instructions, while Drusilla gracefully donned her cloak and deftly secured its strings around her neck. Once this task was completed, she reached for the mask resting atop the clothes hanger by the foot of her bed, gently lifting it from its place and fitting it onto her face.
"Remain here and assume my identity until I return," Drusilla instructed, and her counterpart nodded in understanding.
In perfect timing, a medium-sized bat with a dark crimson skin emerged, clutching a small brown paper bag in its mouth.
"So, you've returned rather swiftly, Drav," she remarked as the bat smoothly alighted on the balcony railing, delivering the package into Drusilla's waiting hand. "Couldn't secure water, could you? No matter, I appreciate your efforts. Thank you."
Grasping the bag from the bat, Drusilla witnessed it grow larger in size. She then climbed onto its back, perched on the balcony railing.
"Drav, take me to Azrael," she commanded.
With that, Drav ascended from the balcony and took flight into the night, vanishing amidst the darkness.
***
Back in the throne room, King Vladis acknowledged Sir Mortis's presence.
"Sir Mortis, you've finally graced us with your presence," King Vladis remarked.
Sir Mortis offered a bow and greeted him, "Your Highness, you seem to age with each of my visits."
Inwardly, King Vladis grumbled, 'What a cheeky brat,' as a vein pulsed on his forehead. Despite this, he clenched his jaw and managed a humorless smile, waving his hand dismissively. "Let's not waste time. Get to the point."
Sir Mortis wasted no time and began, "Firstly, Your Highness, I couldn't find Thorne, but I did uncover something peculiar in the human realm."
King Vladis interlocked his slender fingers and fixed his crimson eyes intently on Sir Mortis, fully engrossed in his words.
"It appears there's a disturbance," Sir Mortis continued, catching King Vladis's curiosity and concern in his expression.
"A disturbance? Explain," King Vladis inquired, tilting his head slightly.
"Vampires are attacking humans," Sir Mortis reported nonchalantly.
A heavy silence hung in the air as King Vladis absorbed this unsettling information. He narrowed his gaze upon Sir Mortis. "Are you absolutely certain of this?" he pressed.
"Positive, Your Majesty," Sir Mortis replied, folding his arms. The tips of his pointed ears twitched slightly.
King Vladis let out a slow, contemplative sigh and leaned back into his throne.
"Can you confirm if these vampires are of our own kind?" King Vladis inquired further.
"I cannot ascertain that, Your Highness," Sir Mortis answered honestly.
King Vladis sighed once more and rested against his throne.
"Tell me, how many of these attacks have you reported?" King Vladis asked, his curiosity not waning.
"In the span of three years, we've confirmed 90 million deaths. If Your Majesty allows, I can continue with my research," Sir Mortis offered, awaiting King Vladis's nod.
"Very well, proceed," King Vladis granted, watching as Sir Mortis bowed and exited the throne room. King Vladis couldn't help but contemplate the potential consequences of these attacks, thinking, 'The king of the human realm will likely request my presence soon.'