Morgane the Shroud paced herself through the hallways of the inn, holding Gorron's hand as she let her baby wolf, Fell, smell it.
"How much closer?" Morgane asked.
"Keep going forward."
"I wonder why those humans kept staring at us strangely, is it my hair?"
"You're naked, your busts are out, and yes also the hair. Why won't you put on clothes?"
"Performing the custom of wearing human clothes will make me like them. I aim for greater-."
"-Yeah yeah yeah greater heights and all that. You sound just like The High Priestess."
"You speak of my mother like that, like it's a bad thing."
"I just tell it how it is, you're both evil. And I like it like that."
"Evil is a word that belongs to all living beings. My purpose is what makes me different from the evil you talk about."
"You just wanna resurrect Gorron like the rest of them, how does that make you different?"
"…."
Suddenly, they heard loud banging, and moaning from a nearby room.
Morgane and Fell looked towards the door, and Fell said, "I'm getting a strong sense from this room."
"Okay."
Fell thought, 'I'm actually not getting any reads from this room, I'm just curious! Are they doing…that? Human activity always excites me, no matter what it is! Being around vampires all my life, I just wanna see how different we are from them!'
Morgane walked towards the door, and she kicked the door open, and the door hit the floor. Morgane kept a straight face, and Fell was grinning with excitement.
Fell tried to cover his eyes with his paws, saying sarcastically, "Oh no, ew, human breeding! Gross!"
Morgane said to Fell, "Fell."
"Yes?"
"Why are you being strange?"
"W-What?! How could you say that about me!"
"Strange."
It was a man in one of the beds, with two naked women, feeling all up on him, kissing him on his body as one of them was on top of him, grinding back and forth as the moans intensified. The man's face was in a daze, grabbing the women's breasts as the other one was kissing him intensely.
The man exclaimed with arrogance, "Yeah! That's it! Right f-fucking there!"
The women, saliva dripping from their mouths, moaned, "Hell yeah.."
He continued, licking all over the other ones neck, and the other woman turned around, changing positions, the sweat dripped from her body and landed onto the man's thigh as her own thighs grinded against his waist, she rubbed her own hair, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. The man had slick blondish brown hair, dark brown eyes, and wore a slick robe which looked expensive.
He looked over at Morgane, and grinned, "HAHA! Some bird bitch wants to join us!"
The women's words slurred as they just finished kissing each other, "Yes…let her.."
The man stood up, and he said, "Come here, exotic bird girl.."
He reached out towards her, and as soon as he did, his head exploded.
KATHOOSH!
Blood splattered on the walls and on the women, the women screamed horrifically. Morgane said, "If you two get closer to me, you will end up like him. Do not attempt it."
The women were shaking, and one of them snarled, "You killed him..you bitch!"
"Please do not plot revenge. It is not wise."
"Damn you! I won't lose to you….you murderer!"
The woman's right hand had sparked with a streak of blue electricity, and she gritted her teeth angrily.
Fell said, "Isn't that..alchemy?"
Morgane replied, "It is. This world's form of 'magic.' Formidable power, hard to learn."
The woman dashed towards her, screaming, "Die-!"
KATHOOSH!
Her body exploded, blood flew everywhere, and Morgane was walking away from them, shedding a slight tear, "I warned her. Now, Fell, lead me."
"Okay, okay."
'That was amazing.'
As they made their way down the hallway, people were coming out of their rooms after hearing the commotion, murmuring amongst one another.
"Those screams.."
"There's blood everywhere…"
"W-We gotta go!"
"Someone get the Constabulary!"
Fell had peeled over towards a door, saying, "Here. I'm getting a strong reading here."
"It better not be another one of your tricks."
"It's nottt."
"I didn't want to take any lives, that is not my focus. But once someone comes to close with power…I have to do what I must."
Morgane opened the door with force, and standing there, was Hajun and Niorh. Hajun had his daggers out, and Niorh was just standing normally with her hands in her pockets.
Morgane explained, "No one has to get hurt-."
"Who are you?" Hajun asked with a slight warning.
"Morgane. Daughter of the High Priestess, from the Aetherwalker vampiric bloodline, how do you do?"
Hajun thought, 'The Aetherwalkers..weavers of dreams and nightmares, the Aetherwalkers cross the veils between realms. The first among them was the mystic sovereign Ashran the Dreamweaver, who guided souls through the ethereal tracks and brokered truces with wraiths and revenants. Her descendants navigate through visions and beyond, a spectral tie between the living and the rest. A destructive ability of theirs is dream distortion, able to create a dream inside of reality and make it manifest into reality itself, able cause destructive anomalies to someone's appearance and the appearance of the area around them. They're one of the strongest bloodlines, and also was one of the strongest kingdoms of the Crimson Spire before the merge. What does someone like this possibly want with us? Is she just looking for other vampires like us? Probably confused as to where she is..'
Morgane explained, "That fingerbone relic, the hand of Gorron, it's dangerous."
Hajun gasped, "Um.."
"Did it whisper to you?"
"Ye-."
"Did you do what it said?"
"I-." Hajun began to sweat, she was right on the money about how the finger whispered earlier. "What did it whisper? Was that Gorron?! And why was there screaming outside?"
"You seek to destory it, do you not? Why else would you have it? I've heard about you, you're not with the cult, so you're only option would be to get rid of it to thwart the cults plans, yes?"
"Yeah..how do you know?"
"Because I am seeking to cripple them myself."
Fell exclaimed, "What?! Morgane!"
Niorh didn't say a word. Her eyes glowed a dark red, sending something..unusual.
Hajun said, "Cripple them? And why are you naked?"
"Human clothes will make me like them. I am Morgane of the Aetherwalker bloodline."
"Right…"
"I can destroy the fingerbone. But it will require your help."
"I can help, I'll do anything. It's what Kazelle would want me to do."
"Kazelle…"
Fell even said, "Kazelle..? Isn't that."
Hajun explained, "You know of him, the true king of vampires."
"Duh, everyone knows him."
"And what are you supposed to be?"
"A familiar. Technically."
Fell looked at Morgane, thinking, 'What is Morgane thinking? Is she really thinking about betraying the cult?! She was assigned to steal back the fingerbone, an embryo that will surely raise Gorron, but now she's changing her mind??? She better have a good explaination for this! Her mother is the High Priestess, she won't take this very well..'
Morgane said to Hajun, "I can't..let them revive Gorron. He made pacts with dark deities from other realms, all so he could have ultimate supremacy. I wish for no one to rule over me. I want to destroy the finger, one of the main embryos for his resurrection. My mother the High Priestess, seeks to don the mantle of divine conduit for Gorron's malice. I cannot let that come to pass. Yes, I was an assassin for them, my mother didn't trust me until I proved myself worthy. This fingerbone of Gorron—an object steeped in the eldritch essence of a deity of the night. The path to its nullification is not trodden lightly nor without consequence, as artifacts of this caliber are often insidious in their entwinement with the dark arts. The fingerbone, suffused with the remnants of Gorron's sinister magic, is the keystone to this forbidden ceremony. It used to whisper to my mother, likely guiding her hand in the precise incantations and offerings needed to draw back the curtain to the beyond. Woven into the fabric of her dark designs, it shall serve as the focal point from which the spectral tides can be summoned and directed."
"So you're saying…it might influence me…?"
"I heard of you, Hajun. Loyal servant to King Kazelle. You were more than a servant actually, I heard you even fought against the elders the day Kazelle got banished. No one ever dared to stand up against them, never in history. But you did."
"I…y-yeah I did. I wanna do whatever it takes, to show people I'm not a uselsss lapdog. I've watched over Niorh, she's lost her memories, they've been altered actually, and it's a huge responsibility. We're not dead or caught yet by the Vermilion Order, so I guess I'm doing something right. Niorh is..special, a special one to watch over, but I'm handling it nicely. And I got ahold of the fingerbone, able to pull my own weight when dealing with certain situations."
"That means you aren't a worthless lapdog, right?"
"Yeah."
Hajun began to hand the fingerbone over to Morgane, and as soon as she began to grab it, Niorh said, "Hajun.."
Everyone stopped, looking at Niorh. Morgane began to grit her teeth.
Niorh continued, "..You are easily swayed..by this naked woman."
Hajun said, "Niorh.."
Niorh walked forward, saying, "Blood Gates: Palm of Hell."
Her eyes glowed red, and multiple large gates of blood formed above her hand, and long vampiric bloody hands shot out from it, and bashed into Morgane, smashing her through multiple walls.
Hajun yelled, "Niorh! What are you doing…?"
"Evil, she is. You are weak minded."
'Weak minded, me? I was easily swayed..? But she seemed like she really wanted to help us.'
Morgane was standing up, as people were running and screaming.
Fell scoffed, "So much for trying to get the fingerbone, huh?"
"That woman Niorh..former queen of the Crimson Spire, wife of Kazelle, her power almost rivals his even at full power, and she's not even going all out. That boy mentioned her memories being altered, if thats the case, she wouldn't be able to use all of her magic because of that reason."
"But guess what?"
"What?"
Fell opened his mouth, and the fingerbone was in it."
Morgane smiled, "Fell..but how?"
When Niorh casted her spell, I hurried to reach out and grab the fingerbone from the vampire boys hand."
"As expected of you, Fell."
"What was all that talk about you not being with the cult?"
"…Talk later. Right now, they will be after us. Niorh is extremely powerful, so I must use dream distortion of this area on them."
"Even if you think about it..Niorh knew not to get close with her magic.."
"Those glowing red eyes of hers…she knows more than she lets on…she wasn't the queen without reason. The dream distortion spell won't hold them long, but it will buy us time away from Niorh."
"What do you mean?"
"The powers she has, and the vampire boy, will eventually converge and tear apart the veil between dreams and reality."
Hajun looked at Niorh, saying, "We gotta get the finger back.."
"Mhm. It's important, yes?"
"Very!"
Hajun and Niorh sprang into action, their supernatural abilities a vibrant dance of deadly artistry. Morgane twisted reality to her whim using her dream distortion, Each door Hajun and Niorh passed through was no longer bound by the laws of the physical realm but flung them headlong into the personal dreams and nightmares of the inn's unsuspecting residents.
"Shit! The rooms!" Hajun exclaimed. "Stay together, Niorh!"
"Mhm."
The first room they burst into was a chimeric tableau of pandemonium—people shifted and twisted into grotesque forms, their bodies melding with objects and others in unsettling ways. A man's face leered from the mahogany body of a grandfather clock, his hands ticking maniacally; a woman with chandelier crystals for eyes sang a discordant lullaby.
Hajun said, "She's distorting reality with her own dreams..each door is a loop to another dream, we gotta get through them all.."
"Fight."
Without pause, Hajun extended his arms, tendrils of black fog coiling from his body. He shaped them with lethal precision, striking through the heart of these tormented visions. Each touch of the fog dispatched the distorted figures with unrivaled coldness.
Simultaneously, Niorh conjured her blood gates, doorways of seething vitae from which she drew an arsenal of potent spells. With merest flicks of her wrist, she whispered incantations, and the blood molded to her desires, becoming shards of crystalline death that pierced through the merging nightmares.
Together, they cut a path through the chaos, unhindered by the haunting cries that filled the rooms. With each door they stepped through, they encountered a new psychotic tapestry. In what could have been an eternity or an instant, they crossed another threshold.
'Keep going..keep going..don't stop..for anything!'
The hallway once more, seemingly endless and shifting, led to the next battle. Through another door flung wide by Morgane's enchantment awaited a solitary figure—a man seemingly birthed from the bowels of a mechanized nightmare, his limbs fused with gears and cables, steam hissing from the joins.
"Let's go really fast…!!!"
Hajun, ever the tactician despite the horror, cast a web of shadow, each strand alive with voracity. The man-machine hybrid staggered, each aggressive advance stifled by Hajun's relentless assault, his blood daggers plunging into this grotesque creation, solidifying its demise with clinical detachment.
Niorh watched the scene unfold with a sense of grim pleasure. The blood gates opened wide at her command, and she summoned an unholy deluge. The blood answered her, becoming a river of purifying scarlet that washed away the mechanical horror, reducing the abomination to no more than a bad dream fading with the morning light.
Room after room, battle after battle, Hajun and Niorh pressed on, their powers unyielding in their potency. The dreamscape warped around Morgane's will, the inn transforming into an echoing maze of fear and illusion. Yet despite the onslaught of enemies and the treachery of the ever-shifting environment, the two vampires remained resolute, their mission clear.
The relentless pursuit of Morgane and the mysterious fingerbone of Gorron was beginning to fray the very fabric of reality. The labyrinthine dream domain warped further, casting Hajun and Niorh into separate nightmares each more dark and harrowing than the last.
Hajun exclaimed, "No! Niorh!"
Niorh replied, "No crying."
Hajun thought, 'How is she still not showing any emotion during this? The only time I truly seen her have exalted emotions, was during her wedding ceremony with Kazelle.'
Hajun found himself alone in a void that whispered of ancient fears—a realm void of light, where every step was an echo in the consuming darkness. Eerie figures emerged from the shadows, their forms etched with the nightmarish scrawls of madness. Faces twisted with eternal screams, limbs elongated in impossible contortions, and eyes, so many eyes, watched him from the dark.
Undeterred, Hajun unleashed his sinister fog, feeling it slither through the void, finding and enveloping each ghoul that dared approach. His blood daggers shone like terrible crimson stars, banishing the darkness with each precise thrust. The figures writhed and melted back into the darkness from whence they came, their brief existence snuffed out by Hajun's wrathful determination.
Niorh, separated from her companion, faced her own terrors. She stood in a theater of the grotesque where the line between actor and audience was smeared with viscera and viscous nightmares. The crowd was an amalgam of flesh and bone, fused in their seats, a static audience forever applauding in silent horror. On stage, actors fused with their props acted out a tragedy with no end—flesh bonded to wood, strings sutured into skin, human marionettes enacting a demented play.
With a flourish of rage and intent, Niorh shaped the blood into deadly, intricate patterns. The gates around her pulsed with the beats of a thousand hearts as she summoned torrents that surged like a force of nature through the theater. The hemoglobin waves rose in a crescendo, disentangling flesh from prop, freeing the twisted beings from their forced recital, granting them the mercy of oblivion.
Separated, yet undeterred, Hajun and Niorh fought with the sheer force of their will, each victory a step closer to their quest's resolution—Morgane and the fingerbone. The twisted realm sought to ensnare their minds, to break them with visions too horrific for even seasoned immortals. Yet, their resolve was as iron, the horror of their adversaries paling in comparison to their combined centuries of existence.
With each door they entered, the grotesqueries evolved, as if the nexus was learning, honing its monstrosities to target their innermost fears. In his solitude, Hajun encountered a library where books bound in living flesh whispered secrets of despair. Pages fluttered, revealing mouths agape with hungering voids and eyes that followed his every step, their whispers attempting to seduce him into ignominy.
The resolve never wavering, Hajun let forth a billowing shroud of darkness that suffocated the cries and silenced the whispers. His blood daggers slashed through binding and paper, the acidic ichor dissolving the animated tomes into ash and silence.
Niorh faced her own crucible. She navigated a gallery of mirrors that refracted not her reflection but her past—every victim's visage, every drop of blood taken, twisted and malformed by regret and sorrow. The reflected torment bore down upon her, threatening to engulf her in a malaise of infinite melancholy.
Raising her hands, Niorh shattered the reality of these mirrored prisons with blood-forged hammers. The reflections screamed as they were obliterated, reduced to glistening shards on the floor—evidence of her refusal to succumb to the haunt of aeons past.
As Hajun and Niorh battered their way through each door, they drew closer to finding each other once more, and to confronting Morgane. The air grew thick with the taste of impending finality, the environment pulsing with a sentience born of sustained terror.
The chase twisted and turned through the inn's now unrecognizable corridors, a mosaic of dreams and nightmares. Finally, they spotted each other, their powers converging, tearing apart the last veils that separated them. They were breathing heavily, covered in dirt, panting, as they were standing in the hallway once again.
Hajun said, "This inn..it's turned into-."
Niorh finished his sentence, "An endless loop."