The Rouge,
Onyx Bay
Styx Bratoviae
Styx skillfully emerged from the dilapidated building, his umbrella in hand, and the captured masked man trailing behind him. The rain had subsided as he stepped onto the desolate street, the aftermath of either the rain or the earlier chaos. Seeking refuge under a shed attached to the building, he engaged in a telepathic conversation with Rudiger.
"Rudiger, make your way to the rendezvous with a car," Styx urged. Rudiger, occupied, replied, "I'm currently engaged; I'll delegate the task." Pressing the matter, Styx insisted, "I need your personal presence; things have taken an unexpected turn." In response to Styx's plea, Rudiger inquired, "What transpired, cousin?" Styx, his hands clenched, disclosed, "There was an assault at the rendezvous involving dark magic."
Expressing concern, Rudiger responded, "Damn, I'll be there shortly. Are you unharmed?" Seeking to reassure, Styx asserted, "I'm not a child; I can manage." Acknowledging Styx's authority, his cousin respectfully affirmed, "Yes, your grace."
While anticipating the imminent arrival of his cousin, Styx engaged in a series of deliberate actions, intricately pulling up the sleeves of his white shirt, now stained with the deep hue of blood, until they rested neatly at his elbows. His fingers delicately navigated the pocket of his pants, retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. From the pack, he carefully extracted a single cigarette, situating it between his lips with a thoughtful precision. The flame from his lighter danced gracefully as it met the tip of the cigarette, and Styx, with a measured composure, drew in a contemplative drag.
Leaning his head back against the wall, fists securely clenched by his side, Styx immersed himself in a contemplative reverie. The recollection of the earlier panic surged through him, triggered by the sight of Rania wounded from the battle. Amid the haze of introspection, he found himself questioning his profound instinct to protect the amber-eyed human.
Lost in thoughts about her, Styx's keen perception detected Rania in the distance, with her long curly hair swaying behind her, his jacket draped around her, trailing behind due to its oversized nature. She earnestly assisted a wounded Zola out of the rouge. Unbeknownst to him, the tightly clenched fists at his sides instinctively loosened upon sighting her. His gaze lingered upon her until she faded beyond the limits of his vision, leaving a trail of thoughts in the wake of her departure.
A few moments later, he found himself squinting against the sudden glare of headlights illuminating his face. Instinctively, Styx raised his hand to shield his eyes from the luminous onslaught. With deliberate care, he discarded the half-smoked cigarette onto the rain-slicked pavement. His boots extinguished its ember with a swift, purposeful step.
Observing Rudiger's swift approach from the sleek black car, Styx wordlessly maneuvered the captive man, seated by the shed, towards the vehicle. Opening the car door, he effortlessly deposited the captive in the back seat. Satisfied with this development, Styx then took his place in the passenger seat. Rudiger seamlessly returned to the driver's seat, igniting the engine, undoubtedly steering toward the Bratoviae castle.
As they navigated the roads, Rudiger broke the silence, inquiring, "Who's that?" Styx, eyes scanning the passing scenery, responded, "During a discussion with the agent, a group of traffickers infiltrated the rouge. He was among the assailants." Rudiger nodded, focused on the road. "Why is he here?" Styx, tapping his hand on the dashboard, explained, "The agency is orchestrating an elaborate exhibition. I hope Aunt Sylvia can dispel the discretion curse so that I can extract information from him. By the way, instruct the men to be vigilant for correspondences between vampyres and the MeaWorld Procurement Agency."
Styx delved into a more detailed account of the rouge incident after which Rudiger says "Working with the human places me you in a precarious position. It's imperative to keep your interactions clandestine, as our kind perceives it as a vulnerability. Exercise caution; their trustworthiness is dubious," he added, a slight grimace accompanying his retort. "Procure a property in Renduim using an alias. The Rouge is no longer a secure venue for our meetings," Styx instructed Rudiger. The latter nodded in agreement as they continued their nocturnal journey towards the castle.
Upon reaching the imposing Bratoviae Castle, Styx meticulously guided the captured man into an underground cellar, a secluded chamber that would serve as his temporary prison. Urgency propelled Styx forward, hastening his steps as he sought out his aunt Sylvia within the castle's confines. Upon spotting him, Sylvia couldn't help but express her shock, exclaiming, "What a grotesque sight," her gaze directed at Styx's blood-dyed appearance.
Sighing, Styx settled onto a sofa within Sylvia's cottage, his weary frame finding a momentary reprieve. "It was a stressful evening," he admitted, the weight of the night evident in his tone. Carefully, he began recounting the intricate details of the exhausting evening, each word a meticulous brushstroke in painting the narrative. Sylvia, attentive and discerning, absorbed the recounting with precision.
As the tale unfolded, Sylvia rose gracefully from her seat, her silver hair catching the moonlight's glow. Golden jewelry adorned her, each piece resonating with a subtle melody as she moved. Notably, the anklet composed of delicate bells on her ankle emitted a soft, rhythmic clinking. Styx, rising to follow her, observed the enchanting dance of light on her ornaments.
Their journey led them to Sylvia's expansive office, a space resembling an enchanted forest, a large circular room shaped like a dome embellished with polished glass ceilings that offered a beautiful view of the night sky. The air within was rich with the scent of ancient tomes and the delicate fragrance of blossoming plants, creating a harmonious blend of knowledge and nature.
The walls, adorned with intricate tapestries depicting arcane symbols and historical events, seemed to whisper the secrets of bygone eras. Shelves carved from dark mahogany lined the room, carrying the weight of countless volumes ranging from weathered leather-bound tomes to delicate scrolls bound with silk ribbons.
As Sylvia settled into her meticulously crafted chair behind an ornate desk, the moonlight cascaded through the glass ceilings, casting a gentle glow upon the room. Silver hair illuminated by the ethereal light, she appeared as a guardian of wisdom, surrounded by the silent echoes of centuries-old knowledge. The occasional rustle of turning pages and the soft clinking of her golden jewelry, particularly the anklet of little bells on her ankle, contributed to the rhythmic cadence of the enchanted sanctuary.
In the corner, a miniature fountain adorned with crystal-clear water gurgled softly, its soothing melody intertwining with the whispers of ancient texts. The room exuded an atmosphere of both regality and mystique, as if every shelf and every plant held a tale waiting to be unraveled. As Styx took his place facing Sylvia, the enchantment of the office seemed to amplify the weight of the impending revelations.
Seated on a meticulously crafted chair behind an ornate desk, Sylvia met Styx's gaze as he positioned himself facing her. Inquisitively, he queried, "Why summon me to your office?" Sylvia, her hands gracefully lifting and interlocking beneath her chin, began to unfold a revelation. "I can break the curse for you. It's documented in one of the forbidden tomes under my vigilant care. However, be prepared for a week-long process, as I must procure specific plants for the meticulous preparation of the nullification potion."
Styx, a palpable sense of relief coloring his expression, contemplated the potential unraveling of the curse. "I hope he possesses information about the agency. I must uncover the position of the Tenebrae Maleficae and their motives. Their sudden appearance aligns too closely with the impending Regnis War," he mused, punctuating his thoughts with rhythmic taps on Sylvia's table.
The conversation meandered into the intricacies of the Regnis War as Sylvia, a font of knowledge, revealed, "Today, a missive arrived announcing the formation of a Northern Coalition in the Regnum Northern houses. Mikhail Alexandriov, spearheading from the House of Alexandriov, initiated this alliance. The message was conveyed by my acquaintance, Ramona of House Reis." Styx, absorbing the unfolding details, maintained a contemplative silence.
Sylvia, suggesting a strategic move, continued, "Consider marrying one of the daughters of House Reis. It could disrupt the coalition, given their equal standing with the Alexandriov house in the north and their historical rivalry. A union between our houses would debilitate any coalition the Alexandriovs aspire to build." Styx chuckled at the unexpected proposition. "It's an intriguing development. I wonder if it's connected to the trafficking. While I believe I can handle any opposition without resorting to marriage, your suggestion is duly noted," he acknowledged, the rhythmic tapping on the table underscoring the contemplative atmosphere surrounding the reception of this newfound information.
Sylvia, with a measured tone, conveyed, "Your father has mandated a gathering of the 13 houses. While I understand the strained relationship between you two, it is imperative that you resolve the issue of the Tenebrae Maleficae before the assembly. Present no vulnerabilities; securing your father's support is crucial. Obtaining that particular artifact is paramount for your ascension as the new Regnis. I pledge my assistance with your condition." As she spoke, her words hung in the air, delicately echoing through the room.
Styx, a tension palpable in his jaw, eyes ablaze, and hands tightly clenched, couldn't suppress a laugh at the mention of his father. "I have no need for his approval. Abandon any notions of me seeking favor from that wretch," he retorted, the coldness in his tone cutting through the air. Sylvia, undeterred, asserted, "No enmity between you and your father should jeopardize the House of Bratoviae's grasp on power. I raised you to assume the role of Regnis, and I won't allow your childishness to jeopardize that legacy." As she stood up abruptly, her jewelry emitted a soft clink, emphasizing the gravity of her words.
Undeterred, Styx, smirking, toyed with a pen on Sylvia's table. "You seem to forget your place, Aunt. Make no mistake; you're not addressing Nikolai or other house members. You're addressing ME, Styx Bratoviae, Duke of the House of Bratoviae." As he rose to his feet, he added, "I don't tolerate insolence or disrespect." With a flash of a smile, he bowed respectfully before leaving Sylvia's office, the door closing behind him with a subtle yet resolute click.
Following Styx's departure from her cottage, within the myriad gardens sprawling across the grounds of Bratoviae Castle, his keen gaze discerns a figure with raven-hued locks, adorned in a lace yellow gown—Lilith. Lilith, a mysterious figure amidst Bratoviae Castle's gardens, possesses raven-hued locks and obsidian eyes that reflect an otherworldly depth. Clad in an ethereal yellow gown of delicate lace, she knelt amidst the foliage, convulsing with prophetic visions. In the moonlit glow, her attire danced with spectral elegance, and the air around her resonated with the enigmatic echoes of destiny.Kneeling on the ground, she convulses, her head upturned toward the moon. Recognizing the telltale signs of her visionary state, Styx quickens his pace, hastening toward her with a sense of urgency.
As he approaches, Lilith's eyes slowly open, fixing upon Styx. With an ethereal air about her, she imparts a foreboding message, "The allies of the mortifer have risen, bearing death in their wake. The land shall be painted with the hues of blood, chaos descending upon Regnum, and mothers left to mourn their children." The weight of her prophetic words lingers in the garden, the moon casting an eerie glow upon the intricate lace of Lilith's gown.