Whatever karl had been expecting, it certainly wasn't an empty room. One covered in moss and layers of dust at that. What he was supposed to find here left him in a conundrum, so he simply set about looking over everything.
He had a particular aversion to dirt getting on his clothes so he took the remote approach of peering over the dust stained furniture and vine camouflaged wall. Nothing in particular seemed to convey the feeling of it being memorial from dead parents to their child.
That is until his gaze fell on small leatherbound notebook, covered in a heap of dust that had flaked over the years. Karl took hold of it by pinching the edge and dusting it off against the corner of a wall. He then carefully opened the first page to find it addressing him.
The book was written by his mother and it recounted the feelings of a parent that knew about their coming demise and their inability to prevent it. His mother expressed how apologetic she was. Karl forced himself to read further, already finding the experience unpleasant.
For a while all he could find was the recounting of his parent's feeling. Until the tone took a great shift and she started talking about something else. Once he finished reading it, he looked down at the key in his hand and at the wall in front.
Taking a deep breath he placed the notebook back where it had laid and took two steps to arrive before the wall. Brushing off the dust from a particular spot showed a grove that matched key in his hand. He calmly placed it within and watched in fascination as the wall split open to reveal a room behind.
Karl took a few steps forward, arriving at the centre of the room, and finding a dark blue grimoire suspended mid-air. Golden chains bound the grimoire shut and a clear obsidian crystal pulsed with liquid darkness right in the middle. He knew what it was, his parents had been annotative in their approach regarding this grimoire.
"Grimoire of the Night King." The words rolled off of his mouth, finding a nervous agitation grip his heart. "Should I proceed as is, or research some more?" He thought aloud.
The truth was, his parents had apparently left him this thing because it was compatible to him. And they wanted him to bond with this grimoire so that he could gain the strength to protect himself and those close to him.
With the current circumstances of the Crimson Vale, and the direction they were heading, it wouldn't take long before he started loosing his grip on his territory. Some might call him incompetent, but most would realize that it was his strength that fell short. With such an opportunity laid before him, could he be faulted for being impatient?
Karl extended his hand and gripped the grimoire. In a burst of radiant magic the chains unwound from the book condensing into a blob of iridescent liquid that floated near him. Knowing that it was a crucial component to the ceremony itself he carefully collected it atop his palm.
The Ritual of the Night King as described in the grimoire, required one to be nude. He stripped himself off the clothes and held the grimoire before him. The golden amorphous blob wiggled into the shape of a dagger.
Karl took a deep breath and opened the grimoire. As the cover flipped open, a red light bathed the room for a brief period before the shadows took over. These shadows, that flowed across the floor like liquid shapes shimmied into formless tentacles that gripped his arms. Before he could even utter a cry of protest, his dagger held hand was caught and pushed right to his chest. The golden liquid dagger pierced right through his flesh, and into his beating heart.
...
Night Realm was enigmatic wonder among many worlds, being the realm which was covered in stormy gloom most of the time. Once a while the Red Star would shine through, and the residents would welcome a rare day.
The entire realm was ruled by The Shadow King, known as the god among common populace. South and East were under the purview of Duke Bloodfyre and Duke Bloodstorm, respectively. While North being the central land held Crimson Moon city, close to the center and Veilspire Hollow further up north, which was the territory of Marquis Bloodshade. Bloodspire Citadel lay in Southeast among the rocky mountains, being the bastion under Baron Bloodfang.
In the west, two territories shared borders atop the Crimson Rock mountains. For years now, both Count Bloodthrone and Count Bloodcrest have been at each other's throat over the disputes of land. Despite the shared animosity, there had never been a strong incentive for either count to wage war on the other. So the peace had lasted for years.
The appearance of the portal changed that.
Long ago Arthur Bloodthrone had worked up a peace treaty between the two counties and rest of the aristocrats had kept silent. Then fifteen years ago, him and his wife turned up dead leaving everything to their four year old son.
Over the years it had fell on Ronald to keep things in working order, and with the potential of Crimson Vale county even made some startling improvements. When the portal appeared things turned for worse.
No one knew what exactly it meant, but from the way the upper body had reacted, it was no secret that they were upset. Over what? No one really knew.
Karl being a count should've meant he had some information. The truth was he knew too little. That bit had made him understand his standing among the circle of aristocrats. He knew more than anyone the meaning of strength.
Crimson Vale County was rich in resources, but due to a lack of personnel and monetary capital, things have fallen flat. Aamon Bloodcrest was bleeding them faster than they could recover, and sooner or later they would've no choice but to mold under the pressure put on by the others. That is, unless he did something.
As far as Karl could remember, his life had been spent on learning and training. Learning so that he could handle the affairs of his county properly, and training so that he could ward-off any threat that ever came near. Underneath all that, was a burning passion for improvement and blazing fury for those who killed his parents.
Without sacrificing something one shouldn't hope to attain their dreams. If he was given a chance to grow stronger, he would take it without a second thought.
On that note, he should perhaps have given this a second thought, indeed.
The ritual of the Night King was something every vampire knew of. It was not just a ceremony, but a legendary tale of the first vampire itself. They also knew that aside from the current King, there was no one in the Night Realm who could perform such a ritual.
What his mother meant by bonding with the grimoire was basically a ritual similar to the Night King, but also different. As strong as he was, Karl was far from matching his uncle Ronald, much less to say about the King himself. There was no way he could perform the ritual in any capacity.
And he didn't need to.
According to the notebook, once he opened the grimoire, the ritual would start by itself and only finish when it had bound itself to him. The only thing it failed to mention was the excruciating pain that he would have to undergo.
When the dagger stabbed him right through the heart, the shadows that bound him seeped right through the wound. The crystal on the cover of the grimoire detached itself and floated up in the air. Then with a swift motion stabbed itself right into his heart. What he felt after was an inhuman level of pain.
Karl screamed as his body tore itself apart, his bones breaking and shifting, and each piece of muscle torn into bloody stripes. Being of the Bloodthrone heritage, he could feel each splash of crimson ichor splattered on the walls.
When his screams died down, Karl cracked open his eyelids to gaze at his shivering form. His hands were trembling and a coldness of sorts gripped his entire body. With a start, he lifted himself off the ground and looked down at his chest. There was no wound.
Before he started to question himself, he dressed up and dusted his clothes. There was no grimoire present physically, but he could feel an ethereal connection extending between his mind and other dimension. He reached out to the connection and watched as the grimoire manifested itself before him.
With the ritual finished, Karl was now bonded to the grimoire on a spiritual level. With just a thought, the floating tome flipped the cover open and violet shimmer trailed the paper. The glittering dust gathered in the air and a voice rang out.
"I feel so stiff after such a nice long nap."