Nharion — kingdom of vampires. A land steeped in endless winter, where the breath of Sun is never known.
"Magnus," came the low, commanding voice. Dark, curved claws coiled around a golden goblet. "What news do you bring?"
The cup rose to her lips — lips dark as fresh blood. She drained the blood-wine in a single swallow. The faint copper scent of blood-wine lingering in the air.
Setting the goblet upon the tray held out by a waiting guard, she turned to her assistant. Cat-like eyes, deep red as garnet, narrowed upon him. Her ebony hair was drawn back into a severe bun, her gaze unblinking.
She sat cross-legged upon the great black throne, the dark gown clinging to her form. Her tall, slender frame seemed almost too long for the seat, her limbs draped over its sides, the throne's carved legs dwarfed beneath her.
"Well... it is written here that the humans have granted us passage into their world," said Magnus, voice quivering. The short man clutched a long sheet of parchment, spectacles slipping down his nose as his hands trembled, the cold floor chilled beneath his boots.
Though he had served Lady Lenore for many years, still he quailed before her. Perhaps it was the thunderous depth of her voice — a voice that made the very ground and walls shudder when she spoke.
"Ah," her lips curved into a sharp smile. "The truce is made. Tell me, Magnus — is that not splendid news? Why, then, do you look so frightened?"
"Well... uh, erm... erh." Magnus cleared his throat, glancing at the two guards. With a slight tilt of his head, he motioned them toward the door.
The guards bowed and withdrew, leaving them in privacy.
Magnus pushed his round spectacles up the bridge of his nose, though they kept sliding down. "My lady... the people — they will not understand why you seek peace with the enemy. Not after so many years of war."
Lady Lenore waved a clawed hand through the air, dismissive.
"It matters not what the people say. They see no vision of a better future. But I do. Do you not, Magnus?"
"Well... yes... erm..." He stepped forward briskly, casting a nervous glance at the parchment in his hand. "But, my lady — you must give them reason. Convince them that this truce is no betrayal... that it serves a purpose."
Her eyes widened, red depths flashing.
"Betrayal? Who would dare think I would betray my people for the sake of mere humans?"
Magnus looked up at her, slowly, cautiously.
"Then what tale shall we tell... to ease their minds?"
Lady Lenore smiled as she rose from the throne, her tall form unfolding with eerie grace. She strode toward Magnus, her hips swaying with a deliberate, almost unnatural force.
The ancient lamps flickered, casting a glow upon her pale skin, making it seem almost luminescent.
"My dear Magnus," she said, circling him like a predator, "have you seen the blood bank? It grows emptier with each passing day."
"Yes, my lady," Magnus replied, his voice trembling.
Lenore moved to his side, stroking her chin in thought.
"For those who vowed never to drain the life from humans," she murmured, "they seem to take far more than they ought."
A low growl rumbled from her throat as she began to pace.
"Do you not see? There is little blood left. It will not sustain our kind another hundred years."
"But, my lady, we are not forbidden to take human blood — only to ensure no harm comes to them, and that they remember nothing," Magnus said, hesitant.
"You think," she snapped, eyes narrowing, "that feeding like some wretched mosquito is living? You take not to be sated, but merely to endure. And the more you take... the hungrier you become."
Magnus swallowed hard, unable to meet her gaze.
Lenore shook her head, the frustration plain upon her face. None seemed to grasp the vision burning within her. With a swift motion, she snatched the parchment from his hands.
"Few will understand the good I seek to do for them. The humans will not see it — but granting us leave to roam freely... will be their undoing."
"My lady," Magnus ventured at last, managing a small, uncertain smile. "Then... this truce — it is not truly to side with them?"
"Ah, do not be foolish," she said, with a wave of her hand as she turned back toward the throne. "Humans are the weakest of creatures. The only gift they possess worth taking is their blood."
She sank onto the throne and crossed one long leg over the other.
"The blood banks have kept stores for many years — blood that is far from fresh, if we are to speak plainly. Do you not agree, Magnus?"
Magnus nodded quickly. "Yes... yes, my lady. Now that I see your wisdom, perhaps it would be well if you told the people, so they might not judge you so harshly."
Just then, a raven with eyes the color of blood swooped through the high window and alighted upon Lenore's shoulder. She stroked its back absently, gaze fixed upon Magnus.
"The people have judged me since the day I took the throne," she said quietly. "Let them judge as they will. In time, they shall see the good I have done for them."
Let them judge — I will not lose this throne to a ghost
She turned at last to the raven, untying the small note fastened to its talon.
"An anonymous message... hmmm."
She unfolded the slip of parchment and studied its contents. Slowly, her eyes darkened, her voice dripping with disdain.
"Pathetic creature."
"My lady—" Magnus's voice broke with panic, fearing something had gone amiss. He took a hesitant step forward, but the raven leapt down to Lady Lenore's lap, fixing him with a sharp, warning gaze.
Magnus let out an awkward laugh and stepped back. "Of course. I should not come so close."
"Fetch me a soldier, Magnus," she commanded, her voice cold and absolute.
Magnus blinked. "Whatever for?"
"Are you questioning my authority?" she snapped, her eyes narrowing to crimson slits.
"No—no, of course not. But I must understand what move you intend to make." He laughed again, nervous, and bowed low. "Very well, my lady. I shall see it done at once."
As Magnus scrambled from the chamber, Lady Lenore's gaze darkened. She stroked the raven's back, the creature closing its eyes beneath her touch, savoring the moment. But then, with a sudden, cruel press of her fingers, she seized its neck. The raven's eyes bulged.
"Pathetic vampire," she hissed. "You shall never reclaim this throne."
The raven shrieked, struggling free, and flew from her lap, its cries echoing like a curse as it vanished into the night.
Lady Lenore stared down at the crumpled note in her hand.
"So... the king returns."
Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
"Stay in the shadows where you belong, Elias. You abandoned Nharion — it is mine now."
She crushed the parchment in her hand and flung it to the floor.
Just then, the door burst open and Magnus rushed in — alone.
"You dare return without a soldier?" Lady Lenore rose from the throne, her pale face flushed with fury, eyes blazing red.
"Forgive me, my lady!" Magnus bowed low, rubbing his hands together. Sweat glistened upon his brow. "I bring far worse news."
She tilted her head, a dangerous calm settling over her features. "What news?"
Magnus swallowed hard and took a hesitant step forward.
"I went out, as you commanded... but as I passed among the people, I heard whispers."
"Hmm. And what is this whisper of yours that you heard?"
Magnus stared at her, too fearful to speak the words. She gazed at him, bored and unamused, as if no news could rival the fact that Elias had risen.
"What is it?" she roared at last, her voice cracking the heavy silence like a whip.
"I... I do not think it is truth, my lady. That is why I fear to say it."
"Speak, Magnus. If it proves true and I am the last to hear of it, I shall have your head."
He let out a shriek of fear, his hands trembling at his sides.
"No rumor in Nharion shall pass me by," she said, raising her hand in command. "So speak."
"Very well." Magnus glanced around the chamber, as if hoping for the guards he himself had dismissed. "It is said... that the humans have rebuilt the church. And there are whispers, my lady, that hunters may rise again."
A heavy silence fell. Magnus wavered beneath it, for Lady Lenore's face betrayed no emotion. But after a moment, she broke into laughter — loud, hysterical, echoing through the hall. The sound made him flinch, his heart pounding.
"Do you not believe it?" he ventured, though even he doubted the rumor.
But suddenly the laughter stopped. Her eyes burned through him, dark and sharp as a blade. Somehow, the silence was worse.
"Leave," she said, voice low and dangerous.
He blinked. "My lady... it may well be true—"
"NOW!"
Magnus did not wait another breath. He turned at once and fled the room. But as he cast one brief glance back, he caught her darkened gaze, and shivered.
What is she thinking? he wondered. What will she do next?