WHOOSH... WHOOSH...
The wind screeched like an unseen beast, clawing at the landscape.
KRAAAK-THOOOOOM!
Lightning split the sky with blinding flashes, illuminating the rain-soaked cliffs. For an instant, the jagged rocks glistened like shards of broken glass.
But none of that mattered to the man kneeling at the edge of the cliff. The storm was nothing compared to the tempest raging inside the General.
His face, usually so sharp and composed, now seemed hollowed by anguish. Rain streamed down his face, mingling with the sweat on his brow. His crimson eyes, so often burning with power and pride, were dulled with self-loathing.
His trembling hand clenched into a fist. His nails dug into his palm until warm blood trickled down his wrist. The pain barely registered. His thoughts were drowning beneath the crushing weight of guilt.
“I MUST SAVE HER... AT ALL COSTS.”
And without another moment's hesitation, he lunged off the cliff, plunging headfirst into the raging river below.
Up above, the knights stood frozen in stunned silence. The wind stung their faces as they stared at the empty space where their leader had just stood.
The storm swallowed their voices as the wind surged once more. Half of the knights began escorting Prince Joseph
Their purpose was clear: find the General and Lady Aria. Dead or alive.
Hours later, the castle gates swung open with a thunderous creak. The General returned, drenched and exhausted; his arms wrapped tightly around Lady Aria's unconscious form.The General's expression was fierce, yet fragile—a man fighting to keep hope alive.
Physicians rushed in; their hands steady but their faces grim. Alongside them came the two remaining Purohits
The castle fell into uneasy silence, tension blanketing the air like a suffocating fog. Servants stood still, whispering prayers. Guards shifted restlessly at their posts, gripping their weapons like lifelines. Inside Lady Aria's chamber, healers and Purohits worked in frantic silence, their hands glowing faintly as they poured their energy into her fragile body.
But across the castle, silence was nowhere to be found.
Raging Vampire Lord William II
The Lord's eyes burned—a searing crimson so bright they seemed to glow like embers from the depths of Hell. His face twisted with unrelenting fury; his voice low but deadly.
Lord William II's voice exploded like a thunderclap, shaking the walls of the throne room. His crimson eyes blazed brighter than ever, burning like molten coals. His iron grip clenched the General's collar, hoisting him off the ground as though he were nothing more than a ragdoll.
Lord William's voice cracked with rage, his fangs glinting beneath his snarling lips.
The General, still drained from the river's merciless currents, barely resisted. His head drooped low, hair dripping onto the red carpet beneath him. His mind was too burdened by guilt to form words.
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With a savage shove, Lord William hurled the General to the ground. He landed hard on his knees, his arms limp at his sides. The room seemed to blur before his eyes, but he barely noticed. His mind kept replaying the moment he'd seen Lady Aria slip beneath the water—over and over, like a cursed melody that refused to stop.
Lord William's expression twisted with disgust. His breath came in furious bursts, each exhale sounding like steam escaping a broken pipe. The veins on his arm bulged beneath his skin, his fingers beginning to twist and warp. His nails blackened and lengthened, curving into claws.
The beast within him was rising.
His voice dropped to a venomous growl.
He raised his mutated hand, claw poised to strike. His crimson gaze locked on the General's neck, ready to carve his rage into flesh.
But just before the fatal blow could land—
Joseph’s desperate cry rang out, shattering the air.
The Lord’s hand stopped, frozen mid-swing, his claws hovering mere inches from the General’s neck. The thin space between them seemed to crackle with suppressed rage.
Lord William’s fiery gaze snapped to Joseph, who stood at the entrance of the throne room, his chest heaving with panicked breath.
The tension lingered, heavy and suffocating, as the storm outside raged on.
Joseph entered from the large door opposite to the throne. His voice trembled as he spoke, yet he kept walking forward. His steps were sluggish, his exhausted body barely able to keep itself upright. He was still struggling to breathe properly, his chest rising and falling heavily from fatigue. His eyes, red and swollen from crying, glistened with fresh tears that stubbornly clung to his lashes.
Joseph stumbled to the General’s side, gripping his shoulder with one shaking hand. His fingers barely held strength, yet he gripped tightly as if anchoring himself to reality.
Joseph continued, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt.
The young prince lifted his gaze to meet his father’s, his watery eyes reflecting both fear and courage. He was still a child—vulnerable, grieving—but in this moment, he stood like a warrior, determined to speak the truth.
Raging Vampire Lord William II was holding the General by the collar with both hands, his claws digging into the fabric. His burning red eyes locked onto Joseph, sharp and unrelenting.
But the sight of his son—fragile, trembling, and yet defiant—softened something within him. Lord William released a heavy breath through gritted teeth and signalled to one of the nearby guards.
The guard hesitated only a second before stepping forward.
The boy didn’t resist, but as he was carried away, he twisted his head back toward his father.
Lord William' voice erupted like thunder, his glowing red eyes narrowing with dangerous intensity. Joseph flinched, his heart racing at the unfamiliar rage radiating from his father. His lips quivered, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might protest—but instead, he lowered his head in surrender.
The last glimpse of him was his face turning away as the doors closed behind him.
Silence hung heavy in the air.
With a snarl of frustration, Lord William spun and drove his fist into the stone-like wall behind his throne.
KRAAAK!
The wall cracked beneath his knuckles, stone crumbling away to reveal a deep crater in the shape of his fist. His chest heaved, his breath ragged and uneven.
The raw power in that single blow left no doubt why he was the ruling Lord of this kingdom.
He turned his gaze back to the General, who still knelt on the floor, unmoving—like a lifeless doll. The proud warrior who once struck fear into demons was now a shell of himself, crushed beneath the weight of guilt.
Lord William glared down at him, his voice low and menacing.
His hand twitched, the veins across his arm bulging as his claws curled dangerously.
His gaze drifted upward to the ceiling, where ornate carvings twisted across the stone like veins of silver. His breath left him in a slow, shuddering exhale.
The knights obeyed immediately, guiding the unresponsive General out of the throne room. The heavy doors groaned shut, sealing Lord William in silence.
For a long moment, the Vampire Lord stood frozen.
Then, his shoulders sagged. His crimson eyes lost their burning intensity, flickering like dying embers. Slowly, his gaze drifted back up to the ceiling.
A single tear escaped his eye, tracing down his cheek like a silver trail against his pale skin.
His voice, once a roar of fury, now quivered with quiet sorrow.
His whisper barely disturbed the air, as if speaking to the void itself.
The proud Vampire Lord, once unshakable and mighty, trembled as he staggered to his knees. Gripping the side handles of the throne, he bowed his head, his right hand gradually returning to its human form.
His fingers, once prepared to spill blood, now clenched tightly around the armrest, nails digging into the wood as though it were the only thing holding him together.
His voice broke again, trembling like a man on the brink of collapse. For a moment, it seemed as if he might shatter under the weight of his grief.
But then—
His tear-streaked face twisted with rage. The sorrow in his eyes hardened into something far more dangerous: vengeance.
His fingers tightened until the wood beneath them groaned.
His glowing red eyes reignited with an inferno of rage, his trembling grip shifting from pain to raw power.
He would find the ones responsible.
And they would pay in blood.