Change is sweeping through the world, as humanity fights for autonomy, discord tears apart the foundations of the vampire order, and dhampirs return to the world after centuries of war between two powerful peoples. Dhampirs, creatures known to heral...
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Ghost stood next to Neil in Lorenzo de Fleur's throne room, flanked by Ruprecht and Tamaska. The giant lycanthropes stood sentry as their protectors like light and shadow, Tamaska's shaggy black hair running wild to his mid back not much darker than his skin, and Ruprecht was as pale as all the Arcs with his slicked, spiked black hair teasing his shoulder blades. Both stood, fangs bared, but it was Tamaska's wild golden eyes flicking this way and that that had the Fleur generals backed to the wall.
Talamayas' lycanthropes were every bit as vicious and unhinged as their master, bred and fought against one another until the strongest earned the price of guarding the king. Tamaska was itching for blood, and the vampires sensed it, though he was the tamer of Talamayas' twopersonal lycans. Arnou ran rabid without Talamayas on his leash, so he never left his master's side.
Poor Neil looked like a puppy at their feet, but Tamaska's presence sent a message. That they would shed blood if it came to it. Neil was committed to peace and didn't want conflict, but he would not budge when it came to his children's safety. As he shouldn't.
Asmodeus knelt behind them on the marble tiles, fitted with antimagic shackles that linked his hands together and chained manacles on his ankles to keep him from running. The man looked like shit too, his clothes ragged from when Ghost had ripped his chest open twice and allowed it to heal as well as sullied from the grime of Tala's dungeons and Asmodeus' tears. The poor man was trying to meet his master's eyes, but having no luck as Lorenzo wasn't paying attention.
The leader of the Fleurs reclined across the arm rests of his stone throne with his legs hanging off one side and his shoulders on the other. The man hadn't bothered to put his hair up and sky blue tendrils hung loosely around his shoulders and off the throne, trailing an unbuttoned shirt down to his groin. Lorenzo rolled his half glazed eyes in their direction, but he was inebriated in some manner because he swept over them several times before he realized Asmodeus was there. Then he flicked his eyes up to Neil and dropped his feet to the base of his throne as he sat up.
"Why did you bring him here?" Lorenzo asked in a low growl, slurring his words enough that both wolves looked at each other before checking Neil's perturbed expression to make sure they'd heard him right.
Lorenzo de Fleur, the essence of poise and power for the vampires, was drunk of his ass.
No alcohol could do such a thing, so he must have dipped into the black market for stronger spell infused herbs and drugs to do this to himself. The man had really fallen off the wagon, though he had no one but himself to blame. Turning against anyone allied with Talamayas Sol was death, and Ghost had ruined the man by beating him to near death with a mirror of Asmodeus.
"He is your general and your friend, Lorenzo. What sort of question is that?" Neil asked abhorred. For a master to turn on their own, especially one as loyal and sacrificing as Asmodeus was appalling. Asmodeus had given up everything so Lorenzo could flee to safety after making the poor decision to attack the Arcs, and Asmodeus had suffered.
