Konrad's eyes slowly opened. Three-fourths of his body lay buried in the demp soil. All around him unfolded a sprawling patch of woodland, devoid of any presence save for a scarce few animals that inhabited it.
The trees lashed and crashed against each other like drum sticks in the hands of a giant. Their trunks rose as far as Konrad's supernaturally potent eyes could see, and their groves blotted out the sun, protecting him from its harmful effects.
Light and shadow danced across his upturned face. His ears picked up on the buzzing of insects and the subtle crunching of dry leaves.
Suddenly, Konrad's lips curled up, and he could've sworn that something had darted past his head. He turned to look for the intruder and was met face to-face with a juvenile rat.
Its bedy, shiny eyes bore into his like a pair of polished onyx stones. He remembered seeing rodents feasting on carcasses and even a handful of bold ones going after living creatures. They preyed on the weak and the disabled, even children at times, gnawing off bits and pieces of meat from the face, hands, and feet. But Konrad would allow no lowly rodent to defile the sanctity of his body. Konrad snarled, showing his conical, jagged chompers.
The small rodent paused momentarily, wiggled its nose and ran off in the opposite direction, with its tail trailing behind it like a fleshy ribbon.
Slowly, Konrad disenterred himself from the soil's loving embrace. In doing so, he pulled on a number of larger roots that intertwined to form an elaborate web of life. These roots spread through the ground like veins, pulsing with imperceptible life. They extended deep into the cozy darkness, but even they were no match for a vampire's unnatural strength.
Konrad tore through them with his torso as he stood up and shook off clumps of dirt that stubbornly clung to his apparel.
He laid his hand on one of the boles and briefly experienced the surreal vitality flowing through it. It was an old tree, whose trunk easily matched the width of his shoulders. He was tempted to call it primeval, for it was undoubtedly older than he. Konrad's fingers, each crowned by a single, blackened claw, raked grooves in the bark, but the tree hardly reacted. Even Konrad could not perceive its suffering, if any was to be found.
There was indeed a power exuded by the forest which only the most discerning creatures could feel, and this lone tree was a testament to it.
He looked off into the distance, but the trees were so dense in their arrangement that he struggled to make out the world beyond them. It was as if they were determined to let sunlight sully the labyrinth that was the forest floor with no more than a few rays.
~ It was a sacred grove, one that stymied idle thoughts as much as prudent investigation. Villages, towns, and small footholds had all bled out from the ducal lands of Sol Terra like warm milk spread across a pan, curdling in splotches where people thought it good to set up camp and stay awhile. It was the ever persistent chase of the lessers, looking for a bit of dirt to call their own and a bundle of thatch to keep the rain from taking it. But even when desperate and hungry, starved of resources as the peon's often were, their superstitions and traditional believes kept them at the chasms bay where ambition and drive stood as stout crossing. Build by the woods, but don't encroach. Let not stir the hanging idols and jingling bones, swinging against the bark of old.
~
Lady Carmine, as the town of Sotto Voce had come to know her, had inherited this place through trivial pursuits, ducal ass kissing, pillow talk, and the proper dispatching of suitors when the time came. Like a weevil burrowing deep into the bark of the ash, she had found a comfortable place in the court. Minimum effort, debased as it may have been, gave her the leisure and time to pursue the things she wanted. And when her efforts returned with reward well-earned, she denied them. Not for me, she proclaimed with a tongue soaked in suave and debonair. Instead, she had requested to serve as direct consult to the town and lesser duke, who through strategic maneuvering, had been chosen from a group of three. The selectee was none other than Duke Leventain, a man that worshipped the ground she strode on. He was happy to bring her along and she was happy for the weaklings presence - he would make an appropriate scapegoat when the time came. And that time was upon them...
"Miss...umm...Lady Carmine." The servant moved into the tower room, treading across the cold stone floor, as she quietly navigated the bed chamber. "Lady Carmine, the Duke has requested your presence for dinner. It seems you've slept..." The servant slipped and ducked behind a piece of plush furniture, decorated by delicate looking linens, as a shoe smacked the fireplace mantle behind her. It bounced away and as if triggering a mechanism, the hearth came to life and began to crackle and spit out embers.
"You may have not noticed...but I was sleeping." She rose from the bed, rubbing the flat of her palm into her eye, as she used the other to try and suppress the bird nest of hair that was currently adorning her crown. She let out a loud yawn and chuckled. "If that...Duke...wants me out of bed, he can come and beg it of me." Padding over to the vanity, she sat down at the mirror and began to pull out bits of adornment and decoration.
"Ma'am..." Celeste replied again. Chrys turned back and sighed. "I had forgotten you were here. Please inform the Duke that I won't eat this eve as I am grieving his departure for the hunts in the flatlands." She puckered up her lips, feigning melancholy, as she leaned against the glass before waving Celeste away. "I am simply awash with grief."
Once the door closed, Chrys perked up. Eyes of burned sulfur came to life as the metal of the mirror swirled and formed the image of a silhouette, free of any pertinent or identifying detail. "You must go to the grove. The night is upon us and what you require is there."
"Fuck that." She exclaimed. "My machinations are hardly fueled by hickory nuts and squirrel shit. If there is something that I need from the grove, it will come to me. I'm certain of that. Otherwise, my plan goes forward as is. Once...he's gone. Now, I must pamper myself a bit and greet the evening with wine, kohl, and a dash of rouge. If I need anything else from you, I'll consult..." She genuflected, as the image disappeared. "The reflections." Pushing away from the table, she strode out to the balcony to lay eyes on the descending sun, resting on top of that ancient grove. Pressing an elbow into the railing, she sighed and cupped her chin in her hand. "Fucking grove."
Hunger swept over him like an all-consuming tide, blotting out his other senses. He needed blood, and his body craved to sink its fangs into soft, living flesh, to tear it asunder and cram the gory vitals into Konrad's gaping rictus. But where would he find the prey? No people lived here. Not even seasoned woodsmen tested their luck by going as far as he did.
Then it crossed Konrad's mind: animals. They were a sub-par substitute for humanoid ichor, yet they would suffice for the time being. With this in mind, his ears perked up and his pupils contracted into dagger-like slits.
He vaulted forward, crunching dead leaves and dried twigs beneath his armored soles. Distant hooting and howling sounds broke the monotony, and the buzzing of insects intensified tenfold. A calming song erupted from the nearby treetop where a bird had found its abode; overpowering all of these was the pounding of Konrad's heart, which hammered against his breast.
A crowd of trees gathered where he was, their sightless eyes locked on Konrad's prowling form. Amidst them stood a single buck, chewing on a tuft of verdant grass that sprouted between fallen leaves. Konrad was upon it in a heartbeat, attacking with all the strength and ferocity of a starved tiger.
His mighty thews propelled him forward, and he landed on the deer before the best could react. Konrad seized it by the head and gripped it savagely. His clawed digits, more talons than fingers, broke through the skull like an eggshell.
The deer struggled feebly, never as much as uttering a cry. It was dead before its spasming corpse even hit the ground, kicking up clumps of dirt.
Its vertebrae came detached with a wet, boneless snap as the vampire dug in, sheering through the flesh with many rows of conical, inwardly facing teeth.
Beyond the sounds of a buck dying and the events there after, the grove was silent with the thumping of startled does and young bucks, chasing after various doe in estrus. The winds moved gracefully through the upper canopy, shivering leaves of aspens and poplars through the otherwise sparsely populated understory. The sun cut through the upper canopy, where possible, forming maps of unknown worlds against the rustling detritus and recently fallen leaves.
A raven, as big as a cat and blacker than night, landed on a fallen tree near the display of viscera and hunger. It let out a guttural croak as it moved up and down the branch, looking for burrows and places where things might hide. With a turn, it
perched and watched, as black eyes turned to the color of gold. It opened its beak but what came out wasn't the deep scratchy pitch of a corvid. It was the voice of a woman.
"A buck in rut...a gamey choice to be sure." The raven opened its wings and flew to the parts of the corpse that weren't being fed upon. Pulling back a strip of flesh, the raven turned its beak to the verdant sky and began to gulp down the bit of carrion. Once finished, it moved across the forest floor, as if searching. "Perhaps you would do better on something a bit more...filling. Follow my Raven, Crucible. She will guide you to the forest edge, to the town of Sotto Voce, and to my tower. You can peruse the menu. And then explain to me what you are doing on my land."
Crucible hopped several more times before taking flight to a nearby branch. The eyes returned to their typical shade of black and it waited, is if taking all its current cues from the mysterious figure in the Sacred Grove.
Konrad peeled himself from the eviscerated carcass. He observed his handywork with a thin smile. It was then that the raven caught his attention. He craned his neck to look at it, only to cock an eyebrow when the seemingly mundane animal spoke up. Amusement flickered in his eyes, tugging the corners of his lips into a toothy grin.
"It seems I have the misfortune of attracting carrion birds."
He took a step back from the bloody mess, stepping into the half-darkness of the nearest shadow. A stygian veil fell over him, obscuring much of his monstrous countenance. Only his bright eyes could be seen in the shadowy upper portion of his face. They flickered like candle flames and brimmed with untold power and cruelty, but also alien beauty. Each time Konrad opened his mouth to speak, a row of ivory-white, conical teeth gleamed.
"Your land? Hah. To my knowledge, no such person existed nor will exist, but I'll entertain your offer. I'm aching to meet the one who claims this land as their own."
Konrad arrived in less than half an hour. It unfurled before him, an unassuming location that hardly warranted its title as a city. At first glance, he thought it was a large town at best. There was scarcely a building over four stories in sight, and everything appeared neat and tightly packed. Only a couple of straight, paved streets crisscrossed the city, cutting across the otherwise winding and gracefully arching roadways that, if observed from a bird's eye view, seemed to add a whole new layer of experience to the bland architecture.
Carefully groomed lawns flanked either side of the main street, leading to a large, semicircular park.
From there on, the taller walls of bleached granite erupted. A little beyond them rose the tallest structure in the whole city, a tower that stretched a good thirty meters into the sky, built from an ambiguous material heavily resembling marble. No mortal hands could've fashioned such an elaborate structure amidst an insignificant city. Konrad's ever-calculating mind immediately assumed that magic was at play.
He moved slowly, snaking around houses and smaller buildings, preferring to pass through vacant backstreets where no eyes could be drawn to his form. After all, he stuck out like a sore thumb with his lead-colored skin, shimmering eyes, and alabaster hair.
The small town seemed to grow outwards from the tower and keep, as if development spilled out from the monolith into the agriculture flatlands, budding out small homes, farms, and workshops under a watchful orange gaze. Crucible afforded no immediate responses to the commentary from the stranger. It either implied that the bird was no longer imbued with the direct presence of its master or the master simply didn't care enough to respond.
"Sir..." A word squeaked out from the mop of a child, ruddy faced and dirty from nose to toes, as he stumbled out from a bit of debris against the brick alley wall. He wore what appeared to be standard breeches, a hemp shirt, and a pair of suspenders that were due for an oiling. He stood at less than half the height of the man and likely a quarter of his weight, with nothing but skin, cheekbones, and a chapped smile to greet the figure. "Pardon me but uhh..." He stopped as he looked up, having to nearly arch his back to meet the man's gaze. If there was fear in his eyes, he wasn't quick to show it.
"Me muvva, she's been sick for quite some time ya see..." He held out a wooden bowl, empty of any contents beyond the slight smearing of fingerprints. Bringing his free arm up, he coughed into his elbow and wiped his nose with the sleeve. "Ain't had much fa food in some time...could ya spare a bit of shine for our good health?" Beyond his sunken expression and sharp cheekbones, his eyes were pale. And the bits of arm that were exposed seemed to be covered in a motley of rose-tinted welts.
Crucible stopped mid-flight and turned, landing abruptly on the stranger's shoulder. Fluffing it's throat feathers, the raven croaked. "A guttersnipe..." The woman's voice echoed. "Nothing more than watered down tears for those unwilling to help themselves. Don't waste your time, we have more urgent concerns."
Konrad stopped dead in his tracks and spun on his heels to meet the source of the noise. His eyes fell upon the diminutive, famished figure of a young boy, clearly struck by a wasting disease of some sort. Konrad appraised the stranger, noting the bodily deformities that riddled the young boy, from his coltish legs to the underdeveloped arms upon which red marks festered.
The raven's chiding annoyed him greatly. He was, after all, an immortal vampire, a Heracles unchained, and he'd do whatever he wanted, when he wanted and however he wanted! He stayed on that note, reminding himself to strangle the raven once it was no longer needed.
"Ah?"he stepped in the boy's direction, casting his long shadow over him. Konrad's features were amplified tenfold in the half darkness of the dimly illuminated alley, giving his face the visual qualities of a grinning skull.
Konrad nodded to himself and dug his clawed fingers into the pocket located on the side of his double-breasted trench coat. He took three coins from it, two gold and one silver. The bits of metal glittered like precious gems as light winked off their polished surface.
"But, before I give you the money, how can I be sure you still have any wits left in your head; that you won't spend it on cheap pleasures only to starve later, eh?"
He dangled the three coins just above the rim of the wooden bowl, hearing them click and clang as their metallic frames collided with each other. If the boy was stupid enough to try and snatch them, then Konrad would surely peel his skull like an orange.
The boy moved and shuffled nervously, though his mannerisms and movement seemed to take on an unnatural cadence. "Please, sir...it's for ma..." He stopped and shook. In the span of two blinks, the boy seemed to grow nearly a foot in height. His expression turned cheshire as nobs seemed to protrude from his forehead. With eyes once pale blue, the whites turned blood red as the waves of crimson over took his pupils.
"The fuck it matter if I seek pleasure now or later! Ain't nothing guaranteed, is it? Might get killed today, might get killed tomorrow, might succumb to these puss pockets, hmm?" He looked upwards towards the stranger, scratching at the palm of his free hand. His voice had turned deep and sinister. "Ain't not point hedging the bets and saving for the morrow, is there? No, no there isn't. Not when the lush den gives out a discount for the matinee! Hah!"
And just as quick as it came, it was gone. The aura and presence shifted back to the natural tone, the height shot back down, and any indication of occupation by another presence was gone. He shook for a moment and sniffed. "It's for me muvva and for food, swear on me life and me dead favva. I could take ya to his resting place. Ain't much but a plod of dirt and idol, but it's the best we could do." He tilted the bowl once more.
"Please sir. Not much for pleasure in this life but a strong urgency to eat."
Revulsion and disgust darkened his countenance, but he didn't show it. Something nasty bubbled in the pit of his stomach, a simmering stew that threatened to spill over and fan the flames of Konrad's beastial temper. He curbed the urge to reach out and wrench the boy's head off his shoulder. No, not the boy, but whatever the hell the thing inhabiting the boy's body was. Konrad was a parasite too, in a way, but he was also a major hypocrite who'd never allow himself to be compared to a demon!
"So be it. Have it your way,"
Gutter fiend.
He relinquished his hold on the trio of coins, and they fell into the bowl with a series of audible clinks and clanks. Somehow, Konrad doubted that the money would be put to good use, but he couldn't be arsed to care either. To him, gold was no more valuable than roadside muck. He could get either in plentiful quantities whenever he so pleased.
He glanced at the raven, finally understanding what it meant when it tried to hurry him away from a seemingly starving child. With a sigh, Konrad turned his back to the avaricious creature.
"I think that concludes this unsightly encounter."
Walking past the raven and in the direction of the sky-scraping spire, Konrad chuckled, having figured something out.
"If starvation doesn't do him in, the witch-hunters surely will."
His lips twitched into a sardonic smile. A leering smile in response to someone who was the butt of the joke but wasn't yet aware of it, the kind of smile you'd anticipate from a schoolyard bully.
What followed next was a grueling ascent up a winding staircase fashioned from polished stone and carved in the likeness of evil beasts. Konrad, although nearly immortal and endowed with unnatural stamina, found the ascent to be tedious. It was only when he reached the very top of the tower that he began thinking that whoever lived in it could either teleport or fostered a strong preference for practical jokes.
As he approached the top, the Raven took to flight and began circling the tower, croaking loudly. Finding an unlit sconce, like an arm of rose tinted brass arched out and ensnaring nothing within it's wrought cage, the Raven landed and croaked once more. Just then, its eyes shifted once more to an eerie yellow tone and the solid wall of alabaster that greeted Konrad at the crown of the staircase began to shift. Stones beneath began to clap against one another, turning on their various fulcrums, as the stone peeled way in an unnatural rhythm to reveal an immaculately adorned door.
As the vagaries came to a halt, the Raven swooped down and landed on the brass handle against the door. Pulling it back and forth, with claws pressed into the thick wooden door, the hollow pang of metal against wood echoed out with surprising force. In a moment, the door groaned and swung open, revealing the antechamber that would invariably give life to the tower's eldritch build and shifting interior design.
On the other side of the chamber sat a woman in a chair, fashioned more closely to the appeal of a throne. She pressed a quill into an assortment of vellum, scribbling furiously. The smell of burning incense lifted and hung low in the room, originating from a pair of crisscrossing sticks that rested against a tray of emerald glass. Letting out a sigh and finalizing the document with a swift signature, the Raven flew into the interior and landed promptly on the balcony behind the woman at the desk. It pranced about as it looked down towards the town, skipping across the granite bannister.
Pushing the chair away from the desk, she stood with hands pressed firmly into the enameled wood of the desk. Her eyes burned with a vibrant golden glow, like element sulfur burped out from a volcanic vent. She wore a red sash top with a plunging neck line, donning an assortment of necklaces of gold and polished serpentine. Her left arm was sleeved, from shoulder to wrist, in a vestment resembling raven's feathers of blue and black.
"You must be famished with your stroll through Sotto Voce...shall we fetch you something to eat?"
Moving with all the grace and fluidity of a jungle cat, Konrad strolled into the spacious abode, his steps barely audible as he did so. His eyes, flickering like candle-flames, dissected the interior with surgical precision. There he found the one who had called upon him, a young woman, undoubtedly of sorcerous, mayhaps even noble, heritage.
His gaze descended upon her like a bag of cement thrown from the top of a high-rise building. Konrad found himself appraising her, burning her features into his brain, trying to discern anything unnatural about her physiognomy. However, he found that nothing was amiss. The sorceress was no less comely than any other high-status lady.
He squinted ever so slightly as ideas raced through the pathways of his mind. Who was she? What did she want from him? Was she offering herself as a meal to him? No, the last one was out of the question.
"Greetings," he intoned, his voice cutting through the thickening suspense like a knife through butter.
Konrad pressed his naked fingers into the smooth wall, feeling the stone's coolness flowing into his skin.
"The offer is greatly appreciated," he paused, pursed his lips, and took a step towards her, attempting to bridge the gap between them. "But, I've got questions for you. Questions that must be answered before we may proceed. "
"Chiefly, what is it that you want from me? People seldom contact me just to hold a conversation, and you do not look like the type of woman who'd do that."
She swayed a bit, tilting her head to inspect his approach. It wasn't far from the sort of expression one might find of an epicurean, consuming the most recent bit of art in vogue, hanging on a wall and framed in gold. Her hand hovered out over the desk and as if playing an invisible stringed instrument, her slender fingers plucked at nothingness. Beneath, a bowl began to take form from the ethereal, filled with green olives.
Taking a single olive in hand, she placed it in her mouth and chewed methodically. A few moments passed before she extracted the seed from pursed lips and tossed it over her shoulder. Crucible took to quick flight and caught the pit, landing with particular purpose as it dropped the seed in a groove on the bannister.
"Hmmph..." She mused. "It's not impossible to marry purpose with indulgence. In fact, they often make appropriate bedfellows in the right climate. But..." She sighed as she turned to head towards the balcony. "Have it your way."
Resting hands against the bannister, inviting him with simple body language and a brief look over her shoulder, she turned to look out towards the town. "You took some time to get here. Tell me, did you notice anything odd about the people below?" If she feared the figure, turning her back to him seemed to be an odd choice. She carried an ere about her, emanating a sense of insouciance. It could have been a thing born of status, of living a life that had never truly known obstacles. Or it could have been the exact opposite, a life forged in trauma and manipulation.
"I was immersing myself with a dirt nap," he sneered, firing off a swift retort. Having to render himself vulnerable every three days was indeed an inconvenience, but without rest and adequate sustenance, Konrad's body, as resistant as it appeared, was liable to collapse on itself.
"And after that, I took my time feeding. I'll admit that wild game is a sub-par source of nourishment for one such as myself, but we often have to make do with what we have at hand."
Konrad moved to where the woman was standing, her back turned to him. He couldn't help but eye her generous curves. The way the small of her back transitioned into a voluptuous rear end tickled some part of his primate brain that lay long buried beneath the avalanche of higher thoughts.
Konrad's hand snaked around Callisto's slim shoulders, coming to rest on the side of her face. The vampire's flesh differed from her own in nearly every way. Although Konrad wasn't as icy as a corpse, he was cooler. In contrast to Callisto, whose skin felt smooth as porcelain, Konrad's was as tough and thick as boiled leather, pulled taut over the muscles and sinew that rippled beneath.
He was a sculptor, an explorer in the depths of experience, an angel to some, a demon to others.Flesh and bone were his clay. To think how simple it would have been to separate Callisto's head from her shoulders with a flick of the wrist, and then to rend steel and stone as if they were nothing more than wet paper.Yes, he was a god in flesh, a Hercules unchained.
"Odd? I've noticed many things brewing under your very feet; poverty, segregation, disease, but none of those are particularly eye-catching or extraordinary in this day and age."
The question struck him as odd. He thought it over, pondering why she, a denizen of the city, would ask him a question she probably knew the answer to. Suddenly, a sharp thought penetrated the protective bubble of obliviousness, and then it dawned on him: the boy.
She had noticed the smell of earth on him and in normal circumstances, she typically required some form of bathing to take place before the dialogue could commence. But it went without saying that she was beyond intuitive, even if she didn't let on. She could sense the hunger in the figure, the way his eyes moved over her. For food or conquest, it was difficult to discern. But the hand across her cheek produced goose bumps that were surprising, if not slightly irritating. She punched down any sense of revelation and steeled herself for the moments ahead.
"Poverty, disease, segregation...things of little import when dealing with fodder." Any vulnerability she felt at the touch was swiftly swept aside, replaced by an almost instinctual revulsion for those who dwelt below. "If they had the muster, they would lift themselves out of whatever woes afflict them on the daily basis. They are afforded sun and fresh air, everything else should be earned through toil." She spoke of the now, but lingered in the past. It was sacrifice and pain that had turned her into what she was and with such high opinions of her own capabilities, she afforded little sympathy for those who couldn't rise above their own station.
Letting out a sigh, she exhaled deeply. The furrow of her brow, the crinkle of her nose, quickly dissolved into something approaching a charming smile. She turned to him and lifted her hand, fingernails coated in currant polish and a ring finger encompassed by ornately carved gold and carnelian. "Those below call me Lady Carmine. That or Chrys will suffice." A name for her wear of red, another for the color of her eyes. Neither of which stood as her true name, often not spoken of except in far more intimate circumstances.
"And I speak of the veil. The thinning between our world and the infernal. I believe you saw as much, if Crucible speaks truly."
His nostrils flared, drinking in her sweet fragrance that would've surely intoxicated any of the lesser men. But Konrad was no fool to let a woman's charm override his logic and higher thinking. He fought the urge to sink his teeth into her even as it drew him in. Unbeknownst to Callisto, this was probably the closest she has come to certain death. All it would've taken was a light flick of the wrist, and Konrad could've peeled her skull like an orange.
Instead, he listened patiently, his eyes glued to the back of Callisto's head as she droned about the personal failings of those less fortunate than her. She spoke of unnatural occurrences as well, of veils and other realities, supernatural forces, and demonic entities. Konrad already knew the direction in which their brief conversation was heading.
Although she was both dangerous and foolish, her theatrics couldn't help but amuse him. In spite of mischief tugging at his lips, Konrad relinquished his grip on her. As he backed away from Callisto, he suppressed the urge to grin from ear to ear.
"I am Konrad, Konrad Korvin, and it is becoming increasingly obvious that you, my dear lady, seek to toy with powers that are beyond you!"
Konrad crossed his arms under his chest, shook his head, and stared her down. A frown of contemplation creased his forehead, knitting his eyebrows together in a union that could only be described as strangely comical.
A fleeting desire to laugh left him, replaced by scorn and contempt. Konrad sought not to serve the infernal powers, for he had seen more than a handful of their lackeys in his life, all of whom had been twisted beyond the boundaries of salvation, their souls forever devoured by the macabre darkness that they pledged allegiance to.
"Demons, bah! Creatures both real and not real. By nature, they are self-aware falsehoods, delighting in the mischief they cause the unwary. Their existence is a dream, a living nightmare made manifest. Only a madman would seek to couple with aberrations such as they."
"You jump to assumptions and land upon false footing..." She smiled softly. If he was attempting to intimidate her with his vociferous appeal to reason, or his nefarious stare, it seemed to not hold purchase. She stood straight and ever sure of herself, a trait she carried through her life in spite of those who had underestimated her and suffered the consequences. "I do not wish to pledge my allegiance to a lower demon. I will not be made a slave." Again. The context of her upbringing, the suffering she had endured, would not be so easily revealed.
"No." She turned to look back out towards the city. "I intend to fetter one. A king of Demons, a progenitor of those of their lesser kind, roaming freely between the realms. I will reflect its greed and malice back on it, tenfold, and rid it of the agency that allows it to see easily bend these people to its will."
Perhaps there was nuance in the statement, as the sentiment made it seem as if she cared about these people below her. That couldn't have been further from the truth - but she did not relish in those oppressed by things beyond their control. And she would sacrifice whatever it took to rid this place of its presence, shackling it like the dog that it was.
Lifting her hand, a blue wisp of energy formed in her palm, like a fire that was burning so hot, it was beyond the visible spectrum. Slowly it swirled, spiraling and twisting over itself like smoke caught in competing gusts. Finally, it took form in something approaching the shape of a ball. "There is no power that is beyond me, Konrad Korvin." Flexing her hand and closing her fingers around the energy, the blue flames encircled her hand, crawling up her wrist and arm before absorbing into her exposed flesh. The sulfurous eyes began to shine an encircling haze of azure as she sighed, breathing out visible vapors. The room began to move, twirling in on itself as the view of the Sotto Voce turned blurry and hazy. The sun and sky seemed to snake away in beams of filigree and for a moment, time could have stood still. In a flash that came abruptly and silently, the inner facade of the antechamber changed from an office arrangement to something approaching a laboratory.
And they were no longer on the top floor of the tower. Where the view was, there was now a corridor, leading to multiple interior chambers, shown by recessed doors and windows that spanned the distance between each. The place was lit with firelight on wrought iron sconces, mounted like hands pressed into the stone walls.
"I do not need your help. But I would welcome it. Who knows?" She smirked, eyes shining vibrant blue, as she began to move down the hallway. "You might enjoy the challenge." Maybe that was bait, a backhanded suggestion that implied he could actually be challenged by this. Or maybe it was sincere.
Konrad sucked a sharp breath through his gritted teeth and shrugged, gracefully rolling his shoulders to accentuate the fact that he'd argue no further. Arguing, after all, was pointless, and Callisto seemed hellbent on doing... whatever it is she had in mind. Nonetheless, Konrad didn't believe a single word that fluttered past her supple lips, opting instead to consider them with a grain (or a gallon) of salt.
"Let it be so. Although your words are contradictory, I've elected to extend you my helping hand."
A small voice piped up from the very recesses of his mind. Barely above a whisper, yet audible enough to tickle Konrad's ears, it spoke of purpose and... self-interest.
"We may yet benefit from this," remarked the voice, unsteady in its tone and intensity.
"No," chided Konrad, "we WILL benefit from this."
The first voice grew distant as it was gradually washed away by a deep, rumbling laughter. A sound like no other filled the empty tomb of thoughts, bouncing off the imaginary walls only to be amplified twofold. The laughter grew louder, eventually distorting itself into a howling cacophony of shrieking tongues.
By the time Konrad returned to his senses and looked around, the two of them were already occupying a new room—or, well, corridor. Konrad gazed about, an expression of vague surprise unfurling across his vampiric features.
"Your aptitude for thaumaturgy is most meritorious."
Konrad moved through the long shadows of the gloomy corridor, trailing mere steps behind the sorceress. His feet carried him with an almost ethereal nimbleness, their passing nigh-imperceotible to mortal ears. He watched as bugs and rodents fled in the wake of his arrival, visibly frightened by his unnatural aura. And to that, he smiled, thinking himself death incarnate.
"What now?"
He was meaning to ask sooner. The question echoed in his mind like an unpleasant afterthought, rousing both excitement and paranoia.
"Do you mean to have me kill the demon for you? Have me spit its blackened heart on the tip of my blade?"
She took the compliment for what it was - a crack in his rough exterior. A fleeting moment that perhaps shed light on a fraction of her capabilities, even if it was but for a few seconds. Though she had to quietly admit that she was impressed with his constitution. Even creatures of the night, immortals of all life spans, were prone to vomiting when put through such an arcane array. He had either been through it before or was simply naturally inclined towards resisting the physical effects.
"Thank you." She stated quietly with a coy smile as she waved her hand. The doors in front of them were far less immaculate than what Konrad was originally greeted with on the exterior of the tower. They were thick and chipped, dimpled with iron rivets that plated the doors with thick steel bands. The plates formed geometric shapes that came to a terminus on the edges, just along the hinges. The metal brackets sung a whiney groan as the doors opened, giving life to something that seemed to be a makeshift facility serving multiple purposes.
The far end of the room pinched off into another room, filled with steam and a persistently fresh bath that was the size of a wading pool. The room smelled of chrysanthemums - a confluence of earth and flora. There was another table with a brightly burning fireplace behind it. Just as they entered, a log seemed to shift as the fire spit out embers onto the stone hearth. To the right, another room, leading to a significant bedchamber.
"Would that make you happy? To present that heart as trophy? Hmm?" Another smile, though the words were laced with a hint of playful sarcasm. "No, what I need from you is something a bit more mundane...a bit of blood to weaken the veil. I was planning to sacrifice the lot of Sotto Voce to bludgeon the veil open. But with someone of your power, your blood would be far more potent for...lubricating the ritual."
As if that should have made sense, she casually drifted over to the table to pull out some vellum manuscripts.
Konrad stood impressed by the sight that unfolded before him. He marveled at the laboratory, its deliberate layout, and the number of expensive, exotic tools that littered the various tables or hung suspended from the featureless grey walls. Indeed, this was a place of learning, furnished beyond the capacities of many other such faculties that Konrad had the pleasure (or displeasure) of witnessing in ages past. And he had witnessed many, from Elbion to Mardenia.
Recirculated, dry air wafted into his flared nostrils, carrying with it a tinge of chemical solutions. The almost omnipresent aroma of sterility alluded to the presence of copious quantities of antiseptic, so much so that he could practically taste it on his tongue.
Anyone else would've likely gagged, but not him. Konrad had long since grown accustomed to the stench of decomposing bodies and, as such, perceived the laboratory in a skewed light.
Konrad's eyes, like two bits of hard glass lodged deep in their sockets, swept over the room with inquisitorial glee. He seldom respected people, dividing them into either of the two categories: worthy foes and training dummies. As for Callisto? Her resources were no less than praiseworthy.
"The quality of blood matters just as much, if not more, than the quantity. A vampire's diet is one of the many factors that impacts his or her might."
He turned to look at her, his eyes gazing through her suit of flesh and into her very soul like a pair of jagged icicles.
"Yours gives life to my kind, but mine would be the death of you. From head to toe, everything about me is deadly, even my blood, endowed with the power to poison you and any of the people you seek to preserve in an instant."
"Funny, isn't it, how I cannot sire another who shares my peculiarities? Whereas my lesser breathren procreate like vermin, I must content myself with being one of a kind."
"I'm sure that must feel terrible...to be unique." Chrys replied, looking up with a smoldering bronze gaze for just a moment, handing through her manuscripts. Her comment was sarcastic, skirting towards playful teasing, but the fact remained that it wasn't the first time she had heard such thoughts from those who were elevated. The curse of loneliness, though she imagined Konrad would never admit to such, worn as an armor and mutated into something that could be seen as a boon. It was common for those of such perspective to end there but for Konrad, it seemed like he still lingered on the idiosyncratic nature of his lineage and the burden that it presented.
Chrys, on the other hand, had no such musings regarding what ran through her veins. There was nothing special there and she had certainly looked. No, where she stood as a pinnacle was a result of something else. Hardwork, toil, and the willingness to go beyond the confines of morality.
"But I believe there is more to it than just the quality...but also the nature of it." She pulled a loose piece of vellum and ran a polished finger against the wordings. The parchment was old, yellowed from time, and covered half by transcript and half by a circular diagram with an icon in the middle.
"You spoke of firsthand knowledge of demons in the antechamber. Of falseness and aberrations. But have you dealt with a true fully fledged demon, not some molestation or shadow of their former self? I have found that just like with Vampires, not all are created equal."
Konrad snorted indignantly. The woman before him fanned the flames of his agitation. Something about her made him want to both strangle and embrace her.
"Being unique for the sake of it is a fool's errand. I'm unique by design, not by choice."
He made his way over to one of the tables and stooped to pick up one of the many bladed implements that lay upon it. Konrad's digits coiled around the metallic hilt while his ever-inquisitive eyes traced the familiar outlines. He was aware that the object to which his eyes were affixed was a medical scalpel, despite its modest size and artistic flourish.
He held the masterfully crafted instrument against one of the wall-mounted lamps. Ethereal light winked off the polished surface, revealing strange, twisting patterns in the metal. He had seen similar, although slightly different, patterns before, on the cross-section of an old oak trunk his sword had bisected.
"Do not insinuate, girl," Konrad retorted, all but hissing through his clenched teeth.
"Your aspersion is a slight on my name. I shan't tolerate it."
"I've laid my eyes upon many a fiend, and it is for that exact reason that I despise them. They aren't people, hell, they can hardly be considered as living beings to begin with. Their existence is a dream. Their power? stolen strength of mortal souls. Even their visage is a mere image painted onto the canvas of the material plane."
Konrad paused, baring his teeth at an enemy that wasn't there. Demons! parasitic fiends, abominations, and slights against the world as a whole. They who lived with no purpose and no thoughts of their own, existing simply to mirror the sins of mortal races. How he longed to free their deformed heads from their shoulders and gorge himself on their hot entrails. Demons would yet fear him; he'd swear on it.
"Yet, for all its falsity, the demon has the ability to twist the mind of the living, to make flesh a mockery, to defy death, and bring ruin on the works of mortals." Callisto
"Slights are only slights if you allow them to be." She said through a smile, taking insult to being called girl. But she didn't need to rise the temptation or bait, instead tucking it away for another time. It had become very clear to her that Konrad was easily insulted and quick to rise to the occasion. The temperament of vampires seemed to be as varied as humans, though she would expect it to temper with immortality. Like the elves who had seen a thousand years go by, she felt that it was simply too much energy to waist on the words of lesser beings.
Which either meant that Konrad wasn't entirely in control of his emotions or he valued her opinion more than he had originally led on. Chrys decided to stick with the second assumption.
Looking towards the scalpel, she approached, watching with quiet amusement as he gazed into the surgical steel and colors reflecting off of it. Her hand lifted slowly, tracing his wrist and knuckles with the delicate touch of someone who didn't often get her hands dirty, until her fingers played at the handle and edge of the scalpel. "Can you feel that?" She whispered. "As clean as anything else yet...responsible for so much pain and capable of so much more. A work of art. Simple, elegant, and everything it needs to be."
Retracting her hand, she lifted the manuscript for him to view. "I've combed through dust covered manuscripts for longer than I care to admit. Something that stuck out to me was the writings of a Maester who studied Goetia for the majority of his life, claiming to even commune with the other side. It was his belief that there are laws in place that govern the barriers between our world and the infernal. And that in order for a demon to cross over, absent extraordinary conditions, it must sever itself from all but just a inkling of its own power. In fact, Maester Kymanda theorized that to see a demon in this world, a true demon, is to see but a shadow of its true self. Or..." She thought for a moment. "A stone wall. But instead of seeing the whole wall, we only see a single stone."
Her touch brought upon an electrifying sensation, and a delicious shiver shot down the length of Konrad's spine. Just thinking of it was enough to make every little hair on the back of his neck stand bolt upright. His nose twitched, drinking in the intoxicating feminine scent that threatened to overrule all logic and higher thought. It was as if his body was being puppeteered by an unseen, undetectable force with the sole goal of having his teeth sink into her pliant flesh.
Konrad fought the sensation. He needed her to be alive. There was no telling what would happen if he were to lunge forward and tear into her. So, he continued fighting, slowly and deliberately freeing himself from the clutches of his own bestial urges.
Konrad laid the flat of his palm against her bosom, momentarily marveling at the difference between the two of them. Whereas Callisto's skin was flawless and smooth as porcelain, his felt rougher than a buffalo hide. To think that he once belonged to the same species as her...truly preposterous!
Konrad gave her a light shove, just enough to put a bit of distance between them. Stepping backwards with the scalper still in hand, he opened his mouth.
"The demon's realm is diametrically opposed to ours, and a demon's very existence presents an antithesis to the material plane. Reality actively rejects them, much like a healthy body rejects a cancerous growth. That is why they quest for great sources of power, such as mortal lives, so that they can retain a physical form while ravaging the materium."
Konrad spoke unfazed, as if he hadn't just laid his hands on her. His eyes seemed to harden ever so slightly, looking not at the sorceress but right at her.
Konrad put the scalpel back where it belonged, taking care to let his fingertips rest for for a little moment on the handle's cool, polished surface. He wanted to learn the specific process used to make the tool and, if feasible, duplicate it. It was imperative to maintain such meticulous craftsmanship, but if Callisto's age was any indication, the maker of the instruments was most likely long dead.
"If ushering a demon into this world is what you aspire to accomplish, then you'll need a potent source of magical power to do so. Such power can be facilitated through many channels," he smirked, "including human sacrifice."
She took a step back with the shove but naturally bristled at the affront. But if his cold gaze was an attempt to, once again, intimidate her, it was of little success. The world had been filled with men and women who thought they were her better, thought they could push her around and control her through fear and pain. The vanity of her profession, and of her perspective, was on full display with her flawless expressions and physical perfections. But beneath the veneer, she wore wounds and trauma that could never heal. But it was forever the place from which she grew.
"I do not have aspirations." She folded her arms over her chest, where the impression of his hand could steel be felt, and obscured the manuscript. "I have goals. I've afforded no room for failiure." She stood statuesque. Where he looked down at her, she looked through him. Through the glints of burning graphite that formed his view, the pallid expression that shifted from anger to sarcasm to outright incredulity, to the thing that may have once been considered a soul. She had an unexpected power over him, one that flirted the line between ravenous hunger and something more, and that wasn't common for those she ensnared herself with. By and large, they sought her out to warm their sheets or provide them the tempest gale of magic they so often thought they needed. Rarely were her compatriots constantly toiling over the desire to consume her.
"I apologize. I've been insensitive to your needs. Let us remedy that before we go any further." He was right, the act would require blood and essence. One led to the other. But for now, blood was far more important.
Turning back towards the desk, she revealed a charm that was hidden in a box. Before picking it up, she looked up towards Konrad. "When you feed, I assume you have to kill the victim or...can they linger? Just need to prepare some things if it's the former."
Konrad eyed her carefully as she went about, visibly unfazed by the shove he had given her earlier. Truth be told, had he wanted to, he could've rammed the entirety of his forearm through her chest, shattering the breastbone and dislodging a portion of her spinal cord in the process. Nonetheless, it would've been a distasteful action to take. Konrad had already placed the brunt of his expectations on Callisto's shoulders. And if she were to fail? Well, he'd hate to be in her skin, then, that's for sure.
At the sight of the charm, something clicked together in his predatory brain. Konrad cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side with the intent of observing the object more closely. He immediately assumed that the trinket had something to do with the ritual, but instead of voicing his opinion, he held his tongue in the hopes that she would explain it of her own volition.
"I see that your sense of humor is profoundly ingrained. Alas, your perceived impoliteness is inconsequential. You, of all people, should know better than to stoke my bloodlust. Remember, these urges are inexorable, and no matter how many times a vampire has fed, he or she can never truly slake the sanguine thirst that consumes them so."
Even now, he could feel the familiar tingle coursing through the soft flesh of his gums, all the while his teeth ached to kiss naked flesh. Such an unholy union could spawn only one outcome: death. Although many among the vampire's kin harbored tendencies that enabled them to spare their prey, Konrad possessed no such proclivities.
"And to shed some light on your inquiry: whether they live or die hinges solely on the swing of my mood."
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