The male werewolf fell on his face, jumping up immediately to look around, frantic in his movements. “Mary, Mary? Where are you?” He was bewildered for a moment. Then, as he blinked his eyes thinking he was mad, he was able to bring himself back as he realized he had been released from the hex trap, which was a dizzying thing to go through. He looked around to the familiar site that was the castle ruins he was in before. Only him, though. “No,” he said in a low whisper of defeat.

He turned as a voice came from the darkness. “Sarah’s gone, my friend.” It was that Crimson Vampire they were supposed to kill, moving into the light of the like a shadow of death, a sinister smile on his newly vibrant face which meant only one thing – he had taken Mary’s blood. He felt his fury break loose.

“Bastard,” the male werewolf said, spinning on him and snarling, hatred in his eyes.

“Oh, my,” the vampire said, feigning a shiver as he placed a hand over his heart. “That rage, that fury. If only Ginga could see you now.” He smiled and snapped, stepping backward toward an opening in the ruins, moving in and out of darkness and light that pierced the building through the surrounding trees. Two hulking werewolves with gray fur came into the light, descending upon the male werewolf. He spread his arms as he stood between them. “I present you the same odds you were going to give me. Two against one.”

The male werewolf prepared himself, his eyes staying on the cursed Crimson Vampire as he disappeared into the darkness of the night before saying, “Farewell, friend.”

“I’m not your friend,” the male werewolf snarled as he thought about lunging after the vampire and taking him out even if it meant his own life. It wasn’t worth it, as he had to focus with all he had to try to beat these odds, and so he leveled his eyes on the two gray werewolves stalking toward him with low growls and hungry eyes.

“We don’t have to do this.” He thought he’d try and reason with the beasts, even though he knew – and saw – that the gray werewolves had given into their own Beast Minds, their own madness, their animalistic nature with glossed over and maddened eyes. There was also the ongoing bitter blood feud since the time of the Crimson War. And bad blood even lingered to this day.

“You look tasty,” one of them said in a low, guttural voice, looking like it hadn’t eaten in a long time, saliva dripping from its snout, its crazy eyes zoned in on the male werewolf.

“Yes, very,” the other one said in a similar beastly tone. This one also had a scar over one of crazed eyes.

Typical of gray werewolves to give into the Beast Mind and let it run the show, the male werewolf thought, which doubly reminded him of why Grays were so dangerous. They had probably been held captive by that Crimson Vampire to the point of starvation, which was also typical of Crimson Vampires. They could never be trusted.

Either way, he was in trouble as this was probably his end. But he wouldn’t go without a fight, and so he charged, unleashing his full battle rage as he cried out, and they met him with ferocious intent.

The fight didn’t last long, and while he gave a valiant effort, he was quickly subdued, falling to a knee after one of his arms was ripped from its socket, his body beaten and torn to a bloody pulp with scratches and bites and tears all over. He knelt there, teetering on the edge of passing out, his strength failing him.

One of the grays moved forward with a satisfied grin. “It’s time to eat.”

The male werewolf was unable to hold them back, and they quickly descended upon him, knocking and pinning him to the ground. They devoured his flesh and being and essence, blood flying from the massacre as they tore and bit and destroyed. He cried out in agony, until one final snapping noise was heard from a pair of jaws biting into his throat in a crunching motion. The only thing left was the snarling and snapping of jaws and squelching of flesh as it was torn from body and devoured. Eventually, they couldn’t keep to themselves, and turned on one another, snapping and clawing at each other with bloodied snouts, each of them wanting full reign over the fresh flesh. This is what happened when the Beast Mind took control.

As they fought over the meat, they were interrupted by a whistle as the same vampire came out from the darkness accompanied by a figure in a red hooded cloak.

“Gentleman,” the vampire said, extending each word as if he was talking to civilized beings. “Your fight is not with each other.”

They didn’t stop, and so the man snarled with anger, his red-ringed eyes becoming radiant as he yelled. “Stop this at once you pathetic mutts or you will both be nailed to a stake and burned to death.”

They stopped and turned with little whines as if being scolded by their master, finding a semblance of sanity as they cowered and moved to their knees, looking down to the ground, a mixture of blood and guts and saliva dripping from their snouts.

After realizing he had lost his cool, he smoothed his well-fitted suit, then rubbed a hand against his forehead, muttering to himself. “Ginga, save me.” His smile returned as he let out a little sigh. “When you are done… devouring him, I expect you to return to the manner, or else this will be your last meal. Understand?”

They both let out obedient grunts, then moved into action, turning to the male werewolf’s mangled, lifeless body and exposed ribcage, and continued to devour flesh. The vampire turned and ushered the cloaked figure outside, moving into the brightness of the full moonlight.

The figured pulled back its hood, giving light to a beautiful woman with flowing green hair and pink feline eyes. Her skin cast a radiance of its own, pale like the light of the moon, and her ears were slightly pointed at the top.

“Werewolves are such mangy things,” the vampire said with a disdainful tone. “They have their uses, though.” He turned to the woman, and smiled. “Now, where were we?”

She opened hand, lifting it to him, her face expressionless. “My dagger?”

He revealed the purple-bladed dagger, holding it out in front of him in an admiring fashion. “The Elysium dagger that Agatha Ashland once wielded.” He held it out to her, and as she reached for it, he playfully pulled it back, which made her frown deepen, as she despised games. “A Great Weapon of Power,” he continued, his eyes admiring her as well as the dagger. “A one of a kind, much like yourself.” Her face darkened as she narrowed her eyes in an unpleased fashion.

“One day,” he said with a shrug and a smile as he placed the knife in her hand. “You’ll have to let me know how you got your hands on such an item.”

She eyed him with her cat-like eyes, a feral smile crossing her face. “No, I don’t.” With a sleight of hand, it disappeared under her cloak.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.

The woman glanced back into the castle ruins, the sounds of tearing and eating of flesh and breaking and crunch of bones emitted from inside. “What about their son?”

The Crimson Vampire frowned. “How did you know that?”

This time, she smiled playfully. “You’re not the only one with tricks.”

“You are quite the woman, Narcissa Dormanhein,” he said with a wide smile. He looked at his sharp nails absent-mindedly, not a care in the world. “We don’t have to worry about the boy. He’s just a clueless child, unaware of his beingness and the supernatural.”

“Are you sure about that?” Narcissa said, raising an eyebrow. “Agatha Ashland, even before her prime, performed many amazing feats as a so-called child.”

“A different place, and a different time, my dear,” the Crimson Vampire said with a smirk. “This is why I love having you as a companion, Narcissa. Things are never… dull with you around.

Narcissa rolled her eyes.

“Agatha Ashland,” the vampire continued, “was born into a world of darkness and necessity. The boy knows nothing, and is nothing. He has no drive. Even if he comes into his own, he will be easily dealt with. He is of no concern to me.”

Narcissa said nothing, letting the silence linger. She may not have approved, but he didn’t need her approval, just her assistance and companionship.

“The pieces are falling into the place for a new Crimson Uprising,” the vampire said. “He’s one of the last black werewolves, as we have effectively eliminated most of them. They are simply pests, nothing but a bug waiting to be smashed. We have enough Grays weaned to our side, and plenty of Crimson Clan loyalists – you and I among them, sweet Narcissa. If all things go well, and they usually do, you won’t have to lift a finger, as all the pieces have been put in place.”

She sneered at being called sweet.

“With our infiltration of Crescent Academy, it’s only a matter of time,” the vampire said. “A little more patience, and we will have everything we need to take action for a new Mainland Crimson Order and to rid ourselves of sulking in the shadows like silly beings as we assume control to what was always our destiny and right as the superior beings of the Mainland.  

Narcissa nodded at this, seemingly pleased at his words.

And with that, they turned and disappeared into the darkness of the forest.

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