**Warcry—LUDEN, Clara Sorace**
—Somewhere in the North, at the borders of Vaskor, territory of the Vampires—
The vampires that lived in Vaskor were known as the Aristocrat Vampires for their refined appearance and also as a way to differentiate them from other degenerate, blood-drinking creatures that were more often than not a product of witches sorcery.
Governed by an immutable hierarchy, the region was ruled by the Blood Council of Vaskor—twelve elders from the twelve most revered aristocratic bloodlines. Feared across Velmoria, their power was unfathomable, their grip unrelenting. Each had walked the world for at least two thousand years.
Yet even they bowed, in silence, to the ones who came before them.
The Originals.
The family surnamed BlueBloods for their noble blood rumored to be responsible for the existence of the Aristocratic Vampires. Yet the reason why they remained forgotten was precisely because ever since the defeat of the fallen ones two thousand years ago, the BlueBloods remained absent from the rest of the world.
For all the world knew, they could be dead. But rumors carried on of a tradition where every full moon, the Twelve offered fourteen chained humans to the BlueBloods by leaving them at the territory of the Ice Mountains. And when they came to check the next day, every trace of the humans were gone.
Nothing remained—not even footprints. The Council never spoke of it. But they felt it. That presence. That power. The BlueBloods were not dead. They were dormant.
The tradition carried on in secret, because while the world might have forgotten, the Twelve were sensible enough to feel the overwhelming power that seeped from the Ice Mountains—a power that stirred at their soul and reminded them of their immortal grand sires.
That was until that night… when rumors of Rashel's temporary return spread through Vaskor alongside another impossible tale—the sighting of an impossible vampire—pale skinned, dark haired, pale silver eyes, and gripping a dagger to himself.
But it wasn't just him that was sighted. Another rumour spoke of a golden-haired alluring young witch who should have no business being on vampire territory without a pass. And yet, a vampire guard confessed to having seen her while in a 'haze'.
Now, under the bleeding glow of the blood moon, Khaos BlueBlood lounged against a jagged ice boulder, the dagger in his hand reflecting crimson light. His posture was relaxed, almost careless—but his pale silver eyes were fixed on the blade like it might speak his brother's name back to him.
For in that night of cursed prophecies that saw many deaths, he bore his own grief—the impossible death of his brother and the sixth original vampire. A death that had been made possible by the dagger in his hand.
Below him Viktoria paced, golden eyes turbulent.
"You compelled her to forget you," she finally blurted, her voice tight with frustration, "how will she be of help to us if she forgets that you helped her?"
Khaos tilted his head, barely looking away from the dagger. "But she remembers you, Viktoria. That should be enough, no?"
"It isn't," she snapped. "I told you, I might not be done with my training at the Dome of Seers in eight years. It could take ten, twenty, even more time than that till I master my power of sight. It should be you she remembers." She finished in a shaky voice, her hands trembling as she remembered that her power to see visions was in need of 'repair'.
"Then I shall just compel her again to remember me," he said simply, jumping down from the boulder with an unnatural grace. He twirled the dagger between his fingers as he walked toward her. "Memories are tools, not chains. The last thing I want is for her to rattle about how she saw me to those despicable humans she has taken refuge with."
Viktoria flinched, fury rising as she stared at the dagger with tear stained eyes. "Khaos, Alaric is dead. And the blade that murdered him was forged with that girl's blood. The hilt of it was made out of the bones of a dead vampire that was never exposed to the sun, and the person that wielded it smelt like a human." She rattled off the knowledge one by one as though she still found it quite unbelievable.
Khaos' expression turned thunderous. "I do not need you to remind me of all that," he gritted, "believe me, I have an intimate knowledge of the weapon that was used to cut my brother down. I've been holding onto it in the hours that followed since I found it embedded in his chest." He finished furiously.
"He's immortal," Viktoria gritted, beating her chest as if to ease the knot that constricted her there to the point she could no longer breathe, "nothing should have been able to touch him. "
"Yet something had," Khaos added harshly, holding up the dagger to his eyes level while he stared at the red tainted blade.
"I will find who did this." He promised in a low, threatening voice, "human, witch, vampire, I do not care who it might be but I will find them."
Viktoria sniffled, squaring her shoulders in a bid to appear stronger than her heart that was breaking into pieces. "Your family is in danger. The people who did this long prepared for it—they wish to eliminate the originals."
He grinned manically in response, gripping the dagger by the blade until it burrowed in his skin. "I shall like to see them try."
At the same time, his older sister appeared from behind an ice boulder.
Valeria BlueBlood.
White haired, more unhinged than most, and possessing a strange dark velvet eyes, she bounced to them, stopping only short when she reached Viktoria.
"Indeed, we shall like to see them try." Valeria said in a childlike voice, beaming at Viktoria while Khaos resisted the urge to feel annoyed at the sudden, unwelcome, appearance.
"What?" Valeria blinked at Viktoria, frowning. "Why does it seem like you are grieving more than his family?" She accused.
"Valeria…" Khaos warned.
"Alaric is dead, if you gave him your heart before, then collect it from his corpse and hold yourself together!" She finished with a petrifying scream.
Viktoria clenched her fists, glaring at the white-haired woman who didn't look to be more than twenty-four at most. Although she appeared younger than Khaos, Valeria was in reality at least two thousand years older for she was the first born of the BleuBloof siblings, and also the one referred to as the fifth Original.
"Get off her case, Valeria," Khaos growled.
Valeria cut him a scathing stare, "If she truly wants to mourn, then she should do so by conjuring a vision that would show us who killed Alaric." She continued in her child-like voice, "wouldn't that be the best way to prove that he was truly the love of her life?"
When Viktoria didn't respond but only simply continued to glare at her, she pouted, pretending as though she just remembered something.
"Ah, I almost forgot! For the past months you've been seeing only visions of that red haired girl! The same one whom you both have just confirmed her blood was used in murdering our brother. So even as a witch-seer, you've become quite useless."
In a fit of rage, Viktoria conjured a blue light, her golden eyes glowing as her powers came to the surface like summoned lightning.
Valeria stood unfazed though. "Which do you think will be faster," she drawled in a snobbish, cocky voice, "my fingers against that tiny throat of yours, or your powers?"
Before Viktoria could react, Valeria was before her, slamming her body against an ice boulder. The blue light was instantly released, but she dodged it easily, the light bouncing behind her and shattering an ice boulder.
"Stop it both of you! Especially you, Valeria!" Khaos growled, anger crawling at his insides at the quite pitiable display. "In case you've forgotten Viktoria is not an enemy, she is the woman whom Alaric loved until his last breath." He finished with a struggle.
Mention of the forbidden love his brother shared with Viktoria had always been a topic of great discomfort amongst his family. Even Khaos never understood his attraction to Viktoria… but in the face of his death, none of it mattered anymore.
Valeria released Viktoria abruptly, laughing maniacally. "Do not kid me, little brother," she drawled, causing Khaos to narrow his eyes at her at the address, "that so-called love of theirs wouldn't have gone anywhere," she finished, sulking like a hunter forced to let go of her prey.
"But you're right, Alaric was… fond of her. I warned him against it, but he ignored me… not like it matters anymore, but seeing as she's helping us, I shall spare her annoying face."
Viktoria scoffed at her, then turned to Khaos. "What is your plan with the girl?" She asked.
"While her blood might have been used to forge this dagger, it's rather obvious she has no knowledge of that fact."
"You managed to read her mind?" Viktoria gasped, quite stunned.
"It was difficult, but for a moment I was able to," Khaos finished, "I believe her blood was taken without her knowledge since she seemed to not possess the memory of giving it out of her own will."
"Why her blood though," Valeria asked, eying Viktoria like she should have the answers to her question.
The other woman rolled her eyes. "Powerless witch or not, a witch-born without a Velth is a rarity."
"So?" Valeria probed, her features hard.
"She's a rarity," Viktoria repeated meaningfully. "A witch-born without a Velth—her kind of blood can be used in high rituals. As a counteragent. Maybe to forge weapon strong enough to kill an ancient vampire."
"But the dagger's dead now," Khaos said staring at the dagger anew.
"Which means they'll need her again," Viktoria replied. "Unless they think she's dead, after what Rashel did to her coven."
Valeria's pacing turned erratic. "Don't you think it's strange that Alaric dies, the boundary breaks, and a Fallen One escapes—all on the same night?"
Khaos remained silent, remembering a moment he hadn't shared.
When he found the girl—Ember—her heart had stopped. He was certain of it. For ten seconds, there was no beat. No breath.
That was until it started beating again….
But he kept that information from Valeria. The woman was unhinged enough to go after Ember if she thought she was something more than a powerless witch. And Khaos didn't want that.
Not until he personally avenged the brother that died in his arms, dagger embedded in his chest.
And he would do it in his own way. The rest of the world didn't have time, but he happened to have a lot of it. And he wouldn't mind if it took him months, or years to make his first proper move.
Because when he would eventually make his move, the world would know that the BlueBloods were back.