The Carmilla territory sprawled before us like something pulled from a Victorian fever dream.
I stood at the edge of what passed for the main street, taking all of it at once. Stone buildings climbed toward a perpetually overcast sky, their architecture caught somewhere between medieval Romanian castles and Gothic cathedrals. Iron lanterns hung from ornate posts, casting pools of amber light that did nothing to dispel the shadows clinging to every corner. The cobblestone streets were pristine, almost unnaturally so, as if no mortal foot had ever trodden them.
Shops lined the thoroughfare, their windows displaying goods that ranged from mundane to macabre. A tailor's shop exhibited dark velvet gowns and formal wear that wouldn't look out of place in an 18th-century court.
Next to it, an apothecary's window gleamed with glass bottles filled with liquids that pulsed with their own inner light—crimson, violet, midnight blue. Further down, what looked like a weapons shop displayed ornate daggers and swords with handles carved from bone.
But it was the bars that caught my attention most. Three of them within sight, each with stained glass windows depicting scenes I probably didn't want to examine too closely. The nearest had a sign that read "The Crimson Veil" in flowing script, and through its windows I could see figures moving in the dim interior, their silhouettes lean and elegant.
The air itself felt different here. Thicker. Colder. Like the temperature had dropped fifteen degrees the moment we crossed into vampire territory. Every breath tasted of stone and old blood, a metallic tang that sat heavy on the tongue.
And the vampires themselves moved through it all with an aristocratic grace that made even simple walking look like a choreographed performance. Pure-bloods, mostly, judging by their doll-like features and corpse-pale skin. Red eyes tracked our group as we passed, expressions ranging from disdain to outright hostility.
I could feel their gazes like physical weight. The hatred wasn't subtle. It radiated from every vampire we encountered, a palpable animosity that—
Something whistled through the air.
My hand shot up, fingers closing around a fist-sized stone an inch from my face. The impact stung, but my enhanced reflexes had caught it easily enough. I turned toward the source of the throw, muscles already tensing.
A teenage girl stood in the mouth of an alley about twenty feet away.
She couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen, with tangled dark hair that hung in her face and clothes that were less "clothing" and more "strategic rags held together by hope." Her dress—if you could call it that—was torn in a dozen places, the fabric so faded and worn it was impossible to tell what color it had originally been. Bare feet, crusted with dirt. Hollow cheeks that spoke of too many missed meals.
Her eyes met mine, and I saw the exact moment she realized her attack had failed.
Fear flooded her expression. Raw, primal terror that transformed her face from defiant to desperate in a heartbeat. She took a half-step back, her whole body trembling.
I opened my mouth to say something—what, I wasn't sure. That I wasn't going to hurt her? That throwing rocks at diplomatic envoys was a spectacularly bad idea?
But before I could form the words, movement exploded from behind her.
A boot caught her in the ribs. Hard. The kind of kick that had real weight behind it, meant to hurt.
The girl crumpled with a strangled gasp, hitting the cobblestones in a heap. She tried to curl into a protective ball, but another kick came, then another, each one punctuated by harsh laughter.
Three female vampires stepped out from behind her, emerging from the alley's shadows like predators who'd been lying in wait.
All three pure blooded vamps dressed in immaculate red gowns with expressions of cruelty that suggested this was entertainment for them. The one in the lead, taller than the others, with her blonde hair arranged in an elaborate updo , delivered another kick to the girl's gut.
"Fucking useless Dhampir" she spat, her voice carrying the particular kind of contempt that only came from genuine belief in superiority.
The word hit me like a punch to the gut.
Dhampir. Half-vampire, half-human. The outcasts of vampire society, despised by pure-bloods for their "tainted" blood.
The second vampire, this one with shorter black hair, circled around to kick the girl from a different angle. "Can't even hit an easy target." Another kick. "No wonder you're so worthless."
The third one, a redhead with a smile that could freeze blood, leaned down to grab a fistful of the girl's hair, wrenching her head back. "Should've drowned you at birth like the mongrel you are."
I felt Benemune and Lavinia's attention shift to the scene. Heard Elmenhilde's annoyed sigh, like this was a common enough occurrence that it barely registered as noteworthy.
My demon slayer mark activated as I felt something wrong with the Dhampir. The familiar burn spread across my skin as I focused, really focused, on the Dhampir girl.
And then I saw it.
My eyes widened.
The pattern was there, hidden beneath the surface like a watermark only visible under certain light. Not a vampire's aura. Not entirely human either. Something else.
I forced my expression back to neutral as I caught Benemune's hand on Lavinia's arm. The fallen angel's grip was firm but gentle, restraining without hurting. Lavinia's face had gone from cheerful to distressed, her whole body tensed like she was about to leap forward.
Elmenhilde stood to the side, arms crossed, looking more annoyed at the delay than concerned about the violence happening ten feet away.
"Let's get going," I said, my voice flat.
Lavinia's head whipped toward me, sapphire eyes wide with disbelief. "What are you saying, Isaiah kun?" Her voice cracked slightly. "We can't just leave her like that!"
The three vampires paused their assault, looking up at us with expressions of mild interest. Waiting to see if the visiting delegates would dare interfere. Testing boundaries.
"We are here to talk about peace," I said, meeting the lead vampire's eyes with deliberate calm. "So let's not forget that."
Elmenhilde made a sound of approval, already turning away. "Finally, someone with sense." She motioned for us to follow. "This way.."
Benemune's eyes studied my face for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. Then she nodded once and guided Lavinia along with us.
I forced myself to walk. Forced myself not to look back at the Dhampir girl, now barely conscious on the cobblestones. The three vampire women had lost interest once we moved on, returning to their conversation like kicking someone half to death was just a casual activity for them.
Every step away felt wrong. Like abandoning someone drowning while I stood on dry land.
But something wasn't adding up. What I'd seen, the way her aura shifted and flickered, that girl wasn't what she appeared to be. And if I was right about what I'd glimpsed in that fraction of a second...
---
The Castle of Queen Carmilla rose before us like a monument to Gothic excess.
Spires reached toward the eternally grey sky, their pointed tops wreathed in wisps of mist that seemed to generate from the structure itself. The stone was black, not grey—actually black, polished to a dark gleam that reflected the light from enchanted torches in shimmering waves. Gargoyles perched along the roofline, their expressions twisted into snarls and screams, and I couldn't shake the feeling that some of them were watching us.
The main entrance was a massive archway, flanked by columns carved with intricate reliefs depicting what looked like historical vampire victories. Battles, conquests, executions—all rendered in loving detail. The doors themselves were iron-bound oak, each one easily fifteen feet tall, inscribed with symbols that made my demon slayer mark tingle with recognition.
We passed through into the entrance hall and the temperature dropped another ten degrees.
The interior was exactly what you'd expect if you asked an interior designer to create "Vampire Queen's Dark Palace" and then doubled the budget. Vaulted ceilings soared overhead, supported by ribbed arches that created shadows within shadows. Massive tapestries hung along the walls, depicting scenes of vampire nobility in various states of regal splendor. Chandeliers dripped with what looked like black crystal, their light cold and pale, casting everything in shades of silver and deep purple.
Female vampire servants moved through the halls like ghosts. All wore identical black dresses with white aprons, their faces expressionless masks of professional servitude. They didn't speak, didn't acknowledge our presence beyond slight bows as we passed.
"This is amazing!" Lavinia's voice echoed through the vast space, her earlier distress apparently forgotten in the face of architectural wonder. She spun in a slow circle, taking it all in with wide eyes. "Look at the craftsmanship on those ceiling frescoes! It's so beautiful!!!"
Elmenhilde's chest puffed out slightly, pride evident in her posture "Naturally. This castle has stood for over eight hundred years, maintained by the finest craftsmen across generations. Every stone, every carving, every—"
"It's so gloomy though," Lavinia continued, still spinning. "Don't you ever want to, I don't know, open some windows? Let in some natural light?"
Elmenhilde's eye twitched "Gloomy?"
"Yeah, like, I get that vampires prefer darkness and all that, but couldn't you at least add some color? Maybe some flowers? A nice rug in a cheerful yellow would really brighten up this entrance hall—"
"Cheerful. Yellow." Elmenhilde's voice had gone very, very quiet.
I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. Next to me, Benemune had one hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking slightly. Her orange eyes were bright with suppressed laughter.
"—and these tapestries are beautiful, don't get me wrong," Lavinia was saying, apparently oblivious to the vampire noble's rising offense, "but they're all so dark and depressing. Maybe some landscapes? Or portraits of happy vampires doing fun vampire things instead of all this conquest and bloodshed—"
"Lavinia chan" Benemune interjected smoothly, though I could hear the amusement in her voice "Perhaps we should appreciate the castle as it is. After all, we are guests here"
Elmenhilde shot Benemune a look of pure gratitude before turning back to Lavinia with forced composure "The castle's design reflects the power and majesty of the Carmilla Faction. It is a testament to our strength, our history, our—"
"Oh, I'm not saying it's bad!" Lavinia smiled brightly. "Just, you know, a bit dreary. Very vampire-y though!"
This time I couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped. Benemune's shoulders shook harder. Even Elmenhilde's perfectly maintained aristocratic mask cracked slightly.
"This way" the vampire noble said with grunt "To your chambers"
---
The room Elmenhilde showed us was, predictably, exactly what you'd expect from a vampire castle's guest quarters.
High ceilings. Stone walls. Heavy curtains over windows that were, I noted, heavily reinforced with what looked like light-blocking shutters. The furniture was all dark wood—a massive four-poster bed that could easily fit three people, an ornate wardrobe, a writing desk with an inkwell and quill. Candles in iron sconces provided the only light, their flames casting dancing shadows across the floor.
Lavinia walked in, looked around, and wrinkled her nose "It's so gloomy!!! Bene chan"
"It's to be expected. They prefer to live in darkness" Benemune said gently, adjusting her glasses with one finger. Her purple hair caught the candlelight as she turned to examine the room more thoroughly "Aside from their weakness to sunlight, vampires are pretty much like devils in that regard. They find comfort in shadows"
I moved to the window, pulling back the curtain slightly to peer out. The view showed the inner courtyard below, more Gothic architecture, and in the distance, the lights of the vampire town we'd walked through. No sign of the Dhampir girl, but I hadn't expected there to be.
"So, Benemune san" I said, letting the curtain fall back into place "Why did the Carmilla Faction decide to join hands with the three factions?"
The question had been gnawing at me since Azazel first brought up this trip. Nothing about it made sense.
Lavinia nodded vigorously, settling onto the edge of the massive bed. "Everyone was looking at us with eyes of hatred. I wouldn't have minded it normally, but now they're offering peace?" She tilted her head, blonde hair spilling over her shoulder "Why?"
Benemune sighed, removing her glasses to clean them on her sleeve.
"Truth to be told, even I don't know why they offered peace all of a sudden" she admitted "When Azazel told me about it, I was skeptical as well. Vampires, who look down on every other race, showing initiative for peace negotiations?" She replaced her glasses, the frames catching the candlelight "There must be a bigger objective behind this. Something we're not aware of yet"
I turned away from the window, crossing my arms "Whatever it is, we'll know it by tomorrow"
The peace talks were scheduled for the next day. Queen Carmilla herself would be present, along with various high-ranking vampire nobility. We'd present our terms, they'd present theirs, and somewhere in the political theater of it all, we'd discover what they really wanted.
"Isaiah kun"
Lavinia's voice had lost all its usual lightness. I looked over to find her staring at me with an expression I'd never seen on her face before—hurt mixed with accusation.
"Why didn't you let me help that girl?" The question came out quiet but sharp.
Benemune moved immediately, placing a hand on Lavinia's shoulder. "Lavinia chan—"
"No, she's right to ask," I said. "I made a call in the moment. It might have been the wrong one."
"It wasn't wrong," Benemune said firmly. She turned to face Lavinia fully, her expression serious. "What Isaiah kun did was right in that moment, even though it was wrong to do."
Lavinia blinked. "That doesn't make any sense, Bene chan."
"Think about where we are," Benemune said. "We're in vampire territory, surrounded by beings who already view us with hostility. We're here for peace negotiations that are already on shaky ground. If we had intervened—if we'd attacked three vampire citizens to protect a Dhampir—what message would that have sent?"
"That we have basic human decency?" Lavinia countered.
"That we don't respect vampire law or authority," Benemune corrected gently. "That we're willing to use violence over what they would consider an internal matter. It would have given them the perfect excuse to call off negotiations, claim we came here in bad faith, possibly even detain us as aggressors."
She released Lavinia's shoulder, moving to look out the window. "Politics isn't about doing what's right. It's about doing what's necessary to achieve your goals. Isaiah kun chose the negotiation over the individual. It was the correct tactical decision, even if it feels wrong."
"We should have helped her," Lavinia insisted, but her voice had lost some of its certainty. "That poor girl. She must be hurt pretty badly."
I thought about the pattern I'd seen, the impossible signature hidden beneath the Dhampir's surface. The way her aura had flickered like a broken illusion.
"If I'm not wrong," I said slowly, "we should be worried about those three vampires"
Both women turned to stare at me.
"What do you mean?" Benemune asked, her orange eyes sharp with sudden interest.
"No, it's nothing" I shook my head
It was more than a feeling, but I wasn't ready to voice my suspicions yet. Not until I was sure. Because if I was right about what I'd seen, then that girl in tattered clothes wasn't a helpless victim.
She was something else in disguise.
And those three vampires had just painted targets on their own backs.
---
The darkness pooled in the corner of what had once been an abandoned house on the edge of Carmilla territory.
The space was abandoned, forgotten, the kind of place where even vampires didn't bother looking.
Three female vampires stumbled into the room, laughing.
"Did you see her face?" the blonde one said, still giddy from their earlier entertainment "That pathetic Dhampir actually thought she could impress her betters by hitting one of the delegates!"
"Disgusting half-breed" the black-haired one agreed. She examined her nails, checking for dirt "At least we put her in her place. Maybe she'll learn to stay in the dirt, where she belongs."
The redhead was the first to notice something was wrong.
The door they'd just entered through was gone.
Where it had been was now solid stone wall, as if it had never existed at all. The windows, the other exit—all sealed, the room transforming around them into a perfect prison.
"What—" the vampire spun around, her earlier amusement gone "What is this?"
A figure materialized from the shadows in the corner.
Like she'd been part of the darkness itself and had simply decided to take physical form.
The Dhampir girl from earlier stood there, but she was different now. The tattered clothes were gone, replaced by what looked like light blue dress beneath a black and white hooded cloak that resembled a jester's cap. Her dark hair was no longer tangled but arranged in a long braid tied with a bow decorated with a purple skull. But it was her eyes that had changed the most—no longer hollow and afraid, but bright and golden and completely, utterly empty of mercy.
And in her hands she held a scythe.
The blade was curved, wickedly sharp, made of metal so dark it seemed to drink in the light. More of those gold neon lines traced patterns across the blade's surface.
"You?....But you were—"
"Hurt?" The girl's voice was light, almost cheerful, but there was something wrong with it "Oh, Did you like my performance?!!! I worked really hard on the scared victim role! Tell me I did a great job!!"
She took a step forward, and despite her small stature, all three vampires took an involuntary step back and then nodding at each other, one of them lunged at her.
The vampire's speed was inhumanly fast, a blur of motion that should have been impossible to follow. Her clawed hand reached for the girl's throat, nails extended to rip and tear.
The scythe moved faster.
A flash of black and gold, so quick it barely registered. Serafine's body kept moving forward for three steps before she seemed to notice something was wrong. She looked down at herself, confused.
There was no blood. No wound. Nothing external at all.
But her skin had gone grey. Corpse-grey, the kind of grey that spoke of things long dead and buried. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed to the stone floor, eyes wide and staring at nothing.
The other two stood frozen, unable to process what they'd just witnessed.
"You know?!!" the girl continued, examining her scythe with the kind of attention someone might give a favorite toy "When I slash people with this, there's no external damage at all! The blade cuts right through the soul instead. Isn't that cool?!!" She looked up at them with those bright golden eyes. "Well, maybe not cool for you. But definitely for me!!!"
"M..Monster!"
"Monster?" The girl seemed to consider this "I suppose that's fair. Though technically, I'm a grim reaper! Or half of one, anyway. My mom was human, but my dad is Orcus! Do you know Orcus? Probably not"
She was rambling now, like she was making casual conversation at a tea party instead of standing over a corpse.
"Please" The vampire dropped to her knees, all pretense of pride abandoned. "Please, we're sorry!"
The girl brightened "Really? That's so kind of you! But I already know what I need to do. Lord Hades gave me very specific instructions, and I'm supposed to be on vacation, but he called anyway, and now I have to work, which is totally unfair, but I can't really say no to Lord Hades because he's technically my boss and—"
She stopped mid-sentence, as if suddenly remembering something.
"Oh! I'm talking too much again, aren't I? Daddy says I do that when I'm nervous. Are you making me nervous?" She addressed this question to other vampire, who had pressed herself against the wall, trembling "You shouldn't make people nervous. It's rude."
The scythe moved again.
The vampire didn't even have time to scream. One moment she was against the wall, the next she was on the ground next to her friend, her soul carved away by a blade that left no mark.
The only left vampire was literally sobbing now "Why? Why are you doing this? What did we do?"
The girl paused, genuinely seeming to consider the question.
"You know, that's a really good question!" She tapped the scythe's handle against her chin thoughtfully. "I mean, technically you kicked me and called me names, but I was pretending so that doesn't really count"
She stopped again, shaking her head.
"Lord Hades had sent me to kill that devil but I wasn't able to do it because you spoiled all of my plans. Now because of that, you all have to die" She shrugged.
"I'll give you anything!" She begged on her knees "Money. Power. Anything you want, just please—"
"I already have what I want," the girl said simply. "A nice scythe, a job to do, and the satisfaction of knowing I'll get to go back on vacation once this is done." She raised the scythe "Though I do appreciate the offer! Goodbye!"
The blade descended.
Her body joined her companions on the cold stone floor, three perfect corpses with no visible wounds. Their souls carved away, their lifespans cut to nothing, ended by a blade that killed without leaving a trace.
The girl looked down at her scythe, frowning slightly.
"Eww, you got all dirty again," she said to the weapon, like it was a naughty pet that had rolled in mud. She produced a cloth from somewhere in her dress and began carefully wiping down the blade "Bad people's souls always makes you look so gross. Why can't we only use it on good people? Their soul essence is so much cleaner"
A buzzing sound cut through the silence.
The girl perked up, setting her scythe carefully against the wall. She reached into a pocket of her dress and pulled out what looked like a phone, except instead of normal phone features, it was shaped like a small skull with glowing green eyes.
She pressed one of the eye sockets.
"Yes! Bennia speaking!" Her voice was bright and cheerful, like she was answering a call from a friend instead of standing in a room with three fresh corpses "Yes! No. Not yet. But I will get it done, Lord Hades!"
A pause as she listened to whatever was being said on the other end.
"Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yes, I understand. No, I'm not slacking off! I just finished taking care of three of them right now! See? I'm being very productive!"
Another pause.
"What? No, of course I'm not enjoying this!" She glanced down at the bodies. "Though I guess the scared victim act was kind of fun. Should I keep doing that? It seems to really throw people off"
"Okay, okay, I get it. Focus on the mission. No more getting distracted by cats or— yes, Lord Hades. I promise. Uh-huh. Bye!"
She pressed the eye socket again and the skull phone's green glow faded. Bennia sighed, tucking it back into her pocket.
"Being a grim reaper is no easy job!" she announced to the empty room. "I was supposed to be on vacation! Do you know how rare grim reaper vacations are? Very rare! But nooo, there's always extra work that needs attending to."
She picked up her scythe, giving it one final wipe before making it disappear into what looked like a pocket dimension. The three bodies were already starting to decay at an accelerated rate, their forms withering as whatever supernatural preservation had kept them young for centuries finally failed.
Bennia looked at them one more time, her golden eyes reflecting no particular emotion.
"Well, I can kill that devil any time. He will still be in this town with his friends" she said. "Dad says I need to work on my skills. Three kills in under 2 minutes! That's pretty good, right?!"
. . .
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