FLASHBACK
(Drayfus's Past — The Birth of the Night Circle)
The candles flickered inside the old cathedral.
The air smelled of iron and incense.
Echoes of prayers and incantations mingled into a sacred, haunting chorus.
At the altar, a young mage in a dark blue cloak knelt before a golden symbol engraved on the stone floor. His name was Drayfus Valenhart — one of the prodigies of the Order of Salem, a brotherhood of mages and hunters devoted to maintaining the balance between light and darkness.
He wasn't just powerful.
He was respected. Loved.
A man of calm smiles and unshakable faith in good.
"Magic is a gift, not a curse,"
he used to tell his apprentices.
"But it depends on who carries it."
For a long time, he truly believed that.
Years before the Fall.
The Order of Salem had received an urgent mission:
A corrupted witch was destroying villages along the northern border, sacrificing innocents to open blood portals.
Drayfus, already a field master, led a small squad.
Among them was Karmila — a mysterious, brilliant young mage whose smile always seemed to hide something.
"They say she killed her own mentor to get promoted,"
the others whispered.
But no one ever dared to confirm it.
The assault on the witch was brutal.
Atop a fog-covered hill, the group found her lair — an ancient ritual tower, stained with dried blood.
Drayfus entered first, casting sigils of containment.
Mystic lightning exploded along the walls, and the screams of the victims echoed through the corridors.
The witch awaited them at the center of the tower, surrounded by purple fire.
"You think you're different from me?" she laughed, eyes burning with madness.
"You use magic to control, punish, kill!"
Drayfus fought fiercely.
And when she tried to open the portal, he cast the Seal of Salem, trapping her inside a circle of light.
The ground trembled, the tower began to collapse.
In the final moment, he used his own blood to complete the spell — sealing the witch into the abyss, at the cost of half his life force.
Days later.
He awoke among ruins.
Cities burned. Bodies piled high.
And the people — those he had sworn to protect — looked at him with fear.
"Monster."
"Cursed sorcerer."
"Death mage."
The words cut like blades.
Even after saving them, they saw him as an abomination.
Drayfus tried to explain, to beg for understanding… but no one listened.
He walked through the devastated streets in silence.
Children hid from him.
Church bells rang for the dead.
Something inside him broke that day.
Karmila found him that night, sitting by a fire, staring into the flames.
"So this is what we are?" he murmured.
"Shields for a world that would rather die in the dark than be saved by those who carry light?"
Karmila approached, her black cloak fluttering in the wind.
"You're not wrong, Drayfus. They'll never understand.
But we can change that."
He looked up, weary.
"Change what? The world?"
"Not the world," she said with a faint smile.
"Its foundation. If the world is rotten, we'll rebuild it from the ashes — with the right hands this time."
She extended her hand.
A pact.
And Drayfus, betrayed by his own faith and tired of fighting for the blind, accepted.
From the shadows, the Night Circle was born.
Drayfus gathered deserters, forgotten mages, vampires, and outcasts — all with the same vision:
to rewrite the laws of existence.
He came to believe that balance was a lie — that only through darkness could the world be reborn into purity.
Karmila sharpened that vision, becoming his ally and counselor.
While he sought a new dawn, she saw chaos as the path to absolute power.
And so, with blood, ash, and broken promises, an empire was born, one that, centuries later, would be feared by all.
PRESENT DAY
Before the Ambush at Necropolis
The main hall of the Night Circle's lair was lit only by blue candles flickering before carved arcane symbols.
The distant sound of waves crashing against rocks echoed like whispers of trapped souls.
Trent knelt before Karmila, who approached him slowly, her smile cold and enchanting.
Behind her, the Silver Swordsman stood motionless — a living shadow with glowing eyes beneath a silver helm.
"Do not hesitate, Trent," Karmila said, her voice a melodic hiss.
"You belong to us now."
She traced a finger across his chest, and the mark of the Night Circle burned crimson.
Trent clenched his teeth as searing heat tore through his body.
"If you disobey…" she whispered at his ear,
"this mark will drain every drop of life left inside you."
Trent trembled.
"And if I do what you ask?"
Karmila smirked.
"Then maybe… you'll live long enough to see the new dawn of this world."
Behind her, a calm and commanding voice echoed.
"Go and bring the girl. She is vital to the next phase," said Drayfus, stepping out from the shadows — his serene gaze standing in contrast to the chaos around him.
"But bring her alive."
The Silver Swordsman bowed silently.
Trent simply nodded, feeling the weight of damnation in every breath.
Inside Kimberly's Mind
Fragments of childhood flickered like light through glass.
A gentle melody played.
Laughter echoed in golden sunlight.
Young Kimberly ran through fields of flowers beside a girl with silver hair — her twin sister.
"Come on, Kimberly! Mom's gonna scold us if we're late!"
"Then run faster, Nyra!" Kimberly laughed.
The memory shifted.
Laughter turned to screams.
The floor drenched in blood. Fire devouring the walls.
Her mother's terrified eyes as she pushed Kim into the cellar.
The sound of monsters breaking in.
A family photo burning.
Roars. Screams. Silence.
Kim gasped awake.
She was in a cold, damp underground room, chains clinking around her wrists.
Silver cuffs glowed faintly, suppressing her power. Nearby, glass vials filled with her blood shimmered under candlelight.
A man in a tattered lab coat scribbled frantically in a notebook — Dr. Viktor Frankenstein.
"Finally awake," he muttered, not looking up.
"Fascinating… regeneration is almost instant. You're… unique."
"Glad someone noticed," Kim said with a smirk.
"Now if you'd just unlock these, I could show you more tricks."
Viktor chuckled bitterly.
"If only I still had the freedom to do that."
Her eyes shifted to the Silver Swordsman, standing by the door in silence.
"And you? Not much of a talker, huh? Must be exhausting carrying all that edge and a katana."
He didn't respond. He just folded his arms.
A sweet, metallic scent filled the air as the door creaked open.
Karmila entered — gliding like a serpent wrapped in silk.
"Well, well… the half-vampire girl. Finally awake."
Kim sneered.
"Look who it is — the snake herself. What do you want?"
Karmila tilted her head, her violet eyes gleaming.
"Only what flows in your veins. Your blood is the key that will open the gates of a new world."
"Funny," Kim snapped. "I thought it was only good for feeding monsters with a flair for drama."
Karmila laughed softly — a sharp, cutting sound.
"Still trying to sound brave… just like your mother."
Kim's eyes widened.
"What did you just say?"
"I knew her," Karmila whispered near her face.
"She tried to stop me long before you were born. She failed. And so will you."
Kim's fury burned hot.
"Say whatever you want. I'm still alive. And when I get out of here—"
"Oh, darling… there won't be anything left when you do."
Karmila leaned close, her smile venomous, and ran her tongue slowly along Kim's cheek.
"In other circumstances, I'd love to play with you."
"Go to hell," Kim spat, her voice trembling with rage — then literally spat in her face.
Karmila laughed, wiping it away and licking her lips.
"Delightful."
"Enough, Karmila!"
The deep voice cut through the air.
The witch stepped back.
The candles bent as Drayfus entered.
He wore a black robe inscribed with ancient symbols. His deep blue eyes studied Kimberly with calm curiosity.
"It's an honor to finally meet you, Kimberly Kramer," he said.
"Your name echoes further than you know."
Kim glared.
"And here I thought lunatics didn't bother with manners."
Drayfus smiled faintly.
"I'm not your enemy. I'm trying to save this world. What we're doing here is necessary. The balance is broken — humans and monsters tearing each other apart, magic fading… I want to restore what was lost."
Kim scoffed.
"Restore? You're building hell and calling it salvation."
"Sometimes, to be reborn, one must first burn," he replied, stepping closer.
"And your blood… will unite what was once divided."
Kim's tone turned cold.
"You're a prophet dressed like a maniac."
"Perhaps," he said, turning to leave.
"But at least I have perspective."
Kim exhaled sharply.
"Then take your perspective… and shove it up your ass."
Drayfus stopped, glanced back once, and said quietly:
"We'll see how long that courage lasts when everything you know turns to ash."
He left the room. The Silver Swordsman followed.
Before leaving, Karmila traced a finger under Kim's chin and whispered:
"See you soon, heir."
Back in the City
The Blood's Bar was silent.
Dim lights reflected off empty bottles as the group gathered around a table — Tory, Mandy, Roberto, Ryan, and Roshi — surrounded by maps, notes, and the three recovered fragments.
"So that's it," Roberto said, typing on his tablet.
"When the fragments were aligned, they formed a set of coordinates."
"Which lead straight… to the northern coast of Stormgrave," Tory finished, her eyes hard.
"The Circle's lair."
Ryan stood, determined.
"I'm coming with you. This all started because of me. I won't let Kimberly die."
Roshi nodded, his body still wrapped in bandages.
"We all owe her."
Mandy studied the map.
"The place is heavily guarded. We'll need a distraction, infiltration… and luck. Lots of it."
"We make our own luck," Tory said, clenching her fists.
"Kimberly's alive. I can feel it."
Roberto met her eyes, serious.
"Then it's time to bring her home."
Tory stared at the fragments. Their light merged, projecting the symbol of the Night Circle onto the table.
Kimberly wasn't alone.
And the rescue was about to begin.
To be continued...