The death of Stefan sent a wave of grief and rage through Elias. He had come to trust the steward, to see him as a friend and ally. Now, he was gone, another victim of the Dracul's ruthless ambition.
He looked up at the masked woman, his eyes burning with hatred. "You'll pay for this," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "You'll pay for what you did to Stefan."
The woman laughed, a cold, cruel sound that echoed through the temple. "You can't stop me, little scholar," she said. "The ritual is almost complete. Soon, I will have the power to reshape the world in my image."
She turned back to Lord Valerius, who was struggling to his feet, his face pale and drawn. "It's time, Valerius," she said. "Prepare to embrace your destiny."
She raised the dagger once more, her eyes filled with a fanatical glee. But just as she was about to strike, Elias charged forward, his sword raised high.
He swung the sword with all his might, aiming for the woman's head. But she was too quick. She sidestepped the blow and grabbed Elias's arm, twisting it behind his back.
Elias cried out in pain as his arm snapped. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees, his body wracked with agony.
The woman laughed again, her grip tightening on Elias's arm. "You're a fool, little scholar," she said. "You can't protect him. He's mine now."
She raised the dagger once more, preparing to plunge it into Lord Valerius's heart. But just as she was about to strike, Lord Valerius surged forward, his eyes blazing with power.
He grabbed the woman's wrist, his grip like iron. "You will not touch him," he said, his voice a low, menacing growl.
He twisted the woman's wrist, forcing her to drop the dagger. Then, he seized her by the throat, his fingers tightening around her neck.
The woman struggled, her eyes widening in terror. She tried to speak, but no sound came out.
Lord Valerius's grip tightened, his face contorted with rage. He was about to crush the woman's throat, to end her life in a swift and brutal act of vengeance.
But then, he hesitated. He looked at the woman's face, at the fear in her eyes, and something stopped him. He couldn't bring himself to kill her, not even after everything she had done.
He released his grip, his face filled with disgust. "Get out of here," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "Leave this place and never return. If I ever see you again, I will not be so merciful."
The woman stumbled backwards, gasping for air. She looked at Lord Valerius, her eyes filled with hatred, then turned and fled into the darkness.
Lord Valerius watched her go, his face filled with a mixture of relief and regret. He had spared her life, but he knew that she would not give up. She would be back, and next time, she would be even more determined to complete the ritual.
He turned to Elias, who was still kneeling on the ground, clutching his broken arm. "Elias!" he said, his voice filled with concern. "Are you alright?"
Elias looked up at Lord Valerius, his face pale and drawn. "I'm fine," he said, his voice weak. "But we have to stop her. She'll be back."
Lord Valerius nodded grimly. "I know," he said. "But we're not strong enough to face her alone. We need help."
He looked around the temple, his eyes searching for any sign of hope. Then, he saw something that made his heart leap.
In the shadows, near the altar, stood a figure he had thought long dead. A figure he had banished from his life, a figure he had sworn never to see again.
It was his brother, Marcus.