CH.104

~At a different location~

The gigantic mahogany double doors creaked open, revealing a massive hall that seemed to stretch on forever.

The vaulted ceiling disappeared into darkness, giving the unsettling impression that the room opened up directly into some vast, starless void.

The room was packed with faces that ranged from curious to perfectly drawn, hardly concealing the blatant desire for power that was burning in their eyes.

They were all seated in elaborate high-backed chairs that looked straight out of a medieval torture chamber décor. The strange symbols carefully carved on each chair gave off a very occult vibe.

Looking closely, one could swear some of the carved figures were subtly shifting positions when not being stared at directly.

All attendees were dressed in all-black attire, with men sporting fitted suits and women donning dresses. All were adorned with faint runes that almost seemed to glimmer with an inner glow in the dim lighting.

Some of the symbols were recognizable from various occult traditions, while others were completely alien and gave a headache if one stared at them too long.

Hundreds of thick beeswax candles blazed along the gloomy walls, giving the entire gloomy gathering an unsettling glow that made the shadows writhe and twist like living beings.

The air was thick with the heady scent of melted beeswax mixed with something darker like forbidden magic.

The place set an ominous, foreboding vibe that would make the hairs on anyone’s neck want to stand at attention and scream, "Danger!"

The royal family was seated at the very top of the huge hall, elevated on a dais made of gleaming black stone that seemed to drink in the scant light.

Queen Sahar appeared elegant as always despite her tiny, almost birdlike frame. She looked like a female in her late thirties, though her true age was far from that.

Her ageless face was expressionless, and her flawless olive skin seemed to glow with an ethereal radiance, but her mesmerizing shade of deep ocean eyes seemed to shift and swirl like the depths of a nebula. They glittered with wickedness as she coolly surveyed her subjects.

Long, red tresses cascaded down her back in glossy waves, and her full lips curved into a subtle smile that screamed evil.

To her right sat her husband, King Fredrick, who exuded an aura of power and authority that could not be denied.

His expression remained unreadable behind his perfectly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, his long fingers drumming an impatient, restless rhythm on the arm of his throne.

He was a broad-shouldered and imposing man standing well over six feet tall. His muscular frame was honed by centuries of battle and training. He was a very handsome male with a strong jawline and sparkling gray eyes that seemed to bore into one's very soul.

Thick gold threads that gleamed in the sunlight like blazing fire entwined themselves around Fredrick's head. He wore it pulled back from his face in a simple queue, though a few errant strands often escaped to frame his noble countenance.

Just a step below Queen Sahar sat Isolde, whose age also seemed to hold no sway.

Her striking appearance belied the countless centuries she had walked the earth. Though she also appeared to be in her late thirties, there was an ancient, timeless quality to her piercing gaze and the subtle quirk of her full lips that hinted at unfathomable depths of darkness.

Isolde's raven tresses were thick and lustrous, tumbling in wild disarray about her shoulders and framing her heart-shaped face.

Her eyes were a bewitching shade of dark brown that looked almost entirely black, and her high cheekbones and aquiline nose gave her an almost surreal look.

Though she stood at an unassuming height, Isolde commanded attention and respect with her very presence.

The whole gathered supernatural elite crowd was buzzing with a barely contained mix of excitement and dread.

One of the attendees, an ancient vampire lord with sharp features, leaned over and murmured to his companion, "Any notion what this is all about? Emergency council sessions of this nature have not been convened in centuries. This has not occurred since the Uprisings during which we nearly lost control of the mortal domain."

A woman with delicate and dazzling wings tucked perfectly behind her back shrugged her shoulders in a dainty motion.

Her finely sculpted features remained impassive, but fear shone brightly in her luminous eyes. "I haven't the faintest, Aldric. Nevertheless, whatever it is, I've got a terrible feeling it bodes ill omens for any of us here today."

She twisted her hands together in a nervous gesture, rubbing the pads of her fingers over the exquisite rings adorning them. "Did you observe the Queen did not even perform the customary blood sacrifice to commence the proceedings? It appears she is intentionally setting the stage for chaos."

The weighty silence was abruptly shattered when the double doors opened again and three imposing figures came strutting in with their whole entourage in tow.

Their footfalls reverberated like a funereal drumbeat through the chamber.

The whole room immediately rose up as one to give them a standing ovation fit for royalty. The rustle of fabric and scraping of chairs echoed through the hall.

Every eye was locked on the mysterious newcomers, trying in vain to pierce the secrecy of their masked identities.

Not even their mouths were visible beneath the intricately designed masks that veiled their faces and their aura was unlike anything they’d ever felt before. It was power and screamed danger—particularly from the one in the middle.

The urge to bow down before these three was so strong that it was sufficient to determine their status within the cult.

Queen Sahar and King Frederick, however, remained seated. This was a clear and brazenly disrespectful power play that sent ripples of shock through the assembled masses.

It was a borderline suicidal move, considering the ages-old custom that dictated everyone - even the supreme rulers themselves - had to immediately rise and stand at attention out of respect when the head of the supernatural council graced them with their presence.

The tension in the room increased several notches.

A young man with sharp, aristocratic features and eyes like chips of pale ice leaned towards his brothers. "Mother's playing a dangerous game here that could get us all killed. What in the nine hells is she thinking, disrespecting them like that with such brazen defiance? Does she want to start another war?" he muttered.

"Shut your damn mouth and keep your fool thoughts to yourself, Cassius. Whatever game Mother is scheming, I'm sure it's all for the greater good and preservation of our family's power. So keep that piehole zipped and just follow her lead like a good little prince, for once." Another man built like a warrior with thick cords of muscle rippling beneath his finely tailored suit growled back in a low, rumbling baritone meant only for his younger siblings' ears.

The third prince was less talkative. He always carried an air of calculation about him and didn't deign to join in the bickering. But his brown eyes remained locked on the masked newcomers, wheels visibly turning behind his pensive, studying expression.

‘Why does he seem so familiar?’ The third prince wondered, staring at the tall man striding between two others.

‘It couldn’t be him, right? ‘The renowned Imperial…. The tyrant as he is known… it couldn’t be him.’

‘I see why these two never made physical appearances at these kind of events and would rather have someone represent them each time. They had done a decent job of concealing their identities until now.’ Queen Sahar mused.

She casually waved for the princes to sit back down with a negligent flick of her wrist as the mysterious masked figures approached the pedestal.

The others looked visibly shaken by her bold, dismissive move that flew in the face of all tradition and propriety.

Even Frederick's brows furrowed in clear confusion. He was just as utterly clueless as everyone else about what new game his wife was playing at.

The rest proceeded to pay their respects in an unsettling ritual that would give any normal person goosebumps.

They started humming a guttural, ancient tune and stomping their feet in perfect unison.

The eerie humming and the stomping of feet shook the very foundations of the hall, sending faint tremors through the floor.

The candle flames flickered wildly, and for a moment, it seemed like the shadows themselves were dancing to the unholy rhythm.

The humming swelled, growing in power and volume as they pounded their fists against their chests three times in a weirdly synchronized motion, like the beating of a thousand hearts.

"Elare Imperial and Regal!" they all shouted in one booming voice loud enough to rattle the candle flames, bowing their heads deeply in obedience.

Then they raised their hands skyward with a final, reverberating "Elare Imperial and Regal" before the arcane ritual fell into an abrupt, unsettling silence.