2025-02-21 19:13:44The werewolves lay scattered across the ground, their unconscious forms lit by the eerie red glow of the sky. Palmer, his scarlet eyes still blazing with power, surveyed the scene, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"The person who sent them is quite thorough," Palmer mused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. He knelt beside one of the unconscious werewolves, his keen senses analyzing the subtle traces of magic clinging to its fur. "A silencing spell, woven with potent dark magic. They all passed out after I asked them some questions." He stood, his gaze sweeping over the fallen pack. "No loose ends. Interesting." A flicker of concern crossed his features. "But that's not all..." He paused, his gaze shifting to Damien, a smirk playing on his lips. "Pfft, some 'monster' you turned out to be. You pretty much exhausted what fear is left in you," he chuckled. Damien, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, mumbled, "Argh, don't laugh!" He looked down at his trembling hands, his voice filled with self-reproach. "I saw you die, and all I could think about was how pathetic I am. I was aiming to be a symbol of fear, but I went and got you killed... or so I thought. All I felt at that time was guilt for my stupid actions. I just keep putting the people I love in danger." Palmer's expression softened. "It seems you're finally starting to understand the weight of responsibility, Damien. Protecting those you care for often requires difficult choices." He paused, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "But recklessness can lead to unintended consequences." Damien sniffed, a small smile breaking through his guilt. "You always know what to say... I envy you." "I'm 865 years old," Palmer replied with a wry grin. "It's only natural that I'd know what to say..." Damien laughed, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I'll make it up to everyone. Firstly, I'll go return what they came for. My plan to become the 'symbol of fear' failed anyway," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "You won't need to do that," Palmer insisted. "What do you mean? They'd just keep coming for us if I don't, you know?" Damien said, confused. "They'd come after us either way," Palmer explained, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Now I'm even more confused..." "Werewolves and other factions of supernaturals have always lived in fear of vampires for centuries. A pack of them can't stand against even a lowly vampire, yet they came. There's a force strong enough to make werewolves do their bidding, someone with a greater plan..." "Like the werewolves were just a diversion? For what exactly?" Suddenly, their eyes widened in realisation. "The estate!" they exclaimed in unison. "I noticed I couldn't get in touch with Valen," Palmer said, his voice laced with concern, "but I felt his rage when he went into his domain." His eyes narrowed further. "We need to head back quickly. Grab on to me." The air around them crackled with energy as Palmer extended his domain. In a blink, they vanished from the alleyway, teleporting back to the Montgomery estate, leaving behind the unconscious werewolves and the lingering scent of fear. As Palmer and Damien stepped through the shattered remains of the estate's grand entrance, a wave of unease washed over Palmer. An invisible barrier, crackling with dark energy, clung to the air, disrupting the flow of his senses. "It's a barrier," he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the perimeter. "One that's meant to block communication between me and the others inside. Explains why I couldn't get in touch with them. They got us good." With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a surge of power, shattering the barrier. A flood of fragmented memories, chaotic and disjointed, surged into his mind – Valen's perspective of the attack, the sirens swarming the estate, Sarah's terror. Palmer's jaw clenched, his scarlet eyes flashing with a mixture of relief and anger. They rushed inside, the sight that greeted them a grim tableau. Lifeless siren bodies lay scattered across the once-pristine floors, their luminescent skin now dull and lifeless. "Damien!?" Sarah's voice, filled with panic and relief, echoed from the grand staircase. She rushed towards them, her eyes wide with concern. "Damien, are you alright?" Damien, overwhelmed by guilt and the near loss of his sister, choked back a sob. "I'm so sorry, Sarah... I'm so sorry. I didn't know it would come to this." Sarah, tears streaming down her face, embraced him tightly. "Shh, shh... It's okay, it's okay... As long as you're alright, it's okay." Damien knelt, burying his face in his sister's shoulder, his tears soaking her blouse. "I miss them so much," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "All I wanted to do was to get revenge on whoever was responsible for their death. I can't bear to think that the person who killed them is still alive... roaming freely," "It's okay, Damien, I understand," Sarah soothed, her voice trembling. "Mom and Dad would understand too... I'm sure they're happy wherever they are." She clung to him, a wave of relief washing over her. Her brother was back, and that's all that mattered. Valen emerged from the shadows, "Where is everyone?" Palmer asked, his voice laced with concern. "Most are recovering," Valen replied. "But we lost George, Victor, and Cassia." He trailed off, his gaze fixed on the fallen sirens. "I'm sure you've seen everything from my memory, as I've seen yours." He met Palmer's eyes, his expression grim. "This was definitely not an attack between factions. They mean to start a war." Damien, wiping the tears from his eyes, looked up at Palmer. "You said something about someone strong aiding the werewolves, and that returning the Orb won't change the fact that they'd keep coming after us. What did you mean by that, Palmer?" Palmer exchanged a knowing glance with Valen, then turned to Sarah and Damien, their faces etched with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "Don't be surprised and listen," he began, his voice grave. "For the past five centuries, your family is one of the families chosen to protect one of the five orbs. The keys to unleashing a greater darkness."
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Crimson Legacy Chapter 8:
The moonlight shown brightly at dimly lit cathedral, casting a great shadow of the church on the marble floor. Its stained glass windows casting multicolored shadows across the stone floor. A man, his face etched with age and cunning, spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone."The sirens were so carefree," he chuckled, a malicious glint in his eyes. "They didn't even notice you had infiltrated their ranks." He wore a triumphant smirk. "Now that we have both taken the shapes of people from both families, our plan proceeds without a flaw. We now have access to two of the orbs!" the man hissed, his voice a guttural growl that echoed in the mind of his counterpart lurking in the shadows of the Montgomery estate. From beneath a pile of fallen rubble, the other skinwalker emerged, its form still shifting and reforming as it absorbed the last vestiges of one of the bodyguard it had consumed. A wave of triumphant satisfaction resonated through their shared consciousness. "Hahahaha... It's time
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A hush fell over the cathedral hall as the skinwalker, disguised as Edward, started walking back into the meeting room. From behind a towering marble pillar, a figure emerged, his face etched with a mixture of disgust and disdain."You guys are as disgusting as usual," the Pope spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "You make me want to puke."The skinwalker paused, a sardonic grin spreading across its stolen face. "Coming from someone like you, that's saddening. Selling out your comrades for power... You make me want to puke. I'm only doing this because I'm benefitting a great deal from it. I despise betrayers.""I hope you remember your part of the deal when the day comes," the Pope hissed, his voice laced with a venomous threat.With a dismissive wave of his hand, the skinwalker strode back towards the Elders' chamber, leaving the Pope fuming in his wake.Inside the chamber, the Elders sat in tense silence, their faces etched with worry."So, any luck reaching the kid?" Gorion gro
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After what seemed like hours of conversation. The meeting ended with both sides unable to come up with conclusions to how they'd handle the situation at hand. Edward Ashworth, or rather, the creature that wore his skin, moved through the dispersing crowd, his mind awhirl with newfound knowledge. He had gleaned valuable information from the meeting, insights into the guardians' plans and vulnerabilities."Good work today, Sir Edward," his driver, Walter, greeted as he approached the waiting limousine. "Are we heading straight home, or branching to the usual place?" he asked with a warm smile, glancing at his employer through the rearview mirror.The skinwalker paused, momentarily thrown. "The usual place?" it echoed, its mind scrambling to access Edward's memories. A wave of frustration washed over it. "This is where our abilities falter," it thought, cursing its incomplete mimicry. "We have no access to the memories of the victims we absorb. What a pain.""Let's just head home," it sa
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Palmer stood in the dim glow of the study. The weight of history sat heavy in the room, pressing against Damien and Sarah like an invisible force. He had been speaking for what felt like hours, unraveling the ancient past of their bloodline and the cursed artifacts—until the door creaked open.A figure staggered inside, dragging something behind him."Sorry to interrupt," Lucius muttered, his voice strained. His injured body swayed slightly, but he held his grip firm on the thing he had dragged in—an unconscious figure, its body flickering between two forms, as though the very air around it refused to accept its existence.Damien’s stomach twisted. What the hell?Lucius shoved the creature forward. It slumped onto the marble floor with a dull thud, its limbs twitching in unnatural spasms."Found him lurking in the courtyard while I was setting up my domain," Lucius said, wiping a smear of blood from his lips. "It stole Sila’s body. Passed out from fear when I caught him." He exhaled s
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Crimson Legacy Chapter 14
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The temple was a monument of forgotten horrors. Its towering stone pillars were etched with cryptic runes, faded from centuries of blood and decay. Cracks veined the cold dark walls and faint whispers seemed to seep from them, like echoes of souls long devoured . The air was thick, saturated with the metallic scent of dried blood and the faint, sickly sweetness of rot. Shadows stretched unnaturally long into the darkness. At the heart of this decaying sanctum, sat a throne--not carved from stone, but forged from the bones of countless victims, twisted together with iron and gold. Upon it's lounged a silhouette with long, dark cascaded hair like black silk, stained at the ends with fresh blood. Crimson eyes, glowing with the intricate pattern of noble lineage--the same haunting design etched into Palmer's gaze on the day of the werewolf attack -- pierced through the gloom. She was devouring the remains of a lifeless body, drained of blood, it's skin pale and shriveled like parchment
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The temple was a monument of forgotten horrors. Its towering stone pillars were etched with cryptic runes, faded from centuries of blood and decay. Cracks veined the cold dark walls and faint whispers seemed to seep from them, like echoes of souls long devoured . The air was thick, saturated with the metallic scent of dried blood and the faint, sickly sweetness of rot. Shadows stretched unnaturally long into the darkness. At the heart of this decaying sanctum, sat a throne--not carved from stone, but forged from the bones of countless victims, twisted together with iron and gold. Upon it's lounged a silhouette with long, dark cascaded hair like black silk, stained at the ends with fresh blood. Crimson eyes, glowing with the intricate pattern of noble lineage--the same haunting design etched into Palmer's gaze on the day of the werewolf attack -- pierced through the gloom. She was devouring the remains of a lifeless body, drained of blood, it's skin pale and shriveled like parchment
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Back in the room, she slid it on Edward's desk. "Here, Ed, the orb. I'll go pack now." His eyes gleamed with an unsettling eagerness as he took it. Elizabeth pretended to pack, her back to him, and asked, "Hey Ed, how's Andrea? Is she improving?" He hesitated. "Y-yeah, yes she is. You should see her smiling." Elizabeth's heart sank as she bit her lips. Their daughter suffered from a neurodegenerative disease, incurable and relentless. Edward visited her at the hospital daily, never missing a day. This hesitation, lack of knowledge, confirmed her worst fears. She stood up and faced him as she drew a sword shimmering with holy aura. "Where is my Edward?" She demanded, tears and resentment brimming in her eyes. "Who the hell are you?"Meanwhile…Walter paced, his heart pounding in his chest. His instincts screamed that something was wrong—terribly wrong. Clutching his phone with trembling fingers, Walter dialed the private line reserved for contacting the Church’s Elders. The line c
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Chapter 11:
Palmer stood in the dim glow of the study. The weight of history sat heavy in the room, pressing against Damien and Sarah like an invisible force. He had been speaking for what felt like hours, unraveling the ancient past of their bloodline and the cursed artifacts—until the door creaked open.A figure staggered inside, dragging something behind him."Sorry to interrupt," Lucius muttered, his voice strained. His injured body swayed slightly, but he held his grip firm on the thing he had dragged in—an unconscious figure, its body flickering between two forms, as though the very air around it refused to accept its existence.Damien’s stomach twisted. What the hell?Lucius shoved the creature forward. It slumped onto the marble floor with a dull thud, its limbs twitching in unnatural spasms."Found him lurking in the courtyard while I was setting up my domain," Lucius said, wiping a smear of blood from his lips. "It stole Sila’s body. Passed out from fear when I caught him." He exhaled s
Chapter 10:
After what seemed like hours of conversation. The meeting ended with both sides unable to come up with conclusions to how they'd handle the situation at hand. Edward Ashworth, or rather, the creature that wore his skin, moved through the dispersing crowd, his mind awhirl with newfound knowledge. He had gleaned valuable information from the meeting, insights into the guardians' plans and vulnerabilities."Good work today, Sir Edward," his driver, Walter, greeted as he approached the waiting limousine. "Are we heading straight home, or branching to the usual place?" he asked with a warm smile, glancing at his employer through the rearview mirror.The skinwalker paused, momentarily thrown. "The usual place?" it echoed, its mind scrambling to access Edward's memories. A wave of frustration washed over it. "This is where our abilities falter," it thought, cursing its incomplete mimicry. "We have no access to the memories of the victims we absorb. What a pain.""Let's just head home," it sa
Chapter 9:
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Chapter 8:
The moonlight shown brightly at dimly lit cathedral, casting a great shadow of the church on the marble floor. Its stained glass windows casting multicolored shadows across the stone floor. A man, his face etched with age and cunning, spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone."The sirens were so carefree," he chuckled, a malicious glint in his eyes. "They didn't even notice you had infiltrated their ranks." He wore a triumphant smirk. "Now that we have both taken the shapes of people from both families, our plan proceeds without a flaw. We now have access to two of the orbs!" the man hissed, his voice a guttural growl that echoed in the mind of his counterpart lurking in the shadows of the Montgomery estate. From beneath a pile of fallen rubble, the other skinwalker emerged, its form still shifting and reforming as it absorbed the last vestiges of one of the bodyguard it had consumed. A wave of triumphant satisfaction resonated through their shared consciousness. "Hahahaha... It's time
Chapter 7:
The werewolves lay scattered across the ground, their unconscious forms lit by the eerie red glow of the sky. Palmer, his scarlet eyes still blazing with power, surveyed the scene, a thoughtful expression on his face. "The person who sent them is quite thorough," Palmer mused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. He knelt beside one of the unconscious werewolves, his keen senses analyzing the subtle traces of magic clinging to its fur. "A silencing spell, woven with potent dark magic. They all passed out after I asked them some questions." He stood, his gaze sweeping over the fallen pack. "No loose ends. Interesting." A flicker of concern crossed his features. "But that's not all..." He paused, his gaze shifting to Damien, a smirk playing on his lips. "Pfft, some 'monster' you turned out to be. You pretty much exhausted what fear is left in you," he chuckled.Damien, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, mumbled, "Argh, don't laugh!" He looked down at his trembling hands, his voic
