»——•——«
In the heart of a forgotten dim gothic dungeon, where moonlight barely pierces the
gloom through ancient arched water ways, two figures stand encircled by a
glowing sigil etched into the stone floor. One, cloaked in shadows and
chains, trembles with anticipation; the other, a regal vampire draped in
black, exudes centuries of quiet power. His wide-brimmed hat casts a
veil over eyes that have seen empires rise and fall. With a voice like
velvet and whispering winds, he offers a pact: eternal life in exchange
for unwavering loyalty and endless devotion. The coffin behind him, half open and waiting, is
not a tomb but a threshold. In this moment, time holds its breath, and
destiny sharpens its fangs.
»——•——«
Calmly the vampire with white hair stands poised, his gloved hand
gripping a weapon forged not for war, but for ritual. The air hums with dark forbidden energy as the glowing sigil beneath their feet pulses with ancient power. The human, draped in chains and trembling with dark
resolve, offers no resistance... only a solemn gaze that meets the
vampire’s with unspoken understanding. With a swift, deliberate motion,
the weapon pierces the veil between life and death, silencing the
heartbeat that once echoed through the stone walls and dripping waterways. As the blood spills onto
the enchanted floor, the ritual ignites: a crimson offering to bind
their souls. The vampire leans in, whispering the final incantation, and
the transformation begins; not as a curse, but as a covenant sealed in
sacrifice.
»——•——«
The air was thick with silence as the vampire in white tilted his head,
exposing the pale curve of his neck beneath the flickering glow of the
ritual circle. The human, cloaked in black and trembling, stared at the
offered flesh with wide, uncertain eyes. His fingers twitched at his
sides, torn between fear and the strong pull of something ancient and
irresistible. Shadows danced across the stone walls, whispering secrets
of blood and fate. He took a step forward, then faltered, his breath
shallow. The vampire’s gaze remained steady and calm, patient, almost
tender. Finally, with a shuddering exhale, the human leaned in, lips
brushing skin, surrendering to the ritual that would seal his end and
awaken something far older than death.
»——•——«
The chamber pulsed with ancient power as the ritual reached its climax. The newly turned vampire hovered above the glowing sigil, his transformation complete but his body trembling with hunger from the rebirth. Below him, the elder vampire; white-haired and regal, extended a hand toward the barrel marked "Midnight Circus Horde supply", its contents sloshing with centuries-old blood, thick with potency. His voice, low and commanding, echoed through the stone walls as he beckoned his fledgling to descend. The young vampire hesitated, eyes wide with awe and uncertainty, but the bond of liege and servant now forged in blood was undeniable. Slowly, reverently, he stepped forward and dipped his hands into the barrel, lifting the crimson liquid to his lips. As he drank... and the room darkened. A surge of strength coursed through him as his final breath as a human was replaced by the eternal hunger of the undead.
