A massive stone chamber stretched wide beneath the earth, its vaulted ceiling lost in shadows. Fiery lamps lined the walls, flickering with unnatural crimson flames that cast warped silhouettes across the ground. The heat from the flames seemed alive pulsing, whispering, watching.
Twenty-two figures stood in a wide circle, their black cloaks heavy and still. Each one had their head bowed in reverence, the air thick with incense and dread. At the far end of the chamber, seated upon a throne carved from black obsidian, was the one draped in crimson a cloak of blood red flowing like molten silk down the steps. His back was turned to the gathering, the shape of his shoulders rigid, unmoved.
A voice broke the silence low, tense, desperate.
"We beseech you, Master," came the words from a tall man with slitted cat-like pupils. His red hair shimmered in the lamp's firelight, and his ash-grey eyes held both fear and awe. "The vampires are growing stronger… more blood is available than ever. But the werewolves… they are interfering. More often than before."
A long silence followed.
Then, a voice cracked the room open deep, husky, like thunder wrapped in gravel.
"The werewolves… are nothing."
The master had not yet turned. "My family the Druids of old have gifted every newborn and seasoned vampire with unmatched strength. The more blood you consume… the more power you wield."
Whispers passed between the cloaked figures, rustling like dry leaves.
Another vampire stepped forward, bowing deeply. "The vampire meeting takes place next week, my lord. We wish to witness the true power of the mighty Susun and the Druid bloodline."
Then… the master turned.
Gasps rippled silently through the chamber.
His face was carved like stone, cruel and godlike. Eyes of velvet black bore through flesh and thought. Long silver-black hair cascaded down his broad shoulders, framing a face that was both beautiful and monstrous. His chest, bare beneath the parting of his red cloak, was sculpted with muscle each inch glowing faintly with ancient runes. From his lips, two razor-sharp incisors gleamed like ivory blades.
He raised his hand.
"I say this now," Susun growled, his voice crackling like a storm brewing deep underground, "Power shall reign in the vampire dominion. The werewolves will fall."
He clenched his fist.
"And we shall conquer… the sun."
Suddenly, a red mist burst from the stone floor, coiling through the air like writhing serpents. It wrapped around the cloaked vampires, dancing across their skin, whispering promises of domination and eternal night.
The chamber pulsed.
And then silence returned, thick and full of dread.