The dagger sank into Valerian's stomach, but instead of horror or despair, Bellatrix threw her head back and laughed. The sound echoed through the vast throne hall, sharp and merciless, shaking the torches on the walls.
"You fool," she hissed between her laughter, her crimson eyes burning. "Do you think you can deceive me? Do you know who I am? I have ruled this empire for ten thousand years! I am no fragile mortal. I am the queen of shadows—Bellatrix Nightshade!"
Valerian clutched his stomach, grimacing in pain and confusion. "Why… why did you stab me? What are you talking about?"
Her cruel laughter rose again, and Mephisto, perched beside her throne, joined in with a shrill cackle. The black crow flapped his wings mockingly. "Victor… long time no see."
Bellatrix's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Indeed… long time no see."
At those words, Valerian stilled. Slowly, almost deliberately, his lips curved into a smile. Then a low laugh spilled from him, building into something sharp and mocking. His face shifted, skin crawling and twisting until the features of Valerian dissolved into something older, colder.
"Ah, my dear sister," he said with a smirk. "It's really hard to fool you, isn't it?" His voice dripped with amusement. "Tell me, how did you even discover me?"
Bellatrix's eyes glowed brighter as she stepped closer. "You fool. You forgot what I am. I am a vampire. Do you know what this world calls me? Even if you were a million miles away, I would still sense your blood. Your scent betrays you every time." Her words cut like blades, arrogant and merciless.
Mephisto tilted his head, eyes glinting like obsidian. "Victor… why have you come here? If you wished to die, you could have done so far away. Why drag yourself into your sister's claws?" His laughter was sharp, cruel, mocking.
Victor straightened, brushing his cloak aside as though the stab wound were nothing more than an inconvenience. "I didn't come to die, Mephisto. I came to warn her." His gaze locked on Bellatrix. "Hunters. A group unlike any before. They're not just chasing shadows—they are slaughtering vampires. Strong ones. Old ones. In three days, they've already killed a thousand."
Bellatrix tilted her head, a cruel smirk twisting her lips. "And you came all this way to tell me this? What a waste of my time." She waved her hand dismissively. "Your blood was worth the stab, at least. Now get out of my sight, Victor."
But Victor's expression hardened. "It isn't so simple, sister. These hunters are not the feeble mortals you've crushed beneath your heel for centuries. They are stronger than us. They are organized. They won't stop until every last one of our kind is ash."
His voice lingered in the air like smoke before he turned, his figure shifting once more, the illusion of Valerian returning briefly before vanishing into the shadows. His final words were tossed carelessly over his shoulder. "Goodbye, my sister. I'll miss you… but not too much."
When the doors slammed shut, silence reigned again.
Mephisto rustled his feathers uneasily. "Bellatrix… I think he was serious. These hunters—"
"Silence!" Bellatrix snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. Her eyes narrowed in fury. "Do you think I fear a handful of mortals? I am Bellatrix Nightshade. I have never been defeated, not once in ten thousand years. Do you think I will lose to them? They are nothing but insects."
But what she did not know—what she could not see—was that the hunters were unlike any enemy she had faced before. Their cruelty burned brighter than her arrogance, and their strength was forged from a hatred older than her empire.
Later, as Bellatrix sat upon her throne with her eyes closed, her people dared to creep into the hall. They trembled at her presence, yet whispered their fear of the stranger who had entered the kingdom.
Before they could even speak, Bellatrix's voice slithered into the silence. "He was a fool who came to kill me and failed. That is all." Her word was law, and none dared question it aloud. Yet some doubted, silently, in the corners of their hearts.
Days passed. The kingdom lived in uneasy silence—until a scream tore through the night.
A bloodied slave stumbled into the throne hall, gasping, "Your Majesty! Someone has entered the kingdom! They kill all who stand before them—merciless, cruel—"
Rage blazed in Bellatrix's eyes. She rose from her throne, her gown sweeping the floor like liquid shadow. "Bring my horse. Tonight, no one will leave my land alive."
"Bellatrix!" Mephisto cried, flapping his wings. "Be careful. If Victor spoke truth, you could be walking into your death—"
She ignored him, her voice dripping with venom. "Death does not touch me. I am death itself."
But Mephisto, deep in his black heart, knew the truth she refused to admit. She cared for her kingdom's people—perhaps the only thing she still loved in this cursed eternity. And it was for them she now rode into the night.
Neither he nor Bellatrix knew the truth that awaited. For what lay ahead was no mere battle. It was the beginning of a hunt.
And this time, it was she who would be prey.