Far from the mortal world, in the great bloodstone fortress that towered above the clouds of the vampire realm, the air trembled with energy. Runes carved into the walls flickered a deep crimson, reacting to something ancient stirring beneath creation.
Inside the grand hall of the Vampire Council, twelve thrones circled a burning sigil of flame and shadow. High-borns of every great house sat in silence—faces pale, eyes sharp, the weight of centuries hanging in the air.
Among the circle stood Lady Medusa, Selene's aunt. She wore a long, midnight robe stitched with golden runes that pulsed faintly as if alive. Her hair shimmered like strands of moonlight, and her crimson eyes were narrowed with grave concern.
"The pulse was felt from the lowest pits of the underworld to the highest peaks of our realm," she said, her voice calm but edged with unease. "Something old has awakened—something that hasn't stirred since the days of the Infinites."
A murmur spread through the room.
