Chapter 1
* * *
Though vampires were immortal beings distinct from humanity, even they could not escape the catastrophe of the Black Death that swept across Europe. Appearing without a trace, the virus mutated ceaselessly as it ravaged the continent, claiming the lives of countless vampires in its wake.
The survivors desperately sought ways to avert extinction, evolving to shield themselves from external pathogens. Like tools refined through endless trial, even those blessed with eternal life were forced to adapt to a changing world. Yet the transformation came at the cost of unavoidable sacrifices.
Vampires, who had once lived in clusters around Forza Castle where the monarch resided, scattered across the globe to avoid complete annihilation. From then on, the royal vassals were only summoned back to Forza Castle upon the death of a monarch, when a new queen was to ascend the throne. Attendance was absolute, and none could disobey the royal summons.
Having paid homage to the late sovereign, the three vassals reached the crypt beneath the underground temple. The chamber housing the massive coffin was warmly illuminated, as though prepared in advance for their arrival. Seated upon the chairs arranged beside the sarcophagus, they silently watched the candlelight flicker around it. The candles, crafted from fine beeswax, released a delicate fragrance as they slowly melted.
Cecilia, having newly inherited her title, glanced nervously between Iris and Mersen, searching for an opening to speak. Experiencing the passing of a queen for the first time in her life, she was noticeably uneasy. Her crimson eyes blinked incessantly, virtually begging for conversation. Unable to curb her impatience any longer, she spoke.
“What do you know of the queen who will ascend? Due to my house’s brief history, I know little of her, save that she is the offspring of Mad Enya.”
Mersen widened her narrow eyes in shock. Seeing that astonishment, Cecilia realized at once that she had committed a severe indiscretion. She turned anxiously toward Iris to seek pardon, but Iris stared only at the royal coffin beyond the candle flames, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.
“Lady Cecilia, did you not know that ‘that name’ must never be uttered?”
“I am aware, yet when else might I meet with you ladies if not now? In my haste, I spoke out of turn.”
Cecilia wiped her sweat-dampened palms against her black fur coat.
The candle flames illuminating the coffin wavered dramatically, as though the storm outside had briefly gusted through the subterranean room. The queen’s resting sanctuary was bitterly cold. It was a chill so severe that even vampires, naturally resistant to cold, felt it keenly, causing Cecilia and Mersen to hunch forward and tuck their hands between their thighs.
“Cecilia.”
When Iris broke her silence, Cecilia flinched in surprise, her neatly styled bob swishing with the movement.
“When all the candles illuminating the Queen’s coffin burn out, we must awaken the Queen from her long slumber.”
“I am aware…”
“Having such a tragic event occur just as you assumed the ladyship, it is natural that you feel overwhelmed.”
Iris finally turned her gaze upon Cecilia. Under the scrutiny of that legendary warrior, Cecilia forgot her rank as a vassal and dropped instantly to her knees.
At merely two hundred years old, Cecilia was equivalent to a teenage girl in human terms. Observing the young lady’s clumsy etiquette, Iris’s eye twitched subtly. Disgusted by the soft, almost fond smile on Iris’s face, Mersen roughly grabbed Cecilia by the arm and pulled her up.
“It appears it will take some time before the Queen awakens, so I shall tell you the tale.”
Cecilia’s crimson eyes sparkled with interest. She asked Mersen to swap seats with her, but Mersen feigned ignorance. Iris ignored Mersen as well, preparing to weave her account.
“The former sovereign was indeed called ‘Mad Enya.’”
Iris gave a faint smile, her eye steeped in quiet melancholy.
“She was not always such a person.”
“I heard she was born on the very same day as you, Lady Iris.”
“That is true. Until she inherited the crown, even throughout the years she reigned as a benevolent queen, she was my dearest friend.”
Queen Enya had three daughters: Vivian, Lillian, and Yuan. Blessed with three such brilliant and beautiful heirs, Enya enjoyed a peaceful reign. The region of Forza surrounding the royal castle flourished, and the magical Eulbul Forest stretching beyond the castle walls seemed boundless.
“What changed?”
“Lady Vivian, whom the Queen cherished above all others, was murdered by a mutant werewolf driven mad.”
“How could a werewolf slay one of our kind?!”
“That creature was a hybrid born of vampire and werewolf blood. Hybrids were not as rare then as they are now. However, that werewolf happened to be a mutant bearing a lethal poison.”
“Tragically so.”
Iris closed her eye in weariness as she continued.
The tragic descent of her dear friend and queen remained vividly seared into her memory. Devastated by the loss of her beloved child, Enya succumbed to agonizing grief and ultimately declared war upon the werewolves.
Thus began a war of extermination, so brutal that it earned her the moniker ‘Mad Enya.’ What began as open battle degenerated into relentless guerrilla warfare. As werewolf numbers dwindled, the toll exacted upon the vampires proved equally devastating. Intermarriage between vampires and werewolves, once freely permitted, was strictly outlawed, and any offspring produced from such unions, even young children, were summarily executed.
“When that war between species was declared, even I could not anticipate that it would drag on so bitterly, nor prove so desperate. Under the banner of loyalty to the Queen, countless innocent children were mercilessly slaughtered.”
Listening with parted lips, Cecilia’s crimson eyes grew dark with horror.
“So that is why the coup occurred…”
“Indeed. Princess Yuan, the sovereign we must now awaken, raised a rebellion. She thrust a silver sword into the heart of her own mother, Enya, bringing an end to that endless conflict.”
Mersen, who had been leaning back in her chair in silence, let out a dry cough. The root of Iris’s contempt for Mersen lay precisely in that coup.
When Yuan rallied her fellow vampires under the pledge of ending the species war, Mersen remained carefully neutral between Queen Enya and Yuan. Only when the outcome was beyond doubt did she dispatch her house’s troops.
By the time the forces of House Mersen reached Forza Castle, the rebellion was already over. All present condemned House Mersen’s blatant opportunism with righteous fury.
Yet Yuan ultimately designated Mersen as a vassal house because their immense financial resources were indispensable for stabilizing vampire society in the wake of the uprising. Rather than punishing Mersen for treason, Yuan demanded heavy financial restitution for her tardiness. Nevertheless, Iris, who had fought at Yuan’s side throughout the coup, despised Mersen’s self-serving nature to her core.
“Lady Yuan believed that if a single monarch occupied the throne until death, ruin would inevitably follow. Thus, she chose to share the crown with her elder sister, Her Highness Lillian.”
“I was under the impression Her Highness Lillian did not participate in the coup…”
“Yes, that is true. Yet she, too, carried the royal bloodline.”
Lillian was neither as brilliant as her late sister Vivian nor as fierce as her younger sister Yuan, but she possessed a gentle heart. Yuan deemed her sister’s nobility of spirit reason enough for her to rule, while Lillian accepted the arrangement to repay the debt she felt for having been too afraid of her mother to participate in the fighting.
Having agreed to alternate the crown every five hundred years, Yuan yielded the throne to Lillian and entered her coffin to sink into a long slumber.
At last, peace returned to the realm.
“Cecilia.”
“Yes, Lady Iris.”
“You asked what manner of sovereign our new queen shall be, did you not?”
Cecilia saw a sudden blaze ignite within Iris’s single blue eye. The lid fluttered with intense emotion.
Iris had never regretted turning against her friend, Queen Enya, to align with Yuan. Yet that did not mean she had been spared unbearable agony. Weeping bitterly over Enya’s corpse, Iris had gouged out her own eye to punish herself for betraying her lady’s devotion. She had placed it in Enya’s dead palm. A final gift of the very blue eye her sovereign had cherished so deeply.
“I declare without hesitation that she was born to rule. Cecilia, offering your absolute loyalty to her will bring glory to your house, and that glory shall endure for all eternity.”
Iris’s majestic words thoroughly captivated Cecilia’s youthful fervor. Her crimson eyes shone brightly with an ardent longing for honor.
“…The candles are burning out,” Mersen whispered, rising from her chair.
One by one, the candles illuminating the crypt flickered and died. Iris and Cecilia stood in unison.
Each drew forth a dagger granted by the sovereign. As the last flame vanished and pitch-black darkness enveloped the crypt, they sliced open their wrists. The three vassals laid their bleeding hands upon the royal sarcophagus. Crimson streams poured out, drenching the stone lid. Once blood covered every inch of the surface, the vassals stepped back and fell to their knees.
The ground quaked violently. Candelabras positioned around the coffin clattered onto the stone floor. Fearing the floor might split open beneath her, Cecilia shut her eyes tight. The blood-soaked sarcophagus heaved. Mersen swallowed hard as she recalled the young heir who had driven a blade into her own mother’s chest and howled amidst the gore.
Her overwhelming presence, as intoxicating as a spellbinding sorceress.
Centuries ago, witnessing that sight had forced Mersen to recognize, with bitter regret, that her calculations had been catastrophically wrong. She ought to have clasped that hand. Before anyone else, before Iris, she should have seized that hand and pledged her house to Her Highness. Had she done so, she would never have suffered a lifetime of this humiliation…
“Your Highness!”
Iris cried out. In that exact instant, the sarcophagus burst open. The three vassals held their breath, stares fixed on the opening lid.
A pale hand tipped with long, black nails gripped the edge of the coffin. A suffocating stench of blood filled the room, overpowering their senses. Unaccustomed to such overwhelming power, Cecilia forced her eyes wide to maintain her composure. The hand, trembling slightly like a dry branch, anchored Yuan as she slowly pulled herself upright from within the sarcophagus.
Elongated nails, pointed ears, sharp fangs protruding past her lips, crimson eyes, an ethereal pallor, and a thick cascade of black hair.
In the classic, terrifying visage of a pureblood vampire, Yuan de Valmont rose from her rest and unfurled the massive wings granted solely to the royal bloodline.
“We greet Your Highness!”
The three vassals shouted in unison, bowing deeply in reverence.
Yuan flapped her great wings a few times before folding them behind her back. She surveyed the vassals bowing before her one by one. The moment her gaze fell upon Iris’s silver-white hair, she spread her wings and soared into the air, landing gracefully before her.
“Iris.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Why have you awakened me?”
“I deeply regret to inform you that Her Highness Lillian has passed away.”
“Has war broken out?”
Iris could not answer immediately. “Iris,” the Queen prompted, demanding an explanation.
“Her Highness Lillian… plunged a sword into her own chest…”
The queen’s wings flapped with violent force. The resulting gust blew the massive stone sarcophagus across the room, smashing it into pieces against the far wall. Yuan’s wings swept forward, gently hooking beneath Iris’s arms to lift her up. Iris’s aged body was raised aloft, supported entirely by her monarch’s wings.
“You must have suffered much on your journey here.”
“Your Highness…”
“Raise your hand to me.”
Yuan drew Iris’s unhealed wrist toward her own lips. As it was a royal decree, Iris had no choice but to obey. She presented her bleeding wrist to Yuan’s lips. The queen sank her fangs into the flesh, drinking deeply.
The royal lineage of House Valmont possessed the unique ability to stanch bleeding and heal wounds through blood-drinking. It was this power that had preserved the populace of the Forza region when the Black Death devastated Europe, earning House Valmont the enduring devotion of vampires and humans alike across the centuries.
The queen withdrew her fangs from Iris’s wrist. The blade wound had already vanished, and the puncture marks sealed themselves instantly. Mersen and Cecilia, still pressing handkerchiefs against their unhealed wrists with heavy hearts, watched the profound affection the queen bestowed upon Iris.
“I am weary. I must rest, so we shall meet at tomorrow evening’s banquet.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Yuan retracted her wings from around Iris and spread them wide. In the blink of an eye, she took flight and vanished from before her vassals.
* * *
The queen’s bedchamber was as silent as the grave. The wooden shutters were drawn tight to protect the glass panes from the howling storm outside. Atop the fireplace mantel, a golden candelabra cast a faint, flickering light. Yet the chamber was so vast that shadows consumed the space, veiling anything beyond three paces in deep obscurity.
Yuan flew to the entrance of her bedchamber and folded her wings. As the doors parted of their own accord, five maidservants awaiting their queen dropped simultaneously to their knees.
“We greet Your Highness.”
The chief lady-in-waiting, wearing a brooch fashioned like a golden hand pinned to her breast, welcomed Yuan with tears streaming down her face. Yuan offered a subtle smile as she walked toward the luxurious bed prepared for her.
The queen climbed onto the bed. Moving with synchronized grace, the maidservants rose as one and joined Yuan upon the mattress.
“We meet sooner than I anticipated. Have you been well?”
The chief lady-in-waiting shook her head as she leaned toward Yuan. As if anticipating the gesture, Yuan wrapped her arms around her, sank her teeth into her neck, and began to drink. Simultaneously, the remaining four maidservants licked the bare skin of their unclad monarch.
Her limbs, stiffened from centuries of slumber, relaxed under the devoted ministrations of her attendants. One of the chief responsibilities of the lady-in-waiting, who managed the daily affairs of Forza Castle, and her silver retainers, was to fully restore their monarch’s physical vitality whenever she awakened.
Specifically, the chief lady-in-waiting who bore the golden hand brooch held the title of ‘Gold Hand.’ It was her solemn duty to allow Yuan to feed upon her blood so that every event occurring during the queen’s slumber could be transferred directly into her mind. It was a state secret known only to the monarch and the Gold Hand of Forza Castle that through blood-drinking, the vampire queen could absorb a subject’s complete memories.
The three centuries of history that had unfolded in Forza Castle during Yuan’s absence flowed seamlessly from the chief lady-in-waiting into Yuan’s consciousness. Everything the Gold Hand had witnessed, heard, and felt became Yuan’s own memories. While the Gold Hand yielded her blood, the Silver Hands worked tirelessly to awaken the queen’s physical form.
Her long black nails receded. Her pointed ears softened, and the damp skin previously encased within her wings transformed into smooth, mortal flesh. Shifting moment by moment from a predatory vampire into the radiant likeness of a human, Yuan’s body sparkled with stunning beauty, blooming like a flower in magnificent flourish.
“Enough.”
Withdrawing her lips from the Gold Hand’s neck at last, Yuan issued her command. Drained of half her blood, the Gold Hand collapsed onto the bed beside her. Yuan stroked her hair while gently pushing back the forehead of the maidservant who was taking her shaft into her mouth.
“Your Highness, you must achieve release…”
“That must be saved for my bride.”
Yuan smiled. Her golden eyes, resembling molten gold, crinkled softly as her face erupted into a radiant grin. The maidservant who had been taking the queen’s length into her mouth flushed crimson and hurriedly stepped aside.
Now five hundred years old, equivalent to a human woman in her late twenties, the vampire queen was breathtakingly beautiful. Waves of lustrous black hair cascading over her upper body shimmered with vitality, framing a delicate, slender face graced with striking golden eyes. A tiny beauty mark beneath her lower lip served as the crown of her allure, mesmerizing every maidservant in attendance.
The remaining maidservants stepped down from the bed, leaving the unconscious Gold Hand resting beside her. Spellbound, they gazed upon the queen’s long, graceful form reclining like a masterpiece painting. In particular, they could not tear their eyes away from her enormous shaft, an astonishing feature against such pale, exquisite skin.
“Summon the Watchers. Tell them their Queen commands it. I must find my bride.”
The queen issued her decree. Spoken through lips stained crimson with blood, the royal command was intoxicatingly sweet.
