Close the Gates

The moon was once again hidden behind the clouds. Irene smiled as she looked up at the skies. Without the threat of the bright silver light looming over them, she felt much safer. If only the clouds always remained, she thought to herself.

But no, the sorcerer would never let that happen. He wouldn't let either one of the groups in this city gain ore power than the others, or so he always claimed. And that claim was precisely why Irene had come to the Cathedral of the Old Blood on this beautiful night.

She paused for a moment on the steps leading up to the metal doors, and smoothed her long, white silken dress. As the Matriarch, she needed to look at her best at all times, though it was quite a chore to do so. Her lips formed a thin line as she climbed the steps to the cathedral. This was where those two had died the day before. She could still smell their blood.

The smell didn't reach into the cathedral, thankfully, allowing her to breathe freely once inside.

It was empty within the massive structure. She walked by the lines of pews and reached the altar at the centre of the building. The most sacred spot in the entirety of Vesporum stood right there, an arm's length away.

The altar itself was a simple slab cut out of a block of black marble. Runes were carved into it, protective runes, only allowing humans to touch what rested on it.

Irene's gaze lingered on the large silver grail. A red liquid filled it halfway. Irene could smell it from here, the metallic smell of blood. Fresh blood and that too. She licked her lips and gulped.

"You people are always like this." A voice sounded. "Whether bat or wolf, the sight – or smell – of blood is enough to take away what humanity you have."

The voice belonged to a man much older than he looked.

"Sorcerer." Irene muttered as her lips curled down with a frown. "You break my heart."

The man wore simple robes. He had no fancy jewellery or artifacts on him. Nothing to indicate his position or power. If it weren't for that unnaturally white hair of his, even Irene wouldn't know who he was.

"If your heart is so easy to break, perhaps being the Matriarch doesn't suit you after all." The Sorcerer said with a wry smile. He was mocking her, and there was nothing Irene could do about it. And this sly man was well aware of that. "Keep your paws off the sacred blood, little pup."

"I have no interest in the blood of a man long dead, human." Irene snarled. As usual, he was getting on her nerves. "I didn't come here to argue about this." She added, hoping to quickly change the subject.

"Ah, yes." The man sighed. "The two lives that were taken yesterday." He glanced at her to make sure he guessed correctly, then shrugged. "I do not know who killed them, Irene Darkhaven. I was busy protecting your kind from the silver light of the moon."

"I thought as much." Irene clenched her fists. "When will you put a stop to this? I know you have the power to do so."

The man chuckled. "Whatever makes you think that?" He gently touched the altar. "I am but a human, a servant of the Old Gods. I only know what they allow me to, and I only do what they command me to."

"Please." Irene scoffed. "The Old Gods are gone, they have left us and moved on."

"Blasphemy." The Sorcerer hissed. "How dare you speak ill of them in their own cathedral?" His bright silver eyes glimmered with anger. "Is this how the Matriarch will act?"

Irene let him boil in his own anger for a while. "The Matriarch's people are being killed – murdered out on the streets, and no one, not even the so called prophet of the Old Gods will interfere." She folded her arms and shot the left side of the cathedral a meaningful look. "I sometimes wonder if the bats have gotten a hold of you, old man."

"It is my duty to keep balance in the city, Irene Darkhaven." The Sorcerer replied with anger. "No purebloods have been killed, only half blood ruts; don't act all righteous with me. You had forsaken them long before a blade was drawn."

Irene clenched her fists. "I did not come here to argue about how I rule my own people, human. Will you put a stop to this or not?"

The sorcerer raised his chin. "I will not use my powers bestowed upon me by the Old Gods, Irene Darkhaven."

"That's fine." Irene smirked. "Seal the city – close the gates. Let them be trapped inside, and I will find them."

The sorcerer's eyes shot open. "The commerce-"

"The commerce is dead! The last person to enter the city has done so already. Winter is nigh, and we will close the gates in a matter of days anyways. You lose nothing, and potentially gain everything!"

The sorcerer remained hesitant.

"Fine," Irene gnarled, seeing his uncertainty. "What will you do when they come for me?"

The sorcerer shot her an odd look. "They can't." He stated, simple as that. "The Old Blood is dead, your own mother killed the last descendant. There is none left that can kill you."

"As far as we know." Irene corrected him. "Both me, and that vile bat are equal in that regard. But what if the Old Blood isn't dead? What if they are killing the ruts to see if the blood they have is good enough?"

The sorcerer chuckled. "No, I assure you."

"What, did you ask the gods?" Irene mocked him.

"Indeed, when the first rut died, I asked whether there were any descendants of the Old Blood in Vesporum." A faint smile touched his lips. "The answer was no."