24

— Make them all turn to dust! May they all perish!— the tyrant burst into the basement.— Speak your spells!—

— You will start a war for many centuries, madman!—Suddenly the old woman barked angrily.

The silver brand, already reserved for prostestov, was buried in the neck.

Although the old woman was not a vampire, silver had a similar effect on her.

The flesh hissed, the sorceress screamed.

— I order you to bring the vampires into the light! Or you will die in a huge vat of liquid silver!— Wentworth shouted it in some...

you can't even label it with some simple expression like "he didn't say it in his own voice," this expression won't reflect all this at all... the mood, or something...

The voice even stopped being a little like a human.

The bloody witch began to wave her hands, whispering words in some ancient, incomprehensible language. From her long, vampire-like claws, a red glow began to emanate.

The light swirled and rose high up, along the corridors and flew out of windows, doors, flew into the sky ...

These words changed the whole nature of those who live in the night and feed on blood ...

***

Martial law. It is announced at all three residences of Wentfort Karsten, the mad tyrant.

Olga Karsten now has several platoons of werewolves and a huge number of vampires for any self-respecting wolf, who, thanks to this icy Apollo Bjorn, began to support her.

She will fight, she can, now she certainly can.

Wentworth pours a handful of pills into his mouth while reading e-mails.

From frequent training, the whole body began to ache.

Taking a club from the armory, Wentworth went down to the courtyard of the residence.

With a swing, he hit the training doll. The wood crunches, as if the doll was telling him: "You what? It hurts! You need to be lighter, you can't mock me like that!"

Blow. Another blow.

The look became insane.

A crunch of wood, a blow to the red circles in the shoulder area, in the head area...

— My king, come on...— suddenly one of the soldiers turns to him.

Bright red, inflamed eyes.

The young guy puts his hand on the king's shoulder, trying to help him calm down.

— If I hit you with a club, I'll break your skinny arms!— the king fastidiously and a little madly throws a thin hand off his shoulder.

Wentworth never liked such thin people and did not take them into service, but here is the face... Damn, he can't see his face!

His fingers touched his temple and it turned black in his eyes.

He... He resembled Victor so much!

When the blackness receded, Wentworth rubbed his eye.

The eye still hurt. It burns the cornea, tears drip.

— Your Majesty? What's the matter with you?—someone shook him by the shoulder.

— We will spar! Find me a couple. It is best to have a similar physique.— the king says softly in a hoarse and somehow hoarse, pathetic voice.

Yes, pathetic! Pathetic! How pathetic he looked now...

An ordinary scared old man...

But who was here?

Who the hell came to him?

***

Caught a tribe of vampires. And the tribe is small, but they were talking about Bjorn...

they and Wentfort were united by hatred, a burning hatred for the white vampire.

— I will let you live and you will even be subjects of the north if you tell me anything about the weak points of such an indestructible bloodsucker as Bjorn!— the air rustled inside.

As if it were not air, but fire, hellfire roars in the heart of Wentfort.

— What other weaknesses? He's inflexible. He has no weak points.— said one of the gang.

— I see. The conversation is over.—Wentworth said calmly.

The gun is always in constant dangerous proximity and there is enough silver.

Shot, shot, shot, shot, shot.

Karsten calmly watches the ashes being swept away.

***

An awful lot of time had passed, so much, so much...

even a couple of seconds seemed like an eternity for the northern king of Wentfort Karsten, the mad king.

Olga thought she had killed him!

Branches slash across the face, leaving even bloody streaks like the war paint of a cowardly warrior.

The branches seem to have turned into claws, they are all against now, against King Karsten!

All nature is against!

From the severe loss of blood, everything blurred before my eyes. Life flowed out between his fingers.

Red drops of life leave roads.

Roads to hell leading to the king... Leading directly to his death and the death of everything that lives and breathes ...

the picture before his eyes changes, as if an endless movie. The forest is changing, a clearing opens. The whole atmosphere is set to infuriate the king.

The former king... And perhaps the dead king, if he does not do anything to save himself... Save a part of yourself...

— Heeeey!— running into the hidden residence, Wentworth calls for someone.

It's empty! Everyone left him, everyone left...

— Rodi!— like a ghost in the distance, like a shadow.— Rodi! Sorry...—

Tears are pouring down my cheeks. It's just a short display of weakness.

A loud exhalation - and the tears dry on the cheeks.

Swaying, Wentforth enters one of the rooms.

Potions! The locker!

The doors swing open, the hands sort through the bottles, the pale, knocked-down fingers tremble with fear.

There is nothing here, there is nothing! Is it really over already?

Red! Yes, of course, he knows this potion very well... It's time to taste the potion... He will drink it twice in different parts of the city at the same time... He's already cracked, we need more... It might give you a chance... Maybe at least one piece of him will survive...

Scarlet, like blood...

it... It can give the opportunity to live again and nothing more...

the heart makes a beat and freezes.

The king is divided. He's bursting... Burning and tearing flesh...

Torn to pieces.

There are so many of them...

***

...Blood is everywhere, sometimes puddles make it difficult to run.

Bodies fell like the aftermath of a massacre. With each blow, the living turned into decay. Cold, decaying remains of life...

furious death, walking through the corpses, followed Wentforth Karsten. This messenger of death was his own wife.

Olga ran to the cliff, looked around. My heart was beating like crazy.

She threw down a couple of wolves, everything inside trembled.

—Wentworth!— she called.— I will haunt you all my life, I will never give up trying to kill you! —

— You liked this life. I know you love pain. That's why I chose you. It's you...— majestically, with his royal article, her ex-husband slowly drove up to her on a huge bear.

Swords are ringing and this constant ringing of metal is heard and vibrates in the air.

When weapons collide, sparks are struck, it seems that they will burn either Wentfort or Olga.

Ice. Ice slid under the feet.

A little more and... And that would be it. So stupid!

One missed, the first shot flew just fantastically far.

"It has never hurt so much..."— it was beating in his head. It hurts so much. Cruelly. The heart still feels something.

The second dry sound.

Wentworth falls on the ice.

He no longer had the strength.

Olga, noticing that almost everyone was already there, forgetting about the fight, got up and also turned back into a person.

— Just one last step...—She said softly, picking up the sword from the ice.

She thought of taking her sword first, but it would be better to kill the viper with her own poison.

It seems that Karsten has already resigned himself. No, the word "seems" is even better to remove.

Wentworth looked calmly into the eyes of his death.

— Come on...— he whispered.— Finish me off...—

— If I could make you suffer the way I suffered...—Olga raised her sword.

— And yet I love you...—suddenly he whispered hoarsely in Spanish, smiling sadly.

The blow...

That was the end of the mad, blood-written history of the tyrant. Everyone he cared about was dying. Either they were going crazy...

the blood stream passed in an almost perfect line. The blood is steaming.

Olga much later burst into the residence, tearing portraits from the walls.

The door was simply blocked with chairs, it's easy to knock it out.

The new queen didn't want to see the damned mad tyrant ex-husband anymore. Wentworth the Mad...

Click. The click of a lighter. Crackling and smoke.

The fireplace is not lit immediately, but more willingly, the servants have come and help, all these dogs are so cowardly now fawning over her!

It smells of paint, the white smoke of burning oil paint in uneven rags flies into the open windows.

He no longer had the strength.

— Is it over now?— Maria approaches her mother.

There was a crown among the things. A huge male crown is a crown.

Christophe immediately took the jewelry, said that this is the cursed crown that needs to be destroyed.

Fire won't kill it...

— No... It's not over...— Olga looks at how the tombstones of the deceased associates of Wentfort are being destroyed. Those who were devoted to him will no longer lie here.— Everything is just beginning...

The story of the crown.(A story from the Wentworth Carsten Library)

The funniest find in the world is a crown that a human witch once created for wolves.

Laughter and tears- the power-personifying object was cursed.

The black stones were hidden in a metal circle. These stones were endowed with incredible dark power.

The crown can easily drive you crazy, or change. Completely change the nature of a wild or tribal wolf, any wolf...

the first owner of the crown was a woman.

The glowing crown received the first queen. Queen Marion.

Her consciousness immediately began to be eclipsed by the desire to hold the crown and not let go. And also kill everyone. Anyone who interferes with the werewolves...

the force overwhelms the body. It is impossible to cope with this force. just want to obey...

—I want the wolves to rule this world.—Marion said when she gathered all the wolves in the huge castle.

This castle was built by werewolves. It was the kingdom of the north. There is also the kingdom of South, West, East.

If all these fortresses were united into one whole kingdom, then the werewolves would be united, but crowns... Crowns will never give it.

They need balance. Werewolves hate humans and vampires, that's the balance. The curses that these magicians have created against half-beasts have always been cruel.

When mutants began to appear, it was very rare in the world, their connection with werewolves facilitates influence, almost removes the power of crowns sometimes.

Mutants appear due to the large formation of filth in this world.

The word "mutant" appeared after all quite recently. Mutants are not what many try to see them and convince everyone.

Queen Marion started the very first war of day and night.

Vampires were dragged out of caves and burned in the sun.

Carnage. Genocide.

The Queen, covered in ashes and blood, looked on with joy at all this. Madness took her in its bloody hands.

The war was interrupted by the Queen's husband. Everything ended with an axe in the back.

Marion fell to the ground, choking on blood.

Her reign did not last long.