Don't curse your fate, girl!

And the strongest among them was right before her. In the center of the room stood a figure cloaked in darkness, its back to her, motionless and foreboding. The moonlight streamed through the large window behind it, casting an eerie glow over the scene and deepening the shadows that clung to the figure like a second skin. 

Myhra's breath hitched as she took a step forward, her eyes fixed on the silhouette before her. "Who are you?" she called, her voice low but steady.

The figure didn't move at first, but when it did, it was slow, deliberate, as though savoring the moment. It turned to face her, and for a heartbeat, Myhra felt her world tilt. The face that greeted her was both familiar and foreign, a chilling combination of someone she had once seen and known to be working for the most sinister creature she had known until now. 

The figure's eyes gleamed in the moonlight, filled with an unsettling, otherworldly light that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Zhelis," Myhra whispered, her breath catching as recognition swept over her. A militant vampire, infamous for his bloodthirsty methods and Thyestean leanings, Zhelis had long supported radical ideologies that painted a dark future for both humans and vampires alike. Though his kind were few, their aggression made them a constant, lurking threat.

As the weight of his identity settled over her, Zhelis's eyes gleamed—an otherworldly, eerie glow that flickered like a distant, malevolent flame. His gaze pierced through her, a blend of curiosity and caution swirling within his sharp, angular features. The air between them crackled with silent tension, as if the room itself was holding its breath.

"I should have known. The distinct stench of Silver Council magic is unmistakable." His words dripped with contempt, each syllable weighed down by disdain.

Zhelis's eyes flickered with a dark amusement as he took in her presence, his lips curling into a slow, deliberate smirk. "I knew the coward was summoning someone, but I never imagined a Silver would appear." He let the words hang in the air, as though her arrival had been nothing more than a disappointment. His tone was laced with derision, as if he had been expecting someone more formidable, someone worthier of his attention.

"Tell me," he continued, his voice taking on a condescending drawl, "did they send you here to die, or are you merely the sacrificial lamb?" He stepped forward, the shadows around him shifting as though they were drawn to his every movement, clinging to him like a dark aura.

Myhra flexed her fingers the movement slow for now, her gaze fixed on Zhelis with steely resolve. "If anyone's going to die here, it's not going to be me," she retorted, her voice sharp, cutting through the oppressive weight of the room.

Zhelis raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Confidence? From a Silver, no less. How quaint." His eyes gleamed with a predatory light. "But misplaced. You see, I wasn't expecting you. I had anticipated someone far more... substantial." He let the implication linger, as if her very presence was a mistake, an afterthought.

Her heart pounded in her chest, but Myhra forced herself to stay calm. "Sorry to disappoint, but you're stuck with me," she shot back, her voice steady, refusing to let his taunts get under her skin. "And I won't be as easy to deal with as you might think."

Zhelis chuckled darkly, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "Oh, don't worry. I never underestimate the Silver Council's little pets. You've been trained well, I'm sure. But this isn't your realm. " His tone shifted to something colder, more sinister. He turned away from her ignoring her and began to look around the room. "Do you want to play a game?" he said almost like talking to someone else.

"Tell me, little scout," he continued, voice laced with mockery, "what brings you to this forsaken place? Surely you aren't here for a talk."

She took a single step forward, her eyes flashing with defiance. "I could ask you the same. This isn't your domain. Leave now, or you'll be taken as captive."

A low, throaty laugh escaped Zhelis, his lips curling in a sneer. "Captive? I'd like to see you try." His gaze darkened, a flicker of menace tightening the air. "Do you even comprehend what stands before you, girl?"

Myhra's eyes narrowed, her grip firm. "Your arrogance is showing," she replied, voice sharp. "Are you so blind to your own self-importance, or by hatred?"

Zhelis's smirk faded, his expression hardening as he took another step toward her, his figure casting an ominous shadow. "Hatred? No, it's not so simple. You wouldn't understand the necessity of eliminating pests like your kind."

She met his gaze, unwavering. "Understanding your twisted logic would be a waste of time."

His smile vanished completely, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes. "Very well," he growled, "but don't say I didn't warn you. If you persist, this will end in blood."

 "What's life without a bit of drama from you pompous vampires?" she mildly shook her head.

Zhelis's fangs gleamed in the dim light as his lips pulled back in a sneer. "I could drain you dry, little scout, but today, I have more pressing matters. Consider yourself fortunate. I have prey to hunt... a bloodsucker who's proven rather elusive." His eyes gleamed with predatory intent as he turned.

"Prey? Your own kind? Delightfully ironic, isn't it?" Myhra quipped, her tone mocking.

Zhelis's expression twisted in irritation, the insult hitting its mark. "You think I'm like the others?" he spat. "Naive than I thought."

Myhra's voice sharpened with defiance. "You're sorely mistaken to think you could roam free, causing chaos wherever you please."

Zhelis's expression darkened, his anger barely concealed. "If my hands weren't tied by this task, I'd deal with you in a way you wouldn't forget," he muttered, a hint of regret lacing his words. "So don't curse you fate, girl." He turned into a bad size and circled the room where his wings flapped and eyes goes red. Myhra noticed he was not trying to escape but focusing his vision on the other dark shadow entities in the room. He was looking for someone particular desperately. Her brows furrowed deeper because it was strange how evident it for her to find the entity but not for him. Why, she wondered but decided to look into it later. 

Myhra chuckled, her laughter echoing through the dimly lit chamber. She glanced into the shadows, where another figure seemed to lurk. "Don't tell me you can't even see him," she teased, her voice dripping with mockery. "A Vampire Zhelis with poor eyesight—now that's unheard of." 

Shocked and humiliated, Zhelis turned back into his full form as he glared at the place Myhra pointed and struggled to maintain his dignity. "You've made my job easier," he admitted with thinly veiled frustration. "It's not a matter of eyesight. The one you see is marked by cursed blood—makes them... difficult and nearly impossible to track. That's why they need to be eliminated before their power grows out of control."

With a sudden shift in demeanor, he advanced on his intended target, eyes gleaming with predatory intent. But before he could reach it, Myhra's hand shot out, intercepting his grasp with lightning speed. She stepped between Zhelis and the shadowy figure, her gaze meeting the golden eyes of the dark silhouette. Feeling no malice from it as it did nothing to attack her or the Zhelis, she allowed it to slip back into the shadows.

"Your methods are problematic here," Myhra declared, her tone firm. "And I don't think you have the authority to lay a hand on even a pest in this Kingdom. If you seek justice, I'll take you to the Council myself. But know this: you will not act with murderous intent."

In a swift motion, Zhelis lunged, shadows swirling as his dark form rushed forward, his hand extending toward her like a blade of darkness. Myhra's blood magic flared in response, her crimson blade materializing from thin air, glowing with deadly energy. She parried his attack, their weapons clashing with a bright, fiery spark that lit up the room. The force of their clash reverberated through the stone walls.

But as their blades locked, a dark, spectral tendril shot from Zhelis's shadow, wrapping itself around her wrist, cold as ice. Myhra hesitated for a brief moment, the chill creeping through her skin. The shadows constricted, tightening like a serpent's coil, trying to pull her into their embrace.

"Blood sword!? Not bad...neither good enough against me. You'll run out of your depth soon," Zhelis hissed, his voice cold, his shadowy form overpowering her with its sheer malice.

"Then by all means... try." she stared. 

Zhelis eyes traced the glowing sword in her grip, which had legends attached to it said to be passed down in the specific lineages and wielders. "Is that why you stand so fearless before me? Few mortals dare to wield such a force. It takes either remarkable courage... or foolishness."

Myhra's pulse quickened as the icy tendril tightened around her wrist, its cold touch seeping into her skin. For a split second, the grip of Zhelis's dark magic seemed inescapable, his spectral power tugging her toward the consuming void. But she wasn't about to let the vampire's arrogance win.

Drawing a sharp breath, Myhra closed her eyes and focused inward. The pulse of her blood magic surged to life, the warmth of its crimson energy coursing through her veins like molten lava. She concentrated on the flow, allowing the it energy to flow until it radiated from her skin. In an instant, the blood magic flared, bursting outward in a radiant wave of crimson light, severing the shadowy tendrils with a sharp hiss. The oppressive chill of Zhelis's shadow dissipated, leaving only faint wisps of darkness in its wake.

Zhelis snarled, his eyes narrowing as he recoiled from the surge of energy. "Impressive," he spat, voice dripping with contempt. "But a mere spark of magic won't save you."

Myhra steadied herself, her blood sword glowing brightly in her grip. "A spark is all I need to burn you to ashes, Zhelis."

With a swift movement, she lunged at him, her blade cutting through the air with lethal precision. Zhelis sidestepped her attack, his own shadowy sword materializing in his hand. The weapons met with a resounding clash, sparks flying as the impact resonated through the chamber. Myhra pressed forward, her strikes rapid and relentless, forcing Zhelis to defend.

The vampire's movements were fluid, graceful, as he parried her attacks with ease, but Myhra could sense the tension building beneath his calm exterior. His eyes flickered with frustration as he realized she wasn't as "green" as he'd assumed.

"You're faster than I expected," Zhelis muttered, deflecting a powerful strike aimed at his chest. "But speed won't help you if you don't have the strength to finish the fight."

"Strength is all I have in my blood, dare you too drain me," Myhra chuckled, her voice low as she pivoted and swung her sword in a deadly arc.

The blade connected with Zhelis's shadowy form, sending a ripple through his dark aura. He staggered back, a low growl escaping his lips as he glared at her. Myhra didn't relent—she pressed the attack, her blood magic coursing through her blade, each strike crackling with power.

Zhelis's frustration boiled over. With a furious snarl, he unleashed a wave of darkness that surged toward Myhra, the room plunging into an oppressive gloom. Shadows twisted and writhed, filling every corner, threatening to swallow her whole. Myhra gritted her teeth, her lantern flickering in the encroaching darkness.

"Enough of these play," Zhelis's voice echoed from the void, disembodied and sinister. "Do you even know what you're facing?"

Through the dense shadows, Myhra saw him, a towering figure of darkness approaching with menacing grace. For a heartbeat, doubt flickered in her mind—but she clenched her sword tighter. The blood magic flared again, this time more potent, its crimson light slicing through the veil of darkness like a beacon.

"I've fought worse than you in my nightmares," Myhra shouted, her voice unwavering as she surged forward, her sword raised high.