Maddona

Six years later

Age 22

The weather matches my mood perfectly. Stormy and bitter, with a drizzle that promises more to come. I don't know why I feel this way. Like I could snap at any second over absolutely nothing. I pride myself on control, so this… this crawling sensation under my skin is disturbing.

The pile of papers before me only adds to the itch. A month without my right hand, and I'm teetering on the edge of madness.

A soft knock.

"Come in, Mathews."

"Thank you, Mistress," comes the polished reply. His footsteps are crisp, his all-black suit immaculate. He wears the guise of an elegant butler, though some days he resembles a CEO wrapped in shadows. Gone is the trembling handler who swore his life to me while kneeling in his own vomit. Now he is a ghost in fine silk, an impossibly pale, devastatingly beautiful corpse with enough power to level a city. My right hand, my creature, my loyal executioner.

"You're being summoned by the council, Mistress." He hands me yet another letter, gold-embossed and smelling like politics and a migraine.

"Ignore it. How were the pups?"

"Safe and healthy, Mistress. Still a while before their first shift."

"Hm."

They still resent me for sending them away. But it was the only way. Eyes follow me too closely now—watchful, dangerous, calculating. I couldn't risk exposing the only family I have left. Half-siblings, technically. Demon pups. Children I should have had no interest in. But when I discovered their existence after the 'sudden and suspicious death of their parents,' I couldn't turn away.

Their resemblance to me was uncanny. Our mother's genes were clearly potent. Her tendency to wander and entangle herself in forbidden places—also inherited, it seems.

They'll hate me for what I did, but their safety means more than their forgiveness. Letting them believe I abandoned them wasn't part of the plan, but it worked. It pushed them far enough away to grow and gave me the space to build something better for them.

They're turning thirteen now. Soon they'll shift. Soon, they'll come home.

"Councilman Arnold is at the gate," Mathews informs me suddenly.

I exhale slowly.

What exactly is their problem?

"What does he want?"

"He claims it's just a meeting."

"Tell him I'm uninterested."

A pause.

"He's threatening to kill the guards."

Oh for the love of_

"See? This is why I said we don't need guards."

"But we have guards, Mistress. And they may currently be in danger."

The nerve of this Vampyre.

"Fine. Let him in. And finish these files—you've had enough vacation time."

Arnold is in my office less than three minutes later. Regal in his dark blue robe, he radiates power. Not the artificial kind most lords and councilmen wear like a mask. This is earned power. Raw and old. It's rare. Beautiful, even. Like watching a dragonfly wander into an ant colony.

"Why are you here?"

I ask bluntly. I already feel a migraine coming.

He looks caught off guard by my directness.

"Straight to the point, I see... Ahem. I've been deployed by the Council house to ask about the incident last month. I see you've received our invitations…"

He glances at the gold-rimmed letters sticking out of a trolley labeled 'waste.' Mathews had been clearing them when he arrived.

I say nothing. Urging him to speak. They just can't stay out of my business.

"We received an anonymous report of the event, but no bodies were recovered. According to our source, you arrived in Demsvil two days before it happened. Can you explain?"

I narrow my eyes.

"Why are you really here, Councilman?"

He hesitates. Good. That means I'm right.

He's just here to annoy me with that stupid request.

His tone shifts. "The Council believes a war is coming. You've sent us word before each major gate opening. How do you know they're coming before they do?"

"Get to the point." I only did that to protect my people. Those creatures were getting too close for my liking. And those ingrates at the council house did nothing.

"The Council would like to know how you—"

"Is that why you barge into my territory? Threaten my workers. To question me?."

He stills. A rare crack in his composure.

"We—we would like you to join the Warriors."

Ah. There it is.

The desperation.

The mighty Council. Always preening, always looking down their noses, now reduced to beggars. Begging me to join their dwindling army. They're afraid. I can smell it on them.

Silence reigns for two good minutes. I ignore him flipping through the documents on my desk.

"It would be for the betterment of all involved_" he states.

"And how am I involved?"

"This war affects everyone in the realms. If it were to break out today, kingdoms, cities, lives... will be lost. The twins, what about them? Having a family gets you involved in thi—"

Mathews stiffens at the mention of the twins, setting the tea tray down with more force than needed. Looking the councilman in the eyes, he asks.

"Is there anything else you need?" The anger rolling off him is as deep as his hate is old.

"No, thank you," Councilman Arnold replies, side-eyeing Mathews. He looks at the cup suspiciously.

"Is that how it is, Councilman? You see them as people now?" I ask him.

He knows he can't argue.

He knows he would be dead if I wanted him to be. Because they deserved it.

They not only threatened my family but plotted to kill them just because they felt the two thirteen-year-old demons were a threat to the realm.

I could refuse the offer. Tell him to f*ck off. But I recently found out that the posses something of importance. Something I need.

"A seat at the Council will be open in your honor, and for your sib—"

"No."

He blinks. "Then… what do you want?"

Now he's nervous. Suspicious. Rightfully so.

I lean back in my chair, casually tapping my pen on the desk.

"I'll keep that to myself for now. Schedule a meeting. We'll discuss the Warriors and your 'facility' later."

He nods, reluctantly.

"Thank you, Mistress Maddona. We look forward to working with you."

His smile is stiff. Pained. Pride is a disease in Reganon, and today, I watched it squirm.

"Councilman... I do not want a repeat of what happened today. Next time, there will be consequences. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Let them squirm. I might help—for a while.

But not because they deserve it.

Because I do.

I deserve some peace too.

As he disappears my glasses hit the table.