Page 36 of The Sanguine Selection
But this allegiance, a mask concealing my true intentions, is my sanctuary and my cage. To renounce it would be to expose my hand too soon, to relinquish the treacherous game we play in these darkened corridors.
With every step, the weight of my intentions hangs upon me like a noose. The consequences of betrayal are dire, their specter a constant companion in the darkest corners of my mind. But the intoxicating allure of power, of usurping the throne, of claiming the girl for myself, proves an irresistible beacon. The line between survival and ambition blurs, and I teeter on the precipice, uncertain of the abyss that awaits should I falter.
My clandestine journey through the shadowy passages comes to a sudden halt as I reach the threshold of my destination. A folded parchment, adorned with the sinister insignia of the kings, lies there—a summons. My fingers curl around it, and I feel the weight of my impending doom.
The ceremony, a ritual that demands unwavering allegiance to the very monarchs I seek to overthrow, looms on the horizon. It is a sinister affair, one where oaths are renewed and betrayals sealed in blood.
Resentment courses through my veins like a venomous asp. To attend this ceremony is to stand amidst my enemies, to partake in a macabre masquerade where loyalties are professed in false whispers and treacherous smiles.
The stakes, I know, are as high as they come. Should I falter, should my act of defiance be laid bare, the consequences would be unbearable. Yet, in the dark recesses of my mind, a plan festers—a daring gambit to steal the throne from under their very noses. It is this audacious aspiration, this coveting of power, that fuels my reluctance and bolsters my resolve to endure the ominous gathering.
As I stare at the summons, an insatiable lust for power has me thirsting, like a craving for a potent elixir.
The throne, that coveted seat of authority, calls out to me like a seductive siren, promising dominion over this treacherous realm. For far too long, the rule of the kings has bound this dark kingdom in chains of their guilt. Their reign of dormancy went on longer than should have ever been allowed and their once-vital vision now crumbles like ancient stone. It is time for a new order, one forged in cunning and ambition, where I shall be the master of my own destiny.
Still, frustration grows within me, a simmering tempest of resentment. The kings lost sight long ago of what Sintara could really be—a realm of darkness with a limitless amount of blood if we merely just took what we wanted from the humans.
I’m determined to end the kings’ reign, shatter their namesake and dynasty while overtaking the castle and the girl. And it’s in the very shadows of Sintara, concealed from prying eyes and betraying whispers, that my clandestine plans take shape.
A rebellion, a secret gathering of like-minded souls, stands ready to challenge the kings' authority. With whispers of betrayal and the promise of a new era, I have garnered the support of those who, like me, yearn for change.
Together, we shall rise like a tempest, our ambitions unyielding, our thirst for power unquenchable. The time of reckoning approaches, and the treacherous winds of revolution blow in our favor.
Amidst the swirling chaos of my ambitions and treacherous designs, a name dances like an enchanting melody through the corridors of my mind—Oxana. The kings' blood slave, a creature of both vulnerability and untold power, a tantalizing puzzle waiting to be unraveled.
I knew the moment she was presented to me what she was and who she will become.
The girl is the very embodiment of temptation, a luscious morsel of intrigue that beckons to me in the darkest recesses of desire. And now, my obsession with the little blood slave knows no bounds. It is an insidious flame that consumes me, a relentless hunger that gnaws at my core. Her mere presence within the castle walls is a beacon of temptation, a whisper of sweet sin that promises both ecstasy and damnation.
I covet her with a fervor that borders on madness, for she is not merely a blood slave but a key to unlocking the secrets of power that have eluded me for far too long.
The things I plan to do to her body…
Fuck her.
Drink from her.
Own her.
Because of this, in the depths of my twisted psyche, a sinister plan takes form. I envision a shadowy alliance with those who share my hunger for dominion.
The wolves.
Oxana, with her intoxicating allure and the untapped potency of her blood, shall become the linchpin of my designs. And the kings, blinded by their own arrogance, will never see the impending storm until it is too late. Their new blood slave will be their undoing, just as the last one was.
Hidden in the labyrinthine corridors of intrigue, I scheme the best way to claim Oxana for myself.
She is the embodiment of power, the path to both my ascension and the kingdom's rebirth.
All I need to do is set the stage and put the pieces in motion. I am the puppet master, working from the shadows, and will orchestrate a symphony of treachery that will reshape the destiny of the realm.
* * *
The nightof the accursed ceremony descends upon Sintara, casting a shroud of eerie darkness over the castle. The torches lining the grand hall flicker like forlorn spirits, and the very air seems charged with malevolence. It is a night when allegiances are renewed in blood, oaths are sworn in whispers, and treacherous secrets fester beneath the surface like an infected wound.
As I step into the heart of the castle, my footsteps echoing on the cold, stone floor, a surge of inner conflict grips me like a vise. Even though I harbor designs of rebellion, I must bow before the kings in a display of fealty. It is a grotesque masquerade, a dance of deceit in the name of survival.
I wear a mask of loyalty while concealing the venom of defiance within.
