The Royal Imperial Castle rose proudly above the city in the vampire's realm. It was tall and built from pale stone, with graceful towers spiraling into the sky. Long windows lined the walls, catching what little light the realm offered.
Even though the vampire realm was always a bit gloomy, the castle looked grand, welcoming, and full of timeless beauty.
Inside, the imperial throne hall echoed with the same mix of elegance..
Seated on a high black throne made of obsidian and bone was Malum, the Devil's son, the King of Vampires, ruler of the underworld. His beauty was unreal, the kind whispered about in legends. Dark raven hair brushed his shoulders, and his eyes, though black, glowed red whenever they wished to.
Malum wore a fitted black tunic made from shadow-silk, the fabric smooth as night. A long crimson cape flowed from his shoulders, its edges shimmering faintly like living fire. His boots were tall, polished, and deadly sharp. He sat on the throne with effortless danger, silent, staring straight ahead.
Fear filled the throne hall.
Every minister kept their head bowed, barely breathing as they waited for the devil son to speak.
The vast hall itself was silent except for the soft drag of chains across the marble floor.
A man knelt before the throne, bruised, bloodied, trembling. His torn robe showed he was a palace minister, but the scent of betrayal clung to him like decay. Many of the other ministers sneered at him; if not for him, they wouldn't be standing in the devil son's den today.
The long crimson carpet beneath the kneeling man was soaked with his blood. Vampire guards lined the hall on both sides, still as statues, their armor glinting under the dim red torches.
Above them all sat Malum, the silent storm.
His gaze was cold, crimson eyes glowing faintly like dying embers. A clawed finger tapped lazily on the throne's armrest, soft, but threatening. Even the silence felt afraid.
The kneeling man swallowed and finally spoke, voice cracking.
"Your Majesty… I... I didn't mean to..."
Malum raised a hand.
The man went silent instantly.
"You didn't mean to?" Malum's voice was soft...too soft and dangerous.
"You stole from the royal vault. You forged the seal of the King to smuggle sacred treasures beyond our borders. That is treason."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing.
"Tell me, Minister Arden… how much is a devil's relic worth on the black market?"
Minister Arden shuddered. "It… it wasn't me… I swear… I only…"
A dark smile curved Malum's lips...the kind that froze blood.
"Enough. Are you guilty or not?"
Arden's eyes darted to the line of ministers. He focused on one hidden behind another... just enough of the face visible to send terror through him.
"I… I'm guilty, my lord…" he whispered, trembling.
Malum stood slowly, gripping the armrest as he rose. His cape flowed behind him like a shadow brought to life. He walked toward Arden with a calm, terrifying grace.
"Do you know what I hate the most?" Malum asked.
Arden lifted his head shakily.
"Traitors," Malum said.
"I… can… explain..."
Arden didn't finish.
In a flash.
Malum drew the sword from beneath his cape and sliced through Arden's neck. The head fell and rolled to the feet of a minister, who gasped loudly at the sight.
Malum's sword swung again, swift, clean, passing so close to the shocked minister's neck that it nearly grazed him.
The man collapsed to his knees, choking on fear.
The king had almost beheaded him simply for gasping too loudly.
He bowed deeply, trembling, begging for forgiveness.