Damien Nevermore, The Vampire King
Rage, a searing inferno, erupted within me. Hatred, a cold and poisonous serpent, coiled around my heart.
The vision seared into my mind through Alaric's eyes. It was a grotesquerie that defied comprehension. These were not merely deaths – they were the desecration of lives, an insult flung at the very core of our existence.
The Elders. Venerable beings, pillars of our society, lay sprawled across the cobblestones, their faces frozen in silent screams. Blood, thick and viscous, stained the very stones red, a macabre tapestry woven by a madman. The stench of death, metallic and acrid, hung heavy in the virtual air, assaulting me even through this telepathic connection.
My fangs extended against my will. This wasn't just an attack on the Elders;
