So, this is something that has been on my mind for a while and I am a bit awkward about posting this but? This is one of those where I really would appreciate any kind of feedback/response, though of course, no pressure here! I just hope y'all enjoy what I am fabricating here :)

„Master. Your tea." Frankenstein was as soft-spoken as always. The master has been thoughtful, maybe even worried. Too much happened at once. The sudden appearance of his old friend, the lord of werewolves, had thrown him off so much that the traitor clan leader had escaped with his fiendish daughter. At that time, they had not managed to chase them.

Did Master intend to finish what he started? Would he find whatever dark little hole they were hiding in and put an end to it? A part of him felt that this is what needed to be done – before Roctis and Ignes Kravei could do even more harm than they already did. On the other hand... Master had lost so much energy, so much of his lifeforce, it should not be wasted on vermin like them.

Raizel's gaze was distant. What was on his mind? Even after so much time, Frankenstein sometimes had trouble telling for sure – though he could feel that he was deeply unsettled by something, he could not pinpoint it to one particular cause. Maybe Master could not either. After everything that happened.

„Do you want me to find them?", Frankenstein offered all of a sudden. That bitch and her treacherous father had no chance against him. For master, he would extinguish their flames forever if it meant he would find any peace of mind in their deaths.

„No."
One simple answer that told him everything. Though evil, malicious, ignorant tongues would claim otherwise, his master found no joy in killing. Violence and death brought him no satisfaction, bloody vengeance gave him no peace. He had seen it in his eyes when he forced Zarga Siriana and Urokai Agvain into eternal sleep.

A mistake, though he would not say so. Anyone they let get away now would come back later to cause more trouble. Still, he would follow Raizel's wishes in best hopes. I trust you.

„I will make you ramen."
Gently, Raizel raised his hand, one simple gesture that held only one command. Wait.
„I want you to stay here. Just here."

The halls were empty apart from two men who walked side by side, both dressed in white and gold. One of them was tall, towering over the other man. Nobles. These halls were not as large and imposing as the previous building he had occupied, an entire island for himself, his daughter and the few research assistants she had. Now, the place was both smaller and busier. A change he did not welcome in any way.

„I am glad to see that you are settling in well, 4th Elder."
„Thank you for your concern, administrator."
„The past few months have been turbulent. More than half the union has been wiped out," the shorter man continued, unfazed by the quiet demeanor of the elder next to him. Half a tragedy – the entire island has been destroyed, though the 4th Elder and his briliant daughter had managed to escape. The 9th Elder, a capable scientist, was an inevitable casualty. The Noblesse... back... Everyone could tell that this meant no good. „... especially many of your peers."
Roctis glanced at the man walking next to him. Though he had other things on his mind now, he knew that he could not let his guards down just yet. The Union and his position in it was more uncertain and unstable than ever before.
Before he became the head of the Union's finance department, he had been a no one. What was to a brother-in-law of a weak clan leader? Edian held little respect and renown among the nobles, her kin even less. Roctis was not even sure whether this was not the longest conversation he ever held with this man. However... though he knew that Jochanan Drosia was not to be trusted... he knew that through the finances of the Union, he must have an insight that might come in handy.
„You do not say this to express your condolences, do you?"
„No. You are running out of allies, Roctis Kravei. Three humans. Two werewolves. One noble. These are the remaining elders in the Union..."
„I know what you mean to ask me, Jochanan Drosia, And in return?"
„Knowledge is power. Something most of the elders fail to grasp. It happens to be something I have in abundance."
„... I see. I will consider our conversation the next time matters of hierarchy will be discussed."

Though Roctis did not like this man, he knew that he spoke the truth: he was running out of allies.

„And this is why we must stop the oppression of women by the patriarchy. It's deeply rooted into our culture, into our language! Liz? Hey, Liz, are you still listening to me?"

A party like any other, about twenty college students discussing climate change, politics, feminism and other important issues – one second, the noble woman sat on a couch that smelled like it had seen its fair share of spilled beer in the past, the next, she found herself in the void. Something called out to her, here, in this void. Faced with glowing silhouettes of people, shades of the proud clan leaders they once were, she could see one single face she was familiar with. A deep sadness in crimson eyes. A sadness that she had not seen in a long time, a sadness she had not even really noticed before.

„Auntie? I mean... Clan leader Edian? Is that you?" She looked so similar to the woman she knew and yet, at the same time, so strange, so foreign. Distorted by this place between light and shadows.
With a good, natural measure of disbelief, she took a step backwards. None of this was natural – no part of the human world, but the world of nobles. The world of spirits and ghosts, of souls. „Janna Lucretia Drosia, closest of my blood." More than a dozen voices spoke to her at once, casting her soul into a deep discomfort she could not describe. The shade that resembled her aunt so much extended her hand towards her, a glowing rapier manifested itself.„Though my body fails me, my soul will live on within the clan weapon."
Janna's hand trembled as she reached out for the weapon – and before her fingers touched the glowing blade, she pulled away, shaking her head forcefully. The vision ended abruptly. Her glass of beer had dropped from her hand, the contents spilled on the floor, the glass rolling away and under a nearby couch.

„Liz? Liz? Are you okay?"
„I am not Liz," she mumbled. Was this an illusion? Was this a twisted daydream? No. Deep down inside, she could feel it – and it frightened her. Absent-mindedly, the pureblooded noble rose from the beer-stained couch. „I must go."
More than a dozen eyes rested on her as she left the apartment. She must find her father. Could Edian be dead? What in this world could... and would... kill a clan leader? Lukedonia? She could not imagine them hunting down traitors. More importantly, she could not quite grasp the consequences of this. If her aunt really was dead... if this was the calling of the soul weapon... Had she just refused it? Had she rejected it? Had she imagined it, maybe? Despite the infinitesimal likelihood of it, she refused to discard the possibility that this strange vision might mean nothing after all.
Hopefully Jochanan Drosia would have answers for her.

Her new room felt empty and naked without a countless numbers of doodles, drawings and notes taped to the walls. Loveless, plain white walls that made her feel as though she was drowning in white noise. However, no matter how much time Ignes spent in front of her sketchblock, her mind was as blank as the page before her. It always came down to blood and tears, to the awful fear that seized her even now. What would keep him from tracking them down? What would keep him from coming for them again? Would they be able to overwhelm him, together?
Too many thoughts rushed through her mind. No formula, no idea, no image in her mind. Nothing she could pin against that wall that needed a hundred of pictures to stop looking so infuriatingly empty. In her old room, her walls have been covered in sketches of different people, sketches of plants and objects, notes about experiments she still wanted to do. No space has gone unused. Father always called her room an unholy mess, but showed no intent of doing anything about it.

They'd almost died that day. She has been too weak, did not even get to fight. Her world had gone darkness and blood within seconds. A disgrace. A weak disgrace. Next time, she would need to be stronger. She must be prepared.

The next time the Noblesse dared coming for them, he would face both father and daughter and find himself put to eternal sleep. She would not let him take her father from her.

She must become even stronger than she was.