The air was rich with the scent of wet soil, pine resin and the faint smokes of small pyres in steel cages. Around Hermione, huge, ancient trees stretched towards the sky, covering it from her view. Nothing but the orange of the flames illuminated the scene before her.
She didn't know what she had expected, Hermione had to admit. Some part of her was sure that the moment the portkey tunnel spit her out, she would have to slaughter several members of the Order. But even though her bloodlust was almost overwhelming, she held back. Those standing before her did not smell like anything she'd want to eat. They were dark creatures, all of them. Those before her also did not cower before her, but bowed their heads and knelt in the dirt.
"Your majesty," came a silent voice which echoed through the trees. It belonged to a oddly corporeal spirit. The only person not bowing or kneeling. His blue shining body was covered with robes that shone in similar light. The ghost had a long beard, artfully braided, and deep, dark eyes that met Hermione's gaze straight on.
When he stood a bit farther than arms reach of her, he bowed slightly and smiled at her. "The gods grace us with your presence, your majesty. It has been in the stars, that you would come to those faithful to..."
"Who are you?" she interrupted. Her own voice bested the faint one of the ghost with ease and echoed through the forest. Some of the weaker among the group around her bowed even deeper, the stronger averted their eyes.
The ghost seemed to skip an entire speech in his head before he finally answered. "I am Epiphanes, student of Platon and archiver of the Varangian Guard. It fell to me to greet you, should you arrive on this night." The ghost then turned around and gestured to the kneeling people around them.
"Those living and those dead you see around you are werewolves from the Hanse packs, spirits and wraiths from the Guard as well as vampires of the Novak Clan hailing from Leipzig. In the housing we have arranged for you, if you choose to accept them, representatives of the Hanse packs, the german Vampire Clans, the alpine hag covens, the sorcerer circles and many more stand ready, eagerly awaiting your command."
"I see," Her voice was weary in the face of such promises. "Take me to this house, then." she ordered the ghost, sure to remain cold and collected in her expression. The nagging voices in her head still screamed for her to dodge the trap and with every promise made, with more and more people kneeling to her, the situation smelled more and more like bait. Only her absolute conviction that she could destroy even the most powerful warlocks if she had to, made her move forward.
The ghost gestured to a pale man, a vampire, to hand him a metal ring. "Another portkey, your majesty."
"Another?"
"To cover your tracks, your majesty."
Hermione nodded, her head barely moving, searching for lies in the endless black of the spirits eyes. With a careful move of her hand she wrapped her fingers around the iron of the ring and let the unpleasant sensation of portkey travel wash over her again.
***Countess***
She was coming! After weeks of preparation, political maneuvering and exhausting meetings with all kinds of leaders, she would finally see her. The Bloodmoon was about to enter her new home.
Ute von Königsberg was running down the long path from the ritual site, to her own, magnificent mansion. It stood proudly at the side of the mighty Dachstein mountains, overlooking Hallstatt and the Hallstatt Lake in the middle of the austrian Alps. Any other day, she would walk slowly on this path, savoring the tastes, smells and the feeling, summoned by countless Celtic rituals and the sheer majesty of the surrounding nature.
But today she sprinted down the path of rubble and dirt. Not a minute before the portkey to the Schwarzwald was activated. Three people hung on it and were flung through the space between space to the remote ritual site within centaur territory. It would be mere minutes before the second portkey would activate, bringing Hermione Granger to the place the Chieftess has dedicated to the Bloodmoon's ascension. The great mansion, built in baroque style, with the territories of her own people, the creatures of the night, around it.
With a wave of magic she smashed the backdoors open. There were maids there, waiting with her robes, but Ute just waved them off. It would take at least ten minutes to put the complicated golden robes, the trinkets and jewelery and the rest of her regal outfit on. Instead she stayed in her ritualistic garments. She kept the interwoven trinkets in her blonde hair. Bark of old birches with elder futhark runes written on them. She kept the leather stripes that covered her breast and the rough leather and fur loincloth that covered her privates. The antlers of deer and the horns of young satyr clad her shoulders like armor. Deciding that she would truly welcome the Countess as the High Priestess of Fenris, she also kept her long staff made of oak with a tip made of quartz.
As she reached the Entrance Hall she was pleased that her maidens, servants and guards were already preparing the Hall. The marble shone polished and cleaned, the golden fittings on the furniture glistered in the light of the lusters that hung from the ceiling. Her guards straightened their black and gold uniforms and gave the emblem of the Hanse Packs on their chests a last polish.
"The stones! Bring them!" she barked at one of the maidens. The young girl abandoned whatever task she was working on and rushed towards a little antechamber from where she brought two small, eerily glowing stones. She tried to hand them to the Chieftess, but Ute just waved them off.
"Stay next to me. Hold them." she commanded. It wouldn't do to become the prey of the Countess, should she already have acquired a taste for the stones contents. All her research pointed her towards the opinion that the Bloodmoon couldn't find this out by herself, but one didn't become Chieftess of the most powerful werewolve packs of Europe by trusting chance. So the maiden would unfortunately have to be sacrificed if things went south.
Her thought were brought back from her musing when the door creaked open. The guards snapped to attention and the maidens and servants bowed deeply. The door opened further and through it stepped the ancient spirit Epiphanes. The one that followed him was first covered in shadow, but the Chieftess' senses were already sending her warnings and made her body tense up to react as quickly as possible. Slowly the figure clad in shadows walked towards the light. It was her.
The Countess was clad in rags and old, dried blood. Her hair was a mess and her face gaunt. She looked like a beggar, filth, really. But nobody would have even dared to speak to her as if she was trash. The guards became nervous and the maidens bowed deeper. One of the servants even scurried away, shaking in fear. The Countess' black claws were only bested in their awe- and fear-inspiring aura by her blood red eyes.
Ute von Königsberg was amazed by what she saw. The aura, the feelings she had when standing before her; they were exactly like the stories of old told. She shook not from fear, but from her own joy. There was a long way to go. She would have to train her, mold her, counsel her for in truth, the Countess was a girl, barely on the verge to become a woman. She would need guidance. But still, she shook in joy for even the unrefined aura of the Countess' unfinished transformation promised the beginning of an era of darkness, greater than after the fall of Rome, greater even than before humans reigned supreme across the globe. Yes, she was sure now. The rule of the children of the moon was close.
The Chieftess kneeled before Hermione Granger.
"I welcome you, Countess Granger. My name is Ute von Königsberg. I am the Chieftess of the Hanse Packs and High Priestess of Fenris. I am your humble servant."
***Countess***
"Where are we, Remus?" Hermione asked when she took in the nightly panorama around her. Mountain ranges wherever she looked and a small, but deep lake was before her. In the distance was a village of sorts, built beneath a mountain and lit with just the smallest amount of lamps. When she turned she saw an enormous mansion in the style of old, baroque architecture.
"We are near the village of Hallstatt, your majesty." Epiphanes spoke as he saw that Remus still struggled with holding Annemarie. "Once territory of the Alauns, nowadays within a nation called Austria. We are at the Königsberg estate. The Chieftess von Königsberg should await us inside."
"Lead me then, spirit." she commanded. It grated on her nerves that the old greek didn't cower before her. It was irrational, so a part of her knew, but nevertheless, she didn't like him.
But she filed her dislike of him away for now. She could smell the people in the mansion. Over two dozen werewolves were present. However, one of them stood out from the mass. She was female and smelled of the forest. She smelled of resin, pines and the damp soil. Her blood had the distinct scent of magic on it. Hermione was sure that this was the Chieftess, the one who could help her become more powerful.
In the meanwhile Epiphanes had opened the door and floated into the hall, his transparent body blurring the insides. As far as she saw, the insides were magnificent, expensive and luxurious. Still something she had a hard time connecting with werewolves. People were waiting inside, bowed or standing with their chests out and knees together.
Hermione concentrated on her cramping fingers and the twitching of her eyes. She was hungry, very much so and the stress caught up to her. It took a lot out of her to reign in her bloodlust, the desire to cut something up for the hell of it. She should have eaten that farmer boy, voices in her head screamed in anger. But she refrained, all in favor of the boon awaiting her.
When she entered, she barely noticed the servants and guards. They did not have the very potent smell of unbound magic on them as the woman dressed in leather and fur had. She had antlers, of all things, covering her shoulders and a powerful staff in her hand. Hermione took a deep breath and tried to analyze what she smelled there. Her first thought brought her back to the centaurs and the merpeople. Their magic smelled like that, with the exception that the woman's aura was wild, ferocious and brutal. Nothing like the serene magic of the centaurs or the playful auras of the merpeople.
The woman before her was the Chieftess, of that Hermione had no doubt. She had also been sure that a powerplay would follow, determining whom of the both would lead. However, none of that was necessary, to Hermiones disappointment. The Chieftess bowed deep and then kneeled.
"I welcome you, Countess Granger. My name is Ute von Königsberg. I am the Chieftess of the Hanse Packs and High Priestess of Fenris. I am your humble servant. I hope you excuse the liberal use of portkeys, but it is only to disguise your tracks from our enemies."
Our enemies? Hermione thought, but then quickly figured that one who would seek to bow before her had to have conflicting ideologies to those of Dumbledore's sort. Hermione wanted to ask the powerful werewolve before her what she expected from her, what use she would have, what resources she could wield, but in the end, her thoughts were too clouded. Her fingers cramped again, her eyes twitched and all that came from her mouth was a deep, guttural growl.
The Chieftess smiled at her, and with that took Hermione by surprise. She tapped the maiden next to her on the shoulder and beckoned her forwards. The young girl was terrified, her steps mechanical and short. She had two stones in her hand, blue and with a white glow in them.
"You hunger, your majesty." The Chieftess moved with a certain grace as she followed the maiden a few steps behind. "But even if we would give you more flesh and more blood, you would hunger."
Another graceful step, another smile and a soft caress over the stones in the maidens hand. Hermione noticed the scent of adrenaline in the Chieftess. She was afraid, but a master at hiding it. Her voice became almost sultry when she spoke again. "You are no normal vampire, your majesty. You are the Bloodmoon, the Countess. We, children of the moon, bow before you. But not because of what you are, not yet," Her face was alight now, her eyes wide in anticipation and they locked onto Hermione's. The Chieftess held her horrific gaze with ease, enjoyed it even to bask in the dark red of her eyeballs. She drew a long breath and then whispered ", but because of what you can become."
She took one of the crystals and held it out to Hermione. "This is what you truly seek. This is what will make you whole, your majesty. Your head, it is filled with confusion, is it not?"
Reluctantly, as she always was when admitting a weakness, Hermione nodded.
"It is the same for werewolves when they do not see the moon, the same for vampires when they do not drink blood, the same for Lich when they cannot feast on magic. Take this, Bloodmoon and feast on it."
"What is it?" Hermione pressed out through her ever more clouding senses. There was no one here who wasn't a dark creature. She knew that there was a village nearby, full of blood filled veins and flesh. She had to withstand just a bit longer, the small spark urged her.
"This, your majesty, is what the Embodiment of Darkness truly feeds on, the very essence of the Light." In any other case, Hermione would have cut her head off for the dramatic pause, but again a small part of her urged her with all it had to wait and listen.
"This is a human soul."
Silence. Silence in her head and silence all around her. The very words didn't register with Hermione all at once. The Chieftess looked at her as if she expected something to happen, but she was just too stunned.
She smelled the adrenalin rising in the werewolve as she moved closer and softly grabbed Hermione's hands. She handled her like a mother would handle her daughter. She caressed her hands back as she placed the crystal in her claws with utmost caution. "This will silence the storm in your head, your majesty. It is the first step... the first step to your ascension." she whispered as she guided Hermione's hands to her mouth.
She wanted to maim the Chieftess, tear her to parts, but in her mind, she was stopped. She was stopped by the simple question 'What if?'. Yes, what if she spoke the truth? There was no salvation for her anymore, no limits to how deep she could fall. "How?" she asked.
The Chieftess moved even closer, guided her hands so that the crystal was a nose-length away from her mouth. And there! She could feel it, the soul moving in the meticulously grinded jewel. It glowed in despair, wanted out of its unnatural containment. It felt that it was close to its demise and Hermione acted on instinct. She took a breath, not deep or powerful, but focused on one thing only. Her attention was undivided on the soul that struggled to keep away from her.
Around Hermione the air became arctic cold, the Chieftess' breath clashed against her face as a white mist and the maiden began to shiver. Hermiones breath became rattling, raspy and didn't draw air anymore. All it did was rip the soul from it container. Tendrils, thin and white shining, broke loose and the moment they touched her lips, she knew that the soul was hers. Once more she sucked in air, harder, determined this time. She could smell it, the fear of it. She could taste the despair she was causing in this little ball of light. Once more, now with brutal force she sucked in, her breath was as if chains rattled against each other, the room filled with fog as the humid air froze.
Then the small ball of light was out of the crystal. It seemed to scream in terror as the last remnant of its existence was caught in the maelstrom that was Hermione's hunger. Its tendrils, fragile as they were, tried to hold onto anything, the Chieftess, Hermione's hands, even her lips and nose, but one last intake of breath forced it through. Lips sealed shut and the soul was pushed down into Hermione without the chance of survival.
I begun in her stomach, the feeling she knew well by now. The feeling of satisfied hunger. But this was more – profound. The crystal fell onto the floor as Hermione felt her stomach. She felt the soul struggling, fighting and howling as it lost the fight. It was devoured, fell apart and dissolved. A last dying screech vibrated through her body and then, like honey pouring over her, a feeling of bliss enclosed her.
From her stomach it moved to her chest where it lifted a weight she didn't know she carried. It moved to her arms and the cramps in her muscles and tendrils vanished. Hermione whimpered as this wave of regeneration set her spine back, relaxed her lower body, massaged her legs. Her eyes widened as she was overwhelmed by the sheer satisfaction that it brought and she fell to her knees, looking with a thousand mile stare as the warm feeling slowly made its way through her neck. Her bones cracked as week old tension left her body. She couldn't keep back her pleased moan that escaped her when her eyes stopped to twitch and the disgusting, acidic taste on her tongue was exchanged with a sweetness she hadn't known before.
Even slower but steady, the feeling also washed over her brain, and her mind. There was nothing, at first. Her mind cleared and all thought became blackness. For the first time in so long there was peace in her mind. Her eyes fell shut, her face relaxed from the constant scowl she wore. All felt good, all was well.
But then she was torn from the comfortable solitude of her mind by caring hands on her cheeks. Hermione opened her eyes to see the Chieftess kneeling before her with tears in her eyes and a broad, honest smile on her face. It brought Hermione back to where she was. Back to the mansion on the side of a mountain in Austria. Back in the middle of werewolves who call her a Queen.
And the worst thing it brought was a state of mind she hadn't known for the longest time. The fog cleared, the voices were silent and all what was left was merciless, unmasked and undeniable clarity. Everything she had done, everything she had become, every bloody and blood-freezing deed of hers from the last weeks came back to her and smashed into her brain with brutal force.
She knew that it was her nature, that the hunt would be what kept her alive. But the screams of her prey as they ran away from her sounded loud and clear in her head, as chorus to the dying screech of the soul she had just devoured. It would be a sound that burnt into her memory.
"Its okay, all is well." the Chieftess breathed. Her hands were soft on Hermiones skin as one moved to the back of her head while the other swept away a tear Hermione hadn't even felt leaving her eye.
"All...all those people..."she croaked out, but was silenced by the coos of the Chieftess.
"You mustn't feel guilty. All is good. We are here, we will protect you." She pressed Hermione against her chest, stroked her hair and enveloped her in a tight, motherly hug. "This is swear to you, my Queen."
Hermione didn't know what to do, but to hold onto the woman that held her so lovingly. Her mind was a whirlwind, unable to process the last weeks, struggling to keep itself in the present. All she knew for certain was that the soft voice and warm body felt nice and the arms around her felt reassuring. There would come no harm to her in these arms and she would not have to face the world as long as she was hugged by them.
She also knew, now, how much she had struggled with her mind. To find that it was purely the hunger for souls that had brought her to the brink of insanity made those tears roll down her cheeks freely.
She didn't struggle when the Chieftess lifted her up from the ground and carried her like a child up a flight of stairs. She held her tight, so that Hermione could only smell the resin in the blond hair and the scent of wet forest soil on her necks skin. She closed her eyes and focused on the few impressions that reached her nose, the sounds of the Chieftess' strong and sure steps on the wooden floor and most of all of the way her hands held her tightly.
Her body sagged, and her eyelids were so heavy, even if she wanted to she couldn't open them. She was more tired then she ever was. Weeks of hardship, loneliness and horror clashed over her. She barely realized that they were entering a room, that she was enveloped in blankets and that her head was carefully placed onto a pillow.
"Sleep now, my Queen. Tomorrow, the world will be a better place. Nothing can hurt you here." the soft voice of the Chieftess only made Hermione fall asleep faster. She just felt hands stroking her hair one last time before she completely drifted into her dreams.
***Countess***
"That went... amazingly well." Ute von Königsberg whispered as she slumped down next to the Master bedroom. The fine, oaken doors, charmed to suppress sound, made sure that the Countess wouldn't hear the laugh of the Chieftess as the tension in her left the body. She had expected that at least the maiden would be clawed to pieces by those terrifying, black claws of her Queen. In the end, she was now soundly sleeping in woolen sheets.
She wanted to whoop and jump around. She nearly did so, had she not feared for a guard or maiden to come around the corner. It wouldn't do for them to see her loose her countenance. But she couldn't quite hold back the face-splitting grin on her face. She had her, the Countess, and without loosing even...
"Chieftess, please, come quick." one of the maiden called through the corridor.
"What is it, Lisa?" The look of the maiden worried her, so she quickened her step.
"Its C-Counselor Lanzmann, shes in... in the east-wing. The healers... t- they..."
"Calm yourself, girl. Whats wrong with Annemarie?"
"Herr Lupin dragged her through the door while, well... while the Countess..."
"I know it was scary, but focus!"
"She doesn't respond. She slurs her words and the healers said that her bones – all of them, were broken and just halfheartedly healed. They fear that..." But the maiden couldn't finish her sentence before the Chieftess was in a full sprint towards the east-wing.
Not even a minute later she crashed through the doors and stopped as if stunned as she saw the healers wave their wand over the pale, naked body of her comrade in arms and close friend. Annemarie was a strong werewolve, an alpha that won that standing purely through fights and duels. There was little doubt as to what, or better who happened to her.
"I couldn't do anything." The silent voice of Lupin barely broke through the chants and commands of the healers. His eyes were red and he was silently crying. "It wasn't even... she had no wand. She just waved her hands and broke every bone in the Counselor's body."
Ute didn't respond, since there was no need. She knew well enough that men in his state tend to spill the beans in their own time.
"I apparated to Glasgow... we just wanted to meet up, but there she was. She killed at least seven people by just... just willing it. And silver..." he broke off. However, the Chieftess' attention had risen.
"What about silver. Remus, what happened?"
"She grabbed this necklace and it didn't burn her. It had a cross as a trinket. It did nothing. How?" he whispered. His hands held onto his robes tightly, his gaze never left the face of Annemarie.
"That is... remarkable. How long did she hold it?"
"For a few minutes, I don't know..."
"And you said there was a cross on it?"
"Yes, wooden, I believe,"
"Hmm..." She didn't really know what to do with that. The Impaler had been famous for his dislike of silver, because it would burn his hand and its mere presence made him uneasy. The books about him all had sections on this, without exception. "What does it mean that our Queen can touch the metal of purity without maiming herself?" she asked into the room. "Can it be...? But... no..."
Ute shook her head to get those trains of thought out of her. She had achieved a lot today and, frankly, was too tired to think of the mechanics and inner workings of higher magic right now, not to mention of the magic surrounding the figure of the Countess. Instead she sat down next to Annemarie on an armchair and looked at the wild and proud woman. She took in the bruises and wounds and listened to the distinctive sounds of cracking bone that some of the spells caused as they rearranged the werewolves skeleton.
"Master Kalenski, will she survive?" she asked her personal healer, with little doubt about the answer. Someone like Annemarie didn't just die.
"We are not sure. The next few hours will be critical. We are healing her bones right now, but her organs have taken a hit, as well as her brain. In any case, she won't be leading any squadrons for at least a few months, if ever again." the healer said without looking up from his patient.
"If its just physical, how could she not fully recover, if she survives?"
"There is residual magic in every bone broken, every bit of torn tissue and every puncture in her organs. Not just any magic – very lethal energies that keep her from healing."
The Chieftess just nodded, more to what the healer didn't say. Master Kalenski was known for his stance against aggression of any kind, an ideology underlined by his refusal to work for her in times of war. Nevertheless, he was a wise man, a good healer and intelligent enough to not ask the question he asked anyway with his tone. 'Was it worth it, your Majesty?'
Ute nodded to herself. Annemarie would recover, she was sure of it. And if not, it would have been a small sacrifice to ensure the safety and eventual ascension of the Countess. In the end, what was one werewolf when the very balance of the world could finally, after millennia of living hunted and in fear, be broken. Annemarie would gladly die a hundred times over, just to give them all a chance to tip the scale and challenge those who wronged them.
She smiled and in her eyes was triumph as she looked at her broken comrade. There would be war – war so great that it would shatter the very foundation of magic itself. It was time for the children of the moon to rise again and the first step had been taken by the bravest of her warriors.
Yes, if Annemarie was to die, it would be a good death.
Hi, everybody, its me, UndeadBBQ. Your favourite lazyass.
Well, not so lazy, really. Preoccupied would be a better word. Turns out, producing a videogame is fucking hard work with long hours. Who knew?
Anyway, here it is, the first chapter since Juli. I also solemnly swear that I shall try and write faster. I also apologize for the quality of this chapter. I hope I got the essence right, at least, so that we can move in the right direction from here without much confusion on your side. I also confess that dementors are my favourite fantasy creature since dragons and that may have played a role in my decisionmaking. May have...