Rubicon
Voldemort woke up that morning with the sound of his stomach rumbling.
The man got up from his spot on the ground and scowled.
The concept of hunger was something that had been erased from his body many years ago, but it seemed that crossing the archway in the Department of Mysteries had reawakened his bodily functions.
Tom Marvolo Riddle had done may terrible things in the time he had been able to have rational thoughts. Killing men and women, torturing animals, cursed all that opposed him… But no act had been more heinous that the moment he had decided to split his soul with the intention of becoming immortal.
Mutilating that part of his being had been done by the use of the darkest of magic. Once Voldemort split his soul, he had then proceeded to put those fragments inside objects and relics of great value. The result of that butchering had been the loss of all the biological activities necessary for humans to live.
After dividing his soul, his body had suffered terrible alterations, making his skin pale and covered in scales on some spots, giving his head a shape similar to a snake, losing all hair on his body. What now stood was something that only looked vaguely humanoid.
Riddle had not regretted his decision. The weakness of a mortal life had been eradicated, and now he was a god among men. So long as his phylacteries weren't destroyed, Voldemort would never die.
The return of his appetite and need for sleep indicated that whatever had happened had severed his connection to the magical objects of dark magic called horcruxes.
For that reason, the dark wizard had tried to remain inconspicuous in the Realm of Ghur.
Now, Voldemort wondered how he was going to return to Earth. Looking at the entrance of the cave, he pondered what he had seen the other day. A shiver ran down his spine, reminding him of how weak he now was. How easy would be to die.
The man had died once before and the vague memories of what waited for him at the other side filled his mind with a fear that no-one else had experienced. Oblivion awaited once he died. No one would mourn him.
Shaking himself off his reverie, Voldemort marched outside his hiding place and walked to the place where a village once stood.
Arriving there, the man frowned.
What awaited was a deep crevasse and an indentation like an earthquake had made the ground swallow the village whole. The earth had changed shape, twisting, and collapsing under the weight of a titanic force that couldn't possibly be natural.
Voldemort remembered what had caused the destruction of the settlement. The sound of thunderous hooves, the shaking of the ground, trees being trampled and groaning in pain under the strain of a creature splitting them in half.
Tom Marvolo Riddle had thought his eyes had deceived him when he saw the origin of the sudden phenomena. He had seen on Earth many magical creatures that could make one question his sanity, but what appeared on Ghur that day was like nothing he had ever seen.
A monster of enormous size had come out of the forest with an ear-shattering roar. The battle in the village had stopped immediately upon its appearance.
The creature had not wasted its time and begun swinging his weapon left and right, each of its steps making the ground quake. The green humanoids had joined it in the massacre, roaring its name in happiness.
It had been a slaughter. Not one of the people and goat creatures that lived there had been spared. Once finished with their deed, the strange group of monsters had watched as the place where the small town once stood sunk beneath the ground by the power of their leader.
He had waited until they were gone and come out of his hiding spot. Voldemort cursed his luck. Now that the village had been lost, he couldn't use their resources to possibly find a way to increase his chances of finding a way to survive in this world and return to Earth.
Grabbing some of the fruits that hung from the trees, he entered the cave and began thinking what he was going to do next.
Voldemort determined that he needed to explore the place and try to find other settlements so as to obtain tools and people that could understand his language. Then, he would think what to do next.
After eating, he looked at the corpse he had been dissecting in his spare time. He had found the creature fascinating and the tools it had could serve him to hunt some of the animals he could find in there. The loss of his ability to do magic was something that frustrated the most, but until he could determine the reason Voldemort would have to fight like a normal person.
A look of disgust appeared on his face. Muggles. How he despised them. Despite having a muggle father, he had no sympathy for them. They reminded the man of a time when he had been weak. The misery of being abandoned in an orphanage and making him endure the ridicule of the children and the violence of the adults.
Snapping out of it, Voldemort grabbed the small blade that the strange rat had and some of its other tools. He then put the pieces of armour that the creature had worn and his own wand. Looking around to make sure he didn't forgot anything; the wizard exited the cave.
The rays of the sun casted its light around the forest, making easy to see where he took each step. He walked out of the forest and travelled for an hour without course. Wondering where to go, the man looked around.
His red eyes stopped when they caught sight of something interesting. Far away in the distance, in the direction of the plain where the village had been, stood a mountain whose peak was covered in snow, storm clouds and strange formations that looked like the signs of settlement.
He calculated the distance and determined that he would reach the mountain in a week. It would be a long journey, but he couldn't see another place better than that to go.
Steeling himself, Voldemort began walking towards his new destiny.
XXX
While Voldemort marched towards the mountain to investigate in search of other people, Nymphadora cursed her own luck.
The woman was currently sitting inside a cart with her hands restrained by shackles. Beside her, Moody and Kingsley stood without saying a word.
They had become prisoners of a strange group of people she had never seen before. Due to their height, she had initially thought they were goblins, but they lacked the long fingers, pointed ears and noses characteristic of that race.
The three had being captured yesterday while they tried to look for their missing companions in a land covered in metallic substances and ores they had never seen on Earth. Wagons carrying people had appeared out of nowhere and began barking what appeared to be orders to them.
Those that had arrested them consisted of a group of men of stout bodies that were covered in armour and carried firearms of strange shape. Some of their carts had installed metallic balloons that expulsed steam every once in a while. Their aesthetic could be considered steampunk due to the various tools they had available, their transportations that looked like cars from the Victorian era and many other object and weapons they carried.
Moody's magical eye had been taken away by one of the duardin that had taken them hostage. Now, the man's scarred eye socket was exposed to the air. One of the men was currently inspecting the device and tinkering with it, showing Moody's prothesis to his friends and laughing at what he considered something primitive. She wondered what he found funny about it, but abstained from asking.
Kingsley had tried to communicate with them a couple of times, but the three had found these people didn't speak their language or any that existed on their world.
"Kingsley! What do we do? We need to find Harry and the rest. Who knows where the bloody hell they are?" Tonks whispered to her companion.
The man looked at the people that had captured them and sighed.
"I know" He reassured her "But we can't do anything now. Without the capacity to use our magic there's no way to escape… Besides, if they meant us harm they would have done something long ago".
Nymphadora nodded. The man was right. The moment they had been captured, the only thing that had happened was them being restrained at gunpoint and Moody's eye had been taken without using force.
She looked outside the cart and frowned. Around her, spires of twisted trees made of metal were the only constant in a tedious journey to somewhere she didn't think it would bring them closer to her friends.
The world they were now would be the envy of the richest people on Earth, but it didn't escape her notice that they had not encountered a single place from where they could obtain clean water to drink and foot to eat. Even their guards ate and drank the assortment of supplies they carried with them.
The landscape changed a couple of times during the journey. Rivers of molten gold, dunes of ferrous substances, valleys of polished metal… It was a beautiful and strange land, and Tonks wondered what it was its name or how it was called by the locals.
BRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMM!
The sound of a snapped her out of her thoughts and the sudden jerk from the cart stopping made her almost tumble into the ground. She looked at the source of the sound and found that one of the members of the caravan had used a horn installed in one of their many wagons.
Some of them cheered and laughed, seemingly happy to have arrived at their destination. She followed their gaze and whistled impressed at the sight before her.
The caravan had arrived in front of an impressive fortress surrounded by various spikes of metal that twisted and coiled around it like vines from a creeper full of thorns. It had walls made of stone and towers where guards were posted to surveys the perimeter.
"Alt'aiv!" One of the men shouted with his voice modulated with a metallic echo produced due to the mask he was wearing.
CLANK! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUM!
The sound of the gates opening signified their permission to enter the fortress. Kingsley watched fascinated as the inside of that place made itself visible.
The cart where they had been taken prisoners began moving once more.
The sound of people talking reached Moody's ears and he arched an eyebrow. The interior of the fortress was enormous. It seemed they had been brought inside of a city. The bustle of people walking around and working filled the air.
Various buildings, forges to be precise, filled with men and women working inside and forges displayed tools being created. The heat of furnaces made Nymphadora sweat profusely, and she watched as some of the people stopped what they were doing when they saw the prisoners being carried into the city.
In the sky, some kind of flying vessels floated lazily and carried goods into the city. Some of them stopped in front of a tower similar to a lighthouse.
Whispers filled the air and looks of mistrust stabbed daggers into their backs. It seemed they weren't welcomed here.
"Damn… Why do they look at us like we have killed their cat?" She asked to her companions.
"It's difficult to trust strangers here, it seems…" Moody shrugged. The man analysed his surroundings and shared his observations with Tonks and Kingsley "If you look around you you'll see no one here is making anything but weapons. Looks like we found ourselves in some very nasty place… Don't worry lass, we will escape the moment they lower their guard" The man nodded to himself as if satisfied with his answer.
Kingsley took notice of his friend's commentary. Moody was right, anywhere they looked, the forges only seemed to be making things like swords, muggle-like firearms, axes, and any other weapon he could think off.
This was not only a city; it was a factory and weapon supplier.
In the end, the wagon where they were confined stopped in front of a building that differentiated itself from the rest due to the gaudiness of it. Slabs of stone that were cut perfectly made its structure and plaques of steel decorated its walls with pictures of a bearded man of short stature that used a hammer against objects put atop an anvil.
But not only that, various other men and women were depicted in the engravings decorating the building, showing what seemed to be the origins of the city and maybe some of their myths. A couple of guards stood in front of the gates with armours decorated with golden engravings and wielding a couple of spears and a rifle that was currently strapped on their backs.
Without warning, the sound of gears turning, and the snapping of bolts filled the air. Nymphadora watched as the door began opening slowly with nervous anticipation.
She didn't have time to wonder what could possibly wait for them inside before the cart began moving once more.
The woman hoped they would be able to come back in one piece.
XXX
In the realm of Aqshy, an army that could count itself in the millions was preparing for war.
Men and women worked tirelessly, forging new weapons, feeding their steads, bringing provisions from outside their camp. They wore armour of a red colour so intense that it looked like spilled blood.
They had been promised a battle full of bloodshed and death. A slaughter that would please their God with carnage that would be told for eons to come.
Leaders of various warbands had been reunited under the same banner, in the hopes of offering skulls and blood to the god known as Khorne.
Inside an enormous tent situated in the centre of the campsite, they discussed their plans. Made from the skin of animals and humans, filled with tables, souvenirs and weapons… The place was a telling sign of their thirst for battle. At the centre of the circle of people discussing sat a table the size of two horses with a map put atop of it.
One of the leaders looked at the object of the discussion with a pensative gaze.
Kour'gath the Bloody had fought for several years in the Realm of Aqshy, slaughtering duardin, aelves and seraphon alike. The man wore an impressive armour tinted with the blood of great beasts. He wielded a sword that had been engraved with runes and oaths to Khorne. He was currently drinking from a metal cup while listening to the ramblings of his fellow brothers-in-arms.
"We should attack them here!" One of them, a woman with her hair pulled into a topknot by the bones of small birds, said while pointing at one part of the map "I don't know why we are discussing this?! Khorne will not tolerate cowards! A frontal assault is the only option!".
Some of her compatriots rolled their eyes at her suggestion.
Selene Kar'tan the Orruk-Slaughterer was a leader of a greatly successful warband that had fought on Ghur for a couple of decades, taking skulls from orruk chieftains with her mighty battle-axe. She wore an armour decorated with chains and spikes where she had stabbed a couple of baby's skulls. Her deeds spoke louder than words, and so her input had been always valuable to the alliance. But that wasn't a normal campaign.
The place they were going to conquer was the famous city of Hammerhal. Its economy made from the various goods and Realmgate made possible the trade between cities in two different Realms. As a bastion of the Alliance of Order, it was one of Chaos priorities for conquest.
But it would not be easy. The warriors of Sigmar had a post in that place. The ensuing battle would be difficult and long if they made any mistakes in their initial assault. What the warbands needed was a surprise attack while the city's defences were low so they could pick up momentum before the soldiers and guards in Hammerhal had the time to regroup and fight back.
Selene's idea was foolish. Executing it against such a well defended place would be disastrous.
"Don't be stupid! Do you want us to fail?! Go back to Ghur to claim worthless skulls for Khorne if you don't have anything better to offer!" Another of the chiefs retorted.
The person that had answered was Kour'gath's brother, Traj'koss the Butcherer. He was a bearded man that wielded a spear and a maze while wearing the same kind of armour as his sibling. His eyes looked at Selene with reproach and sneering at the woman's suggestion.
"Shut up! I didn't came all the way out here to be labelled a coward! We are Khorne's mighty warriors! We will fight and butcher anyone that dares stand in our way! If you don't want to die, go, and flee like a Slaaneshi whore, you teething baby!".
Traj'koss answer was not one the woman liked, and she began arguing with him with a tirade of insults. Their discussion continued escalating and becoming more fervent, with the both of them trying to win the argument with their reasoning, while the tensions in the conversation increased exponentially. The chiefs began yelling at each other and demanding for their plans and ideas of how to conquer Hammerhal to be put in motion, prioritizing their wishes above all others.
Kour'gath got up from his chair, tired of their plan going nowhere.
BAAAM!
"Enough!" He exclaimed, banging his fist on the table. At once, the rest of the assembly stopped talking and looked at the warrior with frowned faces.
Approaching the table, he looked at Selene.
"Selene's idea is foolish as some of you pointed out…" The man began. Before the woman could protest, he continued talking" But it has some merit…".
She arched an eyebrow, and his brother scratched his beard wondering where he was going with his words.
Pointing at the location of the city's entrance, Kour'gath continued talking.
"I propose we divide our forces into two groups. One will serve as a distraction by attacking the gates. The other will use it to launch an offensive to another part of the walls. Once the cowardly golden warriors exit their fortress, we will use the opportunity to spring our trap. And finally claim Hammerhal for Khorne. What say you?".
Once finished with his plan, the man looked at the rest of the assembly. They began murmuring with each other, looking for an alternative to the idea. Not finding a solution that could satisfy them, the chieftains nodded.
"Then we march in the morrow" He said with finality.
"Very well…I will attack the entrance. I will give you your distraction" Selene said with reluctance. The woman didn't like the use of cowardly tactics and underhanded means to fight in war. She considered those the ways of Tzeentch.
"Good. Then I will go with you" Another of the chiefs proposed to the group. It was a warrior with his face filled with tattoos, red hair and his nose pierced with needles of bone. Resting on his back was a bow and quiver filled with arrows.
The woman grinned with a mouth full of pointed teeth she had sharpened herself.
Satisfied with their plan, the men and women in the tent exited the place and went back to their warbands to share their plans with the warriors.
Kour'gath scratched the back of his neck and went to his private tent, accompanied by his brother. On the way, the two watched as the warriors saluted them in a sign of respect and continued to prepare for the campaign. Feeding their steeds, sharpening the weapons, training with each other, eating and drinking…
He looked at the sky for a moment, thinking of the plans that were being put in motion. On the horizon, storm clouds covered the heavens, foreboding the terrible battle to come.
XXX
In Shyish, the lord of that realm pondered his next course of action. He had been informed by one of his subjects that thanks to the information that their spies had collected about the person that had been rescued by the Stormcast Eternals, she had been sighted in the Realm of Aqshy.
Neferata's subjects had been the ones that had obtained the location. Hammerhal, the city founded around a Realmgate that connected Aqshy with Ghyran.
Nagash pondered the reasons why Sigmar would have sent his warriors to rescue the person that had appeared out of nowhere in His Realm.
Raising a hand, the god of death conjured flames of amethyst colour and watched the magical fire dance between his fingers. With it, He conjured a spell that the God launched at one of the walls of the structure. The runes engraved in it glowed with power and the energies travelled from the pyramid to Shyish itself, soaking the ground with the power of death.
Nagash felt His Will make the magic He had conjured rise an army of corpses from beneath the earth. Skeletons armed with weapons clattered and shook. They began to walk forward, animated by the God's magic and He felt them march towards one of the Realmgates on Shyish.
His power over magic had been always one many were envious of. Prayed by the people of the Mortal Realms, Nagash had become their answer to the passing of their loved ones and offerings had been made in His Name.
He remembered the days of old, when He aided Sigmar and his pantheon in the fight to reclaim the Realms. The moment the two parted ways when Chaos tried to conquer the worlds. His plans since then.
Now, in the pyramid of Nagashizzar, the God of the Dead felt bitterness for Azyr's warriors and their disrespect to Him.
"Sigmar thinks We would be content with letting His foolish warriors enter Shyish without being punished. He thinks We are weak!" His anger increased and the chattering of bones from His servants indicated their fear for their Master.
Getting up from His throne, the God floated forward with his sceptre in hand. He exited the pyramid and stood at the top. The flaming gaze of Nagash looked to the horizon, surveying all Shyish.
He wondered what kind of person was foolish enough to arrive in Shyish without His permission. With his Mortarchs now searching for the objects that had manifested along with Harriet, whose name he didn't knew, Nagash felt his curiosity piked.
Whoever was that had been transported to Shyish could maybe tell him what kind of objects those were that felt so familiar to the Realm.
The connection Nagash had with the realm also allowed him to feel the new arrivals. Those two people that felt like they had a kindship with the inhabitants of His kingdom. Like they had been born there. He wonder if they had maybe come seeking the person that had first arrived in Shyish.
"I will find you, trespasser. And you will tell me anything I need to know…" His voice had a tone of greediness and curiosity for the girl he didn't know. The God observed the Realm, with the structures, rivers, mountains, and inhabitants that lived there. He felt a possessiveness for that Realm overtake him.
His Kingdom of Death. His Shyish. Nobody would take it from Him. Knowing where the person that had arrived days ago was, the God of the Realm had taken a decision. Nagash's new raised army didn't stop, trampling anyone that stood in their way with the embers fo magic making their eyes glow with ethereal light.
Nagash's body tensed, he gripped his sceptre tightly with his bony fingers and He took a step out of the edge of the pyramid. His armour glinted with a dark hue due to the rays of the pale sun. Floating in the air, the God of Death moved in the direction His army was marching towards. He would go to Hammerhal himself.
If that person would not come to Nagash, Nagash would come to them to remind all that He would never tolerate disrespect. And pity the fool that stood on His Way.
XXX
Selene arrived at her tent and felt a headache coming when she saw the person that was already waiting inside.
It was an old woman dressed in clothes of an intense blue colour and with various amulets hanging from them that hid most of her hunched figure. Her spindly fingers that were filled with magical rings curled against each other. The woman possessed one eye the colour of electric blue and another clouded by a cataract, a sharp hooked nose, a mouth full of crooked teeth and a face filled with wrinkles.
The elder turned around and her smiled widened.
"Selene! Come, come dear!" She made gestures of invitation to the chieftain and the woman moved closer with reluctance.
The old woman was a priestess of Tzeentch. Her name was Morg'ana and had been Selene's advisor since she had become chief of her own warband. The sorceress had used her wisdom and magic to help Selene in her conquest against some of her most troublesome foes.
Selene had been reluctant to seek aid from the woman, and her disposition as a priestess that used magic had filled her with spite for Morg'ana.
"What are you doing here?" Selene asked with a tone of voice full of tension. She knew that every time the old woman visited her tent it wasn't' for something good.
"Hehehe…" The old woman cackled and smiled mischievously. Morg'ana waited a couple of seconds for Selene to lower her guard and began talking "I have consulted the runes. I have sought consul with the daemons. I have spoken in the tongue of Chaos. And I have obtained a prophecy. An omen…".
Selene arched an eyebrow. Morg'ana and her prophecies had always been a prelude to terrible events to come. She knew not to take her words lightly when the woman told them.
"I have seen you die, Selene. Your death has been determined by fate!" The chief's eyes widened "You will find no glory in battle. Khorne will never grant you Daemonhood. You will die by a girl's hand. A witch's sword will be your doom!".
Selene's anger flared like a volcano. A disgust and dread like never before filled her heart. She despised magic like any warrior of Khorne should. The idea of dying by a magic user's hand disgusted her.
Daemonhood was the ultimate reward for a servant of Chaos. Anyone that served the Dark Powers wanted to become a Daemon Prince, and that included Selene. The idea of falling to a girl's, nay a wytch's hand, was a horrible and dreadful thing.
"Stop talking in riddles, Crone! Tell me! Who is it?! Who will be my demise!" Selene ordered the woman.
"Hehehe… So impatient! So, rash!" The old wytch cackled, not worried for her own safety "Selene, my dear! You can't be such a rude and disrespectful warrior! I promise, the one that will kill you is still not dangerous enough to be your fear! Not unless you let your anger cloud your judgement…".
The warrior's face reddened in anger. She gritted her teeth and scowled. Morg'ana had always been infuriating. The priest of Tzeentch had been a powerful ally to the warbands, but her attitude had gain her many enemies and people was dissatisfied with the crone.
"I don't care! Tell me where this girl is! Tell me so I can claim her skull!" She ordered.
The crone sighed and brought a hand to one of the many pouches that filled her clothes. She walked towards a stone basin that had been carved in the ground from a rock and that she usually used to divine the future. Morg'ana proceeded to sit in the stool in front of it and make herself comfortable.
She extracted her hand from one of her pockets and Selene watched as Morg'ana's hand found itself filled with small stone tablets with runes engraved on its surface.
Bringing her hand closer to her mouth, the wytch whispered words to it. Selene watched as the runes began to glow with magical power and the crone threw the tablets inside the stone bowl. The small tablets rattled and hit each other until they stopped moving.
"I see it. I see the girl… Her name is Harriet" Morg'ana declared the girl's name and Selene committed it to memory" The girl had not even become old enough to become a maiden. Your fate is not set yet in stone... I see her power… She has been blessed by Shyish… Your death is approaching Selene. She will be your doom…" The crone muttered in a foreboding tone.
Selene bit her lip in fury. She was angry. The idea of being killed by someone that she had never heard before made her want to kill Morg'ana out of spite. But she restrained herself. The chieftain needed to know more.
The mention of the Realm of Death was something Selene had not expected. This blessing the crone spoke of was worrisome. It made the prophecy more ominous.
"But you can stop her!" At the news of a way to prevent her demise Selene's attention piked even further "There is someone that shares your fate! Someone destined to die by the girl's hand. Find him! Find Voldemort! With him by your side, the two of you will be able to deny Nagash his price!".
This new information made Selene grin. So, she wasn't the only one fated to be killed by this Harriet. Someone that could die by the girl's sword.
"Where can I find him! Tell me Morg'ana! Tell me all you know about my fate! Where is the girl now? Tell me!" She demanded.
The crone closed her eyes and hummed.
"I see them… I know where the girl and the other are… Voldemort is in Ghur…".
At the mention of the Realm's name, Selene found herself surprised. She couldn't believe this Voldemort was there. Where she had fought many times before.
"And the girl? Where is she?" Harriet, her death. Harriet, her demise. Harriet, the girl that Selene couldn't wait to behead so she could claim her skull.
Selene waited for the wytch's answer with bated breath. Her tension and anticipation grew. The chief didn't expect Morg'ana's answer.
"She is in Hammerhal".
At the city's name being mentioned, Selene's eyes widened.
"Heh… Heheh…Hahahahahahaha!" What began with a small chuckle exploded into rambunctious laughter soon after. Selene couldn't believe her luck "Hammerhal! She is in Hammerhal! Hahahahahaha!".
Destiny's sense of humour never ceased to amaze Selene. The girl's location was the same place they had planned to conquer. Selene would be able to find and kill Harriet once they breached its walls. It was perfect.
Morg'ana looked at the woman and took a wild guess as to what was going on in Selene's head. She was pretty sure what the warrior was going to do and decided to warn her.
"Careful, Selene… Be very careful. I see how she will become an opponent strong enough to kill you. She will flee from Hammerhal once the warbands begin assaulting the city. She will escape and find the tools needed to be dangerous to you far away from that place".
Selene committed Morg'ana's warning to memory, and promised to not let the girl escape.
"This girl will not be a foe you can have any hope to defeat when she reaches her destiny, unless you meet Voldemort. Harriet will be your doom. Should you underestimate her, your death will be inevitable. She had been touched by Shyish and found worthy of its power".
"Understood".
Morg'ana continued talking while looking at the basin.
"Should she escape, go to Ghur. Find this new ally. Let him help you kill her…".
Selene looked at the crone with eyes full of anger at her suggestion. She would never let the girl escape her clutches.
"Bah! I don't care! She will die by my axe. This girl will not escape me" The woman brought a hand to the pommel of her weapon at her own words.
"Then may you find this Harriet. May you reject your death. Go, Selene Kar'tan! Go and bring forth Khorne's rage upon Shyish and its chosen!".
Nodding at the crone's words, Selene turned around and exited the tent with a determined look on her face.
Sighing, Morg'ana looked back at the runes and pursed her lips. Selene had not heard all the things the wytch had seen when consulting the runes. The crone had seen the future and abstained from saying the rest of the prophecy.
If she had, maybe the warrior would have changed her decision and been able to stop the God that was about to be born.
XXX
In the Cinderfall district of the city of Hammerhal existed a secret coven of creatures that could be described as vampires and that had been trying to obtain information about the city and its activities under orders of their queen.
Vampires in the Mortal Realms possessed supernatural strength, the capacity to drink blood to become more powerful and sharp claws that could tear a man's throat with one swipe of their hand. Transforming others into more of them made possible the increase in their ranks and due to being denizens of Shyish, they possessed the natural affinity of Death Magic.
Doyenne Dalvia was the leader of this coven. A beautiful woman of long white hair pulled into a bun and dressed in the richest of clothes, she was in charge of the operations that her subjects worked on. The woman had used her beauty and guile to worm her way to the Council of Twelve by seducing one of its members and allowing her to gain important information from it so she could transmit it to her superiors.
Doyenne was currently sitting in an enormous couch carpeted with red cushions and was drinking blood from a cup that rested in her hand. Around her, some of her maids smoked various drugs from ornated pipes and conversed with each other languidly.
Watching them enjoy the fruits of their labour, she smiled with a mouth of a pearly white colour.
The woman looked at the window of the room that allowed her to see the streets of the city and sighed. She missed her home in Shyish.
She had come from the city of Nulahmia. A place that had been her home until a couple of centuries ago. Trained by Neferata herself, one of the famous and powerful Mortarchs, Doyenne had shared letters with the queen of vampires and professed her love and loyalty to her.
Becoming one of Neferata's brides had been her dream and honour. Serving her loyally without question made her happier that anything else in the Realms.
Whe Doyenne found out a girl had being brought to Hammerhal by a group of Stormcast Eternals, she had sent a missive to her queen to inform her of the strangeness of this event. A couple of day later, she had investigated the new resident of the city and discovered the girl didn't belong to any settlement that she knew off. Not only that, but apparently in her forehead stood a curious scar shaped like a lightning bolt.
News travelled fast and her next steps were made clear.
She had received orders from Neferata to obtain information about the new arrival to the city. Apparently, Shyish had received an unexpected visitor and soon after it had been whisked away by a group of Sigmar's warriors.
The chance of this new person being sent to Azyr or any other Realm in those circumstances was bound to be brought to attention. Doyenne hoped that whoever the girl was it would be important enough to grant her the reward she had been seeking for years. To return at her queen's side.
"Maria…" Doyenne called one of the maid's names.
One of the women waiting in the entrance of the room walked towards her and bowed. She wore intricate an assortment of clothes that made her look more like a courtesan than a person dedicated to serve. Wearing a long black dress with her waist encased by a corset that accentuated the valley of her breasts and a pair of high-heeled shoes, she moved with an unnatural graze that make her seem like she floated in the air.
"Yes, My Lady?" The woman answered.
Pursing her lips and smiling softly, Doyenne began declaring her orders to the woman.
"I need you to look where the girl is staying. Queen Neferata wants to know who this mysterious newcomer is. And if possible bring her here. Go" The vampire ordered.
Without answering, Maria turned around and exited the room. The maid knew who she was referring to.
Drinking from her cup, Doyenne laid in her couch and let her maids caress her. Inhaling a whiff of their scent, she closed her eyes and felt herself relax.
The vampire began thinking about her next course of action. If she could take the girl under her wing and bring her to Neferata or Nagash, Doyenne was sure her queen would be proud.
And finally, be able to leave Hammerhal. She would not have to endure a single second in that disgusting place socializing with inferior beings, pretending to care about their lives and troubles. Returning to Nulahmia was her priority, but she had endured for a long time. She could wait a little longer.
Her dream of joining Neferata's other lovers filled her with strength. Doyenne fantasized of the time she would be with her queen once more.
Doyenne couldn't wait for that day.