Fire Emblem if: Resonant Blood

by JustaSoulsFan

3 years after the Conquest Route, Corrin is still haunted from the war between Hoshido and Nohr. The sacrifices she made to expose Garon wear heavily on her. Yet she tries to fulfill her duty as Nohrian princess regardless. On a mission to solve a dispute between allies, she encounters the mysterious Hunter Abel Deville. Together they must confront new enemies and their dark past.

7. Shadows Over Windmire

Chapter 5 - Shadows Over Windmire

The wind howled as Corrin and her group entered Windmire, the capital of Nohr. The snow-covered roads had been long behind them, but the cold air of the Nohrian capital still felt like a bite on their skin. It was a city of contrasts—where the sprawling buildings of stone and iron contrasted with the pale, gray skies above. Windmire surrounded a large crater, in which Castle Krakenburg, the towering stronghold of the Nohrian royal family, resided. The heart of the kingdom, its streets and structures spoke of centuries of power, yet underneath the stone and mortar lay a tangible unease.

Corrin led the group with the confidence of a Nohrian princess, her posture straight and proud, but even she couldn't shake the sense of tension in the air. The city felt... different. Despite her living here for over three years, this time the familiar streets seemed unfamiliar—almost foreign. As the group made their way through the roads, the murmurs of the people on the streets reached their ears.

The citizens of Windmire moved about with their heads down, their eyes cast low as though avoiding something. Some hurried through the streets in silence, others walked in pairs, speaking in hushed tones as if there was a weight in the air that made normal conversation dangerous. Nohrian soldiers patrolled the streets at regular intervals, their dark armor gleaming in the muted light, casting long, intimidating shadows on the cobbled streets. These soldiers seemed different, more like silent observers than protectors, as if they were ever watchful, ever alert.

The marketplace was bustling, but the atmosphere was muted. Vendors with weathered faces called out their goods, offering salted meats, dried fish, simple linen garments, and the like. Their voices were hoarse, their eyes darting back and forth as they tried to sell their wares to passersby, all while soldiers in the market square kept watch with cold, vigilant eyes. The only laughter in the air came from children running down the street, their faces rosy from the cold, but even their play seemed somewhat stifled by the heavy atmosphere. The streets of Windmire were alive, yet there was a sense of something suffocating the vibrancy of life here—like a city that had been pressed into an unspoken silence, unwilling or unable to speak its mind.

Effie, always alert and ever the protector, kept a careful eye on their surroundings, her senses picking up on the tension in the air. Jakob, ever the realist, couldn't help but scowl at the oddity of the city. "This place starts to give me the creeps. It's like everyone's living with their heads down, afraid to breathe."

Niles, with his usual sardonic flair, muttered under his breath, "Afraid of what, exactly? The soldiers? Or the shadows that seem to stretch longer than they should?"

Abel, who had been mostly quiet as they made their way through the city, couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort. This was his first time in Windmire, and every step made him more aware of the dark undercurrent that ran through the streets. It wasn't just the soldiers or the hushed whispers of the civilians—it was the feeling that something was lurking, hidden just beneath the surface. His eyes swept the surroundings, and a dark, familiar feeling stirred within him. He could almost hear the distant whispers of his past, of things he had once done in places not unlike this city. He hated the feeling, but he couldn't shake it. The city felt like it was suffocating beneath its own secrets. Despite the unease he felt, Abel stayed close to Corrin, silently following her lead.

"We're getting close," Corrin said, breaking the silence as they neared the towering gates of Castle Krakenburg. "Stay close, everyone."

The heavy gates of Castle Krakenburg groaned as they opened, allowing Abel, Corrin, and the rest of the group to step onto the grand grounds of Nohr's capital. The guards, recognizing Corrin immediately, offered respectful nods, though their eyes lingered warily on Abel, an unfamiliar presence among them. The journey from the icy village to this sprawling fortress had been long and silent, but as they walked into the castle, a palpable weight lifted from their shoulders—their mission was about to be shared, the shadows they had uncovered were about to be brought into the light.

Corrin's footsteps echoed in the cavernous hallways as they descended the wide steps that led into the main chamber of the castle. The familiar chill of the stone walls wrapped around them like a cloak, and despite the comfort of returning home, Corrin couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. It felt strange to be back in this place, especially with Abel at her side—someone who, though a companion, was also tied to the very darkness they had just narrowly escaped.

As they walked deeper into the heart of Castle Krakenburg, they were greeted by the warm glow of torches lining the walls, flickering in the still air. At the foot of a grand staircase, they encountered two familiar figures: Laslow and Peri, both of whom had been waiting near the castle's entrance, likely having heard that Corrin had returned from her mission. Their gazes immediately turned toward the group, and they exchanged an unspoken glance before stepping forward with wide smiles.

Laslow's usual carefree expression softened as his eyes fell on Corrin, the warm recognition evident in his voice. "Princess Corrin! You've returned! We've been wondering when you'd be back. And it looks like you've brought quite the... unexpected guest." His eyes drifted to Abel, scanning him curiously.

Abel stood a little to the side, his arms folded across his chest as he looked at the new faces. The vampire hunter was quiet, giving little away in his expression, though his eyes flicked momentarily toward Laslow and Peri. There was a touch of amusement in his gaze that might have seemed unsettling if one looked closely enough.

Peri, her ever-present grin stretching wide across her face, approached the group with her usual enthusiasm. "Princess, you're back! We missed you so much!" Her bright, albeit slightly unsettling, smile fixed on Corrin before flicking over to Abel. "Who's the new guy? He looks a bit serious for someone who's come to visit, don't you think? You sure he's not trouble? You always get the good-looking ones, huh, Princess?" Peri giggled, her words as direct and nonchalant as always, though the scrutiny in her gaze when she glanced at Abel remained sharp.

Abel didn't seem to react to her directness, shrugging it off. He gave a small nod toward her, an acknowledgment of sorts, but didn't speak. There was no need to explain himself to them—not yet, at least.

Corrin stepped forward, smiling warmly at her friends. She had grown used to their quirks over the years, and their familiarity brought some comfort amid the tension of the moment. "It's good to see you both, Laslow, Peri. I'm glad to be home." Her voice was calm, though her gaze was resolute. "I need to speak with my brother, King Xander, and the others. There's something urgent we need to discuss."

At the mention of Xander, Laslow and Peri both nodded eagerly, though their expressions shifted slightly to reflect the seriousness of the situation.

"Of course," Laslow replied, his ever-present grin fading just a little. "Xander has been waiting for you. He'll want to hear everything you've discovered."

Peri, still eyeing Abel with obvious curiosity, leaned in toward Corrin, whispering with a grin, "If he's the kind of guest you're bringing back, I hope you've been keeping things interesting, Princess." She gave Corrin a knowing wink, but the seriousness of the conversation cut through her playful mood.

Corrin's expression softened at Peri's teasing, but she didn't have time for distractions. Her mind was too focused on the mission ahead. "No time for games, Peri. This is important. There are dangerous forces gathering in Nohr, and I don't think we're safe yet."

Laslow's demeanor shifted instantly, his posture straightening as he became fully aware of the gravity in Corrin's voice. "Understood. We'll make sure you're taken to Xander immediately." His eyes shifted to Abel once more, an unreadable look crossing his face. He had fought alongside Corrin for years, but something about Abel seemed... different. He was no stranger to power, and the darkness that Abel exuded was hard to ignore. Laslow, ever perceptive, simply filed away his thoughts for later, knowing that now was not the time for questions.

With a brief nod, the two Nohrian soldiers flanked the group and began to escort them further into the castle. Their path was familiar to Corrin but foreign to Abel, who could only watch as the grandeur of the castle unfolded before him. The high, vaulted ceilings echoed with every footstep, and the weight of the stone walls seemed to press in on them, creating a sense of confinement despite the open expanse of the castle halls.

As they approached a large set of double doors leading into the royal audience chamber, Corrin felt the anticipation building within her. There was no turning back now. This was the moment she had been dreading—the moment she would have to explain the darkness rising within Nohr to her family.

Just as they neared the doors, they swung open with a flourish, revealing King Xander, Leo, and Camilla, who had clearly been waiting for Corrin's return. Xander stood tall at the head of the room, his regal presence undeniable. His sharp eyes met Corrin's, a flicker of concern flashing in his gaze before his expression hardened with a kingly resolve.

"Corrin," he greeted, his voice strong, but with a subtle edge of worry. "You're back earlier than expected. I trust your mission was successful?"

Behind him, Leo stood slightly off to the side, his brow furrowed in thought, though his lips curved into a small, welcoming smile at the sight of his sister. Camilla, ever poised, smiled warmly but with a touch of wariness in her eyes, as though she knew the return of Corrin could never be entirely free of complications.

Corrin met her siblings' gazes, her expression serious as she glanced at Abel, who stood silently behind her. "There's much to explain," she said, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. "This concerns all of you."

Leo and Camilla exchanged glances, their earlier smiles fading into uncertainty. Xander's gaze hardened, his posture straightening as he met Corrin's eyes. "You bring unsettling news," Xander stated, his voice firm. "Speak. Tell us everything."

An air of uneasy tension hung thick around the royal family as Corrin began to recount the harrowing events that had unfolded in the Ice Tribe village. Her voice was steady, but there was a tightness in her tone that reflected the gravity of the situation. Her eyes, which had always been filled with kindness and optimism, now held a hint of weariness.

"After leaving Windmire," Corrin began, her gaze shifting between her siblings and Abel, "I met a man on the way to the Ice Tribe village—a hunter from a foreign church. His name is Abel, and he was tasked with hunting monsters in the northern lands."

She paused, glancing at Abel, who stood silently behind her, his expression unreadable. "I didn't know the full extent of what he was or his history at the time. But Abel has proven himself an invaluable ally in the last few days."

Abel gave a subtle nod, acknowledging her words without speaking. His arms were crossed in front of him, his posture relaxed but exuding a quiet intensity. Even as Corrin spoke of him in such neutral terms, there was something in his demeanor that suggested there was more to him than anyone truly knew.

"The mission, at first, seemed straightforward," Corrin continued. "The Ice Clan had been in conflict with the Wolfskin, and tensions were high. Abel and I arrived to find the village in disarray, with the Wolfskin raiding the village. The true culprit behind this, however, were not the Wolfskin or the Ice Clan, but a vampire—one who called himself Malkav Archangel."

She glanced briefly at Abel again, unsure how much to reveal. She had not yet shared the full truth of Abel's past, but now, it felt almost necessary. She couldn't deny the significance of his involvement, nor could she deny the part he had played in their survival. But she wasn't yet ready to reveal the dark truth of his origins.

"Abel's expertise in dealing with vampires helped us defend the village," she continued. "Together, we fought Malkav back, but his retreat only left more questions. Malkav wasn't acting alone. He is in league with others—vampires who are still very much a threat to Nohr."

Xander, who had been listening intently, narrowed his eyes. His brow furrowed in deep thought as he processed the information, his posture stiffening ever so slightly. Leo stood beside him, his arms crossed, an intense frown pulling at his lips. Camilla's expression, always one of poised elegance, shifted subtly, her concern evident but hidden beneath the surface.

"Vampires?" Xander's voice was calm, but it held an undercurrent of frustration, the weight of responsibility pressing on him. "There were rumors of such creatures in the north, but I didn't think the threat was so immediate—or so... close to home."

Leo's expression darkened, his sharp eyes scanning Corrin and Abel with suspicion. "You're saying that there are vampires running freely in Nohr? And one of them is so bold as to reveal himself by name—Malkav Archangel?" His tone was sharp, but there was an edge of disbelief behind his words, as if trying to make sense of the gravity of the situation.

Camilla took a step forward, her voice soft but laced with concern. "I knew that Nohr's enemies were numerous, but vampires... this is something else entirely. What do we know of these... other vampires? Who are they? How many more could there be? And why target the Ice Tribe and the Wolfskin? Is there a connection between these creatures and the conflict?"

Corrin met her siblings' gazes, each one filled with a mixture of skepticism and concern, but also determination. She had grown up in Nohr, surrounded by her family, and she could feel the weight of their gazes on her now. It was their kingdom at stake, their people who could be in danger. The knowledge of what she and Abel had discovered felt like a burden she could no longer bear alone. The shadows were closing in, and Nohr would need to act quickly.

"I believe these vampires are working together—Malkav, Baron Vordenburg, and another cloaked man whose name we don't know yet," Corrin said, her voice steady but firm. "It's clear that there is a larger scheme at play here. The vampire that we faced, Malkav, was trying to provoke chaos between the tribes. His goal seemed to be to pit the Wolfskin and the Ice Clan against each other, which could lead to civil war. But his ties to Vordenburg and others mean that we are likely facing a larger conspiracy—one that could shake the foundations of Nohr."

Abel, still standing by her side, spoke for the first time. His voice was low, tinged with the coldness of his past, but the edge of grim resolve was clear. "Malkav and Vordenburg aren't the only ones. I have a feeling that there are more of their kind hidden in Nohr. The ones behind this haven't just been targeting the Ice Tribe or the Wolfskin. Their plans go deeper than that."

Xander's expression darkened. "More? Are you suggesting that there could be vampires secretly operating within Nohr itself? Where do they hide? What are they planning?"

Abel's eyes narrowed, his lips pulling into a tight, grim smile. "I don't know all the answers, but I can tell you that they're playing a long game. They'll stop at nothing to achieve their goals. And it's not just Nohr they're after—if they're allowed to spread unchecked, they could destroy everything."

Leo's frown deepened, his gaze flicking between Abel and Corrin. "You said you fought Malkav off, but did you truly defeat him? And if so, why hasn't he been dealt with already? Why did you not inform us earlier, Corrin?"

Corrin hesitated. The question stung a little, but she knew it was a fair one. "We fought him off, yes, but we couldn't finish the job. He... retreated before we could strike the final blow. And honestly, I didn't want to believe that we were dealing with a threat like this. I didn't want to worry anyone until I had more concrete proof."

Xander's expression softened, but only slightly. "You did well in bringing us this information. But now we must prepare for the worst. If there are truly vampires infiltrating Nohr, then we must act immediately. I won't allow Nohr to fall to such creatures."

Camilla stepped forward, her eyes sharp. "I agree. The sooner we act, the better. We can't risk leaving these monsters unchecked in our kingdom. We'll need to gather our allies, fortify our defenses, and prepare for war."

Leo nodded in agreement. "This will not be an easy battle. Vampires are known for their cunning and strength. But Nohr is no stranger to challenges. We will face this together, as a family."

Corrin felt a surge of relief in their words. She had feared that her siblings might turn away from the truth, but their resolve to protect Nohr was unwavering. Even as the storm brewed on the horizon, she knew that they would stand united.

"Thank you," she said, her voice steady. "We'll need every resource we can muster to face this threat. But with your support, I know we can stop them."

Xander gave a firm nod, his eyes blazing with determination. "We will protect Nohr—no matter the cost. Abel, you have my gratitude for your help, and I expect you'll stay with us to see this through."

Abel, his gaze unflinching, gave a small but resolute nod. "Of course. I've still got unfinished business with these vampires." His voice was cold, but the underlying promise in his tone was clear—he would not rest until those who sought to bring destruction were defeated.

As the royal family of Nohr gathered, united in their resolve, the weight of the coming conflict settled over them. The future of their kingdom—and possibly the world—hung in the balance, and they would face the coming storm together.

A short time after, the heavy door of the royal chamber creaked open, and in strode Lord Rolent, the enigmatic and imposing figure that served under King Xander's command. He had been briefed by a servant about the situation and came to the royal chamber immediately. His tall frame filled the doorway as he entered, his dark cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. His sharp, calculating eyes immediately sought out Corrin, who stood at the center of the room.

"Ah, Princess Corrin," Rolent's voice was smooth, a touch of formal warmth in his tone, "I hear your mission was a success. The Ice Tribe can rest easier now, thanks to your efforts." His smile was polite, though his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, as if measuring her.

Corrin smiled back, relieved to see the familiar face of a trusted ally. "Thank you, Lord Rolent. I couldn't have done it without my companions. We encountered a far greater threat than we anticipated, but I believe we have uncovered something much darker at play here in Nohr."

As Corrin spoke, Rolent's attention shifted. His sharp gaze moved past her, settling on the stranger who stood quietly by her side—Abel. A faint furrow appeared on his brow, and his lips twitched in curiosity. There was something about the man that intrigued him. It made Rolent feel strange. Something about Abel felt unsettling, yet familiar, to him.

"You must be the one guards speak of," Rolent said, his tone taking on a slightly playful edge. His eyes swept over Abel, a sense of amusement in his expression. "A hunter, I presume? Tasked with eliminating monsters? How noble of you to join us in Nohr. But..." Rolent's smile widened slightly, "I have to admit, I can't quite put my finger on it. Something about you feels... off. A hunter of beasts, and yet you carry yourself like one of them."

Abel's instincts flared. He stiffened, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise as Rolent's gaze lingered on him like a predatory animal sizing up its prey. His grip instinctively tightened around the rosary that was wrapped around his arm, as if searching for a way to anchor himself, to control the darkness that bubbled just beneath the surface.

Abel, although outwardly composed, felt an unnerving sense of familiarity with this man—a subtle tension tugging at the back of his mind. Something about Rolent's presence felt like a whispering shadow, teasing a memory just out of reach. He couldn't quite place it, but he knew that he didn't trust this man. Not entirely.

"I'm Abel," he introduced himself curtly, his voice steady but cold. "I don't believe we've met. As Princess Corrin said, I'm here to help with the vampire situation."

Rolent's smile remained, but his eyes became sharper, more calculating. "Yes, so I've heard," he replied, his tone light, almost mocking, as if testing Abel's patience. "A foreign church sent you, did they? To hunt monsters. But I wonder..." Rolent's gaze drifted briefly to the rosary wrapped around Abel's arm. "Do you ever wonder what makes a monster, Abel? Is it the creatures you hunt? Or is it the ones you become? It seems... zealous for a man like you to be so eager to hunt these beings, don't you think?"

Abel's lips tightened into a thin line, a flicker of bitterness flashing in his eyes. "I'm simply doing what must be done to protect people from the real monsters out there."

Rolent chuckled softly, the sound like the rustle of dry leaves. "Protecting people? Is that what you truly believe, Abel? Or is it more... personal?" He took a step closer, his sharp gaze never leaving Abel. "You have a certain air about you. A... hunger. It's hard to ignore."

Abel's mind raced. What was this man trying to say? The words stung, but he knew it wasn't meant to be an outright accusation. No, Rolent wasn't that straightforward. He was probing—testing him, perhaps seeing if Abel would break under the subtle pressure.

Rolent tilted his head, his smile never faltering. "You don't need to be coy with me, Abel. I'm no stranger to darkness. I know how it works. You're... one of them, aren't you? A creature of the night."

The room seemed to grow colder as the words hung in the air. Abel's spine stiffened, and a sharp, instinctual tension crawled up his neck. He didn't like the way Rolent's eyes pierced through him, as if peeling back every layer of his being, exposing him for what he was. But he kept his gaze steady, the cool mask he wore barely concealing the unease that bubbled beneath.

Abel swallowed and let the silence stretch out before answering, his voice level, but laced with the weight of what Rolent was insinuating. "I'm not what I used to be," he said firmly, though his words felt like an unspoken challenge. "I'm no longer the monster you think I am. I've been given a second chance."

Rolent's smile stretched wider, the mockery of it almost imperceptible. "A second chance, huh? How convenient. I wonder what exactly it takes to earn a second chance in your world." His gaze swept over Abel, lingering a moment longer on the rosary wrapped tightly around his arm, the symbol of his restraint. "Interesting choice of accessory, by the way. But even with that... I wonder if you've really tamed the beast within. After all, you're still one of them, no matter how many pretty words you use."

Xander's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the subtle tension that seemed to pulse between the two men. He, too, had picked up on the almost predatory undertone in Rolent's manner. He stood up straighter, crossing his arms over his chest, and spoke with authority. "Enough of this. If Abel says he's changed, then we'll take him at his word for now. We've heard firsthand what he's capable of—and what he's done for Corrin and the others." His gaze flicked briefly to Abel, softer than it had been with Rolent. "Right now, there's no need to press him further."

Rolent's smile faltered for just a split second, his eyes flicking to Xander, assessing him with quiet curiosity. "Oh, I know," he said smoothly, his voice still laced with amusement. "I'm simply testing the waters. It's not often I meet someone with such a... complicated history." He turned his attention back to Abel, though there was a subtle shift in his demeanor—less mocking, more calculated. "Tell me, Abel, do you ever wonder what truly separates you from the monsters you hunt? Is it just a matter of perspective?"

Leo, sitting quietly to the side until now, spoke up with a quiet intensity. "Enough with the games, Rolent." His tone was sharp, but there was a subtle wariness in his eyes as he glanced between Rolent and Abel. "We have bigger problems at hand than this little philosophical debate. Vampires are on the loose in Nohr. You heard Corrin's report. We don't have time to waste questioning each other's motivations."

Camilla, who had been silently observing the exchange with a frown, crossed her arms and leaned slightly forward, her purple eyes narrowing. "I agree with Leo. You've made your point, Rolent." Her voice was like a caress, but there was an edge to it. "What matters now is the threat we face. You can analyze Abel all you want later, but we need to prepare for the battle ahead."

Corrin, who had been quietly listening and absorbing the conversation, finally stepped in. Her voice was steady, though there was a hint of concern as she glanced at both men. "I've already told enough, Rolent," she said softly, but with a firm resolve. "I know Abel's past and what he's become. He's here to help us, and I trust him." She met Abel's eyes, giving him a small, reassuring smile. "I know what he's been through, and I believe in him."

For a moment, Rolent's playful demeanor wavered as he studied the group, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. He tilted his head slightly, considering Corrin's words. "I see," he said after a beat, his voice suddenly less lighthearted. "I suppose we'll find out what kind of man he truly is, in time."

Abel's jaw clenched, but he held his tongue. He didn't need to prove himself to anyone here—not yet. "We're all on the same side," he said quietly, his eyes locking with Rolent's. "That's all that matters."

The room fell into a brief silence, tension hanging in the air as the conversation reached an uneasy lull. Xander's gaze softened as he looked at Abel once more, his voice firm but without malice. "I'll take you at your word, Abel. But be warned, we're in this together. If you betray our trust, you'll face the consequences."

Abel's expression darkened, the weight of Xander's words not lost on him. He wasn't afraid of Xander's judgment—but he could feel the pressure mounting. There was no turning back now. He had already committed, and he would see this through. He had no intention of betraying their trust. Not anymore.

Rolent's lips twitched into a faint smile once more, his eyes twinkling with an unreadable glint. "I'll be watching, then," he said, almost too casually, before turning on his heel and walking out of the room, his cloak swirling behind him like a shadow.

The door closed with a soft click, leaving the group in an uneasy silence. Corrin glanced at Abel, her expression a mix of concern and reassurance. "Are you okay?" she asked gently, her eyes filled with understanding. "He's... a lot, isn't he?"

Abel nodded, though there was still a flicker of tension in his gaze. "He's a strange one. But I've dealt with worse."

Xander, having seen enough, let out a long breath. "Rolent's always been a bit... cryptic. But we'll deal with him later. The vampires are the priority."

Leo added, his tone clipped but determined, "He may be a nuisance, but we can't afford to waste time on his games. Let's focus on what matters."

Camilla, her usual flirtatious demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness, nodded. "I agree. The situation's urgent. We need to move forward."

Corrin looked around at her family and allies, a sense of unity settling over her. She knew that no matter what happened, they would face the challenges ahead together. Abel, despite his past, was with them now. And that was enough.

"Then let's prepare for the worst," Corrin said firmly. "We can't let these monsters roam free. Not in Nohr."

And with that, the group turned their attention to the looming threat, their focus clear, but the shadows of their pasts—and the questions about Abel's true nature—still clinging to them. The battle ahead would test them all, but they knew they had each other to rely on.

In a dimly lit private chamber, Rolent stood before the large ornate mirror that adorned one of the walls, his fingers lightly tapping against the edge of his desk as he pondered the meeting he had just witnessed. A low, almost predatory chuckle escaped his lips, the sound unnerving in its quiet intensity. His crimson eyes gleamed with a light of dark amusement, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of curiosity beneath it.

"It seems I've encountered someone I hadn't expected," Rolent muttered to himself, his voice smooth, yet carrying a weight of foreboding. He couldn't stop the smirk that crept across his face as his thoughts settled on the stranger who had walked into the castle today—Abel.

The pieces were falling into place. Abel, that mysterious hunter, whose aura resonated with something familiar, something dangerous. The man had not been forthcoming about his past, and Rolent—always keen to uncover the truth—was certain there was more to him than met the eye. And in this twisted web of fate, Rolent couldn't help but feel a spark of recognition.

A faint sound of fabric rustling from the shadows broke through his thoughts, and the cloaked figure materialized before him, stepping into the flickering candlelight. The man's hood was pulled low, his face obscured, but Rolent could still feel the presence of his crimson gaze beneath the fabric. The cloaked man stood silently, his expression unreadable as he waited for his master's command.

Rolent's smile grew, tinged with something darker. "Ah, you're here. I was wondering when you'd show up," he said, his voice dripping with an almost conspiratorial amusement. He turned to face the figure, his eyes narrowing with a sense of realization. "It's strange, isn't it? How paths cross when we least expect them."

The cloaked man said nothing for a moment, but there was a subtle shift in his posture, an ever-so-slight tensing that betrayed a sudden alertness. He tilted his head ever so slightly, a gesture of silent inquiry, but still, he did not speak.

Rolent's smile widened. "I've just met someone... someone who shouldn't be here. It's not often that I'm taken by surprise, but this one certainly managed to catch me off guard." He stepped closer, his voice lowering to a near-whisper, though it carried a dangerous lilt. "I met a hunter—someone with an aura that doesn't belong to mere mortals. And I'd wager you already know exactly who I'm talking about."

The cloaked figure remained silent for a moment longer, but the tension in the air grew thick as Rolent's words sunk in. The cloaked man's gaze darkened, and his lips parted slightly, a low, almost imperceptible chuckle escaping him.

"You don't mean…" The voice was soft but laden with a quiet, almost unsettling recognition.

Rolent's grin twisted into something far more sinister, his eyes alight with malice and intrigue. "Yes. I think it's him." He leaned in closer, his voice now an excited murmur, as though sharing a twisted secret with the figure before him. "I believe our dear friend Abel is no ordinary hunter."

The cloaked figure's expression, hidden beneath the shadows of his hood, remained unreadable. But his body was taut, every muscle coiled like a predator sensing its prey.

"This... is unexpected," the cloaked man finally said, his voice betraying a small hint of amusement, though it was mixed with a strange edge. "You suspect he knows? About the past?" His voice grew colder as he spoke, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Rolent's eyes glittered, a malevolent joy radiating from him. "I suspect he does," he replied, his tone low and filled with quiet satisfaction. "But even if he doesn't... well, it won't matter in the end, will it? Not when the pieces start to fall into place. He will remember eventually. You can't escape what's been done." Rolent's fingers curled into a fist, his nails pressing into the palm of his hand. "And when that time comes... I'll make sure there's a proper reunion. One that's long overdue."

The cloaked figure stepped closer, his gaze sharpening. "So, you've already decided then?" he asked, his voice now more serious, a shadow of something darker passing through his words.

Rolent's eyes flickered briefly, a touch of malicious amusement twinkling within them. "Oh yes," he purred. "This little reunion will be something to behold. I'm curious to see how our dear Abel reacts when he finally remembers who he truly is. Who we all are."

Rolent's smile deepened, the satisfaction in his expression growing more evident. He moved to his desk, his fingers brushing lightly over an ancient, weathered tome. "There's so much history to this—so many things left unsaid, unresolved. But don't worry, my friend. We'll make sure this game is worth the wait."

The cloaked man's presence lingered a moment longer before he silently stepped back into the shadows. "As you wish, Lord Rolent," he murmured before disappearing completely, leaving the room bathed in darkness once more.

Rolent remained standing, a wicked grin on his face as he watched the shadows swallow the cloaked figure whole. His crimson eyes gleamed with excitement, the anticipation building within him.

In time, everything would come to light. Abel would have to face the truth—the truth that Rolent had been waiting for all these years. And when that moment came, Rolent would be there, ready to guide him toward their inevitable reunion.

With a final, almost gleeful sigh, Rolent turned away from the shadows and walked toward the window, looking out over the sprawling city of Windmire, a smile that promised destruction curling at the edges of his lips.

This was just the beginning.

In the winding underground caves beneath Windmire, the air was thick with a palpable tension, crackling like the energy before a storm. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like jagged teeth, their tips gleaming in the sparse light of torches that flickered against the damp stone walls. The echo of footsteps reverberated off the cavernous walls as two figures faced each other, their presence filling the space with an oppressive weight.

One of them, Baron Vordenburg, stood tall, his aristocratic bearing impeccable even in the shadows of the cave. His pale skin was as flawless as ever, and his sharp, calculating eyes gleamed with an unsettling mixture of pride and disdain. His noble attire billowed gently around his body, blending seamlessly into the darkness that surrounded him. In his hands, he casually twirled a slender, obsidian cane, the silver skull-shaped handle glinting ominously in the dim light. His lips curled upward in a smug smile, an expression of quiet superiority that never seemed to leave his face.

Across from him stood Malkav Archangel, his icy gaze sharp and filled with disdain. Malkav's presence was an unnatural chill that permeated the air, frost forming in the wake of his every movement. His body, draped in a long, tattered coat, was still as a statue, and his eyes—burning with an intense, cold fire—bore down on Vordenburg like a blizzard ready to engulf everything in its path. The bitter winds seemed to emanate from him, as though the very concept of warmth was something foreign to his existence. He could hardly mask the anger seething beneath his composed exterior.

"You always did have a penchant for theatrics, Vordenburg," Malkav sneered, his voice low and frigid. "Clinging to your notions of 'noble heritage' and 'tradition' like an old fool grasping at the last vestiges of a dying world. How quaint."

Vordenburg's smile widened, the condescension in his gaze deepening as he looked Malkav up and down. "And you, Malkav, continue to be a pitiful reflection of your own self-loathing. You truly believe that your reign of ice and despair is the answer to the chaos of this world?" He shook his head, a subtle laugh escaping him. "You seek power not because you want to shape the world—but because you can't stand the thought of not being able to control it."

Malkav's eyes narrowed, a wave of icy fury rippling through him at Vordenburg's words. He stepped forward, the temperature in the cave dropping sharply, the air growing thick and suffocating with his presence. "Power is my right, Vordenburg. I've learned that over the years. Those who wield power are the ones who dictate the terms of eternity. I will remake this world in my image—a world of cold, of order, of strength. The weak will fall before me, and those who resist will know only suffering."

Vordenburg snorted, the sound dripping with disdain. "How laughable," he muttered, his eyes cold and calculating. "You speak of power as if it's some kind of gift, but what you truly seek is a miserable, hollow existence. You want to become a god in your own mind, yet you still tremble at the thought of the uncontrollable—a future that cannot be forced into your mold." He tilted his head, his smile widening further. "That is the crux of your problem, isn't it? You can't stand the uncertainty of eternity, so you try to freeze it all in place. But eternity doesn't belong to those who try to control it. It belongs to those who understand the chaos of existence and can thrive within it."

Malkav's anger flared, his breath coming out in short, sharp bursts as the temperature in the room plummeted even further. Frost began to spread across the walls and the floor, creeping closer to Vordenburg with every passing second. "You dare lecture me on eternity?" Malkav growled, his voice like the howl of a blizzard. "I've seen what your kind does with eternity—decay. Your philosophy is weakness. You seek chaos because you can't accept that the world must be shaped by power. And the only way to control the world is to break it down, to force it into submission."

Vordenburg raised an eyebrow, unfazed by the ice spreading around him. "And that's where you're wrong," he said, his tone casual yet sharp, as if delivering a lecture to a disobedient student. "You speak of submission, of control, but you fail to understand the beauty in true power. The power to let the world unfold on its own, to live within it, to shape it by understanding it—not by crushing it beneath a frozen, unyielding fist." His voice dropped, becoming more dangerous. "You, Malkav, are nothing more than a petulant child in the body of a monster. You think that your cold will devour all, but all you are doing is denying yourself the true essence of immortality. You are so terrified of death that you've chosen to encase yourself in ice, to make everything around you as cold and distant as your own heart."

Malkav's eyes flickered with a dangerous, cold fire, his grip tightening at his sides. "I will not be lectured by the likes of you," he spat, his words sharp as a blade. "I embrace the cold because I can. I will carve my legacy into the world, and when the world is nothing but frozen ruins beneath my feet, I will stand as its unquestioned ruler. A world without weakness, without the chaos of your pathetic ideals. A world that bends to my will."

Vordenburg, never one to back down from a challenge, leaned in slightly, his gaze unwavering. "And what happens when you, too, become part of that very cold you so desperately seek to control?" he asked, his voice smooth as velvet but laced with poison. "What happens when you freeze the world and yourself in the process? You will have no kingdom, no power—only an eternal, empty existence, trapped in the very ice you've chosen to embrace. That is your fate, Malkav. A fate that I won't let you drag the rest of us into."

The two stood in a tense silence, the air thick with animosity. Malkav's breath was a cloud of frost, his eyes burning with fury, while Vordenburg remained as smug and composed as ever, his lips curled into a smile that was both mocking and knowing.

Finally, Malkav let out a low, frustrated growl. "You may have your views, Vordenburg, but in the end, it is I who will reign. You will see that my way is the only way."

Vordenburg's smile only deepened, his gaze unwavering. "We shall see," he said, his voice quiet but laced with venom. "We shall see, indeed."

As the two vampires stood facing each other, the cavern around them seemed to hum with the unspoken tension between them—two monsters, each with a vastly different vision of what eternity should be, each determined to shape the world in their own image. And as the ice slowly spread across the floor, it seemed that the clash of their ideologies was far from over.

The cloaked figure stood quietly in the corner of the underground cavern, his hood drawn low over his face, the shadows of the room hiding his expression. He had been listening to the bickering between Malkav and Vordenburg, but his thoughts were far from the mundane conflict at hand. His sharp crimson eyes flickered over to Malkav, who was growing more animated with each word, and then to Vordenburg, who remained his usual smug, measured self.

He watched the exchange between the vampires unfold, while trying to put the pieces together. He thought about the hunter, - Abel. His demeanor suggested something beyond the surface—a strength that hid beneath layers of conflict, a darkness that hadn't been fully embraced. Or was it suppressed?

If Abel is truly what he thought him to be... he carries that potential within him... then it would be foolish to just throw him into the fray without some measure of testing first. I need to see what he's capable of before I make any moves. And who better to serve as a test than Malkav?

The cloaked figure smiled beneath his hood, his plan taking shape. He had no intention of waiting for Abel to be an ally—no, it was far more interesting to use someone else to force Abel into revealing his true nature. Let's see how he fares against a real challenge...

Malkav's loud, booming voice filled the cavern once more, and the cloaked figure took a step forward, his presence unsettling in its silence. As he emerged from the shadows, the two vampires in front of him stopped their bickering and looked at him with varying degrees of suspicion.

"I think it's time," the cloaked figure said smoothly, his voice like silk and steel. "To test the waters with our new... guest."

Malkav's eyes gleamed, instantly picking up on the challenge. "What are you suggesting?"

The cloaked figure's lips curled into a sly grin, a sense of satisfaction in the air. "We have a new player in the game, don't we? A man who could potentially be much more problematic than he seems... You want to test his strength? To proof your superiority?"

Malkav's eyes narrowed. "What's your game?"

"I'm not suggesting anything too risky," the cloaked figure replied, his tone playful, yet laced with a darker undertone. "But if you're so eager to claim victory, why not take the opportunity to face this... hunter? It would be a thrill to see how you fare against him, Malkav. Surely you don't mind testing your mettle in the presence of someone like the infamous Nosferatu himself."

Vordenburg, who had been silent for a while, raised an eyebrow, his voice cold but curious. "You think Malkav will rise to the occasion? You're toying with him, aren't you?"

Malkav, clearly intrigued by the proposition, chuckled darkly. "You think I need proof? Do you forget who I am, Serpent? I am the one who brings ruin wherever I go."

The cloaked figure chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I don't doubt your power, Malkav. But sometimes, it's good to remind yourself of your own limits. Don't you think?"

Malkav's grin deepened, and he stepped forward. "Fine. I'll take your little challenge. And when I'm done with him, I'll be the one claiming victory. Just remember—no one stands in my way."

The cloaked figure's expression remained unreadable, but his thoughts were already moving forward. It's perfect. You'll test Abel's strength, Malkav. But in doing so, you'll reveal more than you know. And once I know what Abel is capable of... then I'll decide how to proceed.

He gave a slight nod, his words almost like a whisper in the room. "It's settled, then. Let's see what you're truly capable of, Malkav."

Vordenburg watched them both with thinly veiled suspicion but said nothing. He wasn't sure where this would lead, but he could sense the rising tension in the air. And in his mind, the cloaked figure's plan was as clear as day: a test, a game—a delicate maneuver where all parties involved had something to prove.

But as Malkav prepared to move out, the cloaked figure's mind wandered again, this time back to the figure of Abel. "Let's see what you're made of... brother."

The cloaked figure's lips twisted into an enigmatic smile, the final words echoing only in his mind. The real test begins now.

Malkav strode through the cavernous depths with a dark gleam in his eyes, savoring each step that brought him closer to the surface. The stone corridors, steeped in ancient shadows, seemed to come alive with a creeping chill that radiated from his very core, a frost that seeped into the walls and blanketed the air with an icy stillness.

He touched his chest, rubbing over the place he was stitched by these accursed syringes decades ago. Lululily had called it the "Idea Replica," a twisted concoction crafted to mimic the essence of Dead Apostles and grant their powers to those bold enough to use it. When she had given him that first syringe, she had whispered promises of ascension, claiming that with each dose, he could climb the ranks of vampiric power. Each vial had been a gateway, a stair-step to immortality that few could claim.

Malkav grinned, relishing the memories of his ascension. Four doses—four plunges of that dark liquid—and he had transcended his mortality overnight. What had started as an experimental, artificial Dead Apostle had now turned into something terrifyingly real, a Rank VII vampire, a force created not through natural vampirism but through the sheer audacity of science and ambition. He was not like the others who had clawed their way to power through centuries of scheming and bloodlust; he was the perfected version, engineered to surpass them all.

The fools who turned naturally… they think they're the apex of evolution, he mused bitterly. But I am beyond them—crafted, sculpted, born of the dark gift of science.

He could feel the dark power within him, pulsing through his veins, fueling his every movement with an otherworldly energy. It wasn't only his strength that had multiplied; his very senses had sharpened, each night growing keener and more attuned to his surroundings. His sight pierced the dark as if it were daylight, his ears could pick up the faintest heartbeat, and his skin felt the cold as a lover's caress. Malkav had no illusions; he was meant to be something greater, something pure and terrifying, a Dead Apostle born of purpose rather than the random whims of fate.

As he neared the surface, his thoughts turned back to the cloaked man who had so brazenly insinuated his intentions to "test" him against the hunter and the royal family. Malkav could see the game clearly: the cloaked figure wanted him to act as bait, to measure the strength of Nohr's defenders and the stranger they called Abel. But Malkav had no qualms about this arrangement. If the cloaked one wanted him to draw out the hunter, then he would do it—on his own terms.

In fact, he relished the challenge. Let the so-called Nosferatu see what true power looks like, he thought, his icy smile widening. When I claim Windmire for myself, no one will stand in my way—least of all him.

With each step, more of the dead stirred around him, responding instinctively to the unholy power that radiated from him. Corpses buried deep in the cavern walls began to claw their way out of their graves, their hollow eyes fixed upon him as if drawn by an unseen tether. The reanimated rose in silence, the echoes of their bones scraping against stone reverberating through the narrow tunnels. Their obedience was automatic, a silent acknowledgment of Malkav's command over death itself.

The memory of Lululily's words drifted into his mind as he watched his undead thralls assemble, their blank, deathly stares reflecting his ambition. The more syringes, the higher the rank, she had told him. And with it, greater power, greater dominion. He had embraced her dark gift with a ravenous greed, taking all the syringes he could, solidifying his place among the elite Dead Apostles. But he didn't simply want to join their ranks; he wanted to surpass them, to be the one who would bend even the most powerful to his will.

Finally, he reached the threshold where darkness met the faintest glimmer of moonlight, the boundary between his subterranean domain and the city of Windmire. Raising his hand, he let the power flow from him, a cold wave that chilled the stones beneath his feet and spread outward like a creeping frost. His undead followers, now numbering in the dozens, fell into formation, a silent army ready to unleash his will upon the world above.

"The Nosferatu and his royal allies think they can defy me," Malkav murmured, his voice a venomous whisper. "Tonight, they will know despair. Windmire will be the first conquest in my eternal domain of ice."

In the shadows behind him, the dead gazed at him with hollow eyes, awaiting his command. His grin widened, and he stepped into the moonlight, leading his army forward.