Vampire Progenitor System

Council Chamber – Nightfall

The room was dark, only lit by floating orbs of blue fire that hovered above the long obsidian table. Shadows flickered against the tall walls, and the air was thick—like the space itself was holding its breath.

Twelve seats circled the table. All were filled.

Greta stood in the middle, arms behind her back, chin raised like she wasn’t surrounded by the most dangerous people in the world.

Across from her, Vladimir leaned forward, hands clasped under his chin, eyes sharp enough to slice stone.

”She’s gone,” he said, voice low but heavy. ”You’re telling me Remu—who was under your watch—escaped... right under your nose?”

Greta didn’t flinch.

”I said it already. She had help. And before I could react, I was hit by something—a Fomorian, using paralytic venom. Caught me off guard. Honestly, it’s a miracle I’m standing here.”

The room went dead silent.

Then:

”...A Fomorian?” Fowler muttered, eyes narrowing.

Even the firelight dimmed a little. The word hung like a weight in the air.

Fomorians weren’t common knowledge. Not anymore. Not even among this circle.

But everyone at that table knew what it meant.

Monsters from the old age. The real old age. The ones that didn’t care for magic, politics, or rules. Just destruction.

They weren’t supposed to exist anymore.

They weren’t supposed to walk the mortal realm.

Fowler stood, voice calm but firm. ”If what you’re saying is true, we don’t have time to argue. Whatever grudges we’ve got, they die here. A Fomorian in the open is a crisis. One we cannot afford.”

Vladimir tapped his fingers on the table. Slow. Measured. Then stopped. ”...And he’s helping Remu.”

Greta nodded once.

That made it worse.

”She’s already unstable,” Boris said, eyes still closed, voice quiet. ”If something like that gets into her head...”

”We lose everything,” Fowler finished.

Everyone looked at Greta again.

But she wasn’t done.

”There’s more,” she said, casually, like she was reading off a grocery list. ”A demon king showed up. In the mortal realm.”

The silence now was heavier. Like gravity decided to sit on the room.

”You’re kidding,” Vulpina muttered, fangs half-bared. ”Why the hell didn’t you lead with that?”

Greta just blinked at her. ”Does it matter what order I say it? What matters is, we’re in deep shit. War’s coming—fast—and we’re not ready.”

”You’re not ready,” Vulpina snapped, standing up.

Greta looked at her with a dead gaze. ”None of us are. Stop pretending you are.”

Vulpina bared her teeth, a sharp growl bubbling up from her throat, but Boris raised one hand.

”Enough.”

Everyone turned.

Boris stood slowly, calm but tight, like every muscle in his body was locked down.

”We argue, we lose time,” he said. ”We lose time, people die. Maybe cities. Maybe continents. This isn’t about egos anymore.”

He looked at Greta.

”I don’t like you.”

”I don’t like you either,” she said flatly.

”But you’ve seen what’s coming.”

”Yes.”

He turned to the table.

”So we listen. Then we act.”

Silence again. Tense.

Then Vladimir leaned back.

”...Fine. Greta. Talk.”

Greta finally let out a small breath.

She looked around at them—all the leaders of the supernatural factions. Witches. Vampires. Lycans. Warlocks. Spirits. Old blood and new monsters. All packed into one room. Barely united.

She raised her hand.

A projection appeared over the table—a glowing red map of the continent, marked with pulsing dots. One near the ruins of the Bloom Mansion. One farther west. Another moving in from the north.

”All three points have one thing in common,” she said. ”Distortion. Mana storms. Reality bleed.”

”The demon king?” Fowler asked.

She nodded. ”And possibly more.”

She turned to the western dot. ”This one... that’s where Remu is headed. Or being taken.”

”You can track her?” Vulpina asked, folding her arms.

”I can track the thing she’s with.”

Selene.

But she didn’t say her name. Not yet.

”Then what’s the plan?” Vladimir asked.

Greta’s expression darkened.

”We split forces. One team tracks Remu and the Fomorian. The other investigates the northern disturbance—might be where the demon king is gathering power.”

”You want us to fight on two fronts?” Vulpina growled.

”No,” Greta said. ”I want us to survive.”

Everyone went quiet again.

Then Boris opened his eyes.

”...I’ll take the Remu trail.”

Vulpina turned. ”Then I’m going north. If this king’s building a throne, I want to burn it down before he sits.”

Vladimir sighed. ”I’ll stay behind. If any of you die, someone has to hold this place together.”

Fowler nodded. ”I’ll go with Boris.”

Greta stayed still.

The map flickered. The red dots pulsed faster now.

The war hadn’t started.

But it had already begun moving.

Elsewhere

The room was dim. Lanterns swung from chains on the ceiling, casting long, uneven shadows across the stone walls. The air smelled like ash and cold metal.

Vina groaned as she pushed herself up from the floor, every muscle in her body screaming. Her wrists were bruised, and her jaw ached like someone had punched her in her sleep.

She blinked through the dull pain.

Across the room, Teemah sat on a high-backed chair, legs crossed, sipping from a silver cup like she was in a palace, not a dungeon.

”Well, well... Sleeping Beauty’s awake,” Teemah said with a sharp grin. ”Did you dream of your prince, or was it just nightmares this time?”

Vina glared at her. The memory of their fight flickered in her mind—that grin, the burning anger. But her first thought wasn’t revenge.

”Where’s Daniel?” she asked, voice rough. ”Let’s get this over with.”

Teemah chuckled and stood slowly, hips swaying as she strolled closer.

”Oh, relax. The prince is very busy at the moment,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. ”He’ll come see you when he’s done being... entertained.”

Vina’s lip curled.

She knew what that meant.

”You tell your prince I’m not sitting around while he plays with his little sluts. I’ve got more important things to do—like finding my brother before someone worse does.”

Teemah let out a mocking gasp. ”Sluts? Oh no, you wound me. That’s no way to talk about court life, darling.”

She leaned in closer, eyes glinting with amusement.

”Maybe if you smiled more, he’d have made time for you first.”

Vina’s fists clenched.

Teemah grinned wider. ”Or maybe he just likes his girls less... combative.”

A silence stretched between them—tense and sharp.

Then the chamber doors creaked open.

A tall figure stepped inside, boots echoing against the floor.

Daniel.

His coat fluttered slightly as he moved, gold embroidery catching the light. His expression was unreadable. Calm. Cold.

Teemah straightened and stepped aside with a small bow.

Vina didn’t look away from him.

And Daniel didn’t blink.

”Well, I’m here.”