Prologue – Part VI: The Breath of the Damned
The private hall of the King of Victoriano was not adorned with gold, like the throne, nor perfumed with incense like the ambassadors' chambers.
It was made of ancient stone and silence. And in that room, three men met with a destiny greater than themselves.
King Hjlpkik, his face marked by time and old scars that not even the royal cloak could hide, held his hands clasped over the map of the continent of Zerk, covered with obsidian markers and red glass.
"They are killing children, Souka. Not for hunger... but for offerings."
Before him, Brenner Souka, immense as a living mound, clenched his fists until his knuckles crackled. An aura of heat began to pulse around his body, and the air crackled.
"They have messed with the one thing I will never forgive."
His voice was lava.
"They're not just vampires," Houka interrupted, sitting casually on the back of an armchair, with the same cold and charming smile as always. He was wearing his mission version of the Tronozo uniform: open black coat, dark red tie like dried blood, red eyes shining as if they contained centuries of calculation.
"They're cultists. A splinter clan of the Varnak Dynasty. The sect of the Umbryas Overlords. They worship oblivion. For them, child blood is not just food... it's the key."
The king stood up. His voice was sharp as naked steel.
"I don't want clan names, or bloodlines. I want charred bodies. Mountains of ash that the wind will carry away. And I want it before the next moon."
Viktor, leaning against a column, was still dancing on one foot, never stopping his smile. But when he heard the king's last words, his face darkened slightly.
— They hide in the Veils of the Barbed Mountains. Underground cities. Mirrored catacombs. The doors don't open with force. We need to be more… elegant.
Houka wagged her finger thoughtfully.
— And that's why I'm here. The exact location of the three main lairs is with me. I didn't find it on maps. I found it in minds. I questioned a survivor from a lost village. He's still breathing, but not much.
— We're going to need you, cold-blooded boy, Brenner muttered with a half-smile.
— We're going to need everyone, — Viktor finished, stopping in his tracks. — These bastards don't die easily. They're testing the Kingdom. The border. The morals. And they know that the Faith here… is fragile.
The king stepped closer. He placed a heavy hand on Houka's shoulder.
— You're the smartest of them all. But you're going to need a little anger to overcome this.
— I am full of it, Houka replied, still smiling.
Then the king turned to Brenner.
— You will be the flame. Viktor, the movement. Houka, the mind. Three ghosts, three hunters. That is what you have become.
Brenner snapped his fingers. The blue flames of his hellfire danced in his palm.
Viktor stretched his legs and rolled his ankles, preparing himself.
Houka simply closed her eyes and began to recite the password that would open the portals to the oldest tunnels of Zerk, where the Varnak and their vampire cultists hid the darkness made flesh.
— Time to erase a cult, — Houka said.
And the three left the room like shadows with a purpose.