Ancestral Lineage

Vlad's eyes narrowed as the presence behind the portal became more vivid, the overwhelming sensation creeping into every corner of the grand hall like an invisible tide. Then his expression shifted—widening slightly with something rare for the King of Anbord. Shock. Perhaps even fear. Madeleine, ever perceptive, didn't miss it. She felt it too—a pulse of something ancient, potent, and undeniable. Unlike the others, who could only sense the oppressive weight, Madeleine and Vlad could feel it—deep in their bones, vibrating through their very souls.

The vampires present instinctively reacted, their faces twisted with a mix of reverence and dread, eyes glowing a menacing, eerie red that flickered like flames in the dim light. A suffocating silence fell upon the hall, broken only by the faint, almost imperceptible sound of strained breaths. The oppressive aura was unbearable, like drowning in thick, invisible waters with no hope of reaching the surface. And yet, it was only getting worse.

Two tall figures stepped out of the portal first, both exuding an air of authority that demanded attention.

The first had long wine-colored hair, tied neatly into a high ponytail, with loose strands framing his sharp, angular face. His deep blue, foxlike eyes gleamed with a cold intelligence, burning like embers under the dim glow of the hall's lights. His expression was one of detached amusement, like someone observing lesser beings with mild curiosity. Fox ears, covered in sleek, red fur, twitched occasionally atop his head, while his bushy tails—each tipped with a faint, ethereal glow—swayed lazily behind him. Every step he took felt deliberate, his aura sharp and commanding, as though he could shatter the will of any who dared meet his gaze for too long.

Beside him walked another striking figure—a tall, lean man with long, grey braided hair that cascaded down to his knees, glinting faintly under the hall's flickering lights. His skin was almost translucent, pale as freshly fallen snow, giving him an otherworldly, almost spectral appearance. But it was his mismatched eyes—one blood-red, the other a piercing silver—that truly unsettled those who dared to look. They didn't just glow; they seemed to pierce through flesh, bone, and soul, dissecting everything in their path with merciless precision. His figure was slim, bordering on gaunt, but the oppressive aura he radiated was anything but fragile.

Following closely were four women—each breathtaking in beauty, yet radiating an undeniable aura of danger, like roses with thorns sharper than any blade.

The first was a tall, dark elf with an athletic, muscular build that spoke of raw strength. Her skin was a smooth obsidian, glistening faintly as if kissed by moonlight. Her stark white hair was styled in an edgy undercut, with the longer strands swept to one side, framing her sharp, angular features. Golden eyes, bright and piercing, glared with a predatory intensity, betraying a volatile temper beneath her composed exterior.

Next was a pale-skinned demon girl whose very presence seemed to warp the air around her. Her long, vibrant green hair flowed like liquid silk, cascading down her back in waves that shimmered under the dim light. Her chilling yellow eyes held a feral gleam, with slit pupils reminiscent of a serpent. Twin black horns curled elegantly from her temples, polished and smooth, adding to her exotic, lethal beauty.

The third was a dwarven woman, striking in her own right. Unlike the others, she lacked an overt aura of menace, but her calm demeanor spoke of quiet, unyielding strength. She had a strong, curvy build typical of her kin, her posture radiating confidence. Her golden-brown horns curved gracefully from her forehead, polished to a mirror shine. Her deep blue eyes sparkled like sapphires, filled with wisdom and determination.

Lastly, the one who seemed to radiate the most palpable aura of bloodlust was a vampire woman with sleek, dark brown hair cascading down her back like a shadow. Her deep red eyes glimmered with an almost predatory disinterest as if she viewed the entire assembly as insignificant insects. Unlike the others, she didn't bother hiding her true nature. The faint scent of blood clung to her like perfume, subtle but impossible to ignore. Despite her beauty, there was an unsettling emptiness in her gaze—a void that sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest in the room.

As they stood there, the room seemed to shrink under the sheer weight of their presence. The air grew colder, denser, and filled with an almost electric tension. It was clear—these were not ordinary beings. They were predators, standing before prey that could only watch, frozen in awe and fear.

The following beings radiated a palpable aura of dread and despair, their mere presence shifting the very atmosphere of the hall into something colder, darker—almost suffocating. They were both tall, towering over everyone present, even Vlad, whose imposing height now seemed insignificant in comparison. Their shadows stretched unnaturally long as if the very light in the hall recoiled from them.

The first was an otherworldly figure with long, flowing purple hair that cascaded down his back like silk, contrasting sharply against his skin, which was as dark as the void itself. His skin wasn't just dark—it was etched with grey, crack-like symbols that pulsed faintly, like veins of ash within molten rock. His eyes were pits of endless darkness, bored and indifferent, void of emotion, as though the world held no interest for him. His towering figure nearly brushed the grand ceiling, but it was his horns that reached it—long, black, and curved like a bull's, their sharp, pointed tips glinting ominously under the hall's flickering lights. His aura was oppressive, like the cold breath of death brushing against the nape of your neck. It seeped into every corner of the room, choking the weak-willed into submission. Some collapsed where they stood, their eyes wide with morbid terror, unable to breathe, their minds drowning in primal fear.

Beside him stood another figure—just as tall, just as terrifying. His hair was snow-white, cascading in wild waves streaked with faint crimson lines that seemed to pulse with a sinister glow. His skin was pale, almost translucent, like fragile porcelain laced with beautiful, crimson tribal-like markings that spiraled around his neck and down his exposed arms. The same markings traced beneath his eyes, glowing faintly, enhancing the sharp, predatory glint in his deep crimson gaze. His eyes weren't just red—they were like wells of liquid blood, glowing with an intensity that made the heart race, either from awe or raw, unfiltered fear. His aura was overwhelming, not like the suffocating darkness of the first figure, but something worse—alive. It was filled with bloodlust, a hunger so potent that it seemed to gnaw at the very souls of those who dared meet his gaze. Just looking at him made the blood in one's veins either freeze in terror or threaten to stop flowing altogether.

The vampire knights of the Smith clan, who once stood tall with pride and strength, were now crumpled on their knees, trembling in both fear and reverence, their faces pale despite their vampiric nature. They shared a deep, instinctual connection with the white-haired figure—a connection that now felt like a leash, pulling them down under the crushing weight of his presence. Even Vlad wasn't spared. Though he remained standing, his posture rigid and composed, his expression betrayed him. His smile was tight and strained, and his eyes flickered with something rare—uncertainty. His legendary grace was nowhere to be found, replaced by the faintest hint of dread.

Then, shattering the suffocating silence, the white-haired figure spoke, his voice smooth and playful, yet layered with an undertone of malice that sent fresh waves of chills down every spine in the room.

"Good to see you too," he said, his usual smirk curling his lips. But what was once a casual, mischievous grin now appeared devilish, almost predatory, especially to those who knew him well—his father, Lord Barnes, and his brother, Dennise.

To them, this was no longer the Trevor they once knew.

The next to appear were four breathtaking ladies, their presences seemingly tempering the suffocating dread that still lingered in the hall. Unlike the ominous figures who had come before them, these women exuded an aura of grace and serenity, as if their very existence was meant to soothe the chaos left in Trevor and Lamair's wake. Their steps were light, yet each carried an undeniable weight of power, woven into their very essence.@@novelbin@@

The first was a dark-skinned beauty with short, sleek black hair framing her sharp, intelligent features. Her golden eyes gleamed like molten metal, sharp and observant, carrying wisdom far beyond her apparent youth. There was an uncanny resemblance between her and one of the authority figures seated in the hall, a connection that did not go unnoticed, sparking silent whispers among those who dared to glance up.

Beside her walked an elven lady of ethereal beauty, her long silver hair cascading like liquid moonlight down her back, faintly glowing as if kissed by starlight. Her sharp violet eyes gleamed with piercing clarity as they could see through the very fabric of one's soul. She moved with the effortless grace typical of her kind, yet there was something more—an edge hidden beneath the elegance as a blade sheathed in silk.

Next was a striking figure that caused an immediate stir. A woman with flowing blue hair, known to all present. She was unmistakable—Pisces, the Zodiac and daughter of the revered leader of the Richards family. But there was something profoundly different about her now. She seemed… transformed. Her wings, once unseen, were folded elegantly behind her, their white feathers radiating a cold, ethereal glow. Her skin was pale, almost luminescent, like freshly fallen snow under moonlight. Her once warm demeanor had shifted into something regal, distant as if she had ascended beyond mortal concerns.

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The fourth figure was perhaps the most otherworldly of them all. A woman with luminous blue skin, her form ethereal, almost translucent. But what truly set her apart was her face—or the absence of one. Her visage was a smooth, featureless expanse, void of eyes, nose, or mouth, yet somehow expressive in its emptiness. Her silvery-blue hair floated around her like a halo, unaffected by gravity, and her feet hovered inches above the ground, as though the earth itself was unworthy of her touch. She was an enigma, a living paradox of grace and mystery.

As the awe and tension balanced on a knife's edge, two more figures emerged from the portal, their presence like a balm to frayed nerves. They radiated calming auras so profound that the oppressive weight of fear seemed to lift slightly, like the first breeze after a suffocating storm.

One of them was like the embodiment of dawn itself—her golden hair cascading down her back in shimmering waves, almost blinding in its brilliance. Her eyes were twin suns, radiant and warm, yet filled with an ancient power that could burn or heal with equal ease. She was a living beacon, her very presence a promise of hope and renewal.

Beside her stood a figure equally mesmerizing but in a softer, more delicate way. She was like the melody of a forgotten lullaby, her presence soothing the soul and spirit. Her long, white hair fell like snow, framing a face that was both fierce and gentle. Her eyes were a vivid, lupine blue, sharp yet filled with depth. Beautiful fox ears peeked through her hair, twitching adorably, while four majestic tails swayed behind her, their movements fluid and hypnotic. She was both divine and earthly, a bridge between worlds, captivating beyond reason.

Had Trevor and Lamair not already stolen the breath from the room with their oppressive auras, these two would have done so effortlessly, but instead, they offered reprieve—a fragile balance between dread and awe.

Then, just as the room seemed to regain a semblance of composure, a voice resonated throughout the hall. Calm yet filled with unshakable authority, it wasn't spoken from any one direction—it was everywhere, surrounding, permeating, inescapable.

'I believe I told you to keep your auras in check.'

The words weren't loud, but they carried the weight of undeniable command, instantly calming the remaining tension. It was as though the very walls exhaled, the oppressive pressure receding. But what followed next would be etched into the minds of everyone present for the rest of their lives.

A sharp gaze, unseen yet overwhelmingly present, swept through the hall like an invisible blade. Its intensity was so profound that the very chairs groaned under the pressure, and faint cracks spiderwebbed across the polished marble floor. Vlad's face lost all color, and his eternal poise shattered. His eyes widened in something primal—not just fear, but pure, unfiltered terror, the kind that clawed at the soul.

Then the voice spoke again, colder this time, its edge as sharp as a blade poised at the throat of the world.

"Do you dare defy me?"

The effect was immediate and devastating. Vlad, the proud king of Anbord, fell to his knees as though the very ground had pulled him down. The floor beneath him splintered with a deafening crack, his once-magnificent throne crumbling into dust behind him, as fragile as sand against the weight of that voice. The walls trembled, fissures creeping up like veins of fear etched into stone.

Around him, dwarves and vampires alike collapsed in reverence, their faces pressed into the cold, fractured floor. None dared to lift their heads. Even those who didn't understand why felt it—an instinctual command embedded deep within their very beings, compelling them to submit.

Everyone stood, heads bowed low, driven by an overwhelming force they couldn't comprehend, let alone resist. The only ones untouched by the oppressive command were those who had stepped out of the portal, standing tall amidst the chaos. Carmen, her true features now exposed in their full glory, remained unaffected, her expression serene. And then there was Madeleine—her smile was proud, radiant with affection, and filled with something far more telling.

Love.