Restelo leaned against the crumbling balustrade of the neglected cathedral's balcony, his silhouette stark against the setting sun. The structure around him seemed to breathe an almost palpable aura of decay and desolation as if the air itself were tinged with the scents of blood and rotten flesh.

Beneath him, the sprawling labyrinth of Onyxburg lay half-hidden in a haze of smog and steam. The city's tarnished soul seemed to seep into the very air, a physical manifestation of its corruption and vice. Here and there, plumes of smoke rose from factories and foundries, blurring the line between men and steel as though the city itself was living, breathing.

The discordant symphony of the city's life echoed up to him—mechanical clangs and rattles from the industrial sectors, blending with the distant wails and sobs that marked the less fortunate districts. It was as if a hundred different lives were being lived all at once, each one oblivious to the other.

At that moment, Restelo felt a peculiar sense of detachment, as if he were hovering on a precipice between two worlds. He felt both a part of the city and yet apart from it.

With a weary sigh, he pushed away from the balcony, his eyes lingering for a moment on the sprawling labyrinth below until steps behind him caught his attention.

The sound of footsteps on the cracked stone flooring heralded the figure's approach. Restelo didn't need to turn to recognize who it was—the acrid scent of burning flesh wafted through the air as the young spawn came closer. Restelo had crafted him from his own dark desires, his unnaturally white hair contrasting sharply with eyes that were as red as spilt blood. Skin popping and sizzling under the glare of the fading sun, the spawn looked almost pitiable. But then again, pity was not a currency Restelo traded in.

"Master, news from Ravendrift," the young man stammered, his voice as shaky as his form.

Restelo's lips curled upward in a sly grin, but his eyes remained as cold as ever. He turned slightly toward his servant, not fully, as if giving him his entire attention would be too much of an honour. "Is he dead?"

The question hung in the air between them, heavier than the smog that choked the city below. Restelo sensed the spawn's hesitation and could practically taste the anxiety that dripped from him like sweat.

In a way, it was delicious to see this tangible sign of another's fear. It was one of the few flavours left that Restelo found at all appealing.

The spawn shuffled his feet, betraying his unease. "Well? Out with it. I haven't got all day," Restelo pressed, his tone steeped in casual cruelty that only years of unchallenged power could cultivate.

The spawn winced, his body involuntarily contracting as if expecting a physical blow. "No, Master. A child lost their life, but everyone else... the horde was decimated. A legion of imps and dryads intervened," he stammered, his words choked with fear.

Restelo's eyes blazed a hellish fire that seemed to set the very air alight. "A child?" he hissed, every syllable laced with an acid contempt. "I asked for the head of a demon, not the life of an inconsequential child!"

The cathedral seemed to tremble around them, mirroring its Master's rage. Even the very stone appeared to shudder as if aware of the tempest that had just been unleashed.

"Do you take me for a fool? Is this how you repay my... generosity? You were nothing but street scum when I found you, a waste of life. And this is how you serve me?" Restelo's voice rose, each word a venomous strike, as cutting as any blade.

The spawn lowered his head even further, practically pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor of the balcony. He braced himself for the wrath he knew was to come, the impending storm of his Master's anger that could annihilate him in an instant.

But as he waited, it became apparent that Restelo was immersed in a different kind of calculation, a deeper scheme that momentarily stilled his furious hand.

Restelo paced the length of the stone balcony, each step releasing a sizzle, a sound of protest from his skin as it met the sunlight. Smoke rose from his form as if his very being was at odds with the daylight world. "I should be focusing on acquiring that damn Key. That should be my sole concern."

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

The spawn, struggling to maintain a respectful distance while shielding his melting face, ventured a suggestion. "Perhaps you could lure the key here, Master."

Restelo's eyes narrowed, a flash of annoyance crossing his features. "And how exactly would I lure the Key into my fortress? Host a soirée in its honour? Don't be a fool."

The spawn winced but persisted. "They must know by now that it was you who sent the thralls, Master. Instead of chasing them, maybe you could trap them here."

Restelo paused, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Trap them, you say? And what could I possibly have or know that would make Miss Morningstar come to me? She doesn't strike me as someone willing to risk it all for revenge. She's too... human for that."

He resumed his pacing, back and forth, lost in thought. But then, a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as if a dark epiphany had dawned upon him. "But perhaps there's something or someone she might risk it all to save. If I can't bring the Key to me, maybe I can bring something—or someone—equally valuable to her."

"Also, we know that the Tower of Memories is at Gravenwatch. If we seize the tower, we could exchange it for the Key," the spawn offered cautiously.

"The Tower is at Gravenwatch?" Restelo queried, his eyes widening just a fraction—an ocean of implications in that slight movement.

"Yes, Master."

"Interesting," he murmured. Restelo felt a flicker of something new pass through him—curiosity, perhaps even excitement. A rarity for a creature whose existence had spanned so many monotonous centuries. "And who controls Gravenwatch at the moment?"

"Master, if the demon is in Ravendrift, it means the Tower is empty. We could seize it."

Restelo's eyes sharpened, cutting through the shadowy gloom of the cathedral-like twin beacons of red fire. "Empty, you say? How delightfully fortuitous." His lips curved into a smile, revealing a glint of razor-sharp fangs. "An empty Tower of Memory, just ripe for the taking. Almost poetic, wouldn't you say?"

The spawn shivered involuntarily, his gaze still lowered. "Indeed, Master. It's an opportunity."

Restelo slowly turned to face him, his dark robes rustling like the wings of a ravenous raven. "Opportunity," he echoed, the word lingering in the air like a fine mist of venom. "That is a word teeming with potential but also fraught with danger. How do you know this information is reliable? How can I trust that this is not another debacle like Ravendrift waiting to happen?"

The spawn tensed, acutely aware that his next words could seal his fate. "The source is one of our own, Master."

Turning to walk indoors, Restelo was abruptly greeted by the scent of burning flesh. He glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see his spawn disintegrate into ashes, consumed by the unforgiving sun. "Why do they always follow me into the sunlight?" he muttered, clicking his tongue in annoyance. Hands in his pockets, he walked deeper into the cathedral.

The grand building was quiet at this hour, its nocturnal inhabitants sheltering from the sun's harmful rays until the moon reigned again.

Restelo made his way down the echoing corridor until he reached a particular room, secluded and dimly lit, a sanctuary of sorts.

Inside, a woman with long brown hair and a fair complexion lay still on a bed. She was an ethereal sight, like a painted Madonna in repose. Her round belly told the story of the life that was in limbo, just like her.

"Isabeau..."

Gently, he caressed her face. She didn't stir. Trapped in an eternal twilight between life and death, human and vampire, she was the reason he persisted, the reason he plotted and schemed. She and their unborn child.

Restelo's fingers hovered over Isabeau's skin, tracing the invisible lines of her life, her future. He could feel the dormant power emanating from her, a tantalizing mix of vulnerability and latent strength. It pulsed in sync with the life within her, a life whose fate was entangled with dark prophecies and darker aspirations.

"Isabeau, my queen", he murmured, his voice a blend of reverence and desolation. "It's been too long since I've heard your laughter, seen your eyes. You deserve a life in the sun, both of you." He glanced down at her swollen belly, contemplating the being that was half-him, half-her, and yet bound by a destiny neither could yet fathom. "I'll give you that life, whatever it takes."

He brushed his lips gently against her forehead. She remained unresponsive, her beauty preserved in this state of limbo, a heart-wrenching reminder of what he stood to gain—or lose.

Stepping away, he made his way to a table laden with maps and scrolls, instruments of navigation and conquest. His eyes fell on a parchment depicting Gravenwatch and its environs. Yes, the Tower of Memory was the next step, but the ultimate aim was far more elusive. The Hollow… that's where the ultimate game lies.

"Love has always been a fanciful notion for our kind," he said, "A notion often reduced to obsession, to an eternal hunger. But in you, I've found something else. And for you, I will bend the very laws that hold our world together."

Restelo turned away, casting one final, lingering look at Isabeau. His heart tightened at the sight of her. It was a strange sensation for a vampire, an uncharacteristic inkling of vulnerability.

"Wait for me," he whispered to the still air of the room as if entreating the Fates themselves. "I'll return with the means to free you, to free us all."

And with that solemn vow hanging in the stillness, he exited the chamber, leaving behind the woman who was his world and the child who could potentially be his redemption or the ruin of Nyu.

As he merged back into the labyrinthine passageways of the cathedral, his silhouette became one with the darkness, his resolve solidifying like the iron core of a star. Gravenwatch would be his next battleground, and he relished the thought.

After all, unlike demons, vampires could lie. But Restelo knew the most convincing lies contained a grain of truth. And his truth was Isabeau and their unborn child.

For them, he would risk it all—even his immortal soul.