Victoria looked herself over in the mirror. She’d grumbled, summoning her thralls to assist with her wardrobe. They combed through the gowns plundered from Avery’s estate, finally settling on a black, flowing dress. Lum used a simple spell to add a touch of crimson to the material, making it shimmer between black and deep crimson depending on the light intensity and angle. Adorned in her gown and jewels aplenty, Victoria paraded through the ballroom doors, Prince Vincent’s thralls opening the doors as she approached.

“Champion, Victoria Vanbelden, bloodline matriarch,” they announced.

Victoria gracefully glided through the opulent ballroom, her movements a delicate dance of charm that only a vampire could pull off. Each step brought her closer to a group of nobles from different covens, and she skillfully engaged in light conversation with each one, learning more about vampire society. Her eyes sparkled with an air of confidence and allure, drawing the attention of those around her.

As the night wore on, vampires began offering small gifts to Victoria in an attempt to win her favor.

“Champion, may I present you with Thea. She had been my thrall for years and is an excellent hairdresser,” countess Timura offered.

“Thank you, Countess. I’ll be thrilled if she can make my hair half as good as yours,” Victoria commented, offering the thrall a prick of blood to bond her. Victoria wondered if the thrall was a spy who would report back to the countess on her. She made a mental note to ask Armos about thrall loyalty when transferring from one vampire to another.

Victoria politely declined any lavish offerings, heeding Armos's advice to avoid showing favoritism and to maintain a sense of independence. A subtle smile played on her lips, relieved that none of the ancients or elders had offered their blood. She couldn't fathom how she would navigate that delicate situation without causing offense.

Stylishly dressed thralls offered Victoria and her progeny a sample of their blood, like caterers with hors d’oeuvres.

At a beautifully adorned table, her progeny, Jared, and Brig, sat dressed impeccably in expensive suits. Their charismatic personas were in full display as they engaged in witty banter with a pair of female vampires. Victoria was happy to see them having fun.

Meanwhile, Lum, dressed in a mesmerizing deep red gown from Avery's estate, stood regally by Victoria's side. The gown hugged her figure in all the right places, accentuating her elegance and allure. Her silver hair cascaded gracefully down her shoulders, and her crimson eyes held a glimmer of mischief and allure as she observed the interactions around her. She kept a notebook and carefully recorded each gift Victoria received.

Throughout the night, Victoria's presence exuded a captivating blend of power and grace, catching the attention of those around her. As she made her way through the ballroom, her vampiric senses picked up on subtle nuances of conversation and body language, allowing her to navigate away from some groups that seemed hostile. Unfortunately, she was not able to avoid all hostile encounters.

“Victoria Vanbelden, I, Baron Howser, challenge you,” a young voice announced as vampires eagerly cleared a space between Victoria and the challenger.

Victoria analyzed the vampire and found him to be only level five. “I urge you to reconsider. This is not a fight you can win, Baron,” Victoria replied.

Howser sneered and drew a black longsword that looked more glamorous than functional. It had a large ruby in the hilt with two bat wings forming the cross guard.

In a blink, Victoria retrieved her whip and dagger from her bracelet storage. “You’ll make me ruin a perfectly good dress,” she complained under her breath as she cut a slit down the leg.

As Howser lunged for her, Victoria snapped her whip, but the baron dodged her strike. Howser thrust his sword at her chest, but Victoria sidestepped and swept his leg. As the baron tumbled forward, Victoria plunged her dagger into his side.

She landed on top of him with her knee pressed into his back. “So confident, yet so lacking in skill,” she said, shaking her head. She dropped her whip and pushed the baron’s head to the floor while stabbing his sword hand with her dagger. Then, she sank her fangs into him and drained him dry.

Some clapped as she stood. Jared and Brig rushed to her.

“Strip him of anything valuable,” she told them. As they hastened to obey, she addressed the crowd. “Does anyone else wish to challenge me this evening or can we enjoy the festivities?”

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Looking across the room, she met each eye, measuring their threat level, but no one challenged her. The body was dragged away and soon everyone returned to the festivities.

After the party, Victoria approached Prince Vincent. “Excuse me, Prince Vincent. May I have a moment?”

“Of course, champion.”

“I wished to give you these but didn’t want to do so with an audience.” She presented Liviana’s circlet and pendant in open hands. “These belonged to Liviana and it seems only right that I return them to you.”

“How considerate. I am pleased to see them again. May I offer you something in return?”

“I dare not ask for more. You have already been a most gracious host.”

Prince Vincent assessed her, then nodded. “A suitable gift will be delivered to you later. Accept it with my thanks.”

“Thank you, eternal majesty.”

Victoria returned to her room. She was eager to hunt with her vampires and thralls. As she prepared for a hunt, donning her armor and weapons, a knock was heard at the door. She opened it to find a thrall bowing with a dark oak case held upward in her hands. “His eternal majesty sends this gift to you, your veiled eminence.”

Victoria accepted the box and the thrall bowed. Shutting the door, Victoria eagerly opened the case to find a letter and a whip of braided red leather.

Victoria delicately unfolded the letter, breaking the wax seal of Prince Vincent’s coven, a tower surrounded by two fangs. Her eyes scanned the elegant script that graced the page, taking in its contents.

Esteemed Champion,

Thank you for returning my daughter’s circlet and amulet. I searched the vaults for a suitable gift for you. Please accept this whip. It belonged to my cousin, an elder vampire who perished about five hundred years ago. I believe you will find it quite a good fit for you.

To aid you in mastering this weapon, I have arranged for a trainer to guide you in its usage. They are one of my personal thralls, skilled in the art of the whip and versed in the intricacies of martial combat. You will find Yemel awaiting your arrival in the training hall.

Embrace this gift, dear champion, and may it become an extension of your indomitable will. I have no doubt that you will wield it with finesse and bring glory to your bloodline. May it serve as a symbol of our connection and the strength that flows through your veins.

Wishing you success in your training and continued triumphs on the path that lies before you. May your path overflow with darkness and blood.

With gratitude,

Prince Vincent

The hunt was quickly forgotten. Victoria was eager to try the whip and was especially happy to have a trainer. She was excited to begin training, but first, she wanted to examine the whip in more detail. With anticipation, Victoria carefully set the letter aside and focused on the whip.

The whip was a work of artistry and craftsmanship, the braided red leather glistening under the soft glow of her chamber. The whip's handle was adorned with intricate carvings, displaying the emblem of Prince Vincent's coven. At the bottom of the handle was a striking red essence crystal containing blood.

Her fingers traced the contours of the whip, feeling the smoothness of the leather and the sturdy grip of the handle. It exuded an air of power and elegance, its design explicitly tailored for vampires and blood practitioners. Victoria marveled at the weapon's unique properties, imagining the possibilities it held in combat and the finesse it could bring to her skills as a warrior of the night.

A surge of curiosity urged her to inspect the whip more closely. She examined its length, noting the intricacies of the braided strands. At the end of the whip, teeth from a savage beast were woven into the leather. The whip seemed to whisper promises of control, of unleashing her vampiric essence with each crack of its crimson lashes.

Bloodlash: This whip is crafted from braided red leather, essence crystal, and razor-sharp fangs. Its design incorporates direwolf fangs, intricately woven into the leather strands near the end of the whip. The whip possesses a unique property that sets it apart from ordinary weapons.

Special Ability: Blood Harvest

Embedded within the red crystal at the base of the handle is a potent enchantment. As the Bloodlash whips through the air, any blood drawn by its teeth-infused tips is stored within the crystal. The captured blood is preserved, unaffected by decay, and can be consumed by the wielder at a later time for nourishment or other purposes. The blood essence crystal acts as a reservoir, ready to sate the wielder's thirst or be utilized for rituals and abilities that require blood. Furthermore, it can hold far greater quantities of blood than its size would hint at, due to a magical compression inherent to the blood essence crystal.

Victoria moved swiftly through the halls with the whip in hand, guided by her desire to master this new weapon. She made her way to the training hall, anticipation coursing through her veins. So far, she had been using her whip as she’d seen in movies or TV. She had no formal training. Here, she hoped to unlock the secrets of the whip and refine her skills under the watchful eye of the trainer.

Victoria stepped into the training hall, the scent of sweat and leather filling the air. As the doors swung open on their own, she observed a man seated in the center of the fighting ring, his eyes closed in deep concentration. He radiated an aura of calm and discipline, awaiting her arrival. His long black hair cascaded down his back, and his toned physique spoke of years spent honing his skills.

As Victoria approached, the man opened his eyes, revealing a piercing gaze framed by a chiseled face with sharp, angular features. Across his robust frame, scars marked the battles he had fought and triumphed over. These signs of his past struggles only added to his mystique, hinting at the countless adversaries he had faced and conquered in his pursuit of perfection.