Inside an elegant private study room
The room exudes a grand European design, adorned with opulent furniture that oozes extravagance, as if meticulously tailored to embrace the grandeur of this exclusive private chamber.
Within this luxurious room, three figures sat, basking in its splendor. They were surrounded by an air of prestige, engulfed in an atmosphere befitting their status.
"What is your order, Supreme Leader?" Lowell's words hung heavy in the air as he addressed Vincent, his voice tinged with reverence.
The battle had left him battered and weary, prompting both sides to go back to the sanctuary of Alonzo's opulent mansion.
After the battle, something unexpected unfolded—the werewolves, simple creatures as they are, effortlessly adapted to their new leader. It was as if the transition held no weight for them, solidifying the notion that these lupine beings were inherently more dependable than their vampiric counterparts in terms of loyalty.
'What should I do after this ?' Caught off guard by Lowell's statement, he concealed his surprise behind his mask, relieved that his true reaction remained veiled. Truth be told, Evangeline had only entrusted him with the responsibility of assuming control over Red Fang. What lay beyond that directive was a mystery to him, an enigma begging to be unraveled.
"Master Fir," a female vampire interjected, her tone dripping with respect but with a little hint of authority, "allow me the honor of conveying the matriarch's order."
"Go ahead," Vincent replied.
The way the female vampire addressed his supreme leader annoyed Lowell. An undercurrent of rage surged through his veins, but he was powerless to act upon it. Vincent had granted her permission, rendering any objection from him an insult to his superior's command.
"Our Matriarch had ordered me to hand you this, " The female vampire gazed landed on Lowell.
As the phone exchanged hands, Lowell couldn't help but feel a surge of apprehension. What did this Matriarch have in store for him?
Vincent, too, was consumed by curiosity and remained silent, eagerly awaiting the moment when Evangeline would make the call.
"Forgive me, Master Fir. Our matriarch said that she wanted to speak with him privately," she spoke, bowing her head as if not wanting him to be offended by her words.
Vincent's mind swirled with confusion, his trust in Evangeline's decision warring with his own weariness. The weight of the day's drama had taken its toll, leaving him longing for the comfort of home. He had never been one for playing the role of a big boss; it simply wasn't his style.
But in the midst of his internal conflict, he reminded himself of the trust he had placed in Evangeline. She had proven herself time and again, navigating the treacherous paths of the supernatural world with her support. If she believed that granting Lowell this moment of privacy was necessary, then he would honor that choice.
"Alright," he replied. "I will leave for now. Should I need your help, I will reach out to you. For now, the responsibility of overseeing Red Fangs will still be handle by you."
Vincent's words resonated with a quiet authority. With a nod of acknowledgment, he turned to leave the room, his steps measured and deliberate.
'Wait? You're just leaving after taking over?' Momentarily stunned. Lowell stood there, grappling with a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and even a tinge of doubt. It seemed as though their new supreme leader had just dismissed his newfound authority with nonchalance, as if it held no significance. However, Lowell quickly quashed the rising doubts within him, reminding himself that this might be a test of his capabilities, a trial to prove his worth.
"No," Lowell whispered to himself, a strong determination gleaming in his eyes. "I won't falter. I'll show him my value, no matter the circumstances."
As if in response to his silent vow, the burner phone nestled in his hand vibrated, jolting him from his thoughts. A surge of anticipation coursed through his veins as he answered the call. Whoever this mysterious matriarch was, her connection to his new pack leader implied that she wields immense respect and authority.
"Hello, who is this?" he answered.
"Long time no see, Lowell. Do you still remember me?" The sweet, melodic voice that resonated through the phone jolted him from his reverie. It was a voice he hadn't heard in what felt like an eternity, yet its familiarity stirred memories and emotions within him. Instantly, he recognized the caller, and his heart skipped a beat.
"Evangeline," Lowell's voice seethed with anger, his jaw clenched tightly. The revelation that their new Supreme Leader had been working alongside an Original Vampire all along left a bad taste in his mouth.
"I should have expected this after encountering those wicked vampires! " he clenched his fist in anger. How could he have been so blind?
"I understand that you're still angry about what happened before," she replied, her tone carrying the weight of their shared history. Her calm voice cut through the tension, her words echoing with a mix of understanding and regret.
But Lowell's anger still boiled over, no longer contained within the confines of his composure.
"You made our kind cannon fodder in the war!" he shouted, his voice reverberating through the room.
"Lowell, you know full well that it was my brother Vladimir and Bardulf who desired that war," she explained, her words carrying the weight of a bitter truth. "We did everything to mitigate the damage, to avoid that war. but we could not fully stop them. Our choices were limited, and the consequences were devastating."
"Your whole family had the power to intervene, you could have stopped that damn brother of yours." Lowell's voice trembled with accusation and despair. "But you chose your kind over ours. Lord Fenrir, our noble leader, paid the ultimate price and died because of you Originals!"
The pain of those losses, the lives sacrificed in the name of power and dominance, surged through him like tidal wave. Fenrir's death, a sad reminder of the irreparable damage caused by the conflict, haunted his thoughts. The anguish of that loss radiated from him, his voice cracking with sorrow and rage.
He remembered how he had abandoned his noble leader and had made the ill-fated decision to join the war, driven by his own foolishness and Vladimir's twisted propaganda.
"Lowell, I understand your anger and grief," she said, her words infused with a solemn sincerity. "But we must look beyond our past grievances. And move together and help Fenrir ."
Lowell's anger wavered for a moment, replaced by confusion and disbelief. The mention of his Lord Fenrir, his fallen leader, in the context of helping a dead person stirred a whirlwind of emotions within him. His mind raced, desperately trying to make sense of Evangeline's cryptic statement.
"Help Lord Fenrir?" his voice wavered with disbelief. "What do you mean by that? He is gone, lost to us."
"That might not be the case. " She replied.
His confusion deepened as Evangeline's words danced on the edge of revelation, carefully concealing the truth she held within.
"Lowell, there is a ritual, an ancient and powerful one, that holds a chance of reviving Fenrir," she explained, her voice laced with a cautious hope.
"It is a path we must explore, for his sake " her voice flickered with a hidden secret, a delicate lie she weaved to protect the truth until the time was right.
Lowell's heart skipped a beat, his eyes widening with hope and disbelief. The idea of resurrecting Lord Fenrir, his revered leader, ignited a spark of possibility within him. Yet, a lingering doubt nagged at the back of his mind, as if sensing the hidden truths concealed beneath Evangeline's words.
"Tell me more," Lowell implored, his voice filled with curiosity and cautious optimism.
"What must be done? How can we bring Lord Fenrir back?"
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