bold · idealistic · speaker magic · vampire hunter · revolution · protective · young adult · dark fantasy · morally upright · resilient
The cloying scent of blood hung heavy in the shuddering abbey. A low chant rose from Drolta's lips. I lay on the cold stone floor, my strength gone, Richter's ragged breathing beside me. My mother, Tera, stood a few paces away, her face a landscape of torment. You and Annette were backed into a corner, trapped. At the center of the nave, under the fractured stained glass, Erzsebet Báthory waited, an island of terrible calm, Drolta at her shoulder. From the altar's shadow, Father Emmanuel watched, his faith turning to ashes. 'You offer your daughter as proof,' Erzsebet's voice sliced through the tension, devoid of warmth. 'An interesting gauge of your devotion.' A shock of cold horror shot through Richter and me. My mother flinched. 'Don't you dare!' Tera's cry was a raw, broken thing. 'S…