In a vast chamber where walls of living obsidian pulsed slowly, rhythmically, as though a titanic heart enclosed the chamber.
Veins of crimson rune-light throbbed through the black stone, casting the entire hall in a heartbeat glow, brightening a moment before dimming, and then brightening again.
Every pulse released a faint mist of warm, metallic blood scent, and the reason was simple. This place was within the Crimson Vein Hall, where the sole heiress of Marquis Blood Fiend, Seris Blood Fiend, resides!
The Heart Chamber of Seris lived up to its name; it was not a room but an organ.
In the center of the heart chamber, seated on a throne grown from bone-lattice and crimson crystal, lounged none other than Seris Blood Fiend!
The heiress of the Marquis was a vision sculpted by cruelty and seduction in equal measure. Her skin was a pale, moonless shade, smooth as polished marble yet carrying the faint sheen of living blood beneath.
Her hair spilled around her like a waterfall of brilliant crimson, each strand gleaming as if dipped in fresh vitae. Two slender horns curled back from her temples, black as the abyss, etched with tiny runic scars that pulsed with a predatorâs hunger.
Her eyes were the most disarming, glowing red pupils ringed with silver sigils, like a pair of cursed stars swirling inside a pool of blood, and her lips were the kind of crimson that suggested theyâd tasted too much life. Soft, full, and stained with a perpetual smear of red that wasnât makeup.
She idly licked them as she read a peculiar glowing parchment suspended before her, the script twisting in agony every time her gaze slid over it.
A soft giggle escaped her throat, an unsettling, melodic thing as she muttered, "Poor little worm...you shouldnât have skimmed from Fatherâs tribute tax. Now I have to track your soul for the next week."
She leaned back, stretching like a cat, the bone throne creaking beneath her.
Her aura was gentle, alluring, and warm, until one paused long enough to realize that warmth was the exact temperature blood reached before it cooled.
At a glance, there wasnât anything wrong with Seris, as she was behaving like her usual playful self and kept within the boundaries of the Heart Chamber.
It wasnât like Seris couldnât leave, but she liked to stay within the Heart Chamber, and unlike some hires of the Marquis or high-ranking nobles, she wasnât interested in fooling around while using her status to bully others.
Instead, Seris was interested in personal power above everything else, and she had almost taken over the entire internal affairs of the Crimson Vein Hall, making the Marquis, her father, gratified.
Furthermore, Seris was a genius of the Abyssal Fiend Race, and according to the traditions of the Abyssal Fiend Clan, once she overcame her second abyssal ordeal before the age of five hundred years, she would be given a chance to fight for a spot in the Evernight Sanctuary.
But Seris didnât even consider this requirement a challenge, for she knew she was strong enough to overcome it without any help.
At that moment, the chamber doors, ribbed like the inside of a creatureâs maw, peeled open with a wet whisper.
A servant stepped inside, bowing so deeply that their forehead nearly touched the blood-glazed floor. Their body trembled; even the loyal feared her.
"Y-Young Mistress Seris... your presence is required."
Despite the servantâs presence, Seris didnât look up.
"Required? Or demanded?" She murmured, still tracing a nail tipped like a ruby blade along the floating parchment.
The servant swallowed, "The... Marquis summons you to the Crimson Throne. At once."
At that, the soul parchment froze mid-writhe, and Seris finally lifted her gaze.
The room dimmed instinctively, as if it knew to hush to avoid interrupting its ownerâs thoughts.
"...Father?" She muttered, eyes narrowing, lips curling into a mix of amusement and annoyance, "He hasnât called for me personally since the last Patriarchal Hunt."
She rose slowly, gracefully, each movement elegant yet predatory, like a blood-soaked ballerina.
Crimson hair flowed behind her like liquid life, and without warning, the temperature dropped. The obsidian heart-walls throbbed faster, reacting to her mood.
"And why now, little worm?" She purred toward the servant, stepping forward with a smile that could unmake courage. "Did something interesting... bleed its way into our hall?"
The servant couldnât stop shaking as he quickly replied, "Fo...f-forgive me, but Iâm merely a messenger of the lord!"
Silence reigned, and then Serisâs eyes gleamed like a blade catching moonlight.
"Oh?" Her smile sharpened, "You donât know, huh? Hehe interesting..."
Her laughter echoed through the heart chamber, sweet and melodic, dripping with menace.
"Very well," She said, stepping past the trembling servant who seemed to be relieved his life was still intact.
"Letâs see what dear father wants from me!"
With every step she took toward the exit, the living walls of the chamber pulsed harder as if ecstatic about something...
---
The Crimson Throne Hall was neither a hall nor a throne room; it was a domain. A colossal cavern of living obsidian rose like the ribcage of an ancient fiend, each curved bone-arch towering hundreds of meters and fused with glowing crimson arteries.
The throne platform itself sat atop a lake of congealed blood light, a mirrored surface that rippled in slow, viscous waves, reflecting every pulse of the hallâs veins.
Every heartbeat made the entire hall breathe, blood-mist coiled lazily through the air, drifting around jagged banners woven from fiend-sinew and adorned with the crest of the Blood Fiend Clan, a chained heart pierced by five scarlet talons.
In the center of this monstrous sanctum sat the Crimson Throne, forged from bone, rune-steel, and living essence, rising like a predatory altar.
Upon it sat, Marquis Blood Fiend, a king of slaughter in all but title. Tall and broad-shouldered, he emanated dominion from every inch of his frame. His skin was the same pale abyssal marble as Serisâ, but etched with deep, pulsing rune-scars that crawled across his body like serpents of light.
Two massive black horns curved upward from his temples, far thicker, longer, and more jagged than his daughterâs. His hair flowed like a curtain of shadow-tinted blood, reaching his back in heavy waves.
His face was sharp and regal, forged by centuries of command and carnage,
a chiseled jawline, predatorâs cheekbones, and scarlet eyes blazing like twin suns bathed in gore.
Unlike Serisâs playful allure, his presence crushed, and simply by sitting, he bent the atmosphere into submission.
But he wasnât alone on that platform; beside him sat another abyssal fiend almost identical to Seris. If Seris was a masterpiece of elegant cruelty, this woman seemed to be the original.
Seated to the Marquisâs right, she reclined with effortless grace, her posture relaxed and sensual, as though she could dissolve worlds with a tilt of her lips.
Her mature beauty was devastating. Her crimson hair was longer than Serisâs, cascading like molten blood across her shoulders and pooling at her feet. Her horns swept back in a mesmerizing curve, slim and wickedly sharp.
Her eyes, those same red-silver star-pupils, held a depth that could seduce or eviscerate with equal ease.
Where the Marquis exuded intimidation, this lady, another Evernight Noble with the title of Viscount Veyra Blood Fiend, exuded temptation and death wrapped in velvet.
At that moment, the throne hallâs massive doors, colossal bone slabs engraved with fiendish murals, peeled open with a thunderous groan, and a heartbeat later, a soft humming voice drifted in.
"Heehee~ Fatherâs throne room looks gloomy as ever... Did someone forget to polish the skulls today?"
A swirl of crimson mist breezed through the entrance, and Seris stepped inside with the same carefree confidence of someone strolling into her private garden.
She didnât bow or greet, and on top of that, she didnât even pause as her eyes lit up.
"Mother~!"
Before the Marquis could even clear his throat, Seris shot forward like a blood-red comet and launched herself directly into Veyraâs arms.
Veyra welcomed her with a soft laugh, stroking the girlâs crimson hair as if soothing a spoiled predator cub.
"My little heartshade," Veyra murmured, her voice darkly melodic, "...youâre as dramatic as always."
Seris nuzzled against her motherâs neck with a grin, lips brushing dangerously close to skin.
"Hehe~ Who else would I be dramatic for? Not him." She flicked her finger toward her father dismissively.
The Marquisâs eye twitched as he leaned forward slightly, voice deep and resonating like grinding stone.
"...Daughter."
Seris waved a lazy hand without looking at him, "Yes, yes, hello Father. You summoned me. Why?"
The Marquis exhaled slowly. He had survived countless wars, fiendish uprisings, the assault of Abyssal Grand Lords, yet nothing tested his patience more than the small, beautiful creature clinging to her mother like a pampered serpent.
If the words got out about this helpless yet gentle side of the fearsome Marquis Blood Fiend, who even the Dread Duchess held in high esteem, who knows what kind of turmoil it would cause!