CHAPTER 2: The calm before the storm
1233 Words
Eloise's pov
The war room reeked of burning wax and aged parchment. Maps stretched across the wooden table, filled with scrawled-out battle formations and markings in deep red ink-the path of blood yet to be spilled.
Eloise stood at the head of the table, her emerald eyes scanning every inch of the map. Every detail had to be perfect.
"We strike first," General Rowan declared, tapping a gloved finger on the border that separated their lands from the vampires'. "Swift and merciless. If we hesitate, they'll overpower us."
Eloise's grip tightened on the dagger at her hip. "Attacking first means risking casualties."
The older witch narrowed his eyes. "You're not getting soft, are you?"
Her jaw clenched. "I would rather tear out my own heart than feel sympathy for a vampire."
A murmur of approval rippled through the room.
Still, something about this felt... wrong.
Her fingers hovered over the sigils carved into the map-arcane symbols meant to bind, destroy, and corrupt. They had spent weeks forging spells powerful enough to shatter the undead.
Powerful enough to end them all.
Lillian's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "And what if they have magic of their own?"
"They do," Eloise admitted. "But vampires rely on their bodies, not spells. Their strengths are physical-speed, endurance, brute force. We fight with magic. That gives us an advantage."
Rowan crossed his arms. "Then let's discuss the real issue-Selene."
The room fell silent.
Eloise felt something cold settle in her chest.
Selene Noctis.
A legend among vampires. A warrior who fought without hesitation, without mercy. The last surviving heir of the Noctis bloodline.
And the most dangerous creature Eloise had ever heard of.
"She's just one vampire," she said, masking her unease.
Rowan scoffed. "One vampire who has killed more witches than any of us combined."
Lillian hesitated. "What if we set a trap for her?"
Eloise considered it. If they could isolate Selene, weaken her, kill her-
Then victory would be theirs.
She exhaled sharply. "Fine. We lure her out. But she dies by my hands."
Because if there was one thing Eloise was certain of, it was this-she wanted Selene dead more than anything in the world.
---
Selene's pov
Blood dripped from Selene's knuckles, pooling at her feet. The vampire before her lay motionless, his throat torn open.
A weakling. Not worth the breath he had wasted.
"Disgusting," she muttered, wiping her hand against her cloak.
A chuckle echoed from the darkened chamber. "You're in quite the mood tonight."
Lucian stepped into the candlelight, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.
Selene rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"
"I thought you might be interested in our strategy meeting."
Selene sighed. "We don't need a strategy. We slaughter them. That's it."
Lucian smirked. "Ah, ever the poet."
She didn't bother responding.
They walked into the council chamber, where the elders of the vampire clan stood around an obsidian table. Ancient beings with hollowed faces and cruel eyes.
"Selene." One of them inclined his head. "You've been unusually silent about the coming war."
She leaned against the stone pillar, arms crossed. "Because it's a waste of time."
Murmurs spread through the room.
Lucian grinned. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. This is about vengeance, isn't it?"
Selene's expression didn't change, but something dark stirred within her.
Her family's screams haunted her. The smell of their burning flesh. The sound of her mother's last breath.
She had spent years silencing the memories, but they clung to her like shadows.
"Of course, it's about vengeance," she said coldly. "And I'll kill every last witch myself."
An elder spoke, voice rasping with age. "Then you'll be pleased to know we have a plan."
He traced a long claw over the map. "We let them make the first move. The witches are arrogant, too reliant on their magic. If we bait them into thinking they have the advantage..."
"...They'll walk straight into our hands," Lucian finished.
Selene smirked. "Then let's give them something to fear."
Because if war was coming, she would make sure it ended with rivers of blood.
Eloise’s POV
The night air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and impending war.
They moved in silence through the forest, shadows blending into the towering trees. Witches never fought in the open; they were creatures of the unseen, the whispered spells in the dark. But tonight, there would be no hiding.
Eloise tightened her grip on the hilt of her dagger, its silver gleam catching the moonlight. They had spent weeks preparing for this moment—warding their weapons, strengthening their spells, ensuring that every incantation was laced with enough death to tear through immortal flesh.
Ahead, General Rowan raised a hand, signaling for them to halt.
“We’re close,” he murmured.
Eloise scanned the clearing ahead. The vampire outpost stood like a fortress of black stone, its spires piercing the sky like the fangs of a beast. Torches lined the perimeter, casting an eerie red glow against the darkness.
A perfect trap.
She turned to Lillian. “Are the sigils set?”
Lillian nodded, fingers still glowing from the spellwork she had etched into the earth. “They won’t see us coming.”
Eloise exhaled. Good.
They had two objectives—eliminate the vampire scouts before they could warn the others, then burn their supply chambers to weaken them before the real war began.
Rowan’s voice was a low whisper. “Move in teams. No hesitation.” His gaze met Eloise’s. “And remember, Selene might be here. If you see her—”
“I’ll kill her,” Eloise finished.
Rowan nodded. “Good.”
She wanted Selene dead. Not just because she was a threat, not just because she had slaughtered countless witches—but because the idea of a vampire that strong, that untouchable, made her feel something dangerously close to fear.
And Eloise never allowed herself to be afraid.
“Go,” Rowan commanded.
Like wraiths, the witches moved.
---
Selene’s POV
Selene was bored.
She leaned against the balcony railing of the outpost, golden eyes surveying the treetops. The wind carried the scent of magic—witches.
A slow smirk curled at her lips. They thought they could take them by surprise.
She should have cared more. Should have sounded the alarm, should have gathered her forces. But she didn't.
Because what was the point?
The war had raged for centuries, an endless cycle of death, revenge, and more death. She had lived through it, bled through it. She had lost her family to it.
And yet, she felt nothing.
Lucian’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “They’re coming.”
“I know.”
He stepped beside her, his expression alight with something close to amusement. “Aren’t you going to stop them?”
Selene tilted her head. “Why?”
Lucian laughed. “You’re cruel, Selene.”
She smiled, sharp and cold. “No, I’m just tired.”
And yet, when she caught sight of a figure moving through the shadows—green eyes burning like wildfire, a blade glinting in the moonlight—
Something inside her stirred.
She had heard of Eloise. The witch prodigy, the one leading the charge against them.
The one who wanted her dead more than anyone else.
Selene’s grip tightened around the hilt of her sword.
Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so boring after all.
- Writer
