The Crimson Shade Covenant's camp reeked of blood and old power.
Hidden deep within the Frost Hollow, it blended into the corrupted forest—tattered black banners hung from gnarled trees, and crude wooden stakes marked a wide perimeter. Symbols of dominion and heresy were etched into every surface.
But it wasn't the crude fortifications that disturbed Aelric the most.
It was the silence.
No idle chatter. No barking orders. Only the low hum of wards and the faint, rhythmic chanting drifting from within.
Aelric crouched behind a snow-laden boulder alongside Rhea, both cloaked in shadows. Lyra remained hidden further back, too weak to assist—but not forgotten.
Through the jagged treeline, they surveyed the camp.
Tents formed a loose circle around a central ritual space. At its heart, an altar—carved from black stone, slick with old blood—stood beneath a towering effigy: a twisted humanoid figure, its face veiled, its arms spread wide in mockery of divine protection.
The Veiled One. A forbidden deity whispered of in vampire heretic circles. An entity older than their bloodlines, tied not just to vampiric origins—but to the void between realms.
Around the altar knelt cloaked figures, their hoods hiding pale faces, their whispers weaving like smoke through the trees.
But it wasn't just vampires present.
Aelric's sharp gaze picked out Hollowborn—corrupted creatures lurking at the camp's edges, their bodies twisted, their eyes vacant. Tools. Pets. Weapons.
"They've allied with the Hollow corruption," Rhea whispered, horror dawning.
Aelric's expression darkened. "They're cultivating it."
The Covenant wasn't just surviving in the Frost Hollow. They were harvesting its taint, experimenting, merging vampire resilience with Rift-born monstrosities.
A dangerous gamble. A potential source of immense power.
His System pulsed softly, confirming his suspicion:
[Quest Progression: Shadows Beneath the Hollow]
▸ Covenant confirmed to be engaging in Forbidden Hybridization Practices.▸ Risk Level: Elevated.▸ Opportunity Detected: Ritual Site contains artifacts of significant power. Estimated gain—System advancement and Influence potential.
Aelric's lips curled faintly. Risk… but reward.
His eyes swept the camp again, noting sentry rotations, weak points in the wards, and the faint, shimmering outline of concealed supply crates—likely containing relics, bloodstones, or experimental notes.
His mind raced through possibilities:
▸ Infiltrate quietly, steal information and artifacts, and vanish before detection.▸ Sabotage the ritual—disrupt their connection to the Hollow, sowing chaos.▸ Or strike surgically—free the captives, cripple their leadership, and make a brutal statement.
Each carried risk. Each carried weight.
"Your call," Rhea whispered, her hand resting lightly on her dagger. Her eyes betrayed fear—but beneath it, trust. She followed him, no matter how dark the road became.
Aelric exhaled slowly, gaze never leaving the altar, where the Covenant's true ambitions simmered beneath crimson-veiled lies.
This wasn't just about Lyra's missing friends. Or Hollowborn corruption.
It was a crack in the foundation of their world—a glimpse at how far the Covenant, and perhaps others beyond them, were willing to go to seize power. Even if it meant tearing through the barriers between realms.
And Aelric?
He intended to tear back the veil… and claim whatever lay behind it.
...
The moment Aelric stepped beyond the treeline, the air thickened.
It wasn't just the creeping corruption of the Hollow or the ever-present fog — it was… heavier. Cloying. Like unseen fingers brushing against his skin, probing, tasting.
The Veiled One's presence wasn't metaphorical. It pressed against the world here, watching. Listening.
"Stay close," Aelric whispered, his voice little more than a breath.
Rhea nodded, her expression taut but determined, her hand never straying far from the hilt of her blade.
Their approach was careful, slipping between collapsed tents and broken tree roots, shadows swallowing them as they wove through the camp's outer edges.
The guards were few — arrogant, complacent. Vampires relied on fear, their Hollowborn pets, and their ritual wards for security. But arrogance bred opportunity.
Aelric's System flickered softly, mapping weak points, patrol paths, subtle gaps in the enchantments.
They found the first prisoner near the eastern tents. A boy — barely older than Lyra — bound in silver-threaded rope, unconscious but alive. His wrists bore faint puncture wounds.
"Davin," Rhea whispered, eyes widening. Relief — and rage — flickered across her face.
Aelric crouched, inspecting him. Alive, but weakened. Fed upon, but not drained. Ritual preparation.
"They're keeping them alive for the offering," Aelric muttered, disgust curling in his voice.
Further ahead, the altar loomed larger now — the Veiled One's effigy casting warped shadows across the camp. The chanting deepened, laced with guttural syllables not meant for mortal tongues.
And there, beside the altar, stood the High Priestess.
A tall, statuesque vampire, her skin alabaster-pale, her hair braided with crimson cords. Her eyes gleamed with ancient hunger, but her expression… calm. Cold. Calculating.
Aelric's System identified her immediately:
[Name: Selene Veyne][Race: Vampire — Crimson Shade Covenant][Class: Bloodbound Warlock (Veiled One)][Threat Level: High]
[Known Abilities: Blood Rites, Hollowborn Manipulation, Shadow Veil Invocation]
A formidable opponent — even for him. But knowledge? That was power.
Aelric's eyes narrowed, absorbing every detail. The placement of her guards. The ritual's tempo. The faint shimmer beneath her feet — an artifact? A summoning focus?
His mind raced, formulating a plan. But as he watched, the shadows stirred unnaturally.
Not from the camp. Not from the Hollow.
From… within him.
Aelric's breath hitched as his System pulsed a quiet warning:
[The Veiled One has noticed you.][Suppression Attempt: Active.][System Countermeasures: Engaged.]
Aelric's vision darkened for a heartbeat. Whispers curled at the edges of his thoughts — honeyed promises, distorted voices offering power, freedom… dominion.
The Veiled One was reaching for him. Testing him.
Aelric clenched his jaw, forcing his mind clear. His System crackled, resisting the intrusion, shielding him — barely.
Rhea's hand gripped his arm, grounding him. "Aelric?" she whispered, concern etched across her face.
He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. The entity's influence was real — but so was his defiance.
"We don't have much time," he muttered. "We get the prisoners. We cripple their ritual. We leave."
Rhea's eyes hardened. "And Selene?"
Aelric's lips curled into a faint, dangerous smile. "Her? We'll deal with her… when I'm ready."
For now, they would sow chaos, steal strength — and learn.
The Veiled One had noticed him.
Let it.
It would learn that mortals weren't so easily devoured.
Especially not him.