The Last Meeting

The fumes of nearby incense curled lazily through the study, soft ribbons of smoke drifting between shadow and candlelight. Lady DeathBreeze Mayfair stood before one of the tall bookshelves, her posture composed, perhaps a little too composed for the night that awaited her. She appeared calm, unnervingly so, as if the stillness around her had seeped into her bones.

Her cellphone suddenly buzzed, the sharp, familiar tone of the Addams Family notification cutting cleanly through the quiet. The screen illuminated her pale features with cold blueish light. “Death. Clan Headquarters. Now. ”

She stared at the message for a long breath and sighed softly. It was time. Nexyra was sending her to her fate. Without haste, she slipped the phone into the pocket of her tailored suit and turned toward the mirror. With practiced precision, she adjusted a loose white strand of hair, her expression steady. Her mind wandered, recalling all the little details that happened recently: She had survived Lucian’s meeting, her Arch Vampire but also her father. He was a being known for his particular and merciless hunger. She and her partner had endured that storm and survived without any fangs piercing their skins. Some would call it a miracle, others would simply see it as a demonstration of her social skills. Compared to an angry sibling, especially an angry vampire, tonight’s summons felt almost… manageable.

The night outside was eerily dark when she arrived at the clan lands. The Chevaux de la Mort manor stood massive yet deceptively discreet, hidden in plain sight among the living. To human eyes, it was merely another elegant estate, but to predators it was something far more useful. Some might have called its placement risky; Lady Mayfair considered it particularly convenient. An easy access to quick snacks and tonight she intended to be well fed.

On her approach, she noticed a woman waiting alone at a nearby bus stop. The decision came naturally. With her renown silent grace, DeathBreeze closed the distance, seized her prey, and dragged her into the manor’s shadowed porch. The feeding was swift and efficient, almost courteous in its restraint. When she finished, she allowed the unconscious body to slump gently onto the pavement before stepping inside.

Her heels scraped softly against the welcoming carpet as she entered the foyer. She wouldn’t wanted to have some blood splatters to color the cherish marble floorings “Dark greetings?” she called into the stillness.

“Walk through the arch and to the right. We are there,” came the reply from a masculine voice she knew far too well. Her brother. Of course. She followed the directions and entered the chamber where they waited. Lady Aimee and Lady Sybil offered her discreet waves. Lord Abraham Blackburn-Kismyaz sat composed, and beside him stood Lord Tan Keres Blackburn, her uncle, the Blood Regent of the Blackburn lineage. Madame Mayfair positioned herself before them, remaining respectfully on her feet while they enjoyed their seats.

“Dark greetings, Blood Regent Tan, Arch Advisor and Sovereign Abraham, Lady High Council and Ambassador Sybil, and Lady Proxy Aimee,” she said smoothly, her gaze touching each of them in turn. “I see the darkness has kept you well. My apologies for the blood on the front porch. I was finishing my dinner. I will have a familiar cleanse it.”

“Darkest greetings, Lady Death. I’m glad you could meet us here on short notice,” Abraham replied, rubbing his hands together slowly before continuing. “We will get down to business. Since our meeting a few nights ago, I have taken time to think. I’ve deliberated with my officers and my superiors, and… a decision has been made.” His pale gaze fixed firmly on her. “Lady Death, we must send a scroll to the Scribe’s Guild announcing that we are cutting ties with your House. This choice was not made lightly.”

The Mayfair vampire lips curved into a faint smirk. Her eyes closed briefly, as if listening to distant music only she could hear. “As you wish, Sovereign,” she answered calmly. “I am not afraid. What must be done shall be done. Our gods will pave the path and protect their wardens.” Her words were paved in a righteous confidence. She opened her eyes again, and there was an unsettling peace in them — not defiance, not grief, but something quieter and stranger.

Abraham studied her. “You are intelligent. I know you have aspirations. My suggestion would be to pursue the Rogue charter first, then move toward Renegade. You will still need a sponsoring Arch. I believe you can act quickly when needed.”

Her fingers began to twitch more rapidly, the only sign of the storm beneath her stillness. “Indeed… but I have received revelations from our gods. Tharos teaches us to handle lost causes with grace and strength — and that is what my Coven will do.” Her head tilted slightly. “I was advised by the Source devils to skip the Rogue request. Their words, strangely enough, they considered it almost idiotic, as the requirements were the same. All of my members will be contacted and notified of your decision. They confirmed they wishes to follow the cult… I mean, the House.”

Lady Aimee leaned forward, curiosity in her voice. “You will be a Renegade clan? Do you have a sponsoring Arch in mind?”

“No,” DeathBreeze replied softly. “I was told matters were… different for the Renegade. Perhaps I was misinformed… it would not be the first time the Source’s devil played with words and use trickery.” Her gaze briefly found Lord Tan.“Father’s shattered heart would not sponsor my path, I believe. Mine broke as well when I brought him the news. The road ahead will be harder, but I did not wish to remain silent and use your trust to achieve my ambitions.” A soft, almost self-aware giggle escaped her. “So we chose the stupidest path.”

Her expression gentled. “While our paths may diverge, you are still family to us. No one deserves to be stabbed in the back. The Coven would rather wound itself than tarnish those it once cared for.”

Sybil finally spoke, her tone measured but not unkind. “I think everything that needed to be said has been said over the past months — and here today. Actions speak louder than words. Still… I wish you the best on the path you’ve chosen. May you find the happiness you seek.”

DeathBreeze lifted her hand slightly, requesting permission to speak, and when it was granted, her voice softened with rare sincerity. “As I may not be able to speak with some of you easily after tonight… I want you to know that while our beliefs have changed, our hearts still carry your names.” Her eyes moved gently between them. She thought of Aimee’s wisdom, of Sybil’s ferocity, of Abraham’s immense heart, and of Tan’s quiet strength. Each memory was carefully picked, chosen and true.

“You all meant more to me than you know,” she finished softly. Then her distant smile returned. “But the goddess sings in my ear. She calls the children deaf to her whispers… and the god who craves the lost battle calls as well. Every night… every death… we hear them. We have found the truth.”

Silence settled heavily in the chamber before it was broken by exchanges of light farewell. The exchange didn’t sound like future enemies in the making, but as something far more complicated. Family, once, now broken.

At last, DeathBreeze turned toward the exit, her voice echoed again in the manor “Farewell, Uncle… Brother… Sisters.”She says as he omitted their titles for the first time. She paused only once at the threshold, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips. “Nexyra will watch over you.” She took a breath of quiet certainty. “One day.”

And then she walked back into the dark.