Little Thean and Sol were in the Sanguiris mansion, reading books to each other about the 1000 year slave wars. A memory that entertains the present Thean to glow her eyes orange. Sol wanted to read the history book to her as a bedtime story but Thean knew that history books as bedtime stories!? That called for a revolution and the girl suggested a book about a short story book collection of the Unyan valley. Telling Sol about the spirits that inhabit the valley and causing it to become so mysterious that a mist covers it.
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Sol had beautiful wide eyes, and her intrigue made Thean take the chance to open the book until Sol pressed her hand against Thean’s lips. Said, “No, that sounds boring.”
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“Your history books are more boring!” Thean argued, took a bite of an apple, “If we want bedtime stories, mother said that spirits are better! It calls them to look after your sleep”
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“That is hardly a truth though,” Sol debated, “Those…Nautrents” she tried to remember but at least she got the sound right, “Nautrens…they are not real.”
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“But they are, we even have a celebration for them called the Mægfæge” she smiled with a chin up in proudful standing, “That’s right the Mægfæge!”
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“That…is for oldies!”
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“Gah! Stop, don’t grab my hair,”
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“You do not have grey hair!”
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“What’s that got to do with Mægfæge?”
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Their argued rolling and playful tumbling shake the bookshelf. Pushing a book out from the highest rack and thud it hits the carpet. The girls did not notice at first but a howling wind blew the garlic windchimes from the window in and rattles in rolling towards the dark book. Sol intended to grab only the windchime and since the book also fell, she also wanted to place it back to the bookshelf. But—it is too high. “I am too short!” She complained and Thean laughed at her height.
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Thean who teased Sol for being short—eventually noticed the cursive title, “How about that book? Maybe we can read that?”
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Sol decided to give up on reaching for the highest rack and turned her attention down to the book she holds, “Count Mothers? It sounds scary though…”
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“That’s fine! Plus, it fell from the top rack! That just means a spirit wants us to read it!”
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“…ugh, I still do not believe you with the nautrens but fine.” Sol made her way to the bed, so did Thean and both girls find themselves side to side. Thean reads the right-side pages while Sol reads the left. Words starting with, “These are some historic accounts of the Count Mothers throughout history. Oh wow, it Is a history book!”
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And Thean gave up at that, “Ugh, just read it”
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“The Count Mothers are pregnant women who are suspected to be bestial with creatures and monsters. They give birth to the monsters that haunt us now today…wait first of, what is bestial?”
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“I don’t even know what that means but go on”
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“Many of the Count Mothers are mortal, but some have been recorded throughout different eons leading us to this book. Accounts of Count Dramescula, Count Yralla, Count Ymalla, and Count Unyanna, written by Ober Avanhawk. Woah, the writer’s name sounds familiar.”
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“It sounds like our lord magister, Ober Vanderhawk. That is indeed woah.”
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“Your turn”
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“Right…” The memory fades, distinctly lining with the words present Thean murmurs, “Count Dramescula is the mother of all Sanguin. Her children are classified under Vampires, Albyles, volkins, and gargoyles. These classification holds to many types of her children—read more on my book ‘Children of Dramescula’” The darkness of the prison cell hiding her lips,
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“I tell you, there is something wrong with this princess!” Dramescula’s split says, “She is murmuring something and look at her!”
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Thean’s eye is glowing orange with an occasional flicker of orange.
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“You yourself being in the princess is already wrong”
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“At least I am showing you that something is wrong with this person! No, I do not even think she is a person.”
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“The problem here is you. And you’ve already killed many of my mates.” Growls Tywin whose fingers scratch the pale skin’s belly red, “You will pay for everything, Dramescula”
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As Tywin and the other mates approach Thean, Gordon hesitates, his instincts warning him to keep his distance. But curiosity gets the better of him, and he steps forward, his voice soft and concerned. "Princess, how are you doing?"
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Thean's response is a simple "Fine," but it comes as two voices speaking in unison, a discordant echo that sends chills down the spines of the Whiteblood Knights and even Dramescula herself. Gordon, undeterred, asks again, his hand reaching out to touch Thean's. "Are you sure you're okay, Princess?"
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The moment his fingers brush against her skin, Gordon stumbles back, his eyes wide with horror. The others crowd around him, their voices rising in a cacophony of concern and fear. "What did you see, Gordon?" they demand, their faces pale and drawn.
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Gordon shakes his head, his voice trembling as he speaks. "The princess needs to rest. She shouldn't be disturbed." But even as he says the words, he knows that something far more sinister lurks beneath the surface.
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Thean's voice cuts through the tension, her words measured and calm. "I can answer the question Zera had earlier, about how Dramescula was able to transfer and possess me so quickly." She reaches up, brushing aside her hair to reveal delicately pointed ears. "I am a Heshape."
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The revelation hangs in the air, a moment of stunned silence before the implications sink in. The Whiteblood Knights exchange glances, their trust in Thean solidifying even as Dramescula's split begins to thrash and scream. Thean's voice softens, a hint of sadness creeping into her tone. "I'm telling you this because I don't want to add to Tywin's grief. He has suffered enough, in both the past and the future."
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Tywin nods, his eyes haunted by the weight of his own misfortune. "I've always been an unlucky man," he agrees, his voice gruff and resigned.
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Thean's gaze sharpens, a glint of determination flashing in her eyes. "We have a chance to fulfill our long-held goal of hunting down Dramescula tonight. I can feel what the split possessing Sol is feeling. They're on the run."
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Dramescula's split on Thean's body begins to writhe and scream, desperate to silence the princess. But to everyone's shock, Thean's muscles begin to move of their own accord, detaching the monstrous split from her body. The split shrieks in agony, its flesh shriveling and withering like a dried husk even as it begs for Thean to stop speaking.
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Thean's voice remains steady, her words precise and urgent. "Sol and the other Dramescula split are fleeing through a pipe behind the fort, one that leads out to the dome of mist. Tywin, Zera, Gordon, and Dori, you must go after them. Hubert, stay here with me."
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Tywin hesitates, his concern for Thean warring with his desire for vengeance. "Princess, you need to rest. You're only half a body now."
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But Thean shakes her head, her resolve unwavering. "I'll be fine, Tywin. You must go. Stop Dramescula before it's too late."
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As the Whiteblood Knights prepare to depart, Thean's mind drifts back to a distant memory, a moment of innocence and joy shared with Sol in the Sanguiris mansion. She remembers the warmth of Sol's laughter, the playful tumble of their argument, and the mysterious book that fell from the highest shelf, a tome that spoke of the Count Mothers and the monsters they birthed.
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The memory fades, replaced by the cold reality of the present. Thean's eye glows a fierce orange, a flickering light in the darkness of the prison cell. She murmurs the words she once read, her voice a haunting whisper. "Count Dramescula is the mother of all Sanguin. Her children are classified under Vampires, Albyles, volkins, and gargoyles."
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As the Whiteblood Knights vanish into the night, their footsteps echoing through the twisting corridors of the fort, Thean is left alone with her thoughts and the shriveled remains of Dramescula's split. She knows that the battle ahead will be hard-fought and bloody, but she also knows that they have no choice. For the sake of Kinguin, for the sake of all those she holds dear, Dramescula must be stopped.
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“Uhm, so can you fix yourself?” Asks Hubert who feels forgotten and freaked out by a well recognized high princess being half a body,
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“If you can get me another half of a body that has the same figure as Thean, Better.”