She raised her hand and called out loudly.
"AWAKEN!"
The walls shook.
From passages deeper in the castle, things emerged. Not vampires—something else. Creatures that moved with wrong proportions, their bodies too large for the doorways they squeezed through, their forms suggesting biological impossibility.
A blood wolf appeared first. Eight feet tall at the shoulder, composed of congealed blood given form and animation through necromantic power. Its eyes were empty sockets that leaked red fluid. Its teeth were shards of crystallized hemoglobin.
Behind it came a demon dragon. This was a constructed creature, built from vampire blood and dark magic and shaped to resemble a draconic form. Fifteen feet long, with wings that were more decorative than functional and claws that dripped caustic fluid.
Both creatures focused on Jolthar with the singular attention of predators given clear targets.
"I raise them myself," Drusilla said, her voice carrying pride.
