The sun dipped low on the horizon as Noctis crossed the sea, his wings trailing fire across the waters. By the time he reached the Obsidian Isles, the sky had darkened, the waves black against the jagged cliffs that ringed the vampire keep.
The halls within were quiet. Sunset was the hour when most of the Covenant fell to stillness, conserving their strength for the night's gatherings. Torchlight flickered faint across basalt walls, shadows lengthening in the corners. Noctis moved through the corridors unseen, his aura masked, his step silent. To passing eyes he was another of the brood, another servant treading the endless stone.
He turned a corner and found a human servant. The man froze, his face pale, his eyes wide with instinctive fear. These humans lived as livestock—kept for feeding, traded as favors, some granted gentler treatment by their keepers. This one bore the mark of servitude at his throat, a faint scar where teeth had once sunk deep.
Noctis stopped before him, his voice low, measured.
"You. Fetch me a vessel for Lady Selandra. She requires feeding."
He used her title with calculated weight. The vampire overseer nearby glanced up at the sound, nodded once without question, and seized the nearest of the chosen stock—a young man, broad-shouldered, his veins full with carefully tended blood.
The overseer shoved him forward, speaking to Noctis with deference. "For the Matriarch. The finest."
The human's eyes flickered with fear, but when Noctis gestured, he followed, mistaking him for one of Selandra's retainers. Together they walked the dark halls, their steps echoing off cold stone, the air heavy with the scent of iron and smoke.
At last they reached her door. Noctis turned, his crimson eyes locking onto the human's. The Binding Stare snapped chains across the servant's mind. His gaze went glassy, his will collapsed. He stood silently, breath even, waiting for command.
"Follow. Speak no word."
The servant nodded, empty-eyed.
Noctis pushed the door open.
The chamber was heavy with silence. Selandra lay on the bed, her body weakened, her figure sprawled amid tangled sheets. Chains still bound her wrists and ankles, their links glowing faint crimson from sovereign runes. Her skin was pale, her breath shallow, her form trembling with hunger.
The human did not react, his mind locked in the Sovereign's command. Noctis gestured. "Feed her."
The servant stepped forward without hesitation. From his belt he drew a small knife, pressed it to his wrist, and cut. Blood welled dark and rich, dripping down onto Selandra's lips.
The scent struck her like a blade.
Her eyes snapped open, glowing crimson in the torchlight. Her body arched against the chains, her fangs bared. A snarl tore from her throat. She lunged, snapping for the arm, straining against the bindings. The chains rattled, runes flaring, draining her strength. She could not reach.
Noctis moved, his hand locking onto her head, pressing it hard into the bed. She thrashed, teeth bared, eyes wild, but his grip did not waver. The human tilted his wrist, blood pouring into her mouth.
Selandra drank in frenzy. Her tongue lashed greedily, her throat pulling every drop. She writhed beneath him, chains clanging as she fought to drink more, her body trembling with hunger. Her moans broke between snarls, her eyes glowing brighter as the blood frenzy consumed her.
But the chains held. Every surge of strength bled away the moment it rose, the runes draining it into nothing. She could only drink, trapped between frenzy and bondage.
The servant faltered, his face paling, his knees trembling. Noctis's eyes narrowed, watching. Selandra's frenzy began to ebb, her breath slowing, her moans softening. The glow in her eyes dimmed from wild hunger to ragged exhaustion.
When she slumped back, blood staining her lips, Noctis seized the servant's arm and swiped the wound with his finger. The cut sealed instantly, the flesh knitting closed.
"Go. Rest."
The servant turned, blank-eyed, and walked from the room.
Noctis looked down at Selandra. Her lips trembled, her chest heaving, her voice hoarse.
"Release me," she whispered. "I will do anything. Please."
He leaned close, his breath cold against her ear.
"Do you think a simple apology is enough?" His voice cut like a blade. "Do you realize how much torture I endured after your betrayal? Do you know the centuries I bled?"
Her eyes widened, tears welling. She shook her head weakly, but no words came.
His gaze burned brighter.
"Your punishment has not even begun."
He stepped back, his hand brushing against the blood-woven uniform he wore. The armor dissolved into crimson mist, leaving him bare beneath the torchlight.
"Now," he said, his voice low, final. "It begins."
Selandra's voice broke, a cry caught between terror and plea. But the chains held, the Sovereign loomed, and her torment stretched on into the night.
The council chamber of the Obsidian Covenant was hewn into the heart of the isles, its ceiling a cavern of jagged stone, its walls veined with obsidian that caught the crystal light and reflected it back in fractured gleams. The elders sat in their arcs, their thrones carved from black basalt, each figure cloaked in shadow. Their voices, low at first, rose and fell like waves breaking against stone.
"Selandra has not attended in four nights," one elder murmured, his fingers tapping against his armrest. "Not since the demons renewed their demands."
Another scoffed, lips curling back from his teeth. "She is Selandra Veythra. Brooding is her nature. She sleeps when she pleases. She wakes when she pleases. What of it?"
A third leaned forward, his eyes narrow, his voice cutting. "What of it? Her followers hesitate. Without her voice, her line stands adrift. Shall we let her silence stall the council?"
The chamber rumbled with low murmurs. Some nodded, some hissed.
At the back of the chamber, younger vampires whispered among themselves, voices sharp as knives.
"She disapproves of the demons. That is why she remains away."
"No, she has already bent. She keeps her silence because her pact is made."
"Lies. Selandra bends to no one."
"Then why is she absent when the Covenant fractures?"
The arguments swelled.
The elder presiding struck his staff against stone, the sound echoing through the chamber. Silence fell, heavy and reluctant. His voice carried low but with weight.
"Selandra's absence is her own matter. We will not rattle her doors like servants. The Covenant moves regardless. The demons press, and their demands grow sharper. Each throne must decide—bend or resist. Selandra will reveal her hand when she chooses. Until then, the council stands."
The words were final, but unease lingered. Selandra's absence became a shadow stretching across the chamber, deepening fractures that had already begun to form. Her followers sat in silence, their hands clenched, their eyes wary. Rivals smiled faintly, their fangs glinting in the crystal light. Every faction saw her silence as something different—a sign of betrayal, or rebellion, or weakness.
The Covenant did not know that their Matriarch lay chained, her silence not chosen but imposed.
The night stretched long in Selandra's chamber. The crystals of blue fire burned dim in their sconces, casting the room in an eerie glow. Cold light washed across the bed, across chains that glimmered faintly with crimson runes, shadows stretching long against the walls.
Selandra writhed beneath them, her voice breaking into cries and whispers.
Noctis loomed above her, his aura pressing down like a storm. His hands, his voice, his will—all instruments of dominion. He had broken her body before; tonight he broke her marrow. Her mind resisted less with each hour, her voice shifting from pleas to moans, from protest to whispers of surrender.
"You betrayed me," he said, his words sharp, repeated until they carved into her bones. "You stabbed me. You bound me. You sold me."
"I am sorry," she whispered again and again, her voice hoarse, tears streaking her face.
"Not enough."
He bent her until she could no longer tell whether her cries were of pain or of something else, until her trembling body yielded completely to his weight. By dawn, she could no longer raise her eyes to him. Her words were broken fragments. "Yours… yours… I am yours…"
When the first light touched the horizon, the crystals still burned, their flames pale and steady, their glow falling over Selandra's ruined form. She lay slack in her chains, her body trembling, her eyes empty, her lips still shaping his name. He left her there, bound and broken, her whispers fading into silence beneath the cold light.
Morning spread pale over the Obsidian Isles. The sea glistened faint beneath the rising sun, the cliffs black against the light.
Noctis stepped from Selandra's chamber, his uniform reformed in blood and shadow, his wings folded close. The halls were quiet, lesser vampires bowing their heads as he passed, mistaking him still for one of her chosen. None dared look too long, none dared ask.
He reached the courtyard. The air bent as his aura flared. His wings unfurled—two crimson, two scaled, two burning black with fire. The Reaver hummed across his back, orbitals tracing arcs of crimson light.
He rose into the air.
The Covenant below remained fractured, its elders bickering, its followers restless, its Matriarch broken in her bed.
Noctis's eyes turned west.
The Western Marshes awaited. His wraiths had already whispered of Titans summoned there, abyssal giants clawing their way from the bogs and swamps. The armies could not march fast enough. Only he could fly, only he could strike first.
The Isles fell away beneath him, the sea stretching endless. His laughter carried on the wind, sharp and cold.
The Sovereign flew to war once more.
The Western Marshes spread wide beneath a dying sun. From the air, they looked like an endless wound — black bogs spreading between drowned forests, rivers of ichor winding where water had once run clear. The ruins of temples rose like broken teeth from the mire, their spires half-sunk, abyssal banners fluttering where holy carvings once shone.
Noctis descended.
His six wings beat once, a sound like a storm tearing the horizon. Crimson feathers burned with inverted light, scaled wings shimmered with molten fire, and black flame wings seared the air, leaving a trail of ash behind him. The marsh bent under his aura as he fell, and when his boots struck the wet stone of a sunken altar, the ichor rippled outward in waves.
The swamp stirred.
From the bogs rose twisted shapes — amphibious fiends with claws like scythes, their bodies slick with ichor. Abyss zealots waded through the muck, staves lifted, mouths chanting curses that carried on the wind. Swarms of winged demons wheeled overhead, their screeches piercing the dusk. Farther out, hulking siege beasts pulled themselves from the muck, their massive jaws dripping black flame, their backs studded with spines.
They came in thousands.
Noctis spread his wings, his eyes glowing crimson.
The first wave charged, a tide of claws and teeth rushing across the flooded altar.
The Bloodfang Reapers spun into motion, orbiting him in crimson arcs. Their trails cut the air like scythes. The Twilight Reaver left his hand in a fluid sweep, its edge flaring as it carved a great crescent of light. Dozens of fiends dissolved before they touched him, their bodies split to ash.
He moved forward, slashing once, twice, thrice — each blow wide enough to cut a line of enemies apart. The Reapers wove through the gaps, severing limbs, heads, torsos in whirling afterimages. The swarm faltered but pressed harder, hundreds climbing over corpses, their mouths foaming with hunger.
Noctis lifted his palm. Bloodfire Detonation erupted outward, a crimson flame blooming in the marsh. The ichor pools ignited at once, their black waters searing white-hot. Amphibious demons shrieked as their bodies burned alive, their marrow splitting, their blood boiling in their veins. Fire spread through the bog like a tide.
Winged fiends dove through the smoke, hundreds at once, claws outstretched. Noctis tilted his head, then vanished.
Dominion Step IX.
He slipped from sight, his body dissolving into shadow and marrow-flame. He reappeared behind the diving swarm, his six wings slicing the air. The movement left a spectral double in his wake — a phantom strike frozen in the air. The double swung once, a perfect after-image, cleaving the swarm in half before dissolving.
Noctis twisted mid-flight, his Reavers whistling around him. He carved through three more waves of fiends, then dove into the marsh itself. A siege beast bellowed, hurling a boulder of corrupted stone toward him.
He stepped again.
The boulder shattered against nothing. Noctis emerged within the beast's chest, his blade bursting through its back. He ripped downward, splitting the monster apart as it fell. Black ichor sprayed across the mire, hissing as it met his aura. The corpse dissolved before it struck the ground.
The zealots screamed louder, their chants building, wards of corruption forming across the swamp. Chains of black light erupted from the bog, grasping toward him.
Noctis laughed softly. His eyes burned brighter.
He stepped once more. Dominion Step tore through the wards, unraveling their chains as if they had never been. His spectral doubles lashed at the zealots, cutting them down as he reappeared above their broken circle. He raised his palm.
Blood Spears.
Dozens of crimson lances manifested around him, each one humming with hunger. He thrust his hand down, and the spears fell like rain. They skewered the zealots through chest and throat, pinning them into the swamp. The lances pulsed once, then burst into crimson fire. The zealots dissolved, their curses cut off in silence.
The swamp shook.
Another siege beast lumbered forward, its mouth burning. Noctis inhaled once, his veins glowing with molten iron, his wings flaring wide. His mouth opened.
Draconic Breath.
A cone of molten flame erupted, white-hot fire blasting outward in a storm. The beast's head melted before it could roar, its body collapsing into the muck in a torrent of ash. The flame spread across the swamp, consuming dozens of lesser fiends as it seared the ground.
Still the swarm pressed. Still they charged in endless waves.
Noctis landed again on the altar, surrounded on all sides. Amphibious demons closed in from the bog, winged fiends circled overhead, siege beasts roared at the edges, zealots tried again to raise their wards. The abyss poured everything into him at once, thousands of bodies closing from every direction.
His aura flared.
The Exsanguinate Nova burst outward. Crimson light erupted from Noctis's chest, flooding the marsh. Thousands of demons collapsed into heaps as their marrow drained, their blood torn from them in torrents. For a moment, their corpses dissolved into ichor, leaving only steaming husks scattered across the bog.
But the swarm did not relent.
Even before the last echoes of the detonation faded, fresh waves were already clawing free of the mire. Amphibious fiends clambered over the dead, shrieking with bloodlust. Abyss zealots staggered forward, their chants louder, their staves blazing with void curses. Above, the black clouds of winged demons thickened, blotting out the stars as they dove in relentless spirals. Siege beasts bellowed at the edges, hurling stone and fire into the press.
Every breath brought new claws, new wings, new teeth. The swarm surged without pause, denying him any space to rest, any ground to stand still upon.
And then the ground itself roared.
The bogs split wide, ichor boiling in geysers. Abyssal glyphs seared red across the swamp's surface, circles blazing like burning brands. From beneath, colossal shapes stirred, chains snapping, void-fire spilling into the night.
The first Demonic Titan tore free, its roar splitting the drowned temples. Another followed. Then another.
Eight in total, each rising like a mountain from the marsh, eyes blazing, rune-chains falling from their limbs. Their shadows swallowed the battlefield, their roars drowning even the endless swarm.
Noctis stood at the altar's heart, six wings unfurled, blade burning crimson, Reapers orbiting in arcs of light. The swarm crashed in around him, the Titans loomed above, and still his eyes burned brighter.
He laughed, sharp and cold.
"Eight this time."
The swarm shrieked, the Titans roared, and the marsh itself became chaos without end.
The roar of eight colossi drowned the marsh, a sound so vast it shook the drowned ruins and cracked the bogstone beneath Noctis's boots. Their massive bodies clawed free of the mire one after another, abyssal glyphs burning across their chests, rune-chains snapping from their limbs as they tore themselves upward. The air reeked of void-fire and ichor.
And still the swarm attacked.
Amphibious fiends poured from the bog at his feet, claws scraping stone. Winged demons shrieked overhead, blotting the stars as they dove in relentless waves. Abyss zealots waded waist-deep through the muck, chanting as black flame licked their staves. Siege beasts at the edges bellowed, hurling flaming stone that splashed across the altar in molten arcs.
Noctis had no room. No moment. No breath.
His six wings unfurled, and the air screamed.
The Twilight Reaver cut in wide arcs, each swing cleaving dozens of demons into ash. The Bloodfang Reapers whirled in orbit, carving through every gap, their trails weaving scarlet sigils in the night. He lashed forward, slashing one amphibious fiend apart, then spun to decapitate three more in a single sweep. His orbitals cut flyers from the sky even as his main blade split zealots across the altar steps.
A roar above.
The nearest Titan swung a claw, its shadow falling over half the battlefield. Noctis stepped into Dominion Step IX, his body dissolving into marrow-fire shadow. He reappeared at the Titan's side, his wings flaring wide as a spectral double remained where he had been. The phantom lashed upward in a perfect strike before fading, its blow severing dozens of winged demons mid-dive.
Noctis slashed across the Titan's thigh as he emerged, carving deep into its plated armor. Ichor gushed, boiling against the swamp. The giant staggered, its roar shaking the drowned temples, but already another claw swept for him.
He rolled upward, wings beating once, clearing the strike by a breath. Flyers dove to cut him from the air, but he unleashed Crimson Tempest. His wings beat in unison, storm and bloodflame fused — a hurricane of crimson fire erupted, shredding the sky. Hundreds of demons burned to cinders in an instant, their ashes raining black across the swamp.
A boulder of fire slammed toward him from a siege beast. He cut it in half with a flick of the Reaver, then dove again, blade flashing, scythes orbiting. His strikes cut another Titan's rune-chains as he passed, phasing through with Dominion Step IX, leaving behind a phantom strike that carved through the climbing swarm on its leg.
The Titan stumbled, its chains snapping fully, its body exposed.
But three more moved at once. Their claws lashed in arcs that converged, predicting his dodge, slamming together in a storm of force.
Noctis was caught.
The blows struck like falling mountains, the impact throwing him across the altar. Stone split, ichor geysered, ruins collapsed. His body vanished into the rubble in an explosion of dust and swamp-fire.
The swarm shrieked triumph. The Titans roared as one, their voices shaking the drowned marshes.
But the rubble did not hold him.
A crimson glow blazed beneath the stone. The ruins erupted outward as Noctis rose, wings unfurled, his laughter sharp and cold. His armor unbroken, his body unmarked, his aura heavier than before. He looked up at the colossi and bared his teeth.
"Pathetic."
The swarm came again, relentless, leaping for his throat, diving from above. He moved through them like a storm given flesh. His Sovereign Arsenal blazed — Reaver slashes and orbital arcs flowing as one, cutting hundreds apart each heartbeat. His six wings beat once, and he was airborne, weaving between Titan arms that scythed the air.
A claw snapped shut where he had been. He stepped again — Dominion Step IX tearing him through the Titan's palm. He reappeared on its shoulder, his Reaver plunged down into the seam of its chest armor. The blade burned crimson, carving deep. He ripped free and leapt away, the wound pouring ichor.
Another Titan swung at him. He twisted in the air, rolling past the strike, letting the blow crash into the wounded giant instead. Bone cracked, ichor exploded, the swamp quaking from the impact. The colossi bellowed, their strikes colliding as much with one another as with him.
The swarm climbed their bodies, demons scrambling up their legs, leaping from their arms, clawing toward him wherever he flew. He answered with Exsanguinate Nova, crimson light bursting outward once more. The swarm shrieked as their blood tore free, their corpses collapsing in heaps. Yet still they came, endless, pressing with blind hunger.
The battle was chaos incarnate. Titans swung in rage, striking each other as Noctis wove between them. The swarm attacked in waves, climbing the giants, leaping for his wings, diving from the sky. His movements were constant, unceasing — hack and slash, step and phase, flame and storm. Every breath was a strike, every heartbeat another kill.
He was a storm within the abyss, and the abyss broke itself against him.
The eight Demonic Titans roared again, their fury shaking the drowned marshes. Their claws lashed, their steps split the bog, their shadows swallowed the land. And still the swarm poured, clawing, flying, chanting, screaming.
Noctis's wings flared, his eyes burning brighter than the void-fire around him. He laughed, his voice carrying above the roars, sharp and cold as the steel in his hand.
"Come, then. All of you."
The Western Marshes shook as the Sovereign wove himself into war without end.