Chapter 322: Just the Wind

In the middle of a forest right next to an old broken altar a portal suddenly opened up. From within emerged a pale young woman, wearing a black leather bodysuit with lots of pockets.

"Hmm... no hounds?" V wounded her crimson eyes darting around the old altar, and she flashed a smirk recalling a certain memory involving a golden horny key.

"Why did I have to put that key inside my pus...." she suddenly shook her head. "That's not important... Let's stop thinking about it"

V crouched down, placing her palm on the ground trying to sense the vibration of the land. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of earth and pine. The forest was alive with the sounds of nature—birds chirping, leaves rustling, and the distant knock of a woodpecker. She could feel the pulse of the earth beneath her, a steady, ancient rhythm that resonated through her body.

"Interesting," she murmured, her brow furrowing in concentration. "So I do have an elven bloodline."

Morgana already informed V about her dark elf bloodline which was the reason why she didn't age much. And like all elves no matter, if they were half or even a quarter, Mother Nature always treated them well and answered their call. For V however, it was a little tricky because she's a daywalker.

V stood up, her eyes scanning the area with a newfound intensity, and then she glanced in a certain direction recalling what happened two weeks ago when she was hunted by those hounds.

"Time for payback" a faint smirk painted on her youthful face as she pulled up her mask and the moment she took one step forward.

SKRITCH!.

Her body exploded into a swarm of bats.

....

In the middle of the night.

"Hey! Where are you going?" A man in leather armor holding a long spear called at his friend who suddenly started walking out of this guard post.

"WHAT!... I HAVE TO PEE!!!" the man shouted as he vanished inside the dark forest with a lantern in hand. "IT'LL BE FINE"

"Hey don't go away! Okay," the guard shouted again in a worrying tone, and as the only one left on the guard post, he sat down and resumed his shift.

As the man ventured into the dark forest, his lantern casting eerie shadows on the trees, he felt a sudden chill run down his spine. The usual sounds of the night—owls hooting, crickets chirping—seemed to fade, replaced by an unsettling silence. He quickened his pace, eager to find a suitable spot and return to the safety of the guard post.

After the assassination attempt on the noble lord, everyone was on edge for the past weeks.

"Yes, it will be fine," he repeated aloud, trying to reassure himself, his voice sounding oddly flat to his ears. "Nothing is in these woods. Nothing but trees, flowers, owls, and piss"

He found a spot behind a big tree, putting the lantern beside him. And the moment he unbuckled his belt and pulled out his thing and began to pee... a sudden shift in the air made the hairs stand on the back of his neck, then he heard it.

"Just the wind," he muttered, trying to convince himself as he aimed for the tree, eyes darting nervously from shadow to shadow.

Unbeknownst to him, high above in the gnarled branches, a swarm of bats spiraled silently, their wings slicing through the night air. The bats converged, their forms melding into a single figure that dropped soundlessly to the ground just beyond the lantern's reach.

Hiss.

It was just the wind, of course. It always is.

Still, the guard finished as quickly as possible and buckled back his pants, but suddenly he couldn't move.

A hand — cold, small, and impossibly strong — clamped over his mouth from behind, yanking his head back with such force that his spine popped. His eyes bulged in terror, the lantern's flickering light revealing the sharp curve of a smile just beside his cheek.

"Shhh," a voice whispered, sultry and cruel, "You'll scare the owls."

He tried to scream, but all that came out was a muffled gurgle as V slowly dragged one black-gloved finger down his throat. The leather was wet — not from the dew or the rain — but from something sticky and dark, like sap… or blood.

"I wonder what the taste of your blood is like."

...

"Hurry up, you fool. Ain't no time for shitting'."

Sensing that his friend was taking a long time the guard called for him. However, he didn't receive a response which worried him. He tried calling once more, and once more he got nothing.

The guard, growing increasingly anxious, decided to investigate. He grabbed his spear and ventured into the forest, the lantern's light cutting through the dense darkness.

"Where are you?" he called out, his voice echoing eerily through the trees. "This isn't funny anymore!"

The forest gave no answer.

Just the creak of branches overhead.

Just the snap of something brittle underfoot.

He moved cautiously, spear tight in hand, eyes flicking left and right, every shadow suddenly a mouth waiting to open, every tree trunk a figure poised to lunge. The deeper he pushed into the woods, the more the darkness swallowed him. His breath fogged the cold air in ragged bursts.

Then he saw it.

The lantern — overturned, flickering weakly where it lay in the mud. And beside it, a smear of something dark, wet, and disturbingly fresh.

"…Garin?" he whispered, voice shaking now.

Wooosh!

Something rustled behind him.

"!!!" He turned fast, spear raised — but there was nothing. Just more trees. Just more darkness. Just the wind.

He backed toward the lantern, knees trembling. His boot slipped slightly on something slick — he looked down. It was blood. A trail of it, broken, like drag marks leading further into the forest.

Every part of him screamed to run. But duty, or perhaps stubbornness, forced his legs forward.

"Garin…?"

Then he found him. Or what was left?

Garin's body hung from the branches like a grotesque marionette, his entrails stretched out in slick ropes that glistened in the moonlight. His eyes were wide open, lips curled into a frozen grin carved far too wide. Something had peeled his skin in long, neat strips, yet there was almost no blood where he hung — as if he'd been carefully emptied.

"Shit!!!" The guard threw up, spilling bile on the forest floor. Garin, his friend, was gone — and he could very well end up the same if he didn't get away now. He turned around and sprinted towards the guard post... or at least he tried.

"WHAT!"

After a few steps, his entire body suddenly froze in place as if invisible hooks had sunk into his muscles, yanking him still mid-stride.

He couldn't move, not even scream. All he could do was feel, something cold trace the back of his neck — not a blade, no… it was softer, slower like the drag of a claw dipped in ice water.

However, all of that coldness turned to a sudden overwhelming heat when his body was lifted from the ground and hung upside down, the blood rushing to his head with a nauseating pulse, his vision swimming in shades of crimson and black.

Dangling like a fresh game, his limbs stretched and stiffened, the forest spinning around him in blurred spirals. The spear fell from his grasp, landing with a muted thud far below. His mouth opened to scream, but his throat caught nothing but ragged, useless breath.

She was here.

SKRITCH!.

The scent of iron, ash, and wet leather filled his nose before he even saw her face.

V emerged from the gloom, her silhouette barely more than a ripple in the shadows. The swarm that birthed her dispersed into the trees like smoke from a dying fire, their screeches fading into the hush of night. Her boots made no sound against the forest floor, her body moving with the grace of something not quite human. Her head tilted, the mask gone now. Crimson eyes gleamed beneath dark lashes, burning holes through his soul.

"You smell like fear," she murmured, running her tongue along her sharp teeth. "But that's fine. It's better when it's fresh."

She reached into one of the many pockets lining her leather bodysuit and pulled out a small, curved knife, she was about to slice the man's throat but stopped.

"On second thought this is a good opportunity to test my drain skill"

V raised her right hand to the poor man and extended her pale slender fingers. Then closed her eyes focusing on her blood magic.

"Come to me, blood."

Splash!

The hanging man's body convulsed. First, his fingers twitched, then his toes. A low, wet gurgle escaped his throat as if his body knew what was about to happen before his mind could process the horror.

From beneath his skin, something moved.

His veins darkened, swelling unnaturally beneath his flesh like worms trying to escape. A crimson mist began to seep from his eyes, ears, and mouth — thick and pulsing, not like blood from a wound, but blood summoned. It flowed upward in long, sinuous streams, defying gravity, pulled from his body strand by strand.

V opened her mouth slightly and inhaled, slow and deliberate.

The mist responded. It coiled toward her hand and chest, sinking into her skin like ink on parchment. Her veins glowed faintly beneath the surface of her neck, pulsing with renewed life.

"Ahh~ I think I came a little" A moan of pleasure slipped from her lips.

"Your fear seasons it nicely," she whispered, her eyes snapping open, now glowing with a deeper crimson. "Not strong blood, but desperate. Desperation tastes... ripe."

"..."

"Sigh... you're dead" V sighed disappointedly, this man was weak, couldn't even bear a tiny blood drain, pathetic.

"Well.." She flashed a devilish smile glancing behind. "there is more in the mansion... hehehehe"

Greetings everyone! I hope you're all doing well.

Thanks to your amazing support, we’re excited to announce the release of Book 8 of Morgana: The Mother of All, as well as the first book of Nephalem Ascension: Feast of the Unholy on Kindle!

You can check them out and leave a review—it would mean a lot to me and help the series grow.

Have a wonderful day!

Morgana: The Mother Of All [Vol 3: Chapter 281-320] :

https://books2read.com/u/b6DWLp

Nephalem Ascension: Feast of the Unholy [Vol 1: Chapter 01-40]:

https://books2read.com/u/baMB9L