In the background, tendrils came out from the mirror surface of the well. They appeared to be fashioned from blood, albeit congealed or, more appropriately, coagulated. They grew longer and thinner before wrapping themselves into a bundle approximating the human form.

To distract him, Drusilla grabbed the chalice and greedily drank the contents within. To further make a spectacle of it, the excess blood ran down her chin onto the fabric, staining it red.

His strength left him, causing his legs to wobble… I feel like I’m dying…

“Hold on!” Susanna urged.

His breathing grew shallow and raspy. Drusilla withdrew her fangs and visually let him drop to the ground… Barón had a similar face… that smug, self-satisfied look.

“An empty victory,” Susanna said. “You’re almost there.”

Drusilla grabbed one of his boots and dragged him, chest facing the floor, towards the pool. Marc took in a lungful of dust, but he was too weak to cough. At the edge of the blood pool, she left him there like discarded trash.

Drusilla sauntered casually to the altar, with a chalice and old codex atop. From Susanna’s vantage point, Marc realised the pages were made from animal skin—

“Only if you consider humans to be animals…” Susanna said.

After slipping to the right page, Drusilla recited something in an archaic form of Latin. The words had a poetic quality to them, but this creature was purposefully breaking the cadence… to make it more horrific?

Someone stepped out from the shadows. The woman with bare feet, raven black hair, sunburnt skin, and… black eyes…

While he could not be sure, Marc assumed that Drusilla was goading them both. What she needed was a reason to end their lives… If we ruin her fun, she’ll cut me—

Quick as a viper, Drusilla elongated her fangs and buried them into his neck to pierce the artery. Because of Susanna’s link, the euphoric pleasure he normally experienced did not materialise.

“You were always going to die,” Susanna said.

Still, his eyes dilated, and he sighed contentedly. At first, he felt fine, but a general sense of unease crept in from the back of his mind… Like being offered another piece of chocolate cake after growing sick of it…

“You must be near death,” Susanna continued. “She wants me to think that she’ll drain you dry… but she has her orders…”His strength left him, causing his legs to wobble… I feel like I’m dying…

That’s why they were made to walk by that creature, and it further explained why Drusilla was here to perform the ritual.

He doubted Susanna was an angel… who is? However, there was a dark past between the two women, as well as a power imbalance… like a jester taunting the king…

“A shame that a common whore like you polluted his blood,” Drusilla taunted.

No matter how tempted he was to speak up, Marc kept his mouth shut. He had to maintain the illusion of being under her spell. Besides, the imagery Susanna fed him made it easier for him to ignore her.