Chronicles of a vampire hybrid

THE TRUE PRIESTESS

"How could it be there? That’s not possible!" the priestess's assistant gasped, her voice shrill with disbelief. Her eyes widened as she stared up at the high wooden ceiling of the ceremonial hall. A hushed murmur swept through the gathering of nobles and palace officials like wind over water.

Helen stood rooted at the center of the hall, calm and composed, her gaze lifted to the ceiling. The surrounding noise began to fade, replaced by a steady rhythm in her ears , like a heartbeat. She drew in a slow breath, her lashes lowering.

"As long as I have seen where it lies…" she whispered under her breath, "I can summon it."

Then she raised her hand toward the sky and began to chant ancient words lost to most of the world. Her voice was soft but strong, wrapping around the room like a gentle storm. The crowd fell silent, frozen in anticipation.

A faint shimmer of light appeared above, glimmering with the same pale hue as moonlight. Then, in a flash, a radiant beam of blue light burst through the ceiling. The very wood cracked apart, groaning under some unseen power, and from the open gap descended the legendary staff.

Gasps echoed through the chamber.

The staff floated downward like a falling star ,glowing, turning slowly, as if alive. It was unlike anything people had ever seen: forged from sky-blue crystal veined with silver, etched in glowing symbols that pulsed like breathing runes. A long white ribbon with golden threads fluttered from its top, and carved into its crown was the majestic head of a white tiger , its mouth open in a roar, its eyes lit with an inner fire.

Helen took a step forward, her face serene, as if she'd walked into a memory long destined. She stretched both hands toward the artifact. The moment her fingers wrapped around the staff, a pulse of energy spread outward , a rush of wind that shook the pillars and fluttered the ceremonial banners. The glowing symbols on the staff ignited like stars, and a sound like a bell rang across the skies.

The crowd erupted.

"She really is the White Tiger’s descendant!"

"The prophecy is true!"

"The lost bloodline has returned!"

The king stood slowly, stunned. His voice rose above the cheers. “Let it be known to all , to every corner of this kingdom , that the heir to the White Tiger has returned!”

“ALL HAIL THE GREAT PRIESTESS!”

“HAIL! HAIL! HAIL!”

Elias stood at the side of the hall, leaning against one of the towering pillars, watching the crowd rejoice. A soft smile crept across his lips. Finally, he thought. With Helen as Priestess, my path just got easier.

But just as he turned to leave, his gaze locked onto someone in the crowd , a figure in a brown maid’s robe, head bowed beneath a linen scarf. For a moment, he hesitated… then his heart sank.

That face…

It was her.

The woman who’d handed him the poisoned tea. The same woman who’d once earned his trust and helped orchestrate his fall.

He shoved his way through the crowd, ignoring the greetings, pushing past nobles and guards, but by the time he reached the spot, she was gone.

“Damn it,” Elias hissed under his breath, his chest heaving with rage. She was there. In the palace. Watching…

That evening, Helen was led to her new quarters by a group of white-robed assistants. The priestess’s chambers were sacred , built in marble and stone, with walls etched in celestial markings. A wide, circular pool of water sat at the center for prayer and reflection, its surface glowing with enchanted moonlight. White silk drapes floated gently in the air though no wind stirred. The soft scent of sacred incense wafted through the air, lavender, sage, and crushed pearls.

“May the spirit of the White Tiger guide your path, Great Priestess,” the assistants said in unison, bowing low.

Helen offered a gentle nod, her fingers still curled loosely around the glowing staff. “Thank you… I will do my best to honor this gift.”

Later that night, Elias waited for her in the garden behind the eastern palace wall. The lanterns swayed like fireflies in the wind, their golden glow casting long shadows. The moon hung high and full above them, pale and quiet.

"You did it,” Elias said as she arrived. His arms were folded across his chest, but his voice was low and warm. “You proved them all wrong, now no one can deny you."

Helen gave a soft smile. “It was meant to be, I suppose.”

He looked down, the smile fading from his face. “I saw her today.”

Helen's brow furrowed. “Who?”

“The maid, the one who poisoned me,” Elias replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She was at the ceremony. Watching from the crowd… and then she disappeared.”

Helen’s eyes narrowed. “She’s bold. Walking freely in the palace…”

“She was dressed like a servant. She knew exactly how to blend in.”

Helen stepped closer. “Then we’ll find her. I promise. But first… I think we need the Book of Bloodlines.”

Elias looked up. “You know where it is?”

“It’s kept in my grandmother’s old store, in the forest village where I grew up.”

Elias nodded slowly. “Then we leave tomorrow.”

Unseen by them, Seraphina watched from the terrace above, hidden by the shadows. Her arms were folded, but her heartfelt heavy. "There’s something he’s hiding from me," she thought. Something they both are.

The next morning, Elias and Helen rode out of the palace gates, disguised in dark cloaks. The sky was gray with early clouds. They journeyed through small villages and forests until they reached a forgotten clearing where a crooked, dust-covered hut sat hidden by vines.

Helen pushed open the creaking door. The smell of aged parchment and incense clung to the air.

“It’s been years,” she murmured.

They searched in silence. Scrolls and jars lined the shelves, cracked windows let in slivers of light. Finally, beneath a pile of old linen, Helen found it.

“Here,” she whispered. “The Book of the Night.”

The cover was bound in black leather, embossed with a silver moon. Elias held a lantern as Helen flipped through the brittle pages.

“There’s nothing about a cure,” Elias said, disappointment creeping into his voice.

“Wait,” Helen said, pointing at a section. “Here… it says a vampire can live without feeding on humans, by resisting urges… with time, their blood becomes purer, more stable.”

She flipped to the end and stopped. The last page was torn.

“I think the final page might’ve contained the cure,” she said, pointing at the faded word ‘cure’ torn in half near the edge.

Elias leaned closer. “So close…”

“Let’s go,” Helen whispered. “Before they realize we’re gone, I'll have to investigate this torn page.”

As they made their way back toward the capital, they saw a man lying motionless by the roadside ,a warrior in palace armor, blood on his shoulder, bite marks visible through the torn fabric.

Helen rushed to him. “Are you alright?!”

He coughed, his lips trembling. “The border… under attack… monsters…”

Elias knelt beside him, heart pounding. “What kind of monsters?”

The man’s voice was faint.

“Vampires… they’ve reached the border… They told me… warn the king…”

Then he collapsed.

Helen and Elias stared at each other. The air feels colder now.

“They’re here,” Elias muttered. “The vampire army… they’ve come.”