Morningstar

[CH. 0039] - The First

The air was thick with a smoky blend of oil and iron. Onxyburg's skyline was punctuated by belching factory smokestacks. Underneath the sound of gears and metal, the city's heartbeat pulsed in a symphony of grinding wheels, hissing steam, and clattering tracks.

Shadowy figures moved through the soot-filled air, their faces obscured by shawls and goggles. They ranged from the hunched-over Pucks repairing clockwork contraptions on the corners to the finely dressed human lords and ladies stepping from their coal-fueled carriages.

All were pieces in a grand mosaic that made up the House of Neddingstein Nation's crowning jewel—Onxyburg.

It was said that Onxyburg was a city where appetites of all kinds could be satiated. If a Witch were hungry for knowledge and power, the grande libraries had ancient grimoires and cutting-edge magical schematics.

If riches were what lords, adventures and beggars sought, merchants and traders buzzed through the bazaars, making deals that could build empires overnight. And with some luck, maybe a demon could be near.

But if it was lust or blood that drove them, well, they could find that too, in the dimly lit corners and hidden alcoves, beds or any potential places of debauchery you can think of.

The cobblestone streets seemed to whisper temptation as people passed by. One secret for everyone.

Over there, a cluster of alchemists huddled, their hands glowing with Atua-charged energies as they debated over arcane formulae.

Across the way, a shifty-eyed man offered a vial of some illicit substance to an impatient young lordling. Even the buildings seemed to be in on the conspiracies—the walls closing in like onlookers eager for the next act in the ongoing drama that was Onxyburg.

Under a sky awash with twilight hues, Restelo stood atop the balcony of his secluded villa. A murmur of evening activities echoed from Onxyburg in the distance, but here, all was hushed.

A crow, black as the secrets he relished, spiralled down from the heavens to rest upon his outstretched finger. The bird's eyes were like twin beads of golden ember, mirroring Restelo's own piercing red gaze.

"Well, well. What tidings do you bring, emissary of the shadows?" he murmured, his voice laced with a chilling elegance.

With a shuddering flutter of its feathers, the crow vanished. In its place appeared an ornate card that read, "The Morningstar invites you for the grand opening."

Restelo's red eyes narrowed, gleaming like rubies under the sliver of moonlight of his hair. "The Morningstar, is it? Now, that's a name I've not heard in an eternity. Curious indeed."

The door creaked open, revealing a chamber bathed in an unsettling red glow. Hung from the walls were cadavers, their life force drained, eyes vacant. Restelo's nostrils flared at the acrid smell of coagulated blood. In the midst of this gory tableau sat his latest creation, a vision of malevolent beauty. A spawn with long, white hair cascaded down her back like a frozen waterfall, her eyes a molten red as if borrowing their hue from the pits of hell.

With a look of annoyance marring his otherwise immaculate visage, Restelo sidestepped a pool of blood and took a seat in the only clean chair in the room. "Must you make such a mess?" he said, shaking his head. "You're tarnishing the very notion of what it is to be a vampire."

"I'm hungry!" she snapped, her fangs glistening with fresh blood.

"Ah, but the insatiable hunger that you feel is precisely the lesson here," Restelo retorted, his voice dripping with an exasperated formality. "You must learn discipline, restraint. A true vampire is a master of their desires, not a slave to them."