Blood and Redemption
After five hundred years of darkness, Viktor Draven seeks the impossible: forgiveness. But the path to redemption is paved with the bones of his past.
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The old church had been abandoned for decades, its stained glass windows shattered, its pews rotted to dust. Viktor Draven knelt where the altar once stood, his forehead pressed against the cold stone floor.
"Forgive me," he whispered to a god he wasn't sure still listened to creatures like him.
Footsteps echoed behind him. He didn't need to turn to know who had found him.
"Viktor Draven, Lord of the Crimson Court, on his knees in a church." Kael Stormwind's voice dripped with contempt. "I should have brought a painter."
Viktor rose slowly, turning to face the knight. "I'm not here to fight, hunter."
"Then you're here to die." Kael drew his blessed blade, its edge glowing with holy light.
"Perhaps," Viktor admitted. "But first, I have a story to tell you. One that begins five hundred years ago, with a young man who made a terrible choice."
The knight hesitated, and Viktor began to speak of the night he became a monster.
