CHAPTER 52: VIVIANE’S NIGHTMARE

Everyone has nightmares. Some remember them vividly, as if fear itself had carved the images into their bones. Others forget, brushing them off as fleeting shadows that vanish with morning light.

But for Viviane, the nightmare did not fade. It followed her into waking hours, seared into her life like a scar she could never escape.

That nightmare was her mother, Isolde.

Viviane’s body froze—not from the searing pain of her wounds or the blood dripping down her chest, already stitching itself together—but from the flood of memories clawing their way back.

Every cruelty, every humiliation her mother had inflicted replayed in her mind, trapping her in that same cage of fear. Her body trembled against her will.

"No... this is just one of her tricks. Just her bloodline skill... playing with my mind!" she whispered, desperate to believe. But the words rang hollow.

The nightmare loomed closer, its form more grotesque with each step: limbs stretched too long for a human, a hunched back bending unnaturally, skin mottled in ashen grey.

Each limping step made Viviane’s chest tighten until she could hardly breathe.

"Viviane..."

"Viviane, my daughter..."

The voice—her voice—was worse than the sight. It was the same tone Viviane had heard a thousand times in her dreams, scolding, commanding, drowning her in guilt.

Her eyes darted toward Stella and Eve, both crumpled on the floor, strings severed and useless as her body didn’t seem to have the courage to fight.

She turned again, searching for Alastair, only to find him curled pathetically at the edge of the chamber, too broken to help.

Sweat trickled down her temple. Death was near, yet this was worse than death. Worse even than suicide.

To be killed by this—by the very nightmare that tortured her every second of her breath—was unbearable.

"Viviane..."

Her mother’s grotesque face bent close, filling her vision.

"VIVIANE, YOU FOOL!" the nightmare shrieked. "HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU TO KILL THAT HUMAN PROPERLY?! YOU BEFRIENDED YOUR FOOD, PATHETIC GIRL!"

"NOOO! STOP IT! I DON’T WANT TO KILL HER!" Viviane’s scream tore from her throat, raw and ragged.

Her hand shot forward, searing fire erupting from her palm as it plunged through the nightmare’s throat.

The creature’s head exploded in a spray of flame and shadow. Gasping, drenched in sweat, Viviane staggered over its writhing body, only to see its flesh beginning to knit together again.

"No... not this time," she hissed, straddling the nightmare’s chest.

With a snarl, she unleashed flame after flame, each blast detonating a different part of its body—head, arms, chest—refusing to let it reform.

Her breaths came in frantic bursts, her vision shaking, but still she poured her fury into burning every piece before it could crawl back together.

"Why would you destroy my innocence?! Why would you take everything from me?! What have I done to you, Mother, to make you despise me?"

Viviane screamed into the nightmare, her cries breaking into the air. Her mind was already too disturbed by Isolde’s blood style to remember that the true nightmare stood not far away, watching her every move as though evaluating her worth.

"I’ve done nothing to you! I’ve tried my best to be the daughter you wanted me to be! But why is it never enough for you?! Why... why are you betraying me..." Her hand slowed as she realized the nightmare had stopped regenerating.

"You... you were once a good mother."

"Do you really want to know why?"

Viviane’s golden irises slit as she lifted her head to meet Isolde’s face, her expression as unchanged and cold as ever. A hand—pale and merciless—gripped her jaw, tilting it upward.

"It’s because you are kind, Viviane." Isolde’s eyes turned glacial. "Every time I see the smile on your face, I remember how pathetic you will become when you grow older. So I erased it with punishment."

"Every time you show mercy to your enemies or to your prey, it reminds me of my own failure as your mother. So I forced you to kill them."

"I destroyed you to make you strong, but you only grew more pitiful. Honestly, Viviane, there isn’t anything in this world more disappointing than you. Perhaps I haven’t punished you enough."

Viviane’s jaw clenched. "JUST BECAUSE OF THAT?! YOU HORRIBLE—"

Before Viviane could finish, Isolde’s shadow swelled, spreading outward like a tide of black tentacles. They surged forward, engulfing her whole. The last thing she saw was darkness.

Isolde exhaled slowly and dabbed her hands with a silk handkerchief, as though wiping away invisible dust.

In front of her, the nightmare condensed back into shadow, waiting in silence for her next command. She spoke lazily, her tone almost bored:

"Dispose of those two women."

The nightmare bowed its head, turning toward Eve and Stelle. Both lay sprawled on the floor, eyes wide open but hollow, their lips moving in a broken chant to kill... kill... kill... The nightmare shifted into the jester form and obeyed.

With clawed precision, it reached into their bodies, extracting their Vitalis Cores—Eve’s pulsing orb torn from her right arm, Stelle’s yanked from the hollow where her kidney should have been.

Unexpected, perhaps, but necessary. Vampires could shift their cores within their bodies to avoid instant death, and Isolde clearly knew it.

Meanwhile, she strolled toward Alastair, who was already screaming.

"Stay back! Get away from me, you monster!"

However, the more she got closer. His terror cracked into desperate pleading. "Please... please, I’ll do anything! I’ll give you gold, all of it—I’ll disappear, you’ll never see my face again!"

Isolde didn’t even acknowledge his words. Her patience had long since worn thin. She seized him by the throat and lifted him effortlessly.

His face flushed purple as he clawed at her grip, gasping for air. It wasn’t enough to kill him, strangulation was, after all, a deliciously slow punishment for a vampire.

"You—my Covenant will... come for you!" Alastair choked, voice rasping. "Y-you’ll break the agreement if you kill me!"

Isolde’s laugh rang sharp and cruel. "That will be fine too."

Her smirk curved darker as she leaned in. "Call them, then. Invite them all to my mansion."

Her hand pressed against his chest. Alastair’s eyes widened in horror as her fingers pierced skin, muscle, then bone, drilling straight into his flesh.

He thrashed helplessly, head shaking, but she only smiled at the exquisite agony on his face. Her hand closed around his heart and tore it free.

"And I’ll serve them your heart," she purred, crushing the organ in her palm as it burst, transforming into his Vitalis Core.

She squeezed harder, shattering it into glittering shards. "With your head as the garnish."

Alastair’s scream curdled into silence. His eyes rolled white before his body crumpled to the floor like discarded meat.

Isolde sighed with satisfaction. "Hah... I expected too much from my daughter. Right, Seamus?"

Her gaze shifted to the doorway, where Seamus stood frozen, his face unreadable.