The Extra's Rise

The abandoned warehouse where Magistrate Corwin had led us reeked of decay and old blood, the scent so thick it seemed to coat the back of my throat. Crimson symbols covered every surface—walls, floor, even the rusted ceiling beams—their meanings lost to anyone outside the Red Chalice Cult's inner circle. The artwork was disturbingly beautiful, depicting scenes of mortals kneeling before winged figures with too many eyes. Candles flickered from iron sconces that looked suspiciously like they'd been crafted from human bones, casting dancing shadows that seemed to writhe with life of their own.

"Please, sit," Corwin gestured to expensive chairs that looked distinctly out of place in the decrepit surroundings. The furniture was clearly high-end—sleek black leather with silver accents, the kind you'd find in a luxury corporate office. His pale eyes never left my face, studying every micro-expression with the intensity of a predator evaluating prey.

I settled into the chair with calculated ease, keeping Reika close beside me. Her hand found mine naturally—our relationship was still new, but genuine, and the comfort of her touch helped steady my nerves in this den of fanatics. I could feel the tension radiating from her despite her composed exterior. The subtle way her breathing had quickened, the almost imperceptible tightening of her grip—she was as unsettled by this place as I was, though she'd never admit it.

"Magistrate Corwin," I began, allowing a hint of reverence to color my voice. "I must confess, witnessing your organization's power tonight has been enlightening. After everything that happened during the war with the Eastern Continent last year, seeing your forces operate with such precision... it speaks to true strength."

Corwin's thin lips curved into what might charitably be called a smile. "Flattery, my dear friend? How refreshingly honest. Most who seek audience with us attempt more elaborate deceptions." He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. The gesture revealed that his nails were longer than they should be, filed to points that gleamed in the candlelight. "But you intrigue me. That display of power earlier—copying another's Gift so perfectly—such abilities are exceedingly rare."

"It's my Gift," I said simply, not elaborating on the true nature of my abilities. "I've spent years mastering it, though I'll admit tonight was the first time I've faced someone of Prince Lucifer's caliber."

"Indeed. A Gift of mimicry..." Corwin's eyes gleamed with interest. "The possibilities are extraordinary. Tell me, what is the extent of your capabilities? Can you replicate any supernatural ability, or are there limitations?"

This was dangerous territory. Too much information would make me appear threatening; too little would diminish my perceived value. "Physical contact helps establish the connection," I said carefully. "The more complex the ability, the more difficult it is to maintain. And there are some powers that simply resist duplication—abilities tied to bloodline for example."

"Fascinating," Corwin murmured, making a note in a leather-bound journal that had appeared in his hands. "And what brings someone of your... talents to seek us out? Surely you could command significant influence in any number of organizations."

I exchanged a meaningful glance with Reika before continuing. "Honestly? The war opened our eyes, Magistrate. We fought for the Eastern Continent, believing in their cause, their promises of victory against supernatural tyranny." I let frustration creep into my voice—not entirely fabricated. "But when we saw what your vampiric allies could do, how they carved through our supposedly elite forces like they were children... it became clear we'd chosen the wrong side."

"The Eastern Continent's propaganda painted vampires as monsters," Reika added softly, playing her part perfectly. "But what we witnessed wasn't mindless savagery. It was power guided by ancient wisdom, strategy that spanned centuries. How can mortal generals compete with beings who've perfected warfare across millennia?"

Corwin nodded slowly, approval glinting in his pale eyes. "Wisdom earned through bitter experience. Many of your former comrades still cling to their delusions, unable to accept that they opposed forces beyond their comprehension." He rose from his chair, beginning to pace with predatory grace. "The Red Chalice Cult exists to embrace that truth. We seek not to deny the supernatural hierarchy, but to find our proper place within it. To learn from those who have transcended mortal limitations and proven their supremacy on the battlefield."

"And these... teachers," I prompted carefully. "The vampires who crushed our forces so decisively. They're the ones offering guidance?"

Corwin's smile widened, revealing teeth that were definitely sharper than human norm. "Among others, yes. The very beings who demonstrated the futility of mortal resistance during the war." His tone carried a note of satisfaction. "I find it particularly... poetic when former enemies recognize the wisdom of joining the victorious side. It shows adaptability, intelligence—qualities our vampiric allies value highly."

"Oh, they do indeed." His expression grew almost reverent. "Vampires are not the mindless parasites that mortal folklore would have us believe. They are philosophers, strategists, artists whose canvas is eternity itself. To learn from them, to be granted even a fraction of their wisdom..." He paused in his pacing, fixing me with an intense stare. "It requires dedication. Sacrifice. The willingness to surrender one's limited mortal perspective for something infinitely greater."

'Perfect.' He was taking the bait exactly as I'd hoped. My plan was simple in concept: secure a vampiric contract with a Vampire Elder, someone I could manipulate while using Lucent Harmony to prevent their miasma from truly bonding with my soul. The technique operated on soul-deep resonance frequencies, theoretically capable of creating a barrier that would fool even vampiric senses while keeping my consciousness intact.

"We understand," I said, injecting just the right amount of hunger into my voice. "We've both felt the... emptiness of purely mortal existence. The sense that we're grasping at shadows while the real power lies just beyond our reach."

"Precisely!" Corwin clapped his hands together, the sound sharp in the warehouse's stillness. "You truly do comprehend the nature of our sacred mission. Most candidates require months of careful conditioning before they can even accept the reality of what we offer."

Reika leaned forward slightly, her free hand resting on my arm in a gesture that was both possessive and supportive—the natural intimacy of a new couple still learning each other's boundaries. "What exactly do you offer, Magistrate? We've heard whispers, fragments of rumor, but never the complete truth."

"Contracts," Corwin confirmed, his voice dropping to an almost whisper. "Sacred bonds that allow mortals to share in vampiric essence. To taste true immortality while serving a higher purpose." His eyes gleamed with fervent devotion. "The chosen few receive direct guidance from their vampiric patron, learning secrets that have been hidden from humanity since the dawn of civilization."

"And the process?" I asked, careful to maintain the appropriate level of reverence. "How does one prove worthy of such honor?"

"Ah, that varies depending on the individual vampire's preferences. Some favor displays of loyalty, others tests of intellectual capacity or artistic merit. A few..." His smile turned predatory. "A few prefer more direct examinations of one's willingness to embrace necessary darkness."

'Necessary darkness.' The phrase sent a chill down my spine, though I was careful not to let it show. Whatever rituals this cult practiced, they clearly weren't squeamish about moral boundaries.

"Of course, not everyone is deemed worthy," Corwin continued. "The selection process is... rigorous. Many are called, but few are chosen to receive the gift of vampiric covenant."

'This is it.' The opening I'd been maneuvering toward. "We understand the honor such a contract would represent. Whatever trials you require, whatever proof of dedication—"

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted my carefully crafted appeal. I turned to see a figure emerging from the shadows at the warehouse's edge—another cult member, this one wearing robes of deeper crimson with intricate silver threadwork that seemed to shimmer with its own light. A messenger, by the elaborate insignia on his chest and the deference in his posture.

"Magistrate," the newcomer said with a respectful bow that was so deep it was nearly prostration. "Urgent word. Her Holiness has decided to personally form a covenant with the... visitor."

The change in Corwin's expression was immediate and dramatic. His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline, but this time his expression shifted to one of pure elation rather than concern. "A personal covenant? With the Pope herself?" He turned to me with genuine excitement, his earlier predatory calculation replaced by something approaching awe. "My friend, do you understand what this means? Such honor is reserved for only the most exceptional individuals. Those destined for the highest ranks within our organization."

The messenger nodded gravely, his hood casting deep shadows across features I couldn't quite make out. "Her Holiness was monitoring the evening's events through remote surveillance. She has expressed that his unique abilities warrant direct integration into the inner circle."

"Cardinal," Corwin breathed, looking at me with something approaching reverence. "With such favor from Her Holiness, you could achieve the rank of Cardinal within months. The opportunities, the knowledge that would be open to you..." He shook his head in amazement, actually taking a step back as if my presence had become too overwhelming to approach casually. "I confess, I am envious. In three decades of faithful service, I have never even spoken directly with Her Holiness, and here you are, offered personal covenant on your first night among us."

The temperature in the warehouse seemed to drop several degrees, but Corwin's face was alight with excitement. "Pope Alyssara Velcroix herself will form your vampiric covenant. Such an honor..." He clasped his hands together like a child receiving unexpected gifts. "In all my years serving the faith, I have never witnessed Her Holiness take such direct interest in a novice."

Alyssara Velcroix.

"Arthur?" Reika's voice seemed to come from very far away, as if she were calling to me through deep water. Her genuine concern was evident—she knew something was deeply wrong. "Are you alright? You've gone quite pale."