MTLNOVEL Chapter 266: Sabrina Petrova
The name hung in the air like a curse given voice. Sabrina Petrova—a designation that belonged to nightmares and cautionary tales whispered in darkened chambers. For over five centuries, that name had been carved into continental consciousness through blood and terror, establishing a legacy that transcended mortal comprehension.
She had first emerged during the twilight years of the Previous Seven Monarchs Alliance, when the continent groaned under different rulers and different laws. In those days, vampires moved openly through the shadows of civilization, neither fully accepted nor completely ostracized. They existed in the margins—predators who occasionally served useful purposes for those willing to negotiate with darkness.
Sabrina Petrova changed everything.
Where other vampires fed to survive, she fed to transform. Where they hid from mortal authorities, she commanded them. Within a decade of her first recorded appearance, vampire covens across the continent had unified under her banner, their disparate clans becoming instruments of coordinated purpose. She didn't merely lead the vampires—she became their progenitor, their mother, their goddess of crimson appetite.
The wars that followed reshaped continental politics entirely. Kingdoms fell as their leadership succumbed to vampiric transformation. Ancient bloodlines ended when heirs proved incapable of resisting her influence. Trade routes collapsed as merchant caravans vanished into shadows that moved with predatory intelligence.
The Previous Seven Monarchs had united not through diplomatic necessity but through existential terror. Sabrina Petrova represented threat that transcended traditional warfare—an enemy who turned victory into recruitment, who transformed defeat into expansion. Every battle lost to her forces meant fewer allies and more enemies wearing familiar faces.
The Great Purge had lasted three generations. Systematic eradication of vampire covens required resources that nearly bankrupted multiple kingdoms. Specialized weapons, protective wards, trained hunters—the continental powers had restructured their entire military hierarchies around elimination of vampiric threats.
When Sabrina Petrova finally fell in the Battle of Crimson Fields, her death marked the end of an era. The remaining vampires, leaderless and hunted, scattered to the furthest corners of the continent. Within fifty years, vampire sightings had become folklore. Within a century, they existed only in stories used to frighten disobedient children.
"Be good, or the Blood Witch will come for you."
"Sabrina Petrova drinks the blood of naughty children."
"She walks in shadows and steals dreams from sleeping innocents."
The myths had grown in her absence, transforming historical reality into supernatural legend. Parents who had never lived through the vampire wars told stories passed down through generations, each retelling adding new elements of terror and wonder. Sabrina Petrova had become the continent's collective nightmare—a figure so terrible that her mere name could reduce grown adults to childhood fears.
Yet here she stood, blood-red hair cascading around shoulders that defied natural proportion, crimson eyes reflecting candlelight with impossible depth. The legendary Blood Witch, supposedly dead for over a century, smiling down at an assembly of continental powers with predatory satisfaction.
The realization struck the banquet hall like physical blow.
Lord Penrose staggered backward, his face drained of all color as recognition hit him. His grandfather had served in the final campaign against Sabrina Petrova, returning with stories that had haunted family dinners for decades. Those tales suddenly felt less like ancient history and more like prophetic warning.
Admiral Elspeth crossed herself reflexively, naval discipline momentarily forgotten in face of childhood terror made manifest. Her hand moved toward the ceremonial blade at her side before freezing mid-gesture, paralysis preventing completion of protective instinct.
Throughout the chamber, similar reactions rippled through the assembled dignitaries. Military representatives who had spent careers studying historical campaigns found themselves confronting the primary source of continental transformation. Nobles whose family crests commemorated victories against vampire forces realized those victories had been temporary at best.
The Stone Monarchy's representatives exhibited particular distress, their faces pale with ancestral memory. Their kingdom had suffered disproportionately during the vampire wars, entire mountain fortresses lost to coordinated assault that defied conventional understanding of siege warfare. The delegation leader's mouth moved soundlessly, as though attempting prayer that paralysis prevented from reaching completion.
"Such delightful recognition," Sabrina observed, her transformed voice carrying notes that seemed to vibrate through bone marrow. "Though I suspect most of you know me primarily through folklore rather than historical accuracy."
She descended her shadow-staircase with fluid grace, each step bringing her closer to the paralyzed assembly below. Her midnight blue gown had transformed along with her appearance, fabric now appearing liquid rather than solid, rippling with internal currents that suggested movement independent of physical laws.
"Allow me to rectify certain misconceptions," she continued, crimson eyes surveying the frozen crowd with amusement. "Yes, I am Sabrina Petrova, though the title 'Blood Witch' always struck me as unnecessarily dramatic. Yes, I led the vampire covens during what you call the Great Wars. And yes, I was supposedly killed in the Battle of Crimson Fields over a century ago."
Her smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed sharper than human anatomy should permit.
"Reports of my death, as they say, were greatly exaggerated."
She paused her descent, standing approximately halfway between floor and ceiling on steps constructed from living shadow. The position allowed her to address the entire assembly while maintaining clear visual dominance over their paralyzed forms.
"Though I must admit, the enforced retirement proved... educational. A century spent observing from the margins, watching how continental politics evolved in my absence, studying the new generation of powers that emerged to fill the vacuum my departure created." Her gaze swept across the representatives of the Seven Monarchies with predatory assessment. "How disappointing to discover that such vast potential had been squandered on petty territorial disputes."
The casual dismissal of current continental order struck the assembly like slap across collective consciousness. She spoke of the Seven Monarchies—powers that had dominated political landscape for generations—as though they were children playing with toys beyond their comprehension.
"Which brings me to my current endeavor," she announced, crimson eyes gleaming with anticipation. "You may know it as the Obsidian Hand."
Fresh waves of shock rippled through those capable of reaction. The Obsidian Hand had been mysterious organization seeking position among the Seven Sins, group whose capabilities and objectives remained largely unknown to continental intelligence services. The revelation that this shadowy faction operated under Sabrina Petrova's leadership recontextualized every rumor and report regarding their activities.
"Oh yes," she continued with evident pleasure at their horror, "the little organization that's been causing such concern among your intelligence networks. Did you truly believe such coordination could emerge spontaneously? That level of capability simply manifests without experienced leadership?"
She laughed, the sound carrying harmonics that seemed to resonate with crystalline objects throughout the chamber, causing several goblets to crack along their rims.
"The Obsidian Hand represents my return to active participation in continental affairs. A century of observation has provided excellent education regarding current power structures and their numerous vulnerabilities. Consider tonight's demonstration a formal announcement of intent."
Her casual revelation of strategic objective sent fresh terror through the assembly. If Sabrina Petrova had indeed spent a century studying current political landscape, her knowledge of vulnerabilities and weaknesses would be comprehensive. The implications for continental security were staggering.
From his frozen position, Alex struggled to process these revelations while fighting against the paralysis that held him motionless. Pride's golden energy churned within him, constrained by whatever force she wielded yet still providing enhanced perception of unfolding situation.
The realization struck him with devastating clarity. Sabrina Petrova wasn't merely dangerous historical figure returned from supposed death. She was an Apostle—a vessel for one of the Arkdieu entities that transcended dimensional barriers. The same type of being as himself and Klaus, yet with centuries of accumulated experience and power.
If she had been an Apostle five hundred years ago during the vampire wars, how much stronger had she become over the intervening centuries? Pride's communion with him was recent, their integration still developing despite its profound effects. Klaus's transformation, while more fundamental, had occurred mere months earlier.
But Sabrina Petrova had potentially been an Apostle for half a millennium.
The mathematical progression was terrifying. If Apostle capabilities grew through time and experience, if communion with Arkdieu entities developed deeper integration over extended periods, then her current power level might exceed anything either he or Klaus could comprehend.
Alex felt Pride's golden energy fluctuate within him, the entity's typical confidence replaced by something approaching concern. Even an Arkdieu recognized the implications of encountering opponent with such vast temporal advantage.
How strong could an Apostle become given five centuries of development? How dangerous was a being who combined vampiric capabilities with Arkdieu enhancement, supernatural predation with cosmic power? What exactly were they facing in this elegant woman who smiled down at them with crimson eyes that reflected depths beyond mortal comprehension?
The questions multiplied in Alex's consciousness like virus spreading through vulnerable system, each possibility more unsettling than the last. Whatever game was unfolding tonight had rules he didn't understand and stakes he couldn't calculate.
Just how powerful had Sabrina Petrova become?