Bound By The Midnight

Elliot's POV

 Power. Obedience. Fear.

 These are the pillars of my existence. They define who I am, what I rule, and what I destroy.

 I open my eyes to the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through my towering windows. The mansion is silent, yet I can feel the pulse of 150,000 souls beyond these walls. They wake before me. They wait for me. They exist because of me.

 A King does not need permission to rule. He takes what is his and destroys what dares to stand in his way.

 The heavy gold-engraved doors to my chamber swing open. My maids enter in synchronized steps, their heads bowed, their hands folded in front of them. Their breaths are steady, practiced. Not a single one of them meets my gaze. They know better.

 Your Majesty, your bath is prepared,one of them whispers, her voice careful. Measured.

 Without a word, I rise from my bed. The silk sheets slide off my body as I step onto the cool marble floor. Ten maids rush to their stations, one draping a robe over my shoulders, another kneeling to tie the laces of my slippers, while the rest wait for my next command.

 The scent of blood lingers in the air. Fresh. Warm.

 As I walk toward my private bath, two maids step aside, revealing a golden tub filled with dark crimson liquid.

 Blood.

 Drink, my Lord, another voice murmurs as a crystal goblet is presented to me.

 I take it, swirling the thick, intoxicating liquid before bringing it to my lips. Perfection. The warmth spreads through me, fueling the strength that sets me apart from every other creature that walks this earth.

 I step into the bath, letting the blood coat my skin. It seeps into my pores, rejuvenating me in a way no mortal could ever understand. This is not just luxury. It is power.

 As I soak in the blood of my enemies, I think of only one thing, control.

 By the time I dress, the world outside is already moving. My world.

 I walk through the halls of my mansion, ancient and vast, built from the bones of my ancestors. Torches burn against the stone walls, casting shadows that dance as I pass.

 The moment I step outside, silence falls.

 Tens of thousands of my kind bow before me in the Grand Courtyard, a massive open space where the strongest warriors of my pack train under the watchful eyes of my general's.

 150,000 Vampires bound by my rule.

 None dare to raise their heads. None dare to breathe too loudly.

 I stop at the top of the stone stairs, looking down at my kingdom. My presence alone commands their submission. I don't need to shout. I don't need to demand their loyalty. They already know who I am.

 These are not just men and women. They are weapons. My empire is built on fear and obedience, and as long as I stand, no force in this world can challenge me.

 But power is not given. It is earned in blood.

 "Bring in the traitors", I command.

 The crowd parts as six prisoners are dragged forward, their arms bound in silver chains. They tremble, their bodies covered in bruises, their faces pale from blood loss.

 "Mercy, Your Majesty"! one of them cries, falling to his knees.

 I tilt my head, watching him struggle. Pathetic.

 Mercy? I echo, stepping forward. The moment my polished black shoes touch the ground, the tension thickens. They know what is coming.

 I squat down, gripping his chin between my fingers, forcing him to look at me. His heartbeat is erratic. His pulse"weak".

 Tell me, I murmur, my voice deadly soft. "Did you show mercy when you betrayed me"?

 His lips tremble. He has no answer.