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Chapter 196 – The Sleeper’s Secrets
Chapter 196 – The Sleeper’s Secrets
Deep beneath Raven Tower, where no light dared to intrude, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment, iron, and lingering magic. The lowest chamber of the tower—Seraphis’s private laboratory—lay in perfect silence, untouched by the chaos above. The stone walls, carved from the earth itself, were lined with shelves stacked high with ancient tomes, alchemical ingredients sealed in glass containers, and relics from past battles.
At the very center of the dimly lit room lay a steel examination table, its polished surface gleaming under the glow of several enchanted lanterns. Upon it, stretched lifeless yet unnervingly intact, was the corpse of the Sleeper.
Seraphis stood beside the table, staring down at the vampire’s remains with an expression of measured curiosity. This was no ordinary vampire. Even in death, it radiated something… wrong. Something that set her senses on edge.
She exhaled slowly, adjusting the black gloves covering her hands.
“Let’s see what secrets you hold.”
She reached for her tools.
A Body Unlike Any Other
The Sleeper’s body was eerily pristine. Unlike the lesser vampires she had fought before—creatures whose flesh decayed rapidly upon death—this one remained untouched by time. Its skin, pale as moonlight, was smooth and unblemished, save for the faint, black veins that pulsed with residual energy.
Seraphis placed two fingers against its neck, pressing lightly. The skin was cold, yet strangely pliant, as if death had barely taken hold.
She frowned. That was impossible.
A normal vampire’s body, when deprived of its dark magic, should have collapsed into dust within minutes. Yet this one remained whole, its form eerily perfect, its features frozen in an expression of quiet repose.
Seraphis reached for a thin, silver scalpel and placed the blade against the creature’s left forearm.
With a controlled motion, she pressed down.
The moment the scalpel touched the flesh, a thin trickle of dark, viscous liquid beaded at the incision—not blood, but something else.
It shimmered beneath the lantern light, a deep, unnatural black with hints of crimson.
She narrowed her eyes.
This wasn’t normal.
Vampires bled dark red, sometimes black, depending on their corruption level—but this? This was something entirely new.
She dipped a glass vial into the incision site, collecting a small sample of the liquid before sealing it with a waxed stopper.
She would analyze it later.
For now, there was more to uncover.
The Eyes of the Dead
Her next step was the eyes.
Seraphis carefully pried open the Sleeper’s eyelids, revealing pupils as black as the void, with rings of deep crimson swirling like dying embers.
Even in death, they seemed to glow faintly, as if some part of the creature still clung to its unnatural existence.
She leaned closer.
No reflection.
Most vampires retained at least a faint mirror image in their eyes after death, but this one had none. It was as if she were staring into an abyss, a depthless void that refused to reveal its secrets.
For a fleeting moment, she felt something—a whisper, a presence lingering within those hollow pupils.
Then it was gone.
She released its eyelids, letting them fall shut.
This creature wasn’t just a vampire. It was something beyond that.
And she intended to find out what.
Examining the Flesh
Seraphis retrieved a thin needle, pressing it lightly against the Sleeper’s wrist.
There was no reaction. No stiffening of the flesh. No decomposition. It was as if the body refused to acknowledge death at all.
She slowly pushed the needle deeper.
It sank in without resistance.
She twisted the instrument slightly, expecting the usual sensation of muscle fibers locking against metal—but there was nothing.
No tendons. No ligaments. No normal anatomy.
Seraphis withdrew the needle, watching as the puncture wound sealed itself within seconds.
Her breath caught.
That wasn’t possible.
Even among the strongest vampires, regeneration should have ceased upon death. But this body—this thing—was still fighting against the very concept of mortality.
She reached for a small silver dagger, its blade etched with holy runes. If this creature was still bound by vampiric laws, holy silver should force a reaction.
With a calculated motion, she pressed the blade against the Sleeper’s palm.
The moment silver touched skin—
Nothing.
No smoke. No burn. No resistance.
Seraphis pulled the dagger away, brows furrowing.
Holy magic didn’t work on it.
She had a sinking feeling in her gut.
This wasn’t just a vampire.
It was something far worse.
The Chest Cavity – A Heart That Shouldn’t Beat
Taking a steady breath, Seraphis retrieved a bone saw.
She had to go deeper.
Carefully, she made the first incision along the Sleeper’s chest cavity, cutting through the flesh with precision. The skin parted too easily, as if it were never truly connected in the first place.
She peeled back the layers.
And then—she froze.
The Sleeper’s heart was still intact.
More than that—
It was still beating.
Faint, slow, but unmistakable.
Seraphis’s entire body tensed. This shouldn’t be possible.
Vampires did not have functioning hearts. Upon turning, their organs atrophied, becoming little more than vestigial remnants of their former humanity. Their life force came from dark energy, not biological function.
Yet here it was—beating.
Slowly. Steadily. Unyielding.
She reached out, placing her fingertips against the still-moving flesh.
A surge of cold rushed through her veins.
A heartbeat—but no pulse.
The Sleeper was neither dead nor alive.
It was something in between.
The Truth Beneath the Skin
Seraphis exhaled, forcing herself to steady her thoughts.
This thing—this abomination—was unlike any vampire she had ever encountered. It didn’t bleed like them. It didn’t decay like them. It didn’t even die like them.
She stepped back from the table, wiping the scalpel clean.
Her mind was already forming possibilities.
What if this wasn’t a vampire at all?
What if it was a failed evolution?
A creature meant to surpass vampires entirely?
And if so—who had created it?
Her stomach twisted at the thought.
Someone, somewhere, was making these.
And if there was one…
There were more.
Seraphis clenched her fists.
She needed answers.
She needed to hunt whoever was behind this abomination.
But most of all—
She needed to be ready.
Because whatever created this thing…
Was still out there.
And it was watching.