A sentinel of stone and stained glass loomed before Dante. Long fallen into disrepair, the abandoned cathedral was like a decaying husk festering in the middle of the fog-swept city. The wooden doors swung open on silent hinges, welcoming him in. As he passed through the entranceway, he felt the familiar chill of a magical ward wash over him, raising goosebumps on his skin. 

According to lunar vampire law, all encounters in the human realm should be held in secret. The wards prevented sound from escaping the area, and obscured visuals for any observers or passerby, giving them the impression that the cathedral was empty. Of course, it wasn't, because Dante was there. And the three enforcers from earlier.

On cue, the enforcers stepped out from the shadows that stretched like grasping fingers across the dilapidated interior. In the scant light filtering through broken windows, their eyes glowed in various shades of peculiar colors. Dante's gaze swept over them, their true forms no longer hidden beneath human trappings. 

Without the wide-brimmed hat, Lethe’s bluish skin was clearly visible. Her periwinkle eyes, reminiscent of twilight skies, focused on Dante with unsettling intensity. Dark blue hair fell down to her waist, contrasting sharply with the delicate asphodel flower and cypress tattoos that adorned her arms and neck.

Beside her, Eunoe's olive skin glowed with an ethereal warmth, even in the somber cathedral. Forest green hair framed her face in wild, untamed curls, giving her the appearance of a woodland spirit. Her light pink eyes, soft as rose petals, belied a sharp intelligence and unwavering resolve.

"Lethe," Dante said, nodding his head in greeting. His eyes flicked to the other enforcer. "Eunoe." He deliberately ignored the third, a hulking figure with ashen skin and eyes of deep orange. 

Eunoe was the first to speak, waving a hand across the air, as if presenting the cathedral. Dust motes danced in the beam of light that followed her gesture. "As you can see, all the glass has been broken here in preparation for our meeting." Her voice echoed in the cavernous space, bouncing off crumbling pillars. 

"No mirrors, no reflections," Lethe said in a curt tone, her thigh-high leather boots crunching on shattered glass as she took a calculated step forward. “Which means no unwanted spectators."

Dante couldn't help but smile at that comment. He ran a hand through his raven hair, affecting nonchalance. "You mean you don't want Overseer Aldra to stop you."

Lethe and Eunoe exchanged glances. The third enforcer shifted uneasily, hand moving to the hilt of a concealed weapon.

"Haven't you heard?" Lethe's voice dripped with false sympathy. "She is no longer our acting Overseer."

Dante raised a brow, his interest piqued despite himself. "Oh?"

"She has been… deposed," Eunoe said, her fingers tracing idle patterns in the air, leaving faint trails of silver light.

"Selenys is now our Supreme Overseer," Lethe added, watching Dante's reaction closely.

Dante's brow furrowed. He paced a few steps, his footfalls eerily silent on the debris-strewn floor. "The name does not sound familiar."

Eunoe's eyes followed his movement. "She hails from Lumina Prime."

"An off-worlder, then," Dante mused, his mind racing with the implications.

"Aren't we all?" Lethe smirked, revealing the tips of razor-sharp fangs.

Dante stopped pacing, turning to face them fully. "Speak for yourself." He scoffed, his voice laced with disdain. "Anyway, when do you plan on killing me?"

"All good things come with time," Lethe said, idly examining her nails. "I haven't read you the Lunar Council rules you've broken, yet. The rules have changed, by the way." She produced a scroll from within her cloak, unfurling it with a flourish. 

Dante stared at the floor, opting to kick a small shard of broken glass away instead of playing along with Lethe. He flexed his fingers, feeling the familiar tingle of power coursing through his veins. "I was exiled, remember? I don't have to follow your precious laws anymore."

As he spoke, Dante raised his hand, palm up. The air shimmered and distorted, reality bending to his will. In a heartbeat, a weapon materialized out of the ether—a stunning silver-edged sword, its lengthy blade gleaming with an otherworldly light. The hilt fit perfectly in Dante's grip, as if it had been crafted for him alone.

The enforcers tensed, their own weapons manifesting in their hands. Lethe uncoiled a thorny whip, the barbs having a faint sheen from the poison they were laced with. Eunoe wielded a curved blade, its forward-swept edge catching the light. The third enforcer gripped a heavy flanged mace, which Dante had seen dripping with molten flames many a time throughout his life. 

“Such theatrics, Dante,” Eunoe remarked, her voice steady despite the impending conflict. “You may need more than just a pretty sword.”

Dante's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint reflecting in their endless depths. "A pretty sword is more than enough to end a couple of servants loyal to a regime built on lies and hypocrisy.” 

Lethe's periwinkle eyes flashed with anger. "Watch your tongue, exile. You speak of things you no longer understand."

"Hm." Dante's eyebrow arched elegantly. "And what exactly don't I understand? The art of betrayal? The delicate dance of sacrificing the innocent to maintain your illusion of control?" His grip on his weapon tightened, the blade humming softly in response to his rising emotions. Patience had always been his strong suit, but not tonight. Tonight, his mind was burdened by the unbearable weight of a moment that had occurred so many centuries ago, that it should have been nothing more than a fading thread in a detailed tapestry crafted from a life long lived. But it had not faded. In fact, it, out of the millions of other threads that surrounded it, stood out like an incredibly bright star in an otherwise dark, desolate night. 

Eunoe stepped forward, her lips turned down in displeasure. "You dare lecture us on sacrifice? You, who abandoned your post, your duty? At least we remain true to our cause."

Duty. Honor. Those words had been drilled into his brain for centuries. Before every mission, every execution, he would have to reaffirm his loyalty to the Lunar Council with the phrase, “By honor, by night, we guard the cosmic veil.” 

Dante's laugh was cold and bitter. "True to your cause? Is that what you call it now? Tell me, how many children have you sentenced to death this week in the name of your precious cause?"

The third enforcer, silent until now, bristled visibly at Dante's words. "You go too far," he growled. The weapon in his hand, a twisted-looking mace, lit up in a blaze of hellfire. 

Dante's gaze snapped to him. "Isn’t that what our kind does? That’s always been our problem. We always go too far. We're so focused on preserving our power that we forget the very reasons we were entrusted with it in the first place."

Lethe's voice was ice. "You speak as if you're above it all, Dante. But we remember. We remember the blood on your hands, the lives you've taken in the name of duty."

"At least I had the decency to feel remorse," Dante shot back, his composure slipping. His hand instinctively wrapped around the locket hidden beneath his shirt. Inside the locket, rested the evidence of his gravest sin and his greatest failure. "Can you say the same? Or have you become so numb to the weight of your actions that you no longer feel anything at all?"

Eunoe's fingers twitched, silver light dancing between them. "You mistake numbness for resolve. We do what must be done to ensure our survival."

"Survival?" Dante scoffed. "Is that what you call this half-life we lead? Hiding in shadows, preying on the weak, destroying anything that threatens to expose the rotting core of our society?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Perhaps it's time for something to change. Perhaps it's time for the old guard to fall."

The tension in the cathedral reached a breaking point. The air was heavy with unspoken threats and centuries of resentment.

Lethe sneered, "You want change, Dante? Be careful what you wish for. Selenys brings change, and it will sweep away relics like you who cling to outdated notions of morality."

Dante's smile was razor-sharp. "Outdated notions? Like compassion? Like protecting those who can’t fend for themselves? Tell me, when was the last time any of you looked into the eyes of a child and saw anything other than a potential threat or a future asset?"

The third enforcer lunged forward in an explosive burst, unable to contain himself any longer. "Enough!" he roared as he brought his flanged mace down. "You will not speak to us this way!"

Dante's blade moved in a silver arc, faster than the eye could follow, matching the enforcer’s strike with his own, a cascade of sparks leaping from the edge. "I'll speak any way I damn well please," he snarled, all pretense of civility gone. "It's about time someone did."

The tenet of lunar vampire society was violence, and their language was blood. He would send them a message in the only way he knew how.