MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

The Lord then nodded at Damien before grabbing the cup from the platform. With a swift, practiced motion, he extended his nails into claws and clenched his fist tightly, causing the sharp points to pierce his skin. As blood dripped from his fingers, he poured it into the golden cup, which soon began to emit a faint glow.

This ritualistic act was the culmination of centuries-old tradition, infusing the cup with the power of the high lords' blood. With solemn reverence, he passed the cup to the next high lord, an elderly vampire who repeated the process without hesitation.

One by one, all the high lords poured their blood into the cup, each drop adding to the mystical aura that surrounded it. As the cup filled with their collective essence, it began to glow with an ethereal light, a testament to the potency of their lineage.

Finally, the last high lord held the cup aloft, its radiant glow illuminating the chamber. With a voice that resonated with authority, he declared, "In the absence of the Lords of the Von Nat and Vardanian households, their duties shall be carried out by the nobles of their respective houses, who shall join us in this sacred chamber."

The pronouncement hung in the air, imbued with the weight of tradition and the solemnity of their purpose. As the chamber fell silent, Damien felt a sense of awe wash over him, realizing the gravity of the role he was about to undertake.

As the nobles from the Von Nat and Vardanian households performed their part in the ritual, the golden cup continued to emanate its ethereal glow, imbued with the essence of their bloodlines. Each noble stepped forward with solemn determination, adding their contribution to the ancient tradition.

Finally, the cup reached Lord Marlowe of the Shelly household, who fulfilled his duty with the gravity befitting his position. With a reverent nod, he passed the cup on to the final participant: Lady Dravena of the Draconis house.

With a commanding presence, Lady Dravena accepted the cup. As she performed her part in the ritual, the cup blazed with a brilliant light, its radiance filling the chamber with an otherworldly aura.

Once Lady Dravena had completed her task, one of the high lords instructed her to pass the cup back to Damien for the final step of the ritual. As she approached him, Damien felt a sense of unease prickling at the back of his mind.

However, any apprehension he felt paled in comparison to the sudden shift in Lady Dravena's demeanor. A sinister chuckle escaped her lips, morphing into a feral growl as her fangs extended and her eyes blazed with a fiery red hue.

"High lords and lords," she snarled, her voice dripping with contempt, "Council members of the esteemed council gathered today to initiate this... bastard into the esteemed ranks of power. Oh, how the mighty sure have fallen!"

The words hung in the air like a dark omen, accompanied by an overwhelming aura of pure malevolence. In an instant, the atmosphere in the chamber shifted, the tension palpable as the other lords responded to Lady Dravena's provocation, their eyes alight with a fierce crimson glow.

Caught in the midst of this sudden turmoil, Rose could only watch in stunned silence, realizing that the initiation ritual was about to take an unexpected and perilous turn.

As tension thickened in the chamber, one of the high lords stepped forward, his voice resonating with authority,

"Dravena," he began, his tone firm and commanding, "what is the meaning of this disruptive behavior?"

But Dravena's response was nothing short of contemptuous defiance. With a snarl of disdain, she silenced the high lord's inquiry with a wave of her hand.

"Silence, old fool! You have no place to speak when I address this assembly. In fact, none of you do!" Dravena's voice reverberated through the chamber, her gaze sweeping over each member present with daring audacity.

Undeterred by her brazen display, Damien stepped forward, his voice steady as he attempted to reason with her. "Dravena, please, this is madness. Whatever grievances you harbor, we can address them later. Now is not the time to reopen old wounds."

However, instead of heeding Damien's plea, Dravena erupted into hysterical laughter, her amusement ringing out with chilling intensity.

"Oh, Damien," she taunted, her tone dripping with scorn. "You truly believe everything revolves around you, don't you? You think this is about you? You're sorely mistaken."

Dravena's laughter subsided, replaced by a steely resolve as she addressed Damien with a mixture of disdain and condescension.

"Oh, Damien," she began, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You fancy yourself a lord, yet you remain ignorant of our most sacred traditions. It's no wonder, considering you were hardly ever at home to begin with."

Dravena's words cut through the air like a knife, her gaze piercing as she continued, "But fear not, dear prince. I shall enlighten you on matters of tradition, for it seems you are sorely lacking in that department."

With a calculated smirk, she turned her attention to the assembled lords, her tone dripping with disdain. "As for the rest of you," she continued, "perhaps some of you have an inkling of what is to come. But I assure you, none of you are prepared for the magnitude of what I am about to unleash."

"You see, Damien, when lords are satisfied with their reigns as rulers of their households, they choose their successor and then embark into slumber for eternity," she explained, her words laced with a hint of sorrow.

"But in the case of the Lord of the Draconis," she continued, her tone growing darker, "he did not embark on such a slumber. No, he was killed on a council assignment." Dravena's eyes burned with an intensity as she recounted the events.

"He was one of the strongest lords of his time," she declared, her voice tinged with anger. "His death was no accident. It was an act of treachery." Dravena's words hung heavy in the air as she let the gravity of the situation sink in.

"I care not whether it was a plot or not," she stated, her voice cold and unwavering. "His demise meant war." Dravena's gaze hardened as she spoke, her resolve unshakeable.

"Our household was thrown into chaos," she continued, her voice rising with emotion. "No successor was appointed, and the Draconis plunged into darkness." Dravena's words carried the weight of centuries of struggle and strife.

"And where were the high lords during our darkest hour?" she asked, her voice filled with contempt. "Watching from their lofty perches, claiming it was a matter of internal affairs. They did nothing as my family suffered."

"But I took offense," she declared, her words ringing with conviction.