Aurkanthis

Underworld: Forgotten

We need more @Adeline songs on the playlist

Underworld: Forgotten

Sssshhhh.

I would say we've improved it.

Underworld: Forgotten

Scarlet, by Periphery

Don't worry I added it 5i 5h3 Playlist immediately. Alresdy listened again today. 😊

Underworld: Forgotten

Also, I realized a perfect Claudia song and added it to the Playlist 🫀

Underworld: Forgotten

:D Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe

Underworld: Forgotten

OK, sorry I couldn't get it up sooner. I am at the point where it's at least good enough and throwing it up there.

Underworld: Forgotten

LUPINARIUM

The Wolf’s Den, Lycan Pack Sanctum
Located late 20th Century; Established recently. 21st Century, beneath Montparnasse, 14ᵗʰ Arrondissement, Paris

Two-Weeks prior—soon after Vitek’s entry into the Pack

Gregor Dorn, Parisian Packmaster

---

The Parisian Packmaster padded through the subterranean gloom, interrupted now and then by the warm glow of a lamp. His night had taken a turn—whether for good or ill, he could not yet say. But he had his hopes. A particular pup within his pack was progressing along the path to purpose.

The Cantor felt a flicker of pride. He’d taken the boy under wing, defended him at every turn. Not that the lad was the most troublesome of his flock—far from it. And yet, there were moments when even Marek questioned Gregor’s faith in the newblood—let alone Élodie.

Élodie was exactly who he sought now. The Cantor turned into a particular chamber. There, facing away from him, stood the one he sought. Her dark braid spilled down the back of her long leather coat, which nearly brushed the floor. The inch or two of her boot soles were the only other thing visible. She was comparing maps, writing notes, and checking rosters by candlelight. Ever diligent, with the mind of a true hunter, tracker, and infiltrator. She was young by his standards, and her face made that truth plain.

After a moment’s hesitation, Gregor broke the silence.

“Gute Nacht, meine Kleine,” the Cantor greeted her.

Élodie continued her task for a moment or two before slowly rising to her full height—which was underwhelming for their breed, hence his use of the diminutive nickname. She turned, revealing youthful features. Her eyes pierced the gloom, settling on the silhouette of the Cantor—clad in a dark woolen coat over ashen and crimson garb that whispered of another age.

“How many decades before you stop calling me that,” she said at last—not really a question. Her gaze held his, sharp and unflinching.

Gregor chuckled softly.

“When you finally understand that a decade is but a season,” he murmured, low and familiar. “Or at least when you finally appear to.”

Élodie had been Blessed with the Blood since conception. The gift was evident on sight. Gregor often wondered if she would ever seem to age past the point she’d reached three or four decades ago. Her parents had been among the first of the main Pack to travel to the region, laying the groundwork for what was now their sanctum. Élodie was the product of sacred passion—whose participants had been lost to this damnable war before she completed her first decade.

Her face warmed with a slight smile.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this night, mein Onkel?”

He beamed. It always touched him when she used that name. He’d told her to call him that since she was just a tiny pup.

“It has been brought to my attention that there is a risk of this damned war coming to light. As you know, if the populace were to learn of the existence of our dear cousins, or one of our own, then—”

“It would only be a matter of time for us all. You know I know this already. Spit it out, Cantor,” Élodie said, her tone tinged with sarcasm on the final word.

Dorn slowly shook his head and smirked. She never let up with that. Like the title of Imperator for a conquering Roman general, Cantor had been given to him by those in his charge. His soldiers, long ago. And Élodie had given him grief over it ever since he first taught her the word.

“Vitek—”

“Vitek!? Dammit, Gregor…”

“Vitek has informed me of a woman. A singer—”

“Of course,” she interjected again.

“Liebchen, please…”

Élodie offered a momentary smile in apology. She nodded slightly, indicating for him to continue.

“There will be a concert. About a day from now. It’s not far.”

“I know the place,” she said with a nod.

“Fantastisch. Well, then, this will be simple.”

Élodie arched an eyebrow.

“Vitek has found a vampire,” he continued. “Outside of the coven. She’s been… sloppy. She could make quite the mess if left unchecked.”

Élodie remained silent. Dorn could tell she was holding her tongue.

“It would be foolish to send him in alone… I seek your counsel. And your support.”

Gregor gave her the floor. He watched her eyes flick from point to point as she thought it through.

“We’ll need a minimal force. Small enough to avoid notice… perhaps one per side.” She turned back to her work, shifting papers. “Posted where all ways in or out are visible and not too far apart… here we go.”

She pulled a large sheet forward. Gregor stepped closer, his frame dwarfing hers.

“I’ll send a pair of scouts tonight to confirm the layout.”

She muttered soundlessly, marking the map with a pencil.

“And Vitek?” Dorn asked. “He’ll enter as a patron of the arts, I assume?”

“Yes…” she said, slowly returning to the here and now. “But not alone.”

A smile returned to the Packmaster’s mouth. His hopes were unfolding.

“As you always say, Onkel,” she continued. “A lone wolf dies, while a Pack survives.”

She looked up to meet his gaze.

“Perhaps you can spare your pet Kaelen,” Gregor offered, too casually.

Élodie’s eyes narrowed.

“He is no one’s pet,” she snapped.

Gregor raised his hands in mock surrender.

“I’m merely suggesting the men go in together. They already have such strong rapport for being so new, and they both seem quite capable. A single rogue vampire should not be too much for them to subdue. Am I wrong?”

Élodie huffed.

“No…”

“Wunderbar,” Gregor said with a grin. “Keep me informed of the operation. Once the time draws near, I’ll inform them to report to you for details and deployment.”

9:34

The night before the concert

Gregor once again padded up to the scoutmaster’s chamber.

“How are things progressing,” he said as he rounded the corner. Élodie was once yet again pouring over her maps and things, going over the details.

“We have all the information we can get without too much unnecessary risk, and those who will be a part of the operation are informed and will be ready and in position in time for the boys to infiltrate the event.”

“Excellent work, as always, meine Kleine,” the Cantor praised warmly with a smile. “I will let. the boys, know the good news.

Underworld: Forgotten

Yup! That's what it is. I feel like half the women I know are anemic and/or have poor circulation.

Get it together, girls!

Underworld: Forgotten

Because when you feel like you need to bite things, that is what that means. It's a symptom.

Underworld: Forgotten

You're iron deficient