After all... the Matriarch had gone to great lengths to ensure it.
Though her heart was blackened by centuries of blood and vengeance, even she, being cold and calculative, had not been immune to their charm.
The moment she had first laid eyes on them, she'd felt something stir in the hollow pit where her humanity used to be. Their hair, pure white like freshly fallen snow beneath moonlight, shimmered with a silken sheen. It was not just beautiful... it was sacred.
To the Blood Clan, this was no ordinary pigmentation. It was a sign of an irrefutable mark of the Progenitor's divine bloodline.
That ancient, nearly forgotten purity had resurfaced in them, untainted and radiant. They were living relics of a time when the Blood Clan still ruled with grace and divinity, before ambition and rot had set in.
She loved them. Not with the gentle love of a mother, but with the feverish obsession of one who sees a key to redemption... or power.
