Marble dust filled the air, the floor beneath the masquerade littered with fragments of shattered stone and streaks of blood. The circle of vampires pressed closer, their jeweled masks glittering in the candlelight as the duel raged on.

Sylas rose from the cracked floor with effortless grace, as though he had not been hurled like a rag doll. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth, but his smile was wider than ever.

"Oh, you've still got it," he said, voice ringing with delighted mockery. "But ...