The Passion and the Ashes: The Fall of Belit-Sheri and Niccolò Machiavelli

Constantinople, Winter 1546 – A Tale for the Chronicles of the Eventide of Albion

She was called the Near Goddess, the shadow-flamed prophetess of rage and revelation—Belit-Sheri, the Brujah Methuselah whose blood whispered with ancient tongues of Sumer. Her presence in Constantinople drew poets and monsters alike to her court of red marble and forgotten rites. With her stood Niccolò Machiavelli, the undead strategist. He was Embraced into the Clan Giovanni for his cruel brilliance and unyielding mind. Together, they ruled a haven beneath the ruined cisterns of the Great Palace. This sanctum was a place of philosophy, necromancy, and forbidden diplomacy.

But in the frozen stillness of that dreadful winter, they fell. It was not war that killed them; it was a betrayal.

The Betrayers

Marozia d’Oscura was once a dignified Kindred of Clan Lasombra. Now, she was a withered reflection of her former self, twisted by Sabbat rites and infernal whispers. She had risen to power through treachery and sacrifice. Newly appointed Regent of the Sabbat in the East, Marozia sought to bend Constantinople to her will. She did not use siegecraft or swords. Instead, she aimed for a single devastating blow to its soul.

She was aided by Vial, a Baali of indescribable vileness. Known only by title and never by true name, this creature bore the scent of Gehennan prophecies. He smiled with teeth that had bitten into the hearts of angels. Together, they walked past blood-bound sentinels, enchanted glyphs, and deadly specters. Cloaked in the sorcery of damnation and betrayal, they made Ghouls drink false memories. Allies were bribed or blackmailed. Even spirits fled from the darkness they brought.

They entered the sanctuary of Belit-Sheri as guests, offering parley and allegiance. Then, they struck.

The Unmaking of a Goddess

It is said that Belit-Sheri rose in wrath. With her voice alone, she split the table of obsidian in two. Her lover, Niccolò, summoned the very dead to his defense. He called upon ancestors of both the Medici and the Roman Empire to strike down the invaders. But the Sabbat had prepared well. The Baali’s ritual choked the air with searing void. The shadows of Lasombra drank the light of both fire and soul.

When it was done, Belit-Sheri lay in ruin, her immortal heart ripped from her chest. It was swallowed by Marozia d’Oscura, who wept as she drank. Rage, envy, and the unbearable echo of such ancient blood couldn’t be consumed without torment. Machiavelli was made to watch, silenced by Abyssal chains. His body was peeled away piece by piece until the last of his vitae was stolen by the Baali. Vial used it to bathe a dagger of bone and obsidian, said to bear the name of a fallen Archon.

Their deaths were not quick. Nor were they quiet.

The Giovanni's Vow

When word reached "Momma," the matriarch of Clan Giovanni, there was no scream—only stillness. And then, a decree was issued.

“The lovers have fallen. The goddess bleeds no more. But we are Giovanni. We do not forget. We do not forgive. We collect.”

In the following months, Constantinople shook. Spirits rose from the necropoli. Ships sank in the Golden Horn, manned by ghosts who strangled Sabbat in their sleep. Sabbat ghouls began aging rapidly. Their blood curdled. One by one, allies of Marozia were collected. Entire bloodlines vanished from their havens. Even whispered Sabbat victories came to sound like funerals.

At every necromantic feast, at every gathering of the Giovanni—from Venice to Edinburgh, from Lisbon to Alexandria—the chant is spoken before wine touches the lips or blood meets the tongue:

"Nemo a Ioanne auferet passionem quam erga amorem aut mortem habemus."

"None shall take from the Giovanni the passion we bear for love… or for death."

The Shadow of Betrayal

The ramifications of that betrayal echoed throughout the Kindred world. The tale of Belit-Sheri and Machiavelli’s downfall became lore. Each whisper carried the weight of their fateful encounter, a stark warning against the price of treachery.

The Giovanni, driven by vengeance and hurt, began to meticulously track every movement of the Sabbat. The loss of their beloved began to fuel a relentless pursuit. For Belit-Sheri, the Near Goddess, would not be forgotten. Her spirit remained a flickering flame in the darkness of their memories.

Legacy

The haven of Belit-Sheri and Machiavelli lies sealed now. It is cursed by the Giovanni, guarded by bound shades who remember the moment of their masters’ fall. It is said that Marozia dreams of the moment she drank Belit's heart each time she slumbers. Upon waking, she screams, her soul burning with a love that was never hers to taste.

What of the Baali? Vial vanished without a trace. But the dagger he forged with Machiavelli’s vitae has appeared once—in the hands of a Ravnos wanderer. That wanderer sold it to a Tremere in Kraków for a single night’s protection. The dagger is called "Tactum Amantis"—the Touch of the Lover—and it has yet to fulfill its second strike.

The Giovanni wait. They count the years, the pints, the debts. They do not forget. They do not forgive. They collect.

Let all Kindred remember: to slay a goddess is to be haunted by her worshippers.

And in the shadows where they whisper, the tale of Belit-Sheri endures—a reminder of the fragility of power and the weight of lost love.