The tension in the chamber could be cut with a knife. Many jade eyes were narrowed, hinting uneasiness. No one dared make a noise, not while important words echoed. The second in command kept explaining slowly, her claws motioning at the map laid for all to see.

“As our reports indicate, the border is secured; no rebels threaten the neighbouring clan. With their territory kept under control, our own land is safe, for no insurgents can cross undisputed. The risk of attacks against our people is insignificant, sire.”

She looked up, expecting to see pure focus in those green eyes, which should be fixed on the map. Her lord was always attentive and careful, never pushing the dilemmas of her kingdom aside. Lately, however…

Martha sighed, because her sire was not listening to her words, at all. Nerys was looking away, like if she could pierce the walls of her courtroom. Her whole figure was tense, and her expression was troubled. For weeks she had been like that, and today it was no different.

Still, as her second in command and first reborn, she kept talking and leading the assembly. It was not uncommon for vampire officials to act in place of their lords, taking matters into their own claws.

“As I was saying… We can presume that our land is out of reach for those despicable humans. However, I would suggest sending a few emissaries to nearby foreign clans, to make sure they do not ignore possible threats out of conceit. They always let lesser vampires fend off for themselves, which only animates the insurgents and brings trouble down the line. Those lords only care for lavishness and the blood that pours around their thrones.”

Nerys did not ignore the speech out of coldness, but because she knew there was no need for her to listen. Martha’s words were like her own; her second in command always knew what should be done. She had been the first to share her curse for a reason, willfully.

Right now, Nerys did not need to address her officials. And maybe it was for the best that she did not, because she could not think clearly. That was why she decided to move away from the gathering, having already heard the weekly report of her people’s needs, both vampiric and human.

All sent her worried glances when she began to walk away, but none dared object as she left the courtroom, without a word. There were no orders or comments on their next course of action, and she would not stay for the debate regarding the war.

Her mind could not handle the thought of hunting more humans, not now. She could not ponder what she would do to any she encountered in the future, because what she was doing in the present was all too haunting already.

No one stopped her as she headed straight for her chambers, located in the deepest areas of the fortress. On the way, she walked out into the huge courtyard, where she halted for a moment to glance up at the moon.

She was unbothered by the cold breeze that flowed. Soon, her gaze moved subtly to her right, where the quarters of the servants stood. It was a small building, built in the farthest side of the courtyard, by the tall walls.

Those lodgings were not what she was looking at, however. No, her gaze roamed onto what was near them, at the feet of a tower: a small iron gate. It led to the dungeon below, which was mostly composed of empty cells.

The prison would be vacant… if one had not been detained in it recently. Few criminals were ever incarcerated in her domain, and never for long. That fiend was the exception.

Nerys clenched her teeth, noticing how her claws were twitching. With a deep breath, she bolted away, resuming her march towards the outer gallery that would lead her back inside. Her stride through the corridors was direct and urgent, for she wanted nothing more than to reach her chambers, be far away from him.

Her thoughts were loud, an amalgamation of whispers and wails, which she kept trying to ignore. On the way, she barely noticed a servant that crossed ways with her. She did not acknowledge the worried glance she was given, not even if it came from a human.

All noticed the anger, her erratic behaviour… yet only a few knew what truly haunted her. Everyone understood why she despised that prisoner, because what brought her resurgence was no secret. Her hate for him was evident and clear, while her self-loathing was not.

Her claws finally got a hold of the huge door that led to her chambers, reached after crossing endless halls and corridors, far too many stairs descended. She huffed as she slid into her main room, slamming the door behind her.

After a long exhale, she let herself lean against the door, resting her claws on the wall. Her broad shoulders hunched over slightly, her frame shaking faintly. A trembling sob echoed through the dark room, as her vision grew slightly foggy, yet sharp at the same time.

She was in her room, away, in the most secured division of her fortress, which was isolated, deep into the earth. The servants, storage, and dungeon were far… and yet, she could still smell the blood.

There was no blood at all, because no human ever roamed this secluded annexe. And still, she could recall a scent like if it was near. The whispers beckoned towards one, and his blood.

She trembled as she felt her fangs brush against her lower lip, sharper than normal. The thought of feeding was intensifying her senses, and they were almost dazing, hard to control. Her mind was screaming, because she could smell the blood, even if she was not really doing so.

Her whole body was being twisted, inside out. The disease was pulsing and whispering, reminding her of the painful bloodlust, and the relief that feeding brought. It was commanding her to seek what kept the hurt away, something that was far too pleasing to forget.

She wished to bare her fangs, sink them into prey, and feel the warm blood go down her throat. It made her feel alive, even if it stole the life of another. The sensation was elating, and part of her could not have enough of it.

The fact that haunted her the most was that she could have a sip of blood at any moment, easily, without the need for predation. Sustain was always at reach, be it from the servants that willfully exchanged their aid for shelter, or from the storage that contained many barrels of preserved blood.

There was no need for harm, yet her thoughts kept drifting. Deep inside, she only wished to go to one place, the dungeon. That dark cell contained easy prey, chained. That door offered no protection or deterrence; no effort was needed to take hold of the human.

Keeping him still was so easy, and all the while, she could hear that heartbeat fasten with fear and adrenaline. It flowed in his veins, and she could taste it, by sinking her fangs into his flesh. She could unleash her raging voracity, her claws making sure there was no possible escape.

It was so easy and simple, and the blood was sweet, invigorating. It gave her strength and would make every single ache fade. Her body would regain its vitality, while the human would feel cold and lost, slowly dying under her…

“Aargh!”

Her claw dashed sideways, sending a small table onto the ground, fiercely. The loud growl she let out echoed back to her, and that only made her grasp her own head, panting. She tried to keep those thoughts away, but the whispers still lurked in her mind, not quite her own.

She sobbed, her breaths coming out raspy. Her tears felt warm as they dragged against her cold cheeks, only to fall onto the ground, what she stared at wide-eyed. She sunk her nails past her long red hair, trembling, trying to claw every single thought away.

“I am…”

She was willfully compelling to her instincts and thoughts, even if she saw how Bastian was now. Every time she yielded to her anger and hunger, she would see him, and his fear and pain. Something she kept ignoring, for blood.

It was something she needed, for it made her feel alive. But after every bite, she could not avoid glancing at the tears with doubt. Her heart would skip a beat each time she would cause a whimper or scream, not always managing to control herself.

She felt disgusted, by seeing Bastian whiter away. He was a mess, every day more so. Even if he was terrified, he did not want or couldn’t fight her approaches. It was far too easy; the trembling below her fangs was no struggle.

It made her sick, yet deep inside she felt contentment, before and after the act. Her hunger would lead her to it, and then her anger would suppress her doubt, reminding her why she wished him to pay.

Now she knew that this reprisal would never bring her closure, only shame. She was killing him slowly, yet she was keeping him from death. Worst of all, it was Bastian who she was tormenting. He was someone she cared for, once, and she could not forget it.

He had lost weight, his skin was pale, and fear plagued him. Those facts horrified her greatly, because he was guilt-ridden, remorseful. He had apologized faintly, multiple times, in the stupors that blood loss would bring.

However, she kept harming him, no matter how much she hated it. The beast inside her was stronger, using her anger and hunger to lead her on, something she could barely resist. But the choice was there, she knew she could fight it, deep inside.

Maybe I am a monster.

She truly was becoming one. This was going too far, slowly turning her into what she fought before. She was twisting into a beast that only wished to cause pain and misery, a cruel being. All humanity that could be left in her, she was erasing, like he had almost accused her of.

“G-god, why?”

Nerys stood there for a long while, soul and body hurting at once. There were whispers in her mind, from two different voices, which were her own. One was screaming for her to let out her rage, make him pay for the suffering she endured, stand proud upon his fear. The other was condemning her, murmuring horrifying truths, shedding light onto her dreadful actions.

The first was louder, stronger. And slowly, it would always manage to twist every single voice, until all whispered the same thought: she was right in her outrage. And so, her green eyes narrowed in the dark, for no candles lighted her chambers. A snarl echoed, and her claws lowered slowly, steadied. Her thoughts cleared, slightly.

She could not be blamed. Even if she was a monster, she had the right to be. He deserved this, for he hated her, enough to wish her dead. Those tears and apologies were born out of cowardice, the fear for his possible demise. If Bastian had the chance, he would end her, with no second thoughts. She should not regret this.

Nerys took a deep trembling breath, finally stopping shedding tears. Her voice echoed faintly, in a vain attempt to reassure herself.

“I am right…”

She was, for she could not be wrong. This was justice, even if harsh, not blind cruelty. There could be no doubt about it.

Only one thing glinted in the dark apart from her sharp eyes. It was near, on a table, revealed by the moonlight that pierced a window.

Nerys stepped forward with a somber expression. Her claw gripped slowly the dagger, noting its sharp blade, which reflected her gaze ominously.

She was only punishing another monster. And she could prove it.