She was silent, but her courtroom was not. Her brethren surrounded the meeting board, on which a huge map rested. Their jade eyes were fixated on it, shadowed by the large banners that dangled over them. The assembly had been going on for hours, and it was tiring.

“We should not ignore it.”

“Why? It does not concern our clan.”

“Not now, but perhaps in the future.”

Nerys closed her eyes, for the argument was only growing more heated. All her officials worried about the war and their domain, but they held different views. Some considered that any strike from the rebellion was critical, no matter how small. Others argued that isolated assaults were only a bother and not something deserving of a counterattack. All agreed in one thing, however. The insurgents were stubborn, and they needed to be put in their place. No vampire approved of their attempts, for they considered them futile and vain.

“The borders of the outer clans are at risk. The insurgents are venturing into their lands, persistently.”

“Their turfs are right by rebel territory, what do you expect? Let those lords deal with the raids, for it is their duty.”

“You know that they rarely bother. They will send their fledglings and pawns as fodder, and they won’t worry until their palaces are burning.”

“The insurgents won’t ever manage to reach a capital. They can barely claim any ground past the borders!”

“Well, according to the reports, their squads are larger, and they are daring far more than before.”

“But they are still under control. Those lords are lazy, but not stupid!”

All kept bickering, unaware of how their sire scowled. She took a deep breath, troubled by the loud noise. Her head was pounding, and she was sure that she was suffering a migraine. She did not move or leave, however. The assemblies were important, so she had to pay mind to them, in order to assert a decree that all would consider suitable.

Still, with each growl and yell, every annoying hiss and slam… the headache intensified. She was having trouble following the debate, each opinion far too opposing.

“We should send some troops, to see for ourselves how many humans roam.”

“It is already known that more than usual. They are not simple unorganized groups, so they won’t be easy prey.”

“More of a reason to give support then! We have always been the ones to thwart forthcoming threats.”

“Not our land, not our trouble. We can’t put the lives of our soldiers at risk, not for their negligence!”

Her head hurt a lot, far too much. She opened her eyes, dazedly, feeling a sudden coldness flow through her body. No one noticed how her frame trembled, only she herself, with a silent but scared exhale. In just a second, the sensation intensified, so much that she felt paralyzed.

The young lord hunched over slightly, for her heart was twisted, and her vision grew foggy. Her throat ached strongly, dry as a desert. She felt cold, yet she could swear she was burning alive. The pain was bearable at first, but it soon became agony.

She never saw it coming, but when it happened, she knew exactly what she was suffering. And there was no way of stopping it…

At last, everyone stopped quarrelling and looked away from the map, because Nerys managed to let out a pained growl. She fell sideways against her throne, holding herself up with her claws. They kept twitching and clenching blindly, almost breaking the stone. Her officials panicked, seeing her struggle to stand, snarling weakly. Tears fell from her eyes when she bowed her head in a daze, her voice slightly feral as she cried out.

“N-not again… N-no-”  

She felt like if there was fire inside her veins, instead of blood. Her body seemed to be twisting inside out, pulsing intensely. Her vision was growing faint, yet shadowed in black and red. She was sure her heart would come out of her cold chest, for it was beating impossibly fast.

Nerys gave in and crumbled down, knowing she could not fight it. The last thing she saw was her brethren reaching for her, intending to aid her, even if they could not. One more flow of pain coursed through her, and then she fell unconscious.

Everyone contemplated her figure, wordlessly. Two had dashed to hold her, preventing her from hitting the ground with their quick grasp. Their jade eyes narrowed with sorrow and pity, even fear, for all knew how painful it was to change.

Nerys was still trembling, jolting from time to time in their gentle hold. Her mouth was open, to let out strong exhales, even if her intakes of breath were faint. She was grimacing, her expression still hinting the dread she had felt before fainting.

She had fallen into a very deep sleep, from which she would not wake soon. It was something every vampire suffered when they contracted the disease. The first slumber would always let them know what was to come: all would feel fangs grow, bones throb, flesh turn cold… and the hunger burn.

There was always one first sleep, but it never was the last. Vampires did not age, but their bodies did not ignore the flow of time. With time, the disease settled deep, morphed and unfolded. There were always faint changes, like the constant growth of their nails, yet nothing compared to what the sleep incited.

Sometimes, a vampire needed to adapt, heighten their predatory nature. The body would follow the disease’s demands without question, no matter how much the soul objected. Usually, after years of gaining the affliction, they would fall into a deep and painful coma. And in it, they could suffer drastic alterations.

All vampires evolved. Hands twisted into hard claws, feet as well. They would resemble sharp talons, no longer human-looking. All clans shared that trait, but many bloodlines diverged. Fledglings would gain the traits of their sire, be it jagged skin, wings, animalistic features, or other appalling mutations.

The lord always led in such evolution, falling prey to the slumber with much more frequency, and in a more painful manner. Many of their kin saw it as a gift, but she never had considered it one. Her blood was tainted by an ancient and powerful vampire, which forced her to succumb to this agony more rapidly, when other sires would be granted years of postponement.

Her brethren exchanged worrisome whispers, arguing quietly, for her sake. A few of them began to carry her to her chambers, dragging her respectfully, struggling to lift her heavy body.

Her clan was less arrogant than others; they did not ignore the horrible repercussions of the slumber. It made them stronger, indeed, but at a heavy cost. In days, or even weeks, she would wake, but not as herself. Her humanity would not be there, in one way or another. Perhaps the changes would be extremely faint, yet she would still need to pay for them.

She would need blood, not simply crave it. The hunger would not allow for reason, making her seek it blindly and desperately until sated. Worse of all, no blood already shed would satisfy the hunger. It always demanded fresh blood, in big quantities, to make up for the tiring ordeal. Instincts would kick in, wanting nothing more than prey, the only thing that could end the agony.

They debated and whispered for a long while, knowing that no human would survive such frenzy and drain. It happened before, a few times, and it always wounded her heart deeply. However, there was no way to evade it, and choices had to be made; they would try to ease her guilt and horror, as much as possible.

All looked at four figures, the most important officials. They took deep breaths, and then nodded slowly, walking away to assemble for trial.

———–

Any clan would choose a sacrifice without much thought or hesitance, for humans were seen as mere cattle. They were sustenance, simple commodities to use and discard. As much as it seemed cruel, it was something they would always end up being, in all domains.

The affliction did not care for kindness or equality, only the shedding of blood. No matter what, some humans would need to suffer on their behalf. Still, Nerys tried to dull that unavoidable perversion, by establishing more ethical laws.

Four vampires sat calmly by a round table, hidden in a deep dark chamber. Their gazes and claws kept examining archives and documents, very carefully. All were profiles of humans who lived in the area, both inside the castle and near it. Every individual listed had a common trait: a criminal record.

“She won’t accept a petty thief.”

The other three nodded in agreement, because Nerys never condemned small crimes harshly. Only serious misconducts brought someone to the dungeons, and death was always reserved for the most heinous of offenders.

The sleep did not happen usually, and it was never expected. Because of it, the few that were sentenced with capital punishment were usually retained, until they could fulfil that deadly role. There was an issue in all that, however, and it was prolonging their judgment.

There were no recent crimes that warranted that fate, so they lacked a worthy applicant. Common wrongdoings were punished with simple servitude, something that the population saw as just. Her rule was considered rightful, and that in turn maintained peace, reducing delinquency greatly. Without being able to select a civilian, the only other option was an insurgent. But they did not take prisoners of war, to not risk divulging the dangerous traits of their bloodline, so they were out of luck again.

They had wanted to avoid the conclusion they were reaching, but it was undeniable that there was indeed one who deserved that sentence. One of them sighed, to then reach for a document with a claw. All glared at it with disdain, knowing well the name written.

“We actually dispose of one convict who would be appropriate.”

He was an insurgent, raider, and killer of vampires. Not only that, but he was also a traitor, vile towards his own kind. He was guilty of attempted murder, against their sire. That notion made the four let out a growl, speaking his name in anger.

“Bastian…”

Nerys was suffering because of him, for his greed. Most of them had been by her side when she surrendered to the disease, in the dawn of their empire, so they knew well of his actions. No one could hate him more than their sire, however, because his betrayal was meant for her.

“He does not deserve a trial.”

That scoff caused another to let out a harsh laugh, slamming a fist on the table.

“There is no need for one!” He leaned to jab the document with a nail, affirming. “Our sire has determined that he is not worthy of pardon! She has voiced her hate clearly.”

A third spoke warily, toying with her long curly black hair.

“I am not certain that Nerys would choose him.” All glared at her, because her prideful eyes hinted apprehension. “She wanted him alive, to see him atone. His fate was pondered carefully and deeply.”

The other three snarled, scolding her doubt.

“She wants him to atone, indeed! There is no greater penance than a purposeful demise, one that will help her regain her senses, without the need of innocent blood! She will make him pay, as she wished, and as he deserves.”

“His actions have caused many to bleed, so why shouldn’t he? Nerys has said many times that she would bring justice.”

“He is to spend the rest of his miserable life in chains, so I believe this fate is far more merciful.”

Martha crossed her arms, pondering. She had to share her final thoughts, because she was the second in command, and her vote was critical. All vampires felt compelled to obey and protect their sires, instinctively. She was always there to counsel Nerys, and she cared deeply for her wishes.

There was silence for a while, a very painful one. Their hearts were beating anxiously, worried for the one that had saved and guided them, fostering their strengths with benevolence. Eventually, a conclusion was reached, for her.

“Very well…”

They needed to ensure the wellbeing of their sire. Death was vital.

———-

Bastian huffed, his expression hinting stubborn resolve. He snarled as he descended the ladder he carried around, the banner above him properly hanged, like many others. As he took careful steps, he derided the words of the vampires that came up with this chore.

“Make him set up the flags, they said. Let’s see if he can manage to climb, they said!” He snarled and jumped off the last step, standing tall as he expressed his anger. “I won’t fall and break my neck, so you are not getting rid of me that easily, you damn bastards…”

He grabbed the ladder, threw the remaining banners on his shoulder, and began to walk towards the next pole with it all. It was not easy to mind his step with less depth perception, but he could do it as well as any other.

This task was pointless, a simple attempt to mock him. They told him to wash all the flags, in order to make him set them back up next. The banners did not really need to be cleaned or swapped, so they were just trying to get a laugh.

He was angry and frustrated, but he knew he had to do as told. As he reached the next pole where to hang another of their emblems, he spotted two vampires walking through the huge stony gallery. He rolled his eyes, because they did indeed laugh as they passed him by.

He did not risk glaring at them, waiting until they turned a corner to curse silently. Without further complaint, he slammed the ladder again, focusing on the task at hand. The sun was setting, and he still had to hang a few more. If he did not finish, they would not let him go back to his cell. And he really did not want to stay around for much longer, because night would fall, causing all vampires to wake and roam.

The vampires had been acting strangely lately, and he did not like it, not one bit. He was forced to work for more hours these past days, and with it, he was able to notice that something was bothering the clan. Their eyes and stances hinted worry, and their hushed whispers were dreadful.

Something was up, and he did not know what exactly. He had not seen Nerys around, and it was odd. She always roamed, attending her lordly vampiric matters… But lately, she did not seem to be doing so, not for a whole week at least.

Vampires were very loyal creatures. He had killed enough to know they got very edgy when something happened to their elders. Her clan was behaving like that at the moment, no doubt about it.

He wondered if she had left to subdue more rebels in distant lands. Sometimes, she would ride her steed and go out into the fields, he had seen. But she always came back, never leaving for more than a day.

There was nothing he could do to figure out what she was doing and where, and it bothered him. He was sick of being afraid to ask, figure out what she thought of him, what she planned to do.

He knew that she had chosen a side, but also that she was slowly letting go of her anger. They were apart, foes, yet he was being spared. She could have taken him out for being a rebel, with no more reason needed, but she halted her hand. Nerys was still there, hurt and resentful, but aware of the past.

With a sigh, he gave the banner over him a tug, making sure it was tied correctly. Then, he began to go back down, wishing to get it over with and rest. Maybe Nadiya would creep into the cell tonight, to ask for some food. If she did not try to steal his cards again, perhaps he could kill some time before dozing off.

Sadly, the vampires had already made plans for him. He blinked when he saw two guards turn around the corner, walking his way. It was not an unusual sight, so he grabbed the ladder and stepped aside, to let them pass.

The majority of vampires loved to mess with him, so he had learned to avoid them all, as much as possible. If he kept his distance, he was usually left alone. To his surprise, those two soldiers did not continue ahead. They were nearing him, and the way in which their jade eyes were narrowed did not hint simple mischief.

Multiple alarms blared in his mind, because he heard more steps behind him. His hold on the ladder faltered as he looked over his shoulder. He frowned worriedly, seeing two other guards approaching from that end of the walkway.

There were four vampires, heading his way, scowling maliciously… It was not a good omen, at all. And so, he began to look all around him, deviously. Whatever they wanted was not good, not for him. He recognized the look they were giving him, and it was making him recall every single day he spent as a captain. His feet moved sideways, subtly. The gallery was right by the courtyard, delimited by huge stony openings, round arches. If he jumped over them, he could run for it…

He tensed, ready to bolt at any moment. If they made their intentions clear and confirmed his suspicion, he would not think twice. One vampire decided to speak up, harshly, and that was when he made up his mind.

“Drop the ladder; you won’t have to keep working.”

He smirked angrily, catching perfectly the undertone of those words.

Right… because I’ll be dead.

He snarled and dropped the ladder indeed, pushing it against the closest soldier, to then bolt sideways. Two hissed in surprise, while the other pair groaned crossly. Apart from being able to toss things with irked precision, it seemed he was capable of punching swiftly.

He huffed as he dodged their quick lunges, jumping over an arc, evading their swings of claw by inches. Panting, he landed into the courtyard, slamming a hand and knee to muffle his drop. They did not just watch and let him flee. He raised his head in alarm, hearing them jump after him, fast. In his panic, he noticed that the gates were open. And that notion made him stand again, into an instinctive run.

He heard them yell angrily, chasing after him. They wanted to do something with him, because other guards noticed him run, but they did not shoot with their bows. Whatever they had in mind, he did not wish to find out. Ever since he had fallen from his horse, he had thought of escaping, and now seemed to be a good moment to try.

With tired breaths, he sprinted for the gates ahead, thinking he could make it. The road outside went downhill, and at the edge of the field, stood a small forest. He could hide in it, stay out of sight until the next sunrise. Then, try to cross a lot of vampiric lands, and somehow, with luck, make it out alive. If God could hear him pray, maybe he would reach a region controlled by the insurgence, against all odds.

He knew it was bullshit, a vain delusional hope. There was no way he would manage such a feat. But he could not simply resign to this confinement, not when it could be about to end in a horrible manner. Their murderous intent was all too obvious, reflected clearly in their sharp jade eyes. Vampires could be unpredictable, but he could tell and foresee that nothing good would happen after they got a hold of him.

With how adamantly he was pursued, he would soon discover their intentions. A guard yelled while chasing after him, raising a claw to call loudly.

“Close the gates!”

The soldier that stood there gasped, seeing them approach rapidly. His claws quickly grasped the nearby lever and pulled strongly. Bastian snarled, hearing the familiar sound of metal brushing against stone, heavy chains in motion. The portcullis was being closed, and so, he tried to speed up with a desperate heave.

He reached forward… but he had to slam his feet to slow down, sharply. The iron grille collided loudly against the ground, blocking his way at the last moment. Panting and shuddering, he clutched the thick iron bars, to then lean his head against them with his eyes closed.

He let out a winded snarl, hearing their steps behind him, no longer urgent. They neared him slowly, while he just kept resting against the gate, knowing he had no way out. His eyes opened dreadfully, because they commanded with finality.

“Stop running, you are coming with us.”

He slowly turned around to face them, meeting their spiteful glares with his own. He spoke pridefully, knowing that he could not make them any angrier, not after fleeing.

“For what fate, I wonder…”

A hiss escaped him when one vampire snatched one of the chains that always hanged from his shackles, pulling strongly. They surrounded him, and they did not doubt to show their fangs as they let out words that struck him deeply.

“The one you deserve, and which has been postponed for far too long. Nerys shall have your life.”

He was baffled by those words, but he could only follow as they pulled at him, forcing him to walk between them. There was nothing he could do to stop them from taking him wherever they wanted. As they led him away from the gates and into the castle, he could only ponder, eyeing carefully the swords pointed at him.

Has she really called for this?

It did not make sense. So many times she could have killed him, but she always hesitated. She had even seemed to want him around, even if only for convenience. He had been sure she was letting go of her resent… but maybe he mistook passivity for affability, due to his foolish longing.

He gulped, because he was taken into the most hidden depths of the fortress, down long stairs and through secluded halls. They soon reached a very long corridor, in which tall pillars stood, preceding a big ornamented door.

Soon, he would find out why this area was so grand and opulent. He huffed, because they shoved him harshly past that huge door, making him fall forward. His hands slammed down onto the floor, preventing him from hitting his head, but just barely.

He would have wiped his head to glare back, were not for the fact that he looked around himself instead. They had brought him into a big chamber, which looked like the quarters of a noble. There was a door to his left, open, and he could see that it led to an elegant bedroom. At his right, a bigger door, closed.

He had no time to look over the room he was in, and much less to stand. The vampires had taken ropes with them, and they were not for show. He flinched when he tried to get up to his feet, because they pointed a sword at his neck.

“Don’t move or struggle.”

He did not dare, not even when they tied a rope onto the chains he wore, to then pull them behind his back. By the time he reconsidered his compliance, he could not possibly fight them off, because they promptly latched the rope around his ankles. He trembled and clenched his teeth, feeling the strain on his arms, forced back and bound to his feet. With such an unstable posture, he fell sideways onto the floor, unable to balance himself to keep kneeling. They tied him up very tightly, and each shift only hurt his ankles or hands, which were almost brushing.

“Is this necessary?!” He growled, trying to move and untie himself. “Where the hell is she?! I want to speak to her! Why did she suddenly-?!”

He shut up, crying out as a foot slammed against his side. A vampire gave him a very angry kick, which did not fail to leave him breathless. He glared up with an outraged grimace, meeting those hateful jade eyes. They bared their claws, answering his demands with a sneer.

“You can’t speak with Nerys.”

His grey eye displayed pure furious resent, even if in a tired manner. He was fed up with the silence, and the way they enforced it. He had accepted their spite many times, and he was done with it.

“Why, you’ll kill me?! Is she going to let you do it, without telling me the reason, or even bothering to show up?!”

He had thought that Nerys did not want him dead, for she had implied it with her words and recent actions. Her underlings were making him doubt in those moments, very much so. Most of them proceeded to leave the room, not without giving him one last glare. Three stayed with him, and as soon as they were alone, they answered his questions wordlessly.

They grabbed his long tied hair fiercely, causing him to let out a quiet cry. He was raised up slightly from the ground, and then dragged along. He whimpered as he was taken into the room at his right, which was too dark for him to see in it. Once more, they shoved him down, snarling.

“We won’t kill you.” Bastian pushed himself to his knees when they let go of him, whispering menacingly. “She will when she wakes.”

He looked away from them, but not because their glares scared him. It was the room that took his attention, for it was not a common one. He tried to adjust to the darkness, and when he did, a shiver ran down his back. There was a crypt at the end of the stony chamber, buried into the wall. Inside it, past the slab that sealed it, there was an echo. He could hear a strong but slow heartbeat, unnatural.

“S-she…”

Realization finally struck him, so deeply that he did not react to the vampires stepping out the door, to leave him there.

“Don’t try to escape this.” If he somehow managed to untie himself, and tried to kill her in her sleep… they would make him regret it. “You will suffer a fate worse than death if you dare.”

They tied him up, knowing that he could easily hurt their sire while she slept, unaware and defenceless. With him bound and the crypt sealed, she was safe, while he was easy prey.

Bastian did not even flinch or look at them when they closed the door loudly, stealing away what little light there had been. He stared at the crypt, crying silently, letting himself kneel there.

Asleep…

He knew, he had seen. Rebels sometimes locked fledglings away, be it for spite or study. Usually, they were kept in cells for so long that they went crazy due to the hunger, to the point of torture. His people were curious, in a cruel manner, and they always wished to understand every single change vampirism brought.

He had witnessed this slumber before. It was painful, unavoidable, and horrible. He knew what would happen once she stepped out of that crypt. It was just a matter of time until she did. Now it made sense why he had not seen her.

Did she spare me, just to have me at this moment?

Bastian pushed himself into a corner, keeping his gaze on the crypt, noticing how that heartbeat seemed to grow louder. It was like if she knew he was there, able to smell his fear, even if she was asleep.

Nerys treated humans kindly if they devoted themselves to her domain. Insurgents were not part of that equation, for he had seen how she took many down, without faltering. Maybe she had planned this since the very beginning, dictating that if this happened… he was the one to be presented for slaughter. He was a rebel, after all, and the one that brought her this agony.

It hurt, for he could make sense of it all. Her benevolent gestures were not due to her past affection, but for her current adherence to her laws, which she prided herself on. There was no care as he hoped, just deferment.

Bastian clenched his teeth and bowed his head, unable to hold himself, forced to keep kneeling. The shackles were pressuring his wrists painfully, for the bindings kept his arms back, and he could not put much distance between his feet and hands.

He could only cry silently, sitting in the dark, with no possible escape. Even if he somehow had the chance to stop her, he was not sure he would be able to go through it. He could have ended her before, and he did not manage to bring himself to do it.

There was nothing he could do, except accept his end. So that was what he did. He just waited, letting time go by, for her to wake up. And all the while, he knew that he would not be able to see her… but a beast.

———

The hours passed slowly. He was not sure how much time he had spent in the dark, counting every second, which could be the last. He had eventually let himself lay on the floor, sideways. It was pointless to keep on kneeling, for it only made his last moments more gruelling.

There was no light in the room, not a trace. With no windows, nothing could tell him if the sun loomed above, or if the moon lighted the night. There were only shadows, which loomed over him and the vault ahead.

His eyes could barely distinguish her crypt in the dark. He did discern its stony outlines, but what most hinted its presence was the echo that came from within it, which sometimes would make the slab shake faintly.

The small catacomb kept all light away from her, which helped her endure the pain, even if only slightly. She was fighting to wake, instinctively, distraught by the coldness that flowed inside her. As her subconscious efforts intensified, it began to fade, allowing her to breathe… but not as she would wish.

Her chest jolted erratically when she took a sudden raspy breath, strongly and painfully. She finally began to escape her horrible slumber, but by doing so, every intake of air felt like a scorching fire.

Her claws began to twitch, and her pained frown turned into a grimace. She tried to grasp something, anything, but she only managed to grip cold stone. The altar did not offer much comfort to her body, but nothing really would.

Nerys finally opened her eyes, wheezing loudly, feeling a sudden intense sting in her heart. She jolted onto a sitting position, almost falling down the dais. Such motion finally brought her to her senses… but not herself.

The vampire growled silently, stumbling away from the altar, to collapse against the nearby slab. She hunched over in pain, scratching the stone with her claws, desperate to hold something that could ease her torment.

Her whole body was burning, but there were no flames. If she had a clear mind, she would swear that all her bones had been broken and that her insides had been torn apart. Even her eyes hurt, sharpening far too much. She could see in the darkness, but her vision was tainted in red.

She took another deep shaky breath and winced. Her fangs pierced slightly her lower lip, accidentally. That was not the only thing she was aware of, painfully so. Her throat was as dry as a desert, her guts were being twisted, and her veins were pulsing.

Make it stop…

Bastian opened his eyes, flinching as a loud thud echoed. He trembled like a leaf, seeing the slab shake, sharp nails slicing its inner side. That sound faded after a few seconds, but it was followed by a muffled growl.

With a whimper, he pushed himself onto a sitting position, hurriedly. He tried to hide in the dark as much as possible, even if there was nothing that would conceal his presence. In a minute, the slab began to slide off very slowly, moved from within.

The first thing that emerged from the crypt was a claw, which promptly swung fiercely at the seal, making it collide loudly against the ground. With nothing blocking the way, the figure that had been asleep moments ago could lurk out, to stand tall in the chamber.

Those sharp eyes gleamed in the shadows, unblinking, the only thing he could see. They began to glance over the room as another growl echoed, deep and agonized. He cried silently when that gaze finally fixed on him, hungrily.

Her eyes narrowed, for the scent of prey surged into her lungs. There was a human, there, in the dark. She could sense a fast heartbeat and the blood that flowed with it. It was close, at reach, and she needed it more than anything.

Nerys tried to step forward, and her body failed her. Bastian gasped, because she let out a pained wheeze and crumbled onto her claws. She panted, her fangs showing as she struggled to breathe. After a few seconds, she raised her gaze slowly, her expression displaying clearly her desperation and feral hunger. That ravenous look was directed at him, intensely, and it did not fail to make him close his eyes in fear.

She stood once more with a snarl, baring her claws at her sides, sharper than the last time he saw them. The sleep had seemed to make her even taller, but he would not notice that, not even if he opened his eyes.

Once more, she loomed over him, closing in. There was no trace of her humanity, for it was drowned by her hunger. Every time she had preyed on him, there was a hint of reason, of restraint. Not now, however, in the last moments they would share.

She lowered her claws, slowly. Her nails grasped her prey tightly, ready to pull for a bite. She was going to make the pain stop, feed at last… But then she heard a familiar cry, which made her halt.

It was scared, yet quiet, full of angry resignation. She had heard it many times, and it had never failed to haunt her. The first time she heard it was when she was a mere kid, surrounded by death. Years after, it echoed as she learned to kill, shielding two from something that crept. In her most vivid memories, the sound flowed as she emerged from fire, and as she surrendered to the hunger.

Her vision twisted, and the blackness that clouded it faded slightly. She recognized that voice, and her will demanded that she listened to it, instead of the whispers inside her. Her claw trembled, and her expression showed pure shock and horror, for her eyes finally saw what she was holding.

Bastian?

Her former friend was bracing himself as much as possible, breathing rapidly under her grasp. He was in her chambers, tied up.

No. He can’t…

Bastian shivered, feeling how the claw around his shoulder let go, suddenly. He opened his eyes, confused by the fearful gasp he heard, from Nerys. Time seemed to slow down as their gazes met. He looked up at her anxiously, while she stared down at him dreadfully. Both were taken aback, but now she was far more afraid than he was. She shook her head in disbelief, questioning his presence.

“W-what-“ He frowned, not understanding her next words, whispered in alarm. “What are you doing here?”

He looked at her cautiously, as lost as her.

“I was taken here to…”

He was not able to finish, because he noticed how she reacted. Her green eyes hinted pure horror, widening slowly as she looked at her claws and the room.

“N-no.” Bastian was baffled by that word, and much more by her next snarl, which was not malicious but scared. She seemed to have trouble breathing, and speaking was painful, but she still voiced her thoughts. “Y-you should not be here!”

She dashed close again, invoking all her self-control. It made him flinch, but she could not worry about that, not now. He soon found out that she was not trying to harm him, at all; there were no bites or scratches. Her claw did swing over him, but only to slice the thick rope that kept him bound.

He huffed in relief, feeling the snap of the rope, and how his hands were no longer forced down. Now he could move, even if his limbs were sore and strained. He could, but he did not focus on that. There was something far more imperative in his mind, and he spoke up to address it.

“You did not order this?”

Nerys shook her head again, raising her claws in front of herself, like if his judgment could physically stab her.

“No, never!” Bastian quivered when she grabbed his shoulders strongly, to pull him to his feet. “God… G-get out of here, Bastian! P-please!”

His eyes narrowed somberly, realization dawning. Now he knew that she had not wanted him to die, much less like this. All the small gestures were indeed due to sympathy, her longing for the past.

Nerys cried, because Bastian did not make a move to leave as she urged him to. He did not even glance tentatively towards the door, simply giving her a deep thoughtful look, which haunted her. She decided to push him slightly away, trying to make something clear, urgently.

“L-leave, dammit!” He felt his heart sink when another flow of pain made her quiver, something she tried to ignore, at any cost. “I- I’m… You don’t know h-how much I’m holding back right now! A-any second now, I’m going to lose it, and I’ll kill whoever I reach first! That being you! J-just-!”

“I know.”

She let out a raspy exhale, because he grabbed one of her claws; that simple move was enough to stop her from moving him away. Her strength failed her, when she needed it more than ever. He was standing still, keeping his ground under her grasp, even if it posed a terrible danger. She could only shiver and tremble, for his broken gaze darkened, in a way that only Lyssa had ever seen. His voice grew firm, bitter and exhausted.

“Nerys…” His words struck her deeply, as he looked into her feral eyes, shaking his head. “If you will kill, then it better be me.”

He straightened his posture with a deep breath, knowing exactly what he was doing. Many times he had seen the voracity of the disease, yet now, it was different. He could only smile sadly, his thoughts confirmed as she panicked, holding her twitching claws back. Her eyes were sharp as ever, and her fangs were showing in her pained breaths, but she used all her will to slam the door open and let out a growled plea.

“I don’t want that! I’m begging you, just go, I can’t-!”

Bastian frowned tiredly, seeing how she lost her voice, unable to keep on speaking. She hunched over by the door, clawing at her chest, crying as another flow of agony struck her body.

The vampire feared more than ever, for the human stepped closer, but not to leave. He took a deep breath, and then expressed all his thoughts and laments, bowing his head.

“Nerys, I am tired…” She raised her head slightly between pained jolts, her sharp green eyes peeking below her long red hair, wide as they met his. He was crying silently in front of her, trembling as much, but for the grief he expressed next. “I don’t care anymore. Things will never be as they were, never again. I swear, there has not been a single day in which I have not regretted sending that goddamned letter. Every moment after you left, I missed you. But there’s no way for me to go back. I will forever see the consequences of my choices, in your pain, and hers. I can’t solve this, not with us being… this different now. Just make it end, for both. I can’t do it.”

He could not bring himself to hate her. If he had his freedom, perhaps he would not be able to keep on fighting and hunting. His life had no meaning now. He did not care anymore, not for himself. She was in pain, because of him. She had to kill, while he wished to quell his guilt. Both needed something.

Bastian raised a hand slowly, and he did not miss how her claw trembled when he grasped it gently. He contemplated how sharp those nails were, and noted how she let out a sobbed growl as he spoke firmly.

“I hate every second I see you like this.”

Nerys cried again, overcoming her hurt to stand, face him. Bastian closed his eyes as she laid her claws on him, struggling to implore, with a snarled broken whisper.

“L-leave! G-god-”

Her heart was pounding, burning. There were soft breaths, while hers were pained and sharp. The voice of a human echoed, calmly.

“I hate it… So I won’t leave.”

Bastian did not move or flinch when those claws shook slightly, piercing his clothes, clenching slowly. A feral snarl escaped Nerys, for her vision began to darken again, gradually. The burning was unbearable, and every single thought was hard to keep.

Why…

The coldness finally took over completely, in mind and body. Her will could not fend off the whispers any longer, far too loud, a ravenous dissonance that drowned her soul. Her claws curled inwards, her fangs showed more, and her body tensed tall. Her eyes opened sharply, yet they were unable to see, blinded by black and red. The only thing she could hear, a heartbeat. Her only thought and desire, the blood. It was near, right there…

Bastian hissed, frowning deeply as her nails scraped his shoulders, in order to pull him closer. He did not dare struggle when Nerys dragged him against herself, to hold him there. It would have been a caring embrace, like the ones he remembered, if her claws were not brushing his skin fiercely. He could feel her cold breaths, right over him. Her grasp intensified, as she leaned him slightly in her arms, clawing at his clothes to reveal his neck. He did not make a move to fight it.

Still, he did cower and gasp faintly when her fangs pierced his skin. Tears welled up in his eyes, for he could not ignore the pain, the bite more fierce than any other before it. Her starving desperation was clear in it, for she fed blindly and strongly. Her teeth sunk deep, tearing without precision, almost choking as they pressured.

He shook in her hold, clenching his own teeth. The only thing he could do was lean onto her, letting his head fall against her shoulder, resting a hand where her heart should be. His other moved to her back, to hold her and brush her long red hair, knowing it would be the last time he could.

He kept taking deep breaths, focusing on ignoring the pain of the bite. Every second his blood poured out, her heart would beat and pulse, alive. With each moment, he grew weaker, while her skin would feel warmer and less cold.

She had always been aware of how much blood she consumed, but not now. He could tell that she was still burning inside, starved, and lost. Her hunger would last longer than his sentience, and she would still keep on feeding, ensuring it was the last time.

Bastian let out a long trembling sigh, letting all his weight lay onto Nerys. His legs gave out on him, but he did not fall, for her grasp was firm. The confusion was beginning to settle in his mind, an inescapable consequence of blood loss. His vision was growing foggy, and he lamented losing sight of those emeralds, even if they were sharp.

Blackout was nearing, every second closer, and he would not wake again. Yet, he had made peace with that fact. Death was something he had set out to find, and he treasured the notion that he had not been taken down by a simple vampire, but her. He focused on one thought, which he believed to be his last.

I found you…

Her thoughts were much simpler, more painful. The whispers were afflicting her mind, leaving nothing but erratic desires, a persistent focus on what made the pain fade. Still, even if clear thinking was not possible, she could feel. The burning in her veins had decreased. The sweet blood rushed down her throat, settling in her, bringing back a trace of her senses.

All ever slowly, her soul was unchained, faintly aware. She felt alive, once more. Now she could feel the figure in her grasp, against her frame. There was troubled breathing, shallow and weak. She noticed that a hand was holding her gently, and how its grip was faltering, struggling to hold on. It soon let go, falling sideways, limp. The body she was gripping slumped, tiredly. Yet she kept on feeding, tearing the flesh with her fangs, unable to stop.

She had taken a lot of blood, but it was not enough. Her thirst was not gone, simply soothed. She could still feel the horrible hunger, stronger than ever, brought on by an arduous and dreadful slumber. Blood had been shed, so much that she would have felt sated in any other moment. It was a deadly intake… and it did not fail to make her prey let out a weak dying whisper.

“So… rry…”

There were no more sounds, no signs of sentience, silence settling. The heartbeat of the human was impossibly fast, skin as cold as ice. She had stolen a lot of blood, without faltering. Her green eyes gained some clarity after a few minutes. Her claws stopped pressuring fiercely, for she was able to control her body again. She had fed enough to battle the disease, regain herself.

She blinked multiple times, trying to adjust to the darkness, the lack of red in her vision. However, the sight of black and red did not leave her. She slowly dawned on what she was doing, recognizing the familiar sight, which never failed to horrify her. She grimaced, noticing how her claws were clenched around an unfortunate human, and how her fangs were making red pour out.

She knew instantly that a lot of blood had been lost. And still, she would not have let go. She still felt hunger. This had been enough to bring her back, but it did not satiate her and fend off the pain. She would have kept going until there was nothing left, accepted her needs and killed, knowing her brethren had brought someone deserving… She truly would have.

She faltered instead, fixating on the black hair, which was long and tied into a ponytail. All ever slowly, she looked down. Tears began to fall form her sharp eyes, horror sinking as she noticed the scars, coursing through and over a right eye.

Her fangs slid out sharply, in reflex. She opened her claws, letting go. As she stumbled back in fear, shame twisted her heart, for Bastian just fell down without her hold. He was unconscious, and she could not avoid but stare in shock at the incisions on his neck, which bled strongly.

Her bite had not been controlled, but brutal and blind. The wounds did not seem to have been left by sharp precise knives, but by the maws of a huge voracious animal. She had mauled him; he was bleeding far too much.

“N-no!”

She kept repeating the same word, rushing to him, ignoring her own pain. She could not listen to the voices, even if they were loud and demanding. With a dreadful cry, she let herself drop to her knees, in order to reach for him. She laid a claw over his chest, feeling his heartbeat, still there. It did nothing to ease her fears, because it was rapid, and he was far too pale. He had lost a lot of blood.

“Hang on, please!”

Time was ticking, she had to act, or else. She let him lay down quickly but gently, stumbling to her feet, rushing out the room.

Bastian could not hear how a door was slammed open, surely broken off its hinges, for the echo was loud. He was not aware of how things were scattered urgently, in search of something. Steps neared him soon enough, but he would not react to them.

No whimpers or cries escaped him when claws grabbed him once more, but he did tremble when a soft cloth was pressured against his neck, soaked in a liquid that stung. Sobs echoed near him, scared and grieving. His body was laid on a surface that provided warmth, and safety. But he could not recognize it, for he just expected death.

—–

Hurts…

He moved slightly, or at least tried. With that weak shift and motion, the pain only became more noticeable, turning from a faint sting to a pronounced ache on his neck. With one tired exhale, he let his weight down, frowning deeply. He felt slightly cold, drained. But he could notice that there was something warm wrapped around him and that he was laying on something soft.

Once more, he shifted a little, something that made him let out a dazed groan. He tried to open his eyes slowly, feeling dizzy. As his vision focused, the first thing he saw was a ceiling. He laid there with a tired expression, staring at what he believed to be the ceiling of his gloomy cell. There was darkness around him, indeed.

After a minute, he frowned, for his thoughts cleared slightly. He was still a little out of it, but he could begin to ponder. Confusion struck him, as he realized something. He was not in his cell. And he was not laying on his bedroll. Such a realization made him gasp, and he tried to sit up, dawning on the unfamiliar surroundings. He would have cowered back in reflex if a voice did not call, as startled as him.

“D-don’t!”

Bastian jolted faintly in surprise, feeling nails brush his side. Nerys retracted her claw instantly, flinching like him, sure that there was fear in his gaze. It was not terror what he felt, but stupefaction, seeing her there, kneeling by the edge of the bed he rested on. There were a lot of bandages scattered on the floor at her sides, some bloody, while others still to be applied.

She let out a shaky sigh, keeping her claw up but off, not daring to lay it on him. Any move could be interpreted as a threat, and she did not wish to bring that on him. She pleaded, trying to whisper softly.

“Don’t move, Bastian. Please.”

He slowly settled back, staring at her sideways. He tried to understand why he was in a bed, and why she looked so torn. Even if he was exhausted and worn, he could recall what he thought his last moments. Her green eyes hinted pure shame when he tried to speak, frowning, coughing more than whispering.

“W-why…” His voice sounded so disappointed, that she could not avoid but shiver. “Why am I not dead?”

She gave him a perturbed glare, her fangs showing as she grimaced dejectedly. Her answer was doleful, and it was obvious that she was horrified by his words, because she clawed at the blankets of the bed without realizing it.

“You don’t have to die, Bastian!” He flinched slightly, but not with fear; he was simply troubled by how she bowed her head and lamented. “I’m sorry, alright?! I swear, I did not ask for you to be brought here! I’ve treated you harshly and inhumanly, leading you to believe I hate you… but I really don’t feel that way! I can’t, I’ve tried! Even now, I still care, dammit! I was so sure that you did not care, that you felt nothing…  But I can’t deny that you do! There is no malice in your words or actions, not that I can see! I can’t bring myself to hate you, not when you are sorry! All this time, I have kept lying to myself, trying to deny I am forgiving! It is sickening! I am-!”

She cried, jolting as she felt fingers tangle with her nails. With a breathless sigh, she dared raise her gaze slowly, unable to keep speaking. Tears welled up, for his eyes were fixed on hers, firmly. He stared at her calmly, keeping a gentle but tight hold on her claw. As he whispered, there was no hint of dread or resent, only sorrow.

“It’s my fault, Nerys. My blindness brought your suffering.” She froze with the next words he let out, mournfully. “If only I had known what you would find in there…”

He soon regretted saying those words. His fear returned faintly when he saw her eyes narrow, and her claw twitch against his fingers. A shiver ran down his back, for he was sure he had invoked her anger once more, by bringing up his mistake. She was not angry, however, only afraid and confused.

“Bastian…” He knew she was not angry when she gulped and whispered, making him feel as lost. “I have feared to ask, but… What did I do, for you to wish for my death?”

She wanted to know what made him snap, which of her actions brought him to plan her demise. It surely had been an impulse, one that he regretted now.

Bastian sat up slowly, letting go of her claw to do so. His eyes narrowed like hers, a sudden terrible doubt sinking into his heart.

“Wish? Nerys, I don’t understand. I have never wanted you to die, not even if you are a vampire. I don’t-“

He gasped, because she suddenly stumbled back onto her feet, almost falling in her urgency. She raised a claw in front of herself, in pure fear, her voice as shaken as her body.

“W-wait.” She raised her free claw to her head, almost cutting herself in her scared daze. “You can’t be saying… God, Bastian, tell me you knew!”

Nerys took multiple steps away from him, backwards. Bastian leaned his head at her with a thoughtful frown, a motion that only revealed his wounds more, showing clearly how blood stained the bandage he wore. His eyes were not hinting any trace of recognition or understanding. He had no idea what was scaring her so much, and so, he let out more words that would haunt her.

“K-know what? Nerys?“

She snarled silently, praying that she was still asleep, suffering a nightmare.

It can’t be.

He looked down at his hands and shook his head, struggling to understand, because she was not answering him. Her heart broke when he raised his gaze again, for there was dread in his eyes, his sharp mind latching onto a terrible trail of thought. When he spoke, he was as scared as her.

“W-what… What do you think I knew?”

All the anger, hate, and blame… They could have been born from a much more painful belief, one that he could not imagine being real, not from her.

Please, don’t let it be.

Bastian cried when Nerys surrendered under his pleading stare, revealing what she had really considered him guilty of.

“I thought you knew that vampires were there.”

There was silence, painful and tense. For the first time, she truly hoped that Bastian had hated her, that he knew. She did not want him to have committed a simple mistake; he could not be innocent, not after being subjected to such torment.

All her hopes died, because both of his eyes soon opened with painful realization. He revealed his horror with just two words, which he let out quietly.

“I didn’t.”

Those words trailed the silence, stabbing deep. Both of them saw now, painfully clear. They had been blind.