He really loathed hiding all day and night. It was an oppressive feeling, one that he considered underserved and unjust.

Bastian sighed and looked over his shoulder, still a little paranoid. His mare let out a huff as he pulled at the reins to make her halt, in order for him to watch the distance behind him. He could barely see the village anymore… just as he wanted.

He patted the mane of his horse softly, allowing her to advance at a slower pace. They were now near the hills where the end of that tunnel rested, where he first saw the two guards, right after the incident with the fugitive.

Those two had led him safely to the village, past the fields and long road, just like she said. They truly helped him; the issue was in their unrelenting and oppressive watch. Their sharp eyes would stay on him at all times, like if their life depended on it.

For five days he had been hiding in that village, and not in a single moment was he allowed to take off the hood they made him wear. Those two were paranoid, more than him if it was possible. They dreaded that one of those leeches could roam far from the castle and spot him, even if they never left it, because all the blood was there.

Simply put, he could not stand being locked in the room of the inn day and night. It made him remember unpleasant times, spent in a dark cell. So… there he was now, away from the village. He had gotten his horse after tricking those two, telling them he needed something from the market. By the time they returned to the inn, he would be back.

They told him he could roam a little if he was careful and avoided attention. That was exactly what he was doing. They did not specify where he could wander, and there was no one to see him at these parts.

He smirked and took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air of the morning. No one roamed near the forests that surrounded that hill. The end of the passage was in a secluded area, he had seen. It would be the perfect spot for him to find some solitude, ponder alone at last.

Bastian smiled and petted his mare while they crossed the edge of the woods, leaving behind the fields. They could not see yet the small ridge that delimited the entrance of the tunnel.

He really was just enjoying a stroll, sure that no one would be around. The fortress was far, and no vampires needed to hunt in her domain. He did not expect to come upon anything. There was no way for him to anticipate what he would encounter.

Suddenly, his horse halted sharply, below the shade of some trees. He blinked in surprise and then frowned, because she stopped without his word or signal, something she never did.

“What-?”

His mare let out a very faint huff, wary all of the sudden. He did not understand why she took a half step back, sharply. Not until he raised his gaze. He only said one word, in question, and someone seemed to have heard it.

His eyes widened, much like the ones of the humans that stood beside some trees ahead, near the tunnel. He gasped, because their sight was dreadful, even if they were not vampires. There was no way he could mistake the clothes of a rebel, for he was one for a very long time.

He was seeing a group of insurgents, lurking in the woods, near the tunnel. The very passage he had used to escape the fortress. It had been hidden by leaves and rocks, which he had placed back once he emerged from it. Now, however, it was open again. To make matters worse, it seemed that it had been breached a while ago; there were footsteps, of many, and they clearly headed in.

For a second, he processed what he was seeing. Then the instant passed, and he had to react. The rebels did not expect his presence either, and they considered it a threat. His mare saw before him how one took aim with a bow, with intent.

“We’ve been seen!”

Luckily, his horse bolted sharply and dodged the arrow that soared by. That got him to snap out of his shock. He leaned down and pressured himself against her mane, hearing more arrows pierce the air over him.

He did not need to direct his mare into fleeing; she understood well the danger and dashed away towards the fields. The men and women shouted behind him, clearly panicking after missing their shots.

“Kill him! He must not sound the alarm!”

He had unintentionally spotted what was clearly the start of a raid. The tunnel was open, and that group seemed to be waiting for something, like if they had been making guard. Some had gone into the passage. They had horses and were many.

Bastian huffed and clenched his teeth, leaning his head to glance behind him. Indeed, some had chased after him with their steeds, riding away from the woods and pursuing him into the fields. He whipped his head to glare forward, knowing he was in dire trouble.

No, all are in danger.

These insurgents had been hiding in her land, waiting for a chance. And they had found one. Some could already be out of the tunnel, inside the castle. Meanwhile, these were in wait, surely expecting the gates to be opened from the inside. He was sure that was their plan, for he would scheme a similar strategy.

As he rode and fled, he first considered heading for the village, where a few guards patrolled. Many civilians lived there… and for it, he made a choice, suddenly and sharply. A rebel cursed when he directed his mare sideways, dodging an arrow they fired.

Bastian snarled and hit the reins fiercely, begging his horse to move faster. He headed for the road that led to the castle, knowing he had to warn everyone there, to prevent a massacre. It was morning and almost everyone was asleep, so the attack could be deadly and final.

The insurgents were surprised to see him flee directly for the fortress, but they did not halt their chase. They were meant to head there soon anyway. Through the fields, half of his pursuers stopped following him, heading for the village instead. Still, many still were behind him, enough to be a threat.

Bastian hoped, prayed, that there was time. Sadly, there was not much to spare. He soon grimaced in horror, once he saw the gates, the fortress near. There were two guards on the ground, dead, stabbed from behind by some rebels. They had pulled the lever and lifted the grill.

They were inside and on the move. Due to it, he went straight past the gates, not caring if some insurgents in the courtyard saw him. He flinched when they shot at him as well, yelling for his horse to go faster when he was not struck.

His mare jumped past them and ran deeper into the courtyard, kicking and huffing. As soon as there was some distance, he jumped off and rolled on the ground, near some arcs. He ducked behind the pillars and avoided the next surge of arrows, to then bolt into the west wing. The intruders had been quiet until now, but they knew there was no point in killing silently anymore.

He cried, finally inside, unable to be shot by the insurgents that roamed outside. He ran fast, not for his life. No one was awake, he had been right. The long and gloomy corridors were empty. The few guards that had been keeping watch in the courtyard were dead, unable to warn everyone.

“WAKE UP!”

If he was heard by the vampires that slept in the chambers he passed by, he did not know. He just kept running ahead. The throne room was not far, he soon saw its big doors. Inside it, there was only one vampire.

Nerys was seated on her throne, looking at the sunrays dejectedly. She was calm in her sorrow, until the doors were slammed open, urgently. Her eyes widened as she saw Bastian stumble in, panting with a perturbed grimace.

“N-nerys!” She got up instantly from her throne, alarmed by his presence and demeanour. “Wake everyone, now! I- I-!”

“Bastian?”

He shook his head and pushed her claw away when she tried to reach for him; there was no time for questions or her worry. She flinched, because he grabbed her robes and glared into her eyes, deadly serious in his next demand.

“There’s no time, move! Rebels have gotten in!”

Her expression twisted instantly, and her whole body tensed in instinct. Still, her bafflement was there, even if momentary. She took one step away to act, looking back to ask dreadfully.

“How-“

Little did Bastian know that his unexpected interference had made the rebels change their plans slightly. Both he and Nerys gasped and stumbled when a huge rumble pierced the castle, what sounded like a blast.

Their eyes unfocused for a moment, overwhelmed by what they just heard, something that shocked them to the core. They soon understood all too well, for the crackling of flames echoed to them.

The explosion happened in the dungeons and storage. She was the first to react accordingly. He clenched his teeth when she pointed at him with a claw, firmly. She bolted for the door with a dark look in her eyes, only delaying to give him a command.

“You shouldn’t have returned. Hide.”

“If I had not, you could have died. They wanted to kill everyone in their sleep, so-“

“I’m grateful, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re in danger. No one should see you here.” Her court was waking up, alerted by the blast. And so, she stopped wasting time, running out the doors with one last order. “Get to safety! Obey for once, Bastian!”

As much as she wanted to drag him out of the castle, she couldn’t. Screams were echoing, and she needed to act to stop the ones that caused them.

While she ran towards the courtyard and grabbed a weapon to fight with, he doubted in the throne room. He averted his gaze from the doors, conflicted. The yells were loud, he could hear them. They came from both the insurgents and vampires, all now finally clashing. He could also distinguish some faint screams, from the servants in the quarters.

He knew that he was not supposed to be seen, that he should sneak away and hide. His presumed death could not be proven false, or he would pay for it.

But…

No one was there to halt him when he bolted through the inner corridors and stole a sword from a decorative rack. He pulled his hood on and ran, headed for the quarters and the screams that echoed there.

Outside, Nerys halted sharply and snarled. Her green eyes hinted horror, because she saw red as soon as the courtyard came to view. The blood was everywhere, on the stony floor and even against the arcs.

She could see the rebels gathered by the gates, which they had opened to let more surge in. Her brethren had woken up indeed, and had taken haste in fending them off. There was rubble and ruin scattered all over the patio, for the insurgents had set explosives in the storage. A tower had crumbled down with the blast.

There was nothing but chaos around her, and she could not avoid but observe it for a moment. She only regained her focus when a smaller figure halted at her side, whispering scornfully.

“You really should have gone hunting that day…”

Nerys showed her fangs in her next snarl, not bothering to look sideways to acknowledge Idris, who had run out of his chambers with a dagger. His dusky eyes were contemplating everything with contempt, even her. He showed clear disapproval and mockery for the situation.

His men had gotten out as well, and they were not hesitating to lunge at the big group of insurgents. They were enough to face both of their clans, having regrouped at the gates from the tunnel and fields.

She let out a growl, for it was not only the castle what was being sieged. There was smoke in the air, and it tangled on the horizon, from far away.

“They are attacking the village too.”

He stepped forward, intending to attack the humans he could see, uncaring of her horror.

“Your pity for these lesser beings is insufferable. Focus on the vermin that is plaguing your fortress and-”

He had to halt when a big claw grabbed his shoulder.

“No.” She had stopped him, of course. He could only growl in exasperation when she commanded darkly. “You’ll stay here. Defend my castle and my court. I must go to that village; they are burning it to the ground.”

The fortress was burning too, but stone would always endure fire better than timber. Only she and her progeny could fight in that town, resist the flames that were surely cast in it.

Idris rolled his eyes, but he did nod in agreement, surrendering to her demand. He did not object when Nerys bolted and began to fight her way towards the gates, slashing at any rebel she crossed paths with.

She gathered most of her soldiers in the chaos, and then directed them according to her intentions. They quickly got a hold of some horses and fought past the gates, to then ride across the fields. Any insurgent that tried to stop them was killed or distracted by his underlings, which were fighting fervently.

Nerys hit the reins of her steed strongly, leaving her castle behind. She was desperate to bring aid to the town, because she knew that there had only been a few guards patrolling there, not enough to fend off the raiders. She expected Idris to defend her bastion diligently due to kinship… but he could not even be trusted with that.

Idris looked to a side, towards the quarters. He could see that its main exit had been blocked by fallen debris. Inside, there were echoes of alarmed yells and rising flames, sparked by the blast. He did not care. Instead of heading there to aid her subjects, he grinned and lunged for the rebels gathered in the courtyard, thirsty for blood and battle. He did not even command some of his men to help the humans. Like him, they were as bloodthirsty, determined in slaying their defiant prey.

Only a few of her soldiers were trying to make way into the servant’s chambers. Two guards coughed in an inner corridor, halting by a door that led to the storage, which in turn connected with the quarters. There were a lot of flames crawling past the entrance, accompanied by scalding smoke.

“T-this path is too risky!”

The other snarled and showed his fangs, troubled.

“The courtyard is full of debris! We have to get in through this door!”

“We’ll get burned!”

“If we don’t go and help, no one will! Idris and his men can’t endure the flames like us! Just pull at your clothes and cover-!”

Before they could make up their minds and bolt into the blazing room, another one ran past them. Their jade eyes blinked, catching a glimpse of a hooded figure jumping past the flames, sword in hand. They were not fast to react.

“That was-“

“Was it-?

They exchanged a look, paling even more, and then they bolted past the door as well. A few coughs escaped them, forcing them to cover their mouths with a claw, to not breathe in the smoke. They got in just in time to see that figure push a broken barrel out of the way.

A grey eye narrowed below that hood, glaring at all the ruin that plagued his surroundings. He snarled, contemplating the effects of the blast. Such sight made him look back, to yell at the two vampires, uncaring of how the roles were reversed for once.

“You two, the quarters are huge and connect with the basements! The structure is made of damn wood, so move before it breaks down over everyone’s heads! The fire’s core is below, in the storage and dungeons, so stay in the upper rooms. I’ll go deeper and check no one’s trapped!”

Both soldiers went to his side, and he was not surprised when they began to voice their concerns, just like their sire.

“Y-you’re alive. We thought-“

“You must get out, this place-“

He stopped them, raising the sword and pointing it ahead. He tugged angrily at the necklace she gave him, letting them see it as he snarled.

“I said, move. Help the servants, they-“ He coughed, a gust of smoke flowing far too close. “Agh… Go, dammit!”

The two vampires could do nothing to stop him when he ran off, pushing debris out of his way. They exchanged looks, and then bolted in different directions, to seek survivors.

Bastian ran down some stairs, which he knew that led to some remote compartments. He grimaced when he spotted the first corpse. It was burned, having been brushed by flames. That was not the cause of death, however. He could not avoid cringing, noticing well the cut on his throat, which was not accidental.

This servant did not die due to the blast, but due to the slice of a dagger. He had been dead for a while, so he probably saw the rebels creep in. They silenced him, in the most efficient way possible.

His grey eye opened dreadfully, for he heard screams ahead. The rebels were killing her subjects, indiscriminately. Anger settled in his heart, perhaps even hate. He had raided many settlements himself, but he had never killed a single human under vampiric rule. These insurgents seemed to have twisted ideals, which he did not think possible before.

He jogged through the claustrophobic corridors, careful of the flames and smoke. Soon, he reached modest chambers, which had many hammocks hanging from the beams. Most were now burned to ashes. The embers of the fire laid everywhere, blazing. Many wooden supports had crumbled down, blocking multiple paths. The more he ventured, the more corpses he came across. They were less burned, painted in red.

The quarters had multiple floors, most of them underground below the courtyard. He was going deeper, away from the core of the explosion. No one roamed in the dungeons, and if they did, the rebels had surely killed them by now.

It did not take him long to spot a living person. He gasped, seeing a tall man ahead, a rebel. To make matters worse, said man was grasping a servant by her collar, with a mace in hand. Just as the weapon rose over her head to strike, he yelled to avert his attention.

“Hey!” The insurgent whipped his head to glare in his general direction, scowling as he spotted him between the flowing smoke. “Let her go!”

Bastian gripped his sword tighter and grimaced under his hood, noticing how the man gave him a wary and intense look, surely debating if he was an insurgent or not. No servant would hold a weapon, and he was no vampire.

The mace was lowered slowly, away from the woman. He clenched his teeth and gulped, because the rebel let go of her indeed, to turn towards him furiously. The servant ran away through a corridor, while they faced each other.

“It takes guts to hold a sword.” The man pointed at him with his mace, clearly suspicious and angry. “You better tell me you’re joining our purge… I don’t recognize you, so you are no rebel.”

Bastian shook his head, and he instantly knew that doing so was a mistake.

“I won’t aid you. You are not only killing vampires. These people have done nothing to-“

He yelped and stumbled to a side, because otherwise, that mace would have split his skull open. The weapon hit a wall, which was left much more torn as the man yanked back, splintering the wood that had been pierced.

Bastian took a step back and raised his sword. He shuddered as the insurgent cursed and inched closer, looming threateningly.

“If you’re not with us, you’re with them.”

He shook his head again, hoping to be able to reason with another human being.

“Lower your weapon, I don’t wish to-“

His answer was another swing of mace, which he dodged by inches. He panted and scowled, seeing clearly that this man would not bother to speak, not even argue. There was only murderous intent.

In the past, he did encounter rebels who claimed they would end any human that aided vampires, but he never gave those words much thought. He had to ponder such views right now, because his life was on the line for it.

He blocked another swing of mace with his sword, almost tripping backwards with the force of the hit. Perhaps he was slender and not all that burly, but he was still quite capable of fighting, more than many. This man was just very tall and portly.

Diplomacy was not an option. And so, Bastian sidestepped when the mace came down again, aimed at his legs and feet. He dodged easily, catching up on the fact that the insurgent had more muscle than brains. Each hit of mace was brash and fierce, impulsive. After each attack, there would be a clear opening… and when he found himself cornered and the weapon loomed high over his head, his sharp mind commanded him to act.

Before the mace could come down, there was a thrust of sword. Both exhaled, freezing next. Bastian shuddered, eyeing his weapon. His eyes clouded slightly, much like the ones of the insurgent. The blade was now painted in red.

Ever so slowly, the man tilted sideways, and with a rip, the sword slid out of his chest. Everything fell at his feet… the mace, the corpse, and the blood.

He had always seen blood pour, ever since Nerys left. His eyes had seen life fade many times. But he had never watched a human bleed and die, not by his hand. He had only killed vampires, beings he considered soulless.

Bastian stared frozen at the corpse, his hand lowering so much that the blade of his sword brushed the ground. He stayed there, motionless, for a whole minute. It was only when he heard another scream that he escaped his mortified thoughts.

He finally raised his gaze slightly, letting out a shaky gasp. His eyes looked at everything around him, haunted by the sight. The fire was building up, consuming what it could reach. A rebel was dead, but many servants were slain. He could see them ahead, and the stab wounds that had brought them down. One of them had been clearly struck by a mace, brutally.

If there was still any conviction in his heart for his past beliefs, it died right then. He could not care anymore for any cause, he just saw red. All eyes could hold malice, no matter the race. He bolted forward, refusing to break down. There would be time later to mourn his faith and soul.

Ahead, a vampire struggled. She clenched her fangs, gripping tighter her two swords. Her eyes watched her attackers carefully, wary of their next move. She was ready to block any lunge or slice, even if three circled her at once.

“Filthy vampire…”

Martha spat right back, not intimidated by the three women.

“Murderous whores.”

The three insurgents did not care much that two servants ran away. Their eyes were fixed on her, a vampire that had dared get in between and interrupt their killing.

Martha had been awake and near the storage when the blast echoed. She knew right away what had to be done, what her sire would command. Of all, she was the first to try to aid the humans they sheltered.

A few rebels were dead at her feet, nothing but murderers. She had managed to avenge and shield some servants, but not enough. There were too many corpses, and she hated the smell of blood.

It would not be easy to make these three bleed and perish, for they were more experienced than others she fought. But she was efficient and persistent.

Bastian got into the room just in time to see the four women clash. He ignored the two servants that ran past him towards safety, looking at the burning chamber instead. Everything was crumbling down with the growing fire, which was more intense here, due to the fact that the insurgents had thrown down some torches.

There was reason to flee, yet the four were immersed in their fight. They were far too bloodthirsty to care about the flames, refusing to run. The vampire threw up her two swords, blocking both a spear and an axe, each wielded by one rebel. But that left her open to her third opponent, who raised her dagger.

“Watch out!”

Bastian ran towards them, but he couldn’t stop that strike. Martha hissed loudly, feeling the blade sink into her shoulder. The dagger would have raised and pierced again, if not for the fact that he pushed that rebel off.

Her jade eyes opened in surprise, seeing him there, shoving her third assailant with his sword. She could not dwell much on it, however, because she had two other foes to worry about. With a snarl, she pushed with her own blades to keep them off.

The one that seemed to be the leader scowled, because she did not expect a human to shield a vampire. Her two sisters scoffed when she cursed, feeling the same spite.

“This is why we can’t let any of these traitors live.”

Bastian whipped his head to glare back, showing no trace of sympathy in his angered expression. He refused to look at the surrounding corpses, staring at those malicious eyes instead, answering as hatefully.

“I may not be a rebel anymore, but I’m no traitor. I’m not the one murdering my kin in cold blood.”

The three blinked for a moment, taken aback by his words. It did not last, however. Their eyes soon showed more hate, disdain in their understanding. He had to dodge when that dagger swung for his neck, furiously.

Both vampire and ex-insurgent began to fight the three, not bothering to try to reason. It would be a waste of time and breath. Only death would get them out alive.

Bastian kept on blocking the one who wielded a dagger, agile in his steps around her. Meanwhile, Martha kept swinging her swords to try to stab the other two.

Soon, he saw an opening, when his foe pulled back her arm to thrust. He let her, leaning sideways at the last moment, quick to swing his sword up. With a hit on her wrist, he disarmed her.

The dagger fell to the ground, and in a slowed moment, he gave her a look that asked her to not dash for it. She ignored his silent plea with a snarl, making a move to grab and swing it again. He did not let her. After a fast slash of sword, she tumbled to the ground, lifeless.

He would have had a moment of regret if he did not hear a pained hiss, which alarmed him. His eyes widened, seeing two figures on the ground, apart from the one he killed. The rebel who had wielded the axe laid dead. Nearby was Martha, still alive but wounded.

Her claw was over her chest, trying to stop the bleeding of her new wound. She crawled back against a wall, cornered by the oldest of the siblings. The rebel raised the spear over her furiously, to finish her off.

Martha closed her eyes, ready to feel the stab. But it did not happen. She heard metal collide, grind strongly. For it, she opened one eye weakly, only to see Bastian standing in between, having swung his sword to stop the spear.

He huffed and pushed her off. Even if he was exhausted, he stood his ground, shielding the vampire. The rebel looked at him carefully, her icy blue eyes glinting behind the smoke that flowed around them. The fire was growing louder, yet he still tried to speak, one last time.

“Leave… You are not aiding anyone like this, I assure you. Depriving vampires of blood will only make things worse; they won’t starve to death without the humans you’ve killed.”

The woman did not enjoy being told what was right or wrong.

“These beasts may not die without their filthy thralls, but they will still writhe in agony, as they deserve. For that, you must perish as well, because you are nothing but mindless cattle. Your words hold no worth, not for them, or us.”

He pitied her blind determination.

“Fine, let’s keep spilling and wasting blood.” He grasped his sword tightly, having no choice. “Perhaps the flames of hell will make you regret not fleeing the ones that surround you now.”

With a cough and a snarl, the humans dashed against each other. Those jade eyes watched hazily as the two sparred with their respective weapons, wildly, dodging slashes and flames. Her vision was foggy, not only because of the smoke, but the wounds she had been inflicted with. She moved her claw and raised it near her face, noting that it was painted in red.

Vampires were mortal, as much as humans were. She would not get out of this one, it was clear to her. She looked at herself, and a tired smile grew on her lips. Her elegant clothes were stained, and her curly hair was disarranged. She was a mess… but it could be worse, very much so.

Martha raised her gaze and cursed mentally, because Bastian was losing the fight. That rebel showed nothing but murderous intent, fury for the death of her sisters. He had faced other foes, and he had a cut on his side, which bled slightly. Like her, he was being cornered against a wall, losing ground every second.

Her jade eyes moved subtly, eyeing a fallen beam. With a faint hiss, she slowly reached for one of her swords, knowing she had to act, or else.

Bastian hit a wall with his back. He huffed and panted, surrounded by fallen debris and fire. The rebel was in front of him, glaring coldly, inching closer with a prideful and confident stride. He winced, because she swung the spear back to bring it down on him. He got ready to raise his sword, to try to block the hit, knowing he could not dodge it. They both expected their weapons to clash, but they stumbled instead, startled by a rumble that shook the whole room.

For a moment, he looked into those dazed icy eyes… only to lose sight of them a second after, under a blur of falling scorched timber. A beam broke above her and promptly crushed her under. He wheezed, for he discerned shredded flesh below the embers and rubble.

Bastian exhaled loudly and shrunk against the wall, shocked by the sudden cave in. He feared that he would be crushed too, that the whole ceiling would give in. That was what he believed, until he noticed that it had not been the fire what had made the beam break down.

Martha let her sword fall off her claw, relieved to see that her calculations had been precise. She had sliced at a nearby pillar, which supported the beam above. It had been right over the rebel, and her slash was fierce enough to bring it down and end the fight.

He overcame his shock and rushed towards her, jumping over some debris. Her eyes were clouded, and they were losing focus with each second that passed. She barely noticed that he kneeled by her side.

“Oh god…” He eyed her wound, and he could tell that it was bad. His mind began to wonder if there would be enough time for him to drag her away before the fire could bring everything down. “W-we have to get out of here. Come on, I’ll-“

He was going to grab her to try to lift her up, but she raised one of her claws and moved his hands away, scowling.

“Don’t.” He paled slightly, for she was white as snow. Somehow, she dared smile, with that pride she always showcased. “Let me rest here… I’ll only make a bigger mess of myself.”

“The fire-“

“I know.” She gave him a serious look, her voice growing quiet. “Get out of here… You still can. Just tell Nerys to… take care of herself for me? She always…”

He only nodded slowly, unable to tell if she could even hear him. Her jade eyes were open, but she was not seeing anything anymore.

After a few seconds, he dropped his sword and closed her eyes, finding himself alone between the growing flames. He got up with a cough, knowing he could not stay.

He began to manoeuvre past the ruin, many paths now closed by fallen debris. Somehow, he managed to avoid getting burned and reached the corridors from which he came from. He intended to go back up, sure that no survivors roamed.

He soon felt horror, because the way from which he descended was blocked. The debris that had fallen was scorching, and he could not push it off. The smoke was rising, and if he did not find a way out, he would suffocate.

“B-bloody hell.”

With a loud cough, he began to look around wildly, trying to guess where to head to. There was only one viable path, a small corridor that was slightly covered by rubble but not by fire, not completely.

He ripped at his sleeve and covered his mouth with a piece of it, knowing the smoke could kill him faster than the fire. His steps fastened and he kept himself close to the ground, advancing towards what he hoped to be the way out.

——–

Nerys let her sword drop, exhaling loudly. She stood tall, uncaring of the flames that licked her robes. Her eyes were fixed on the embers, and the blood.

All rebels had been slain. Even though death surrounded her, there was still life. She felt relief, for she had managed to save the majority of the townsfolk. Her men were trying to put out the fires, helping in any way they could.

She averted her gaze from the chaos, in order to look at the distance, her fortress. There were no more screams, only the echoes of sorrowful cries, everywhere.

———

Worthless.

He looked into those icy eyes, maliciously. The rebel coughed some blood but refused to avert his gaze from him. His expression was still defiant, even if he was alone, all his comrades dead or defeated. His clan was toying with the few insurgents that still lived, savouring their blood, fear and shame. He intended to do the same, with him.

Idris crouched a little, to look closely at the man he had helped escape, by conveniently forgetting a key. He had been freed, only to end up like this. His overconfidence did not do him any favours; when he lunged at him with a sword in hand, he took him down easily, once more.

“Was it worth it, maggot?” The human hissed when he grasped his neck with a claw, to pull him closer, taunting him with a smirk. “You sacrificed the life of another human, only to lose your freedom in a futile death.”

The man looked at the surrounding corpses, with an unreadable expression. Soon, a smile grew on his lips, for he only paid mind to the vampires that were dead, between all the red.

“If the world is ridden of one single leech, it is worth it…”

Idris hated to be mocked back. His claw moved swiftly, and a crack echoed. Those icy blue eyes finally lost their defiance, hinting pain for a second, and then growing empty of life. He was dropped unceremoniously, his blood ignored and left to rot.

The lord stood tall with a huff, cleaning his bloodied claw on his clothes. He looked at the remaining rebels, derisively. Most were battered, half-dead due to the wounds they inflicted on them. His men had them pinned or cornered, feeding on some of them.

He was thirsty for blood, but… he would not seize one of those insurgents for himself. In his eyes, they were filthy, for most of their blood had already been spilt. He was a picky drinker.

He marched between his men, ignoring the feast and chaos. No one noticed him sneaking away, headed for the ruins left by the blast, through the dark and smoke. He hoped to come across a servant, and feed on them instead. He would blame that death on the insurgents.

Such prey would be much more satisfying, fresh and less defiant, weak. He climbed past the ruin and debris, hoping to find a lone survivor. His dusky eyes soon glinted, for he saw something ahead, between fallen rubble. An isolated door was being kicked open, by someone that was trying to get out of the burning quarters.

After multiple hits, the door was broken off its hinges. His fangs sharpened as he saw a hooded figure stumble out weakly, coughing and dragging itself away from the flames. He smirked and began to creep closer, deeming that human the perfect prey. As he manoeuvred past the debris and inched closer, he soon got a closer look at his victim. He halted in the shadows, baffled by what he saw.

Bastian panted and coughed, but he stood onto his feet. He raised his head high and took a deep breath, pushing his hood off. By doing so, he revealed his scars and blind eye. He was glad to have escaped from that hellfire… blissfully unaware of the beast that lurked near. Those dusky eyes hinted angered surprise at first, and then they showed nothing but bloodlust.