The smoke and ruin tainted his vision. He raised his hand over his lidded eyes, having trouble discerning his own fingers. All he could see was black and red. The sun was setting, and not even the gleams of the fire could pierce the thick shadows around him.

He could hear echoes in the distance, near the gates. The sounds of a massacre flowed to him, almost making him crumble as he shivered for it. Fire tangled all around, rendering his surroundings into ruin.

Bastian took another weak step, trying to get further away from the fire he had fled from. A tower had broken down with the blast, and its fragments had fallen onto this side of the courtyard, creating a small labyrinth of rubble. He had to walk carefully, sometimes even climb. Some of the upper floors of the quarters had caved in, burned or crushed by falling stone, making it dangerous to stay in the area.

The situation was dire, yet no one was helping here. Only a few of her underlings had stayed in the castle, and they were all inside, scouting the storage and guiding any survivors into the northern wing. All were avoiding the fire, no one roaming outside… except him.

He snarled and let himself rest against some stones, unable to keep down a tired and angry cough. The amalgamation of debris and smoke hid the rest of the courtyard from him, but he still knew what was happening by the gates. Those leeches were feasting on the fear and blood of the rebels. There was nothing more he could do now. The siege was over, only the vampires were killing anymore. He could not stop them, and he did not want to.

He took a deep breath, finding some solace in his seclusion. At the moment, he focused on regaining his strength, knowing that his mind was dazed. Once he recovered, he would ponder where to hide. He knew he was supposed to be dead.

All thought he had been killed, he should have been. He was alive, and that fact angered his stalker greatly, in a way he could not imagine or anticipate.

Idris sneaked in the shadows, past debris and embers. Each silent step he took contrasted his dark and malicious thoughts. His eyes gleamed with hate and deadly intent, piercing the blackness that was between them.

One day… He and his clan would have been gone, they would have finally left. This attack was unexpected and sudden, but it had brought him back all the prey that had evaded him. The most elusive one included.

His nails sharpened as he outstretched his claws. He crept closer, intending to finish the job. His prey would finally perish, he would see to it.

Bastian took his time to recover, having used all his strength to escape the blaze inside the quarters. He almost got crushed a few times below falling beams and timber. It was either by luck or divine grace that he spotted that battered door, which led him out once broken.

He stood again eventually, knowing he had to get away from the courtyard, perhaps head towards her chambers to hide. That was his intention. He halted and froze instead, for he heard a noise.

His eyes opened fully and he whipped his head sideways, tensing. What he heard was familiar. It was a sound he knew well, and he despised it. He did not only recognize the echo because he had fought vampires, but because he had been hunted as well.

He knew when he was being watched and preyed upon. His paranoid mind could not mistake the sound of clawed feet brushing the ground. Those steps were so silent that he had trouble hearing them between the crackling of the fire, but fear sharpened his senses greatly.

With a gulp, he began to look around himself warily, trying to see past the thick smoke. He tried to think of an excuse for his presence here, in case he was being neared by one of those bastards. They would question why he was not dead. He was sure that he would be able to fool a simple idiotic vampire… but there was no way to deceive the very lord that sentenced him.

“My, I did not know humans could come back from the dead.”

Bastian took a step back when Idris emerged from the blackness, lurking closer. His figure had blended with the flowing smoke as if it was part of it. Those dusky eyes were the first thing he saw, then, the sharp open claws at his sides.

The vampire was slightly surprised to see the human recover from his shock, proceeding to stand proudly even if anxiously. Both glared at each other, calculating.

Bastian did not speak, he just stayed still and alert, because he could not flee. There was high or burning debris all around, and the only viable path he could climb was right behind Idris. He just analyzed the situation while he was approached, taunted maliciously.

“Last time I saw you, you were dangling lifelessly from her claw. But of course, she couldn’t bear to let go of her little morsel…” The next words did take Bastian by surprise, for they were a confession. “Many times I thought you would rot six feet under, but you are quite hard to bring down…”

Idris was far too close for comfort now. Bastian shivered, for he saw bloodthirst in his sharp eyes. Now he knew that there were no accidents around him, and that he had to get the hell away from him, at any cost. He did not know why he desired his death so much, but he would not bother to inquire.

Bastian snarled and bolted to a side, adrenaline surging through his veins. Those dusky eyes widened when he slammed his hand near some burning debris, clutching a wooden rod that peeked from it. Even if he got a few burns, he yanked and broke it free, procuring himself an improvised stake. He quickly pointed its scorched edge at him, warning furiously.

“Get the hell away from me, you sick bastard.” He scoffed, outraged. “If I wasn’t alive, you would have been butchered, slain in your sleep or burned to ashes.”

“Oh, don’t give yourself so much credit… This siege wouldn’t have happened at all if you had died long ago.” Bastian winced, the next words striking deep. “You freed the man who led this vain attack, leading many to their deaths. Are you proud of your deed?”

Idris smirked gleefully, for he saw doubt in that scarred gaze. The guilt soon settled, even if it was battled internally. Like a cat toying with a mouse, he took his time in mocking his prey, knowing that Nerys was not around to see or hear.

“You have brought many casualties, for both sides. No matter what standpoint you choose, you have committed treason.” Bastian stopped thinking, because Idris lunged at him. “The sentence is clear and inevitable!”

A claw slashed near his neck, and those nails almost stabbed his shoulder. He was quick to answer that move with a thrust of stake, both snarling. The sharp blazing point was evaded easily, with a fast lean.

Both put some distance between each other. Idris slammed his clawed feet, and his frame hunched slightly, hinting how he intended to dash towards him again. Bastian panted and held the stake with both hands, ready to swing it as soon as he tried to jump on him.

A vampire was always stronger than a human. Idris did jump, and Bastian did swing the stake. No flesh was ripped, however, because a claw grasped the flaming point to stop the thrust.

Bastian heaved in shock, not having expected Idris to grab the scorching stake. All vampires dreaded fire like death itself. A hiss did echo, due to the agonizing burns that were inflicted on that claw… but they were endured for pure spite.

With a yank, Idris stole the stake from Bastian’s hands, proceeding to throw it away to the ground. His claw was horribly marred by the embers, his skin withered and torn. Any vampire would have retreated in pain, even lords, but he didn’t.

Bastian let out a choked gasp, for that same claw latched itself around his neck in a second. He was pulled closer, strongly, and he could only slam his hands onto those nails that strangled him. Idris leaned his head, glaring down at him furiously.

“This time, nothing is going to save you. She is gone, and you won’t see her again.”

He trembled, for that other claw outstretched over his neck. However, it was the next hateful whisper what made his heart skip a beat.

“You two have always managed to survive, against all odds, every time I’ve plotted your deaths.” Those sharp fangs showed as he leaned close to whisper, with scorn and malice. “In the end, however… You were nothing I couldn’t deal with.”

Bastian’s eyes opened in alarm, finally recognizing his dusky ones, which he discerned once below a hood. There were no claws then…

He only had a second to ponder that veiled admission, recall the words that had been whispered deceitfully. The claw came down, silencing his thoughts.

——-

She hit the reins once more, fiercely. Her horse obeyed her wordless plea, its long black mane flowing back as it ran strongly for the gates ahead. Her green eyes were fixated on the distance, her fangs clenched in a grimace.

Nerys felt her slow heartbeat fasten, for she soon saw the carnage that plagued the courtyard. There were a lot of corpses, and any living rebel wouldn’t survive for long. His clan was doing nothing but bask in their victory, tormenting their victims. The few soldiers she had left behind were struggling to establish order, the chaos and bloodshed far too fresh.

She frowned and halted her steed right past the gates, unable to ride ahead with so many bodies lying about. The men she had led out of the castle were still handling the fires in the village, so she was the only one to come back at the moment. She jumped down her horse and began to walk through the massacre, ignoring the other clan and the rebels unlucky enough to still be alive. There was only one thing in her mind.

One of her soldiers was panicking slightly by the stables, for a mare was throwing a fit, a huge one. It kicked and screeched, desperate to get free and run. The guard was doing his best to tie her up and calm her down.

Nerys approached with a haunted expression. The soldier flinched when he saw her there, not having expected her to return so hastily from the town. Her next question was hushed, but she worded it firmly.

“Where?”

He did not understand her demand. And so, she took a deep breath and moved away, ignoring him and Bastian’s horse. Her mind was screaming in alarm, for her instincts told her far too many things. The blood was everywhere. Its scent sickened her, and at the same time invigorated her senses. Her heart was beating in a rhythm that no vampire would feel in normal circumstances, for she smelled gore. It did not awaken her hunger, it only made her fear.

She marched ahead strongly, ignoring all around her, everything. Past all the death and red carnage, she could smell the blood… his. She could always recognize it anywhere, its scent was unforgettable. Each time it was given willfully, she felt shame. And if it ever flowed without her being the one to spill it, she dreaded.

Her steps were headed for the source of the scent. A horrible terror was twisting her heart. She feared that he was wounded, perhaps dead. There was no doubt in her mind; he was injured, at the bare minimum. The smell of blood intensified the more she advanced, the gates soon far behind. She neared the flaming ruins that everyone avoided, drawn to them.

She did not care about the embers she walked upon. The smoke and blackness that engulfed her did not make her falter. Her claws sunk into the debris, and she climbed past it strongly. Soon, she saw what hid in the shadows. Far too many things were wrong. She was contemplating the core of the devastation, which had crept over what she was meant to shield. The timber and stone that once sheltered her subjects were scattered all around her, painted in red. In between the ruin, there was a faint heartbeat, weak. Her green eyes discerned two figures, past the embers and gusts of smoke.

Nerys saw Bastian. She froze for a moment, haunted by the sight. Her blood ran cold, in a way that the disease could never make her feel. She saw him there, pinned against some fallen stones by a vampire. Not any beast, but Idris. His fangs were sunk in his neck, having ripped skin and flesh.

Bastian was extremely pale, unconscious, battered and cold. Idris did not know Nerys was there, aware of his feral frenzy. He was enjoying the kill, grinning sickly as he fed. She shivered, for she saw one of those claws rise. It neared that bloodied neck, to finish the job. Those sharp nails brushed his skin… but they did not sink and slash as intended.

Those dusky eyes opened wide, seeing a huge claw slam around his wrist. He did not have time to react to that fact, because another claw gripped his head and yanked back strongly, calculatedly. His maws released the human, forcefully.

Nerys pulled the bastard off, and with no more claws or fangs keeping Bastian in a deadly hold, he fell down to the ground like a ragdoll.

Idris almost choked with the blood he had been savouring, because he was pushed and slammed against nearby rubble, fiercely. He opened his eyes after the hit and saw two sharp emeralds glinting over him.

Her eyes were feral, full of ire, disgust and rage. She seemed to grow in size as she took a growled breath, her expression one that could inflict nightmares in the most beastly of vampires. Her voice did not sound human, demanding and wrathful.

“I told you to help my people… Yet I find you here, killing.”

Idris was not one to cower. He stood tall with a groan and smiled once more, showing again his common derision, even if he knew he was walking on thin ice.

“I was killing, indeed.” Nerys was unfazed by the next accusation. “You seem to have botched the execution you were meant to carry through. He has avoided punishment, and I was simply setting things right.”

Her eyes were glaring into his, unblinking. For once, she was displaying the stance of a predator, enraged and bloodthirsty. Her voice was calm and composed, but she was struggling to not rip him to pieces.

“Nothing is right, not thanks to you. Look at my fortress you piece of…” She clenched a claw and hissed at him, voicing her ultimatum. “To hell with protocol… My land has been attacked, and you have let many of my subjects die, denying them aid. I will need every single surviving human, so you won’t be killing any of them. My word is law, and I say it is time you leave my territory. You’ve overstayed your welcome. It would be a shame if you made me spill more blood…”

There was a warning in those last words. If she had to claw his throat open, she would. She would show no hesitance, for she wished to do it with all her heart.

Idris understood her threat, but he could not afford to comply with it. His eyes glanced sideways subtly, hinting dread as they observed the human lying on the ground. He could not leave and let him live, not now. Death was needed, he had said too much.

Nerys was glad that she had rushed back and let her men help the villagers, for this bastard did not desist in his murderous ploys. Her green eyes sharpened even more, because she saw him tense, open his claws and lean his feet.

Idris tried to lunge onto Bastian indeed, but Nerys got in between with a sharp dash. Both vampires clashed, all pretence of concord dying. Her eyes narrowed, for she now knew for sure there had been a fight before her arrival. She was gripping his raised claw strongly, and that allowed her to see the horrible burns on it. There was desperation in those murderous eyes, and even his voice hinted how much he wished to kill.

“You bring disgrace to our kind by letting that scum live! I won’t tolerate the weakness of a delusional youngling!”

Nerys punched Idris strongly and sent him to the ground, leaving a nasty mark on his face. He held his jaw as she growled deeply, warning him for the last time.

“I’m not the weakling here, you aged mass of faeces. Not even in millennia will you manage to attain the strength I’ve gained after my recent siring. Furthermore, my past tenacity would have been enough to erase you from existence…” She looked behind her for a moment, and then kept herself from killing, knowing she could not waste time. “Leave, before I decide to rip you to pieces. I’ll deal with your shitty diplomacy when I care about it.”

Idris felt rage when Nerys turned away and ignored him. She gave him her back and began to approach Bastian instead. Her eyes could only look at him, deadly worried, for she was able to tell he was bleeding severely.

Both vampires felt ire and dread, but for different motives. Of the two, he was the one to lose himself in his instincts, much more feral and vile. He yelled at her furiously, his conceited emotions contrasting hers greatly.

“Why do you care so much for that insignificant rebel?! He has brought you nothing but trouble!”

Nerys halted and tensed instantly. Idris slammed a claw onto his mouth, cursing mentally. Her eyes glinted darkly as she turned her head to look back at him, her next whisper quiet but growled.

“Only my court knew of his past.”

He just had a small lapse, he could still fix this. His next smile was nervous, yet he kept his tone composed as he tried to excuse his awareness.

“Anyone can see what he was! His hate for our race is clear, always there in his eyes! When he saw me looking for survivors, all alone, he tried to stab me with a stake! He saw a chance to end a vampire, and took it!”

She was not falling for it. Her expression darkened even more, and then she turned and took a step towards him.

“He would never do that. You, on the other hand…” She finally accused him, aware of his ploys. “Now I see why I kept feeling like something was wrong. All those accidents, they were due to your obsession, which is worse than thought. You knew he was a rebel, and you wanted him dead at all costs.”

Her claws clenched slowly, and then she loomed over him, finally making him cower. She let out the next words with the most resentful glare she could muster, allowing him to know he was in dire danger.

“Your clan is known to spy, Idris.”

Nerys was not stupid; she was tying the knots in her mind. A soon as Idris set eyes on Bastian, he did all he could to kill him, and only him. It was not due to simple spite.

The letter…

Lochan said that he saw a scout that day, which went away to report their presence. Yet Bastian did not know they were there, he was told that the ruins were empty. It was clear that the messenger never made it back alive to the camp, and that someone else assumed the role.

Idris knew that no words would fool Nerys, for there was murderous intent in her eyes. And so, he tried to bolt to safety, before it was too late. He did not make it. When he attempted to climb some ruins to reach his clan and seek help, a claw latched strongly around one of his arms, pulling him back fiercely. She dragged him close, to growl down at him, face to face.

Her green eyes were piercing him, like if he was mere prey. She had her other claw raised, near his neck. Her blood boiled even more when he overcame his alarm and smirked at her, taunting her.

“You should be grateful for that missive I left him, Nerys… Look how far you’ve come, admire your supremacy! I led you to greatness!”

She had not found glory, but misery. All that she loved, she had lost. She would never see her family and former allies again. Her very existence was a threat for the two she had always wished to shield. She was stolen from her life.

“You took away my humanity…”

There was nothing but pained grief in those words, yet he retorted with malicious derision.

“I guided you to the most significant fate you could aspire to! Human lives are fleeting and worthless! Your venture into those ruins was valuable for all! Perhaps I did not get rid of that winged imp, but the insurgence lost a general, and we procured an heir for the most powerful bloodline!” He scoffed and tensed, moving subtly. “If you truly resent living, however… I’ll solve it!”

She hissed, for he swung a claw and sunk his nails into her side. The stab made her let go of him instinctively, and that gave him a chance against her.

Nerys took a strong step back, for Idris pushed her fiercely with both arms. She recovered from the shove quickly, just in time to see him lunge. He tackled her, but she was ready for it, her stance defensive.

She moved backwards, shielding herself with her arms, while he advanced against her with fast swipes of claw. His hits and slashes were continuous and wild, forcing her to focus on stopping the hits instead of countering.

Although she did a good job of stopping his swings, she soon hit her back against a pile of debris. She hissed, feeling the embers brush her. He saw her flinch, and for it, he readied a strike that would pierce her chest. Sadly for him, he was not the only one able to scheme.

Her green eyes glinted, calculatedly. Before his claw could dash and stab, she moved her own. He screeched loudly, for she struck the debris behind her and flung some embers onto his face. While she could endure fire, others were right to fear it. He recoiled in agony, showing his fangs in a choked scream. The cinders scorched the right side of his face, leaving it withered and scarred.

Idris covered his eye with both his claws, dazed and blinded. Nerys stood tall with a huff, for once proud of her tainted blood. She would have contemplated the irony of his injury if she was not lost in her wrath. He cried out in pain when she sent him to the ground with a fierce punch, aimed at his mouth and exposed fangs. There was nothing he could do as she pinned him, sitting on her knees on top of his torso.

She wasted no time and did not hold back. With a deep growl, she raised her fists over her head, to then bring them down brutally. She punched and slashed at his face, one claw at a time. He hissed with each hit, every consecutive one leaving him more breathless. His mouth opened, in an attempt to speak, but he was silenced by her frenzied strikes. She kept on hitting, viciously, in a trance.

Soon, there was a loud crack. His skull sunk on itself with a bloody rip, but she did not react to it. His body lied below her, torn apart. That dusky eye was staring at the rising smoke above, wide yet empty. He was dead, yet she kept mangling him, lost in her rage.

She felt far too many things. Her mind would never be able to express the hate and outrage she felt at the moment. She would have not stopped… if not for her voracious and predatory senses.

Nerys halted slowly, feeling how her fangs sharpened. Her heart pulsed, strongly. Her feral eyes moved subtly, for she sensed a weaker heartbeat. There was a human, dying, easy prey.

I sense…

She wheezed, panting loudly. Her claws dropped, and her eyes lost the inhumanity and fury they had displayed. She regained her mind, the whispering beast drowned by her dread and disquiet. She looked at the human, who she had forgotten in her frenzy. Her eyes fixated on Bastian, his unmoving figure. Even if the smoke veiled it, she could still see the red gleams that surrounded him.

Nerys got up and left behind the corpse of the one who led her to this nightmare. She cried and let herself fall to her knees, quick to reach for Bastian. Her claws pulled him close, to cradle him. She ignored all instinct when she contemplated the blood, which was all over him, still dripping from his neck. There were slashes on his frame, and he had a severe wound on his throat, where he had been bitten.

He was as white as snow. And so, she brushed his chest, dreadfully. His skin was as cold as hers, and his pulse was weak, even if rapid. His heart was trying to hold on… for he was dying.

Nerys began to breathe erratically, overwhelmed by fear. She raised her gaze and looked all around her, dismayed by the debris that loomed high over them. The bleeding needed to be stopped, and she could not afford to drag him over the ruin. She could only call, desperately.

“Help! I- I need-!”

Her expression contorted, showing nothing but horror. She could hear her people roaming by the carnage left by the battle, trying to establish some order, yelling orders. All were trying to make sense of the chaos around them, many flames still flowing high in the air. Most vampires were scouting the inner wings and underground areas, seeking possible survivors or lurking rebels.

She would not get help, not between these isolated flaming ruins. Even if aid were to reach him… it would not save him. One single glance told her enough. No human would endure such injuries, far too damming to mend. He would die, in her arms.

No…

No human would live to tell, indeed. Her heart pulsed strongly, once more. She shed more tears, for her mind screamed, far too many things. Her fangs sharpened, and her claws held him tighter.

There was a way out, the only alternative… and she could do nothing but follow her instincts. She sunk her fangs, one last time.