The coldness was unbearable. But that, he still could not recognize. He could not perceive the screaming, the fervent arguing, or the echo of a grief-stricken voice that roared to be left alone. He did not feel the strong hold of the arms that carried him, nor how they let him go after a while. The cold was the only thing that seemed to exist.

That pervading sensation lasted for a long while. For how long, he could not comprehend either. Time did pass, however. Not that much, yet it felt like an eternity. With it, he finally sensed it… the pain.

His whole body began to shiver, softly at first. He finally felt all the wounds he had endured, but one more than any other. A horrible ache pulsed in his neck, and it only intensified. It seeped into his veins, acutely.

Something settled into his heart, invasively. It made him feel cold as ice, and at the same time, he was burning. He felt like if he was being consumed by flames, tied onto a pyre, like the many vampires he had seen executed in his life.

It was torturous, and yet, he was not even capable of realizing he was feeling it. He shook and trembled, struggling to move. If he could, he would have screamed. Two sharp eyes watched intently in the dark, for hours, not once looking away as he underwent that agony.

Nerys observed silently, wishing she could stop this. She did not want to see this. But it was happening, by her choice and doing. It killed her inside, yet she could not bring herself to regret it. Death had been escaped, but this still felt like it. She saw Bastian twist on the bed, open his mouth as if to scream, yet no sound came out. His expression was one of anguish, his face was pale, and his frame kept convulsing.

She could do nothing but wait, watch how he winced and shifted weakly. It was only a matter of time… Soon, those teeth he showed in his silent wheezes sharpened. His canines turned into fangs, and in their slow painful growth, they brushed and cut his lower lip.

Nerys kneeled by the bed, refusing to even touch him. He would not feel it. If she tried to hold him while he convulsed, he would struggle in instinctive fear. Deep inside, past all that horrible dazing pain, she knew that Bastian was aware, in a very primal way.

His hands kept trembling and clenching, trying to grasp something, anything. She was not surprised when he managed to rip apart the blankets below him, with his sheer grip, no sharp claws needed.

She could see those human nails change very subtly, so faintly that there was almost no difference. There was a slight edge to them now. A keen eye could notice that his face displayed sharper features as well. There was only one thing that she could not observe yet, due to the fact that his eyes were closed. In time, she would see that change too, no matter how much she dreaded it.

When those eyes opened, at last, they were no longer as she remembered. Both had displayed a beautiful grey tonality, even if one was blinded and glazed. Now, however… there was a silvery gleam to them, the only thing that glinted in the dark room. His gaze had been soft and gentle before, yet now it was nothing but sharp and feral.

Nerys winced when he heard Bastian take a breath at last, after having been struggling to do so for hours. He panted on the bed, staring dazedly at the ceiling, not really capable of seeing. She decided it was finally time to reach for him, because he was beginning to feel the horrible sensations that came with consciousness. When he leaned to a side with a pained jolt, she held him with her claws, to prevent him from falling off the bed. He began to cough, growl and wheeze, all at once.

Many vampires claimed that this change was a divine blessing, a gift that made them superior, perhaps gods. It was no gift, however. This was nothing but a disease. Once the early stages of it were left behind, it was very easy to pretend it was not, beguiled by power and fortitude. All gladly forgot their first moments, in which they were nothing.

The siring of a vampire implied suffering, unavoidable and devastating. All went to hell and back in their rebirth. The unending thirst would awaken, in the worst of manners. And in such agony, there was weakness. Only time brought resilience and power, and not all survived to attain it.

This was a curse, and she had afflicted him with it. There was pain in his gaze, which brought fear and urgency. She held him tighter, because with each second that passed his blind struggles against her grasp intensified. It was not only due to the pain.

He made a noise she knew well, a deep growled intake of air. She cringed, because those silver eyes scoured the surrounding darkness, ignoring her completely. There was no recognition in his gaze, for he only sought one thing.

She did not let go when he tried to free himself, because he would head for the door. It took a few pulls for him to realize that he was being held back, and when he did notice, he reacted irately and blindly.

Nerys contained a hiss when Bastian clawed at her, with a growl. He began to hit her, to try to escape her firm grasp. She knew that he wanted to run out of the room and find prey, more than anything. The only thing in his mind was the thought of blood, he wished to kill and feed. She could not let him do that. He would never forgive himself if he mauled someone in his frenzy, she knew. The sight would scar him forever, once he regained his mind due to the bloodshed.

Still, she could not let him drink from a goblet either, not yet. If she gave him preserved blood, he would regain his senses without having bitten, and he would forever refuse to learn with a clear mind. He needed to bite now, predisposed in his daze. The memory would help him consider it again in the future if he ever needed it.

Nerys knew there was only one option. Bastian would indeed bite and feed, desperate to soothe the horrible pain that plagued him. And so, she raised a claw and cut her own wrist faintly, letting a few droplets of her own blood flow.

He did not react at first. The blood of a vampire did not stir the hunger they felt, it did not alert their senses, for it was tainted with the same affliction. Perhaps it did contain traces that could help with the cold, but it was less effective and soothing.

His instincts called for fresh blood, but he could not reach it. She kept pulling him close, forcing him to see those droplets on her wrist. There were many heartbeats outside, but he was kept from nearing them. She was the only living being he could grip.

He struggled for a full hour, but then he began to tire. His efforts grew lethargic, weakened greatly by the pain. His sharp eyes hinted even more desperation, confused sorrow. She watched carefully as he glanced slowly at her wrist, dazedly.

His expression twisted into a grimace when she leaned her wrist closer, with a firm look he did not understand. He only saw red. Everything around him was tainted by a bloody shade… Yet he wished for it to intensify.

He did not even realize that he bared his fangs and grasped her arm strongly. She did not even flinch when he bit into her flesh, her expression impassive and observant. There was no doubt in her as she let him reach for what he needed.

Bastian drank urgently at first, but with each consecutive intake of blood, he slowed down. Once more, she waited. The change was not something that could be rushed or reasoned against.

She averted her gaze slightly, for the act of feeding on another vampire was usually frowned upon. It was seen as barbaric if done in a desperate attempt to satiate the thirst. Otherwise, it was an intimate exchange, only committed in ardent kinship.

She did not bother to think much of it. The only thing that mattered to her was his wellbeing. And so, she let him drink her blood without hesitance, allowing him all that he needed. She would not die, no matter how much he took from her. It would weaken her, but she would drink herself once he recovered.

The change demanded a lot of blood… but not that much was needed for a fledgling to regain awareness. His vision had been hazy, he only saw red. He had not been able to think, but with each drop of blood that flowed into him, another fragment of his conscience would be restored.

His distorted sight began to clear, and he felt less cold, even if he still burned. He did not recognize what was happening, not immediately. It took him a while to understand the sensations that tormented him, and what he was seeing.

Nerys blinked, because Bastian seemed to tense, more than he had been. All of the sudden, he stopped taking blood; she felt how the fangs that pierced her flesh trembled. She looked down subtly and saw that there was slight clarity in those gleaming silver eyes.

First, there was realization, and it soon turned into horror. He stopped biting, not instantly. His fangs slid out of her wrist as he wheezed in fear. Her heart broke when he leaned away sharply, with a terrified grimace.

He was fast to raise a hand to his mouth, while his eyes looked at everything and nothing at once. Neither was able to say anything, for a whole dreadful minute. Still, even if he was silent, his mind was not. His inner terror soon surfaced. She frowned more when he finally began to hyperventilate and speak, quietly at first.

“W-what… God, is this-“ He lowered his hand from his mouth, and noted that there was something red on it. As well, he saw how pale his skin was, even if there was no light in the room. “B-bl…”

“Bastian-“

She flinched when he finally screamed, lost and petrified.

“W-why am I not dead?!” He slammed a hand onto his chest and smiled in horror when he failed to feel his own latent heartbeat. “I don’t feel a-alive either! I’m still here, b-but I-! I’m d-dreaming, right?!”

Nerys winced, because Bastian did something stupid. He bit his own lip, to try to prove he was asleep. Of course, he did not wake up. The pain of the bite flowed, and he tasted his own blood, which he somehow perceived as foul. His eyes widened, and he noticed how one of them was not as blind as before, capable of distinguishing shapes and shadows in its sharpness. Understanding began to sink in, horribly.

“God, oh god… I- I remember that bastard and-“ A sudden thought struck him. She gasped when he grabbed her arms and shook her slightly, asking in fright. “Nerys, for the love of God, tell me I was not sired by that son of a bitch! It can’t be! I- I don’t like this! Why am I-?!”

“Bastian!” He stopped screaming, because she held him back and spoke firmly, trying to calm him down. “He was not the one to bite you and inflict you with the disease… I did.”

She let go slowly and pointed at herself with her claws, knowing that he was dazed, in a state similar to a strong inebriation. It took another minute for him to understand. He did eventually, and relief was obvious in his eyes. It did not last for more than a couple of seconds. Another thought struck him, as he recalled what that monster had whispered mockingly. She was not surprised when he screamed again.

“N-nerys, he-!”

She stopped him, grasping him gently and looking into his eyes.

“He tried to kill you because he was the one to report that those ruins were empty, having gotten rid of your scout beforehand.”

He blinked, but then groaned and held his head, trying to battle the fogginess in his mind.

“H-how… How do you-?”

Nerys sighed, speaking slowly so Bastian could hear and process every word.

“I caught him red-handed, about to kill you. We… had a scuffle, during which he confessed. He’s dead, Bastian.”

The one that caused all this was gone. Yet she felt no solace, no relief. He felt the same way, she knew. He chuckled, slightly out of it, staring at nothing as he managed a choked whisper.

“D-dead… B-but he- I was-“ He really did not know what to say, so the most horrible notion was voiced. “Why am I a vampire?”

That was the only thought in his mind, horrible and haunting. She could see that he was having a hard time coming to terms with reality, battling his own senses, so she spoke softly and gently.

“As I said, I bit you.”

“B-but… W-why?”

There was hurt in his gaze. He was looking up at her in fear, lost.

“Your wounds were far too severe, and you bled too much. You were going to die.” She eyed his neck, which had not healed yet. “I had to.”

He could not accept the facts; this fate twisted him in more than in one sense. He felt… disgust, for himself.

“I… I don’t want to be this! I can’t be! I- I was-!”

“Human?” Bastian looked at Nerys again and saw how grieving her expression was. “I was human too, once.”

“N-no, I-“ He cried out, unable to keep down his feelings. “I can’t endure this existence like you! It’s not life, it’s-!”

“Do you wish I had let you die?” He heard perfectly the tone of those words. His silver eyes looked sideways at her green ones, and he saw clearly the hurt in them. Regret began to sink into her heart, and his hesitance to answer only made it more painful. “Do you?”

When he replied quietly, she felt relief, because she saw the fear of death in those teary eyes.

“No.”

There was no lie, no doubt in that simple word. He had always feared death, as much as he had sought it before.

“I couldn’t let you go…” She averted her gaze, for she was unnerved, even if she made the right choice. “There was no other way for me to save you. It was a dead end.”

Bastian hugged himself with a grimace, shivering. He felt extremely cold, yet it was like if there was fire in his veins, flowing through his whole body. She noticed well how he closed his eyes, hoping to ignore something, far too many things.

“I am-“ She did not know how she managed to not cry when he asked in fear and pain. “I hear heartbeats, b-but not my own. I sense…”

The sound echoed, faintly, yet it was as loud as thunder. He could sense blood, and not the one that dripped from her wrist. It was inside the veins of others. He did not know where, but he was sure that he would find it easily.

His fangs hurt like hell. Everything did. And he could swear that something was pulling at him, whispering in his mind with his own voice. The only thing he could feel was pain, and it was drowning his thoughts.

She could not bear the sight of his pained shudders. He did not react when she moved away from the bed. She headed towards the door, knowing that it was time for her to bring some blood. He needed it, for he had almost died, and the change required it.

When she opened the door slightly, he let out a gasped hiss. A very faint trail of light came into the chamber, and it was enough to hurt him slightly. She quickly closed again and looked back at him, with a sad expression.

“Cover yourself with the blankets and wait for me.” His eyes hinted dread for her words, and she did not know if it was because of the forthcoming light or the blood she would bring. She saw him try to stand, perhaps to cower away into the nearby bathroom, so she warned. “Stay in bed.”

She was not surprised when he obeyed instantly. He was much more baffled by the fact, finding himself unable to act upon his thoughts, only her command. When she opened the door again, he barely reacted to it, because she got out swiftly. She used her own figure to block the light, knowing that it was harmful to fledglings like him. He was left alone to cry as she left her chambers.

When she got out into the outer dark corridor, she was not surprised to see her three officials there, accompanied by two servants. They looked up as soon as she approached. They shared the same grief, for all had known of Martha’s death. It had not been easy to accept. Her new second in command had a depressed look on his stern gaze, but he had made sure to step into the role as diligently as possible, knowing well that she needed someone to supervise the castle while she ensured Bastian’s survival.

“Any more incidents?”

She had made sure to stay informed, even while overseeing the change. Her right hand snarled and sighed, to then explain the current situation.

“Sire, we have managed to keep them all under control. They are still ravenous and angry for the loss of their bringer, but their outrage has faded. It seems that the second in line has wasted no time in asserting his rise in the hierarchy… His interests differ greatly from the ones of his ancestor, so we believe they won’t seek much retribution.”

Like sire, like scion. All of them were thirsty for power, and greed would drown any possible grief that instinct could inflict. When they found out Idris was dead, they did make a fuss, some lunging into a brawl with some of her brethren. But they knew to cower when they saw her in a furious daze, roaring in anger and heartache.

Her officials were able to make the other clan leave the fortress, and establish some kind of order. She knew that they were still searching corpses, digging through the ruins. It would take days to restore what was destroyed, while the lives that had been lost would forever be gone.

I am ignoring them all, for one.

Nerys bit her lip, unable to endure her most painful emotions. She allowed herself to trust in her officials, even if she lost her most loyal one.

“You have my gratitude… I- I need to-“

“No need to explain, sire. We have everything under control, for now. The castle and village are secured, so you may rest easy. If we must, we will seek your aid.”

She gave them a thankful look, seeing nothing but determination in their jade eyes, past their own sorrow. The two humans present showed the same dedication, her regards to them no different. They lifted a cask they had brought and handed it to her. Its contents were scarce now, due to the fact that the storage had burned down, yet they gave it to her without doubt.

She contained her tears and simply nodded when she took the cask. Her officials said nothing as she turned, in order to go back into her dark chambers. Inside them, a figure wheezed and coughed.

Bastian had eventually tried to get up from bed, fighting the strange reluctance he felt. The pain that flowed through his body was much more persuasive than the words of his sire. He could not ignore the burning hunger.

He had fallen to the ground, onto his hands and knees, struck by an intense surge of agony. His fangs showed as he let out a faint cry, while one of his hands latched around his neck in reflex.

I need-

When the door of the room opened and light brushed him, he made a sound he did not think possible, a half-choked growl. She was fast to close the door behind her, holding the cask with her other arm. Her expression hinted disapproval, because she saw him cower back until he hit a wall, to then sit there in a daze. She approached him slowly, calling softly.

“Bastian.”

The echo of her voice seemed to help him regain his mind slightly, once more. His gaze was lost, and confused. She knew that he was struggling to think, keep himself aware. The disease was taking over, and his sanity was hanging on by a thread.

When she showed him the cask, there was a glint in his sharp eyes, full of hunger and understanding. For a moment, there was desire, he knew there was blood. Soon enough, however, that craving was gone. He latched desperately onto his waning humanity, leaning away with a look of disgust and horror. His hands moved up in front of him while he shook his head, reflecting his dread and alarm.

“K-keep it away! I can’t-“

“You must.”

Nerys let down the cask and grabbed a goblet, intending on filling it. That made Bastian stand sharply, for he was haunted by the sight. He tried to retreat, but he struggled to do so.

“No, please, I-“ Another wheeze escaped him, because she poured blood into the goblet. “I don’t-“

His head pounded, and his own thoughts drowned his words, loudly.

It burns.

She was not surprised when he trembled and slammed his hands onto his head, hissing strongly.

“G-god! Make it stop!”

She stood tall and outstretched her claw, displaying the goblet calmly, patiently.

“If you drink-“

He growled deeply and sent a chair to the ground with a swing of hand, with a force he did not know he had.

“I won’t!” His fangs showed as he screamed, denying fervently his newfound needs. He could only cry, because his voice did no longer sound human, far too feral. “I won’t consume the life of others! I can’t!”

She gave him a stern look and stepped closer, looming over him. Her next word was an order, harsh in its care.

“Drink.”

He stared at the goblet dazedly, unable to look away from it. Her command echoed strongly in his mind, and it somehow was chaining his will, his instincts disturbed and called upon. Fledglings always felt bound to the wishes of their sires. But he was too stubborn to surrender to those urges. He would not yield, not for her, and much less for the hunger.

“N-no.” She frowned when he took another step back, refusing to take the blood that his body pleaded for. “T-take it away… I won’t drink. I don’t want to be like- It was a vampire who caused all this. You-“

“I am a vampire, Bastian. And so are you now.” He winced, because her next whisper struck deep. “Remember your own words… You have to accept what you are.”

Vampire.

That word had always been spat with disgust, by everyone he had known. It was used as a curse, an insult. All three had spoken it with hate, with no doubt. It was a word his father let out with loathing, in his last moments.

I am…

He had lost all that defined him, to a horrible bloodlust. It was a hunger that was too strong to ignore, everlasting and insatiable. It ripped him apart, inside out. His life had been twisted unnaturally, and the world had nothing but repulsion for it.

Nerys watched silently as Bastian let himself drop to his knees with a choked sob, covering his eyes with his claws.

“I c-cannot b-be-“

Bastian stopped thinking, for he broke down. Nerys sighed grievingly and moved the goblet away, to then sit on the ground by his side. He just kept on wheezing, convulsing as he cried. She laid her claws on his shoulders and held him close to comfort him, but he did not feel it.

She always hated to see the change, but this was far more disturbing. She did not want to witness this… but there was no way for her to evade it.