Another day… Like in many others, she halted in front of the door, to then take a deep breath. Her claw pushed slowly, and she invited herself in.

She had expected to see Bastian moping again, perhaps near the desk, or in a dark corner between furniture. Much like his crow, he now loved to hide away. The bathroom was a good place to do so; he was indeed there at the moment, but he had not locked himself in it like other times. The door was open.

Nerys watched curiously, because Bastian was looking at himself in a mirror. He had not broken that one, for she made sure to turn it around before he could shatter it. It seemed that he had gathered enough courage to finally examine his features.

His focus was so intense, that he did not sense her presence. He was brushing his face with a hand, frowning. His skin was pale, yet it was regaining some colour. However, his expression was sharpening subtly, and it bothered him. Her green eyes narrowed, because he opened his mouth and began to tug angrily at his fangs, which had grown even more.

“Don’t pull at them.”

He yelped strongly and thrashed to look back. His slow heartbeat fastened when he noticed her there, in the main room, staring at him with a disapproving scowl.

“H-how long have you been there?!”

She rolled her eyes.

“Not much, but enough to see you were plotting something stupid.” There was a shaving knife on the sink, and she could read his anxious expression like a book. “Give me that.”

She took the knife in a blink, hiding it promptly in a pocket. He protested, of course.

“Give it back! I w-was shaving!”

When he tried to steal it from her, she tapped his chin with a flick of nail, keeping him off gently but efficiently.

“Oh, were you? I think you’re pretty much done… There’s no trace of fuzz on your face.” She dropped all pretence of ignorance and leaned very close, to whisper a very serious warning. “Fangs grow back.”

Bastian slumped subtly, and his anxious expression hinted that he was reconsidering his plan. Even Nadiya was eyeing him intensely from a shelf, somehow as perspective as Nerys. Still, those green eyes stopped glaring when he sighed sadly and lamented.

“I- I don’t want to change.” He raised his hands a little and observed how his fingernails were turning black, hardening and sharpening. “Will I end up having claws like yours?”

She raised hers tiredly, mourning the fact that her fingers had merged into three thick nails long ago. The word hand could no longer be applied to what she was seeing, talon would be more appropriate.

“Yes, with time.” It took months or years for that change to happen if one was not a lord. Lesser vampires gained traits at a much slower rate. “I don’t think that you-“

She shut up, because he interrupted her in fright, alarmed by the notion.

“I got scars, a blind eye, fangs… and now I’ll grow talons?! In what other ways will my body be twisted?!” Nerys opened her mouth, intending to explain that a vampire always developed the traits of their sire. Sadly, Bastian spoke first, sweating coldly due to his aversion. “Don’t tell me! I rather not know! G-god, I don’t want to imagine my skin breaking apart to harden into jagged scales, nor my shoulder blades twisting into horrid wings! I know there are worse things, and I don’t want any of them!”

“Bastian, my clan does not have-“

“Not yet! Y-your clan is young! For all we know, you could grow horns, a damn tail, or-!”

“It does not work like that. Even if my bloodline did follow such evolution, it would take centuries for-“

“Centuries! That sounds like an infinite amount of time, but it will pass! You don’t age anymore, and I won’t either! We both were young, and now much more as vampires! You could gain those traits, eventually! And then I will as well! I’ll become an abomination!”

She sighed, because he raised a finger and began to count all the traits he had seen or heard about. With him having been a captain that disposed of more information than a civilian, it would take him a while to finish. And so, she closed the door of the bathroom slowly; he was so focused on his own anxious words that he did not notice. A crow gave her an inquisitive stare, and she returned the glance tiredly.

All her other fledglings had been more attentive to her guidance than him. Luckily, she was a patient teacher.

———

The sun shined strongly, yet two wings batted without hesitance below it. A hood protected his sharp eyes from the light as he soared above the fields, guided by a fierce breeze. He had flown for days, fast. But the sunlight and tiredness would not make him halt; he was resilient and determined. He would reach his destination, he needed to.

Lochan finally saw the huge fortress in the distance. It had always been grand. Now, however, its sight was not as imposing. His eyes saw exactly what he had been told of… the castle had suffered an incursion.

A tower was gone. Most walls displayed the horrible marks of fire, and some structures were scorched. All was being repaired diligently, but it was clear that the courtyard had been witness to horrible chaos. There were still faint red stains on the ground, and a lot of debris was still waiting to be removed.

Her domain had been struck deeply, but the reports assured that she was still alive. Nevertheless, he knew that she surely was as torn as her fortress.

Lochan soared over the towers for a while, circling the balcony where he always landed. He perched onto the railing with ease and then inched closer to the window, to peek into the throne room. She was not there. Her officials were, however. They were arguing, discussing all the issues that the incursion caused. The matters were important, but they were handling them for her.

He looked sideways, because he heard the echo of another argument coming from an outer corridor. Her voice flowed to him, not too distant. And so, he jumped down from the window, uncaring of how he startled a guard that stood nearby. No one halted him as he marched forward, for he was always welcome.

He walked through the gloomy corridors, leaving behind the throne room. With each step he took, he heard her voice more clearly, and it soon became apparent that she was yelling.

“Drop that key right now!”

“No! Let me do it!”

“You said drinking would be a waste! You’ll retch this too!”

“I need to try!”

“I’ve tried! It won’t work, you idiot! What makes you think you’re different?!”

Lochan finally reached the kitchens where Nerys sometimes roamed. He halted, surprised, because he saw something he never thought he would witness. She was running about, trying to catch a fledgling that kept dodging her, key in hand.

Bastian panted, avoiding yet another swing of claw, which would have allowed Nerys to pull at him if it had made contact. She was glaring at him with the most exasperated expression she could muster.

There were a lot of empty plates on the counters and table, like if someone had tried to eat a lot. Bastian managed to put some distance between Nerys and him, finally facing the door that led to a big meat locker.

“I need blood, right?!”

She growled, because she saw how her fledgling ignored all instincts brought by her command, proceeding to open the door with the key he stole. He had become even more agile, and it was something she had trouble controlling.

Lochan stared as Nerys surrendered with a sobbed sigh, while Bastian bolted into the locker where all the meat was kept. She whispered tiredly, in a last-ditch attempt to reason.

“I told you, it doesn’t work like that.”

Nerys had not noticed Lochan there, so she was slightly startled when he commented behind her.

“He’s a vampire.”

She finally raised her gaze, frowning. He was staring at her, with that annoying curiosity of his.

“What are you doing here?”

He leaned his head, sardonically.

“I could ask you the same. You have suffered a serious incursion, and I was sure you would be sulking in the throne room or in your chambers… Yet I find you here, in the kitchens, with-”

“Dammit!”

Both lords looked into the meat storage. The fledgling spat out a chunk of raw beef he tried to eat, with a disgusted grimace. He raised a hand and brushed his sleeve against his mouth and jaw, trying to get rid of the blood he had choked with. His sire peeked in and tried to reason once more.

“This blood won’t satiate you…”

He leaned away from the beef and growled, eyeing some venison instead.

“M-maybe another type will!”

Bastian dashed and bit onto another kind of meat, prompting Nerys to sigh with resignation. Lochan looked at the counters and knew immediately that she had been busy cooking. Indeed, she had tried to lift his spirits with some food, but he had not been satisfied by anything. No matter what he ate, his unnatural appetite was barely soothed, and that led him to become more distraught.

“Let me guess…”

“He’s desperate, yes.”

First, there was denial, then anger. He was trying to bargain right now, and she knew he would feel extreme sorrow and resignation before he accepted the facts.

Inside the locker, Bastian ran out of meat to bite into, he tried them all. He slumped and shivered, staring at his own hands as he whispered shakily.

“I- I just-“ His eyes glinted in the shadows as he looked at them both, despairing. “There has to be a way.”

Bastian snarled, because Lochan retorted bluntly, uncaring of his conflicted emotions.

“There is. Human blood. You’re a fool if you think feeding from an animal will sate you. Weren’t you a rebel? Please.”

It was her who hissed at his insensitive words.

“Not helping.”

Lochan just shrugged, scolding Nerys as much.

“Why did you even sire him?! He does not have what it takes to be a vampire! Just look at him! He’d rather eat raw meat than drink blood! I can see clearly that you have not managed to control him and make him feed!”

She growled and showed her fangs, disliking his arrogance and ignorance.

“I had to sire him!” Lochan leaned a little away, because Nerys would not be as patient with him as she was with Bastian. “Have you not seen the chaos that my castle has suffered?! Surely, you must have heard that Idris is dead! Do the math, Lochan!”

The winged lord crossed his arms, scowling.

“I did hear that Idris died during the incursion… That is why I’m here, worried for you. You are in big trouble, you know?”

“Don’t remind me.”

Bastian finally left the locker, listening grimly as Lochan admonished Nerys, out of care.

“People are saying that you killed Idris yourself, even if your diplomats affirm that a rebel did it. You have gained the animosity of all clans, and they have closed their borders to yours. Although no lord has declared war, your domain is still threatened; they will offer no aid if you need it. I’m not supposed to be here either…” He looked sideways, noticing guilt in those silver eyes. “Still, I understand why you ripped him apart.”

Both lords stayed quiet, speaking without words; their expressions were telling enough. Lochan knew that Nerys was aware of the repercussions of her actions, so he decided to change the subject. He began to circle Bastian, who did not appreciate his prying glances.

“I’ve never seen a fledgling defy their sire.”

“Don’t call me that. And I don’t owe any obedience to anyone!” He crossed his arms and growled without realizing it. “I just want to figure things out, alright?!”

Both stared at him, blankly. Then they scolded him, not even as a vampire able to escape their autocracy.

“Technically, you should obey her. You are now part of her clan, her bloodline. Even more, she is letting you reside in her castle. She has welcomed you into her court, while other lords wouldn’t have doubted to let you survive alone.”

“Figure things out… Yes, you have been doing a great job at that.” She raised a nail and then began to count how many times he had ignored her advice. “You tried to cut your nails and fangs. The pantries are empty, thanks to your frantic rapaciousness. I will have to eat all the meat you’ve bitten so it doesn’t go to waste. And let’s not forget the time I found you out of it, somehow lost in your own chambers, because you did not heed my warning that bathing for too long would-“

“Ugh!” Nerys was not surprised when Bastian slammed his hands onto his ears, refusing to listen to any more reminders. “G-give me a goddamned break!”

Lochan sighed and began to fumble with one of his wings, because Nerys did not appreciate being yelled at. She began to scold Bastian much more sternly, like an angry matriarch.

“I have given you nothing but time, and I’ve had a lot of patience! I won’t put up with your foolish imprudence any longer! Go to your chambers!”

“No, I won’t!”

Lochan’s eyes glinted with interest, because it was the first time he saw a fledgling ignore a direct command from their sire, against all instinct. Bastian turned around with a huff, and then walked out to head for the courtyard. That fact made Nerys call in worry.

“Bastian, don’t go out! The sun has risen!”

“I don’t care!” His voice echoed from the corridor, much like his angry steps, decided. “Maybe some sunlight will help! I don’t want to end up looking like that imp!”

Nerys facepalmed with a groan, but she did not give chase. Lochan looked at his wings with an eyebrow raised, eyeing her next.

“You have told him he can’t possibly grow wings, right?”

“Oh, he knows. He just decided to insult you to vent. It’s the first time I deal with such a thickheaded fledgling…” She looked at him with a tired smile, apologetic. “Now, knowing that I can’t stop him from burning himself, I should give you my attention. Surely, you have many things to tell me.”

Lochan grew serious, even if it was hard to discern with his nonchalant stance.

“You need to explain a few things too. Like how and why you killed Idris. I may try to pull some strings in your favour, but I need details for that.” He pointed a wing, requesting and directing at once. “Let’s argue in the throne room. Your officials should hear my words too. I wonder how you’ll get out of this mess…”

She followed when he began to march, letting out a gloomy sigh.

“I would like to know too.”

Once assembled, they began to discuss the facts. Lochan detailed carefully how other clans banned commerce with her domain. If insurgents decided to strike her land, the neighbouring lords would deny military aid. That she killed Idris was no secret, but none would dare confront her directly.

He wished he could offer help, but his land was far and he had a reputation to maintain. His secretive advice was out of genuine care, for he was not meant to give it at all. It would surely take a few years for other lords to calm down and forget her transgression.

He was not the only one to offer information out of care. She explained to him what had happened, and the reasons behind it all. Idris had intended to end him in those ruins, and she did not omit that fact.

As they argued and exchanged questions, they did not notice that a figure was listening in the shadows, intently. If it had been a human, their words would not have been heard.

Bastian frowned, able to discern their voices clearly, even if he was leaning against a closed door. His expression hinted shame and anger, frustration. He walked away, having heard enough.

———–

The sun always felt nice. Not anymore. Yet he refused to move away from the arcs that he was sitting on.

His sharp silver eyes had closed an hour ago, because the bright light of the morning stung them. He was hurting, not much, but enough. His skin was itching, and his veins were pulsing. He was not breathing steadily.

He could feel the hunger, always there, omnipresent and painful. But it was not what was tormenting him now, not mainly. The sunlight was hurtful, but he did not want to cower from it. He did not want to lose something he cherished before. Even though he did not hate the darkness as much now, he still did not wish to sleep during the day. It was unnatural to him.

He had been out in the courtyard the whole day. And she deemed that it was enough. He did not flinch when her voice echoed behind him.

“I know I said that the sunlight could not kill you, but I’ve never seen a fledgling stay under it for so long. You could really get sick.”

He was sick already, of everything.

“I’m fine.”

No fledgling was this stubborn. No one dared face the sun like this during their first days as a vampire. She could not let him be this reckless.

“Don’t lie to me.” He snarled, because a claw grasped one of his arms. “Look at yourself, and then dare say that you are alright while looking me in the eye. Bastian, if you keep acting like this I won’t doubt to lock you in a dark cell, to keep you safe from your carelessness.”

Those silver eyes finally opened, reluctantly. She was not surprised when a half hissed groan escaped him, as much as he tried to contain it. He cried silently, for he could not deny or hide that he was in pain. His skin was red, and there were multiple burns on it. He had sought the sun for two consecutive days, and it had repercussions he could not keep ignoring.

“I just-“ He bowed his head, defeated. “I don’t want to stop seeing the sun. It offered me comfort so many times… I don’t want to fear it.”

The three had always gathered to watch the sunrise as kids. Of them, he had always been the one to admire it most. It symbolized safety.

Her gaze softened, and her stern expression faded completely. She sat calmly by his side and spoke as gently as she did in the past, when she was a human.

“Right now, you need to avoid the light. But just give it time, Bastian.” He looked into her green eyes sadly, because she took off her cloak and let it rest over him, to shadow his figure slightly. “All vampires can roam under the sun eventually. You will be no different. And better yet, you share my blood, so you’ll endure it faster than others. Most of my court left behind that weakness in one or two months. Just wait. You don’t need to fear it, and you won’t lose it. Think of it as… an illness that you must take care of temporarily.”

He hated being sick. Yet he did not object when a claw tugged at him softly, asking him to get up. She led him back inside, into dimly lit halls, where he would stop hurting. Still, before the sunlight stopped brushing him, he glanced one last time at the figures that roamed the courtyard. The sight of their serenity made him feel… spite.

———–

He stared into the mirror, once more. Again, the sight was haunting. The eyes he was seeing were slightly tinted in red, ravenous. Sharp fangs were peeking, the most horrid of features in that inhuman expression.

Bastian raised his hands a little and stared at his nails. They were black and sharp. The tips of his fingers were beginning to be encased by them, no longer capable of a soft touch. He hated it, with all his slow beating heart.

He slammed his claws onto the sink in anger, stabbing it faintly. By now, almost all the furniture in his chambers was adorned with scratches. He could not keep trimming his nails, not even break them. They had hardened too much.

After a while, he leaned away from the mirror, to look at himself directly. The word he most hated in the world kept echoing in his mind. This time, however, it was not his voice that whispered it.

The voice was familiar, in more than one sense. It was silenced long ago, by claws like his. It kept echoing and haunting him, like an inescapable curse. Soon enough, it grew loud as thunder, even if there was silence in his chambers. It was only an illusion, yet he could hear it clearly.

He closed his eyes, for he heard screams. They were real, born from his memories, the carnages he had witnessed. It did not take long for that one voice to turn into many, all the souls he had sworn to protect, to free. All cursed him.

In the end, the yells faded, and only one voice remained. It was one he knew well, loving in its playfulness, encouraging in its harshness. There was no joy in it now, nothing but hate, which she only gave to the worst of monsters.

All the while, there was a whisper, veiled by every single sound and thought. It was dark and voracious, predatory. It pleaded incessantly, for him to spill blood. He could not take it anymore.

“Shut up!”

Nadiya trembled and croaked faintly, for Bastian growled deeply and slammed a hand onto the sink again. He finally managed to break it.

The young vampire panted and snarled, shivering as he felt how his fangs sharpened. He was seeing red again. There were many heartbeats, far, yet seemingly close. The hunger called.

He screamed loudly and got out of the bathroom. His sharp eyes saw the scared wary look a crow was giving him, yet his enraged expression did not soften.

“Stop looking at me like that!”

Nadiya hid more in the shadows, inching away on the shelf. Bastian did not ponder or recognize her alarm, bolting out of his chambers instead. His eyes glinted in the shadows as he lurked through the huge stony corridors of the castle. He walked silently ahead, only having one thought.

I can control this. I’m no beast.

He found himself outside, below the moonlight. His figure stood so still, that he merged with the shadows cast by the pillars and arcs that surrounded the courtyard.

His vision was blurry and painted in red. Yet he saw clearly the figures ahead. Some made his insides twist. His claws opened ever so faintly, and his fangs sharpened. He stared intently at a lone human, who was taking a break, leaning against a wall by the recently restored quarters. That heartbeat was calm and unwary.

Bastian kept watching from the shadows, and with each second that passed, the burning intensified. He wanted to prove he could have control, that he was human. The hunger would not define him, he was stronger than it.

He kept repeating those words in his mind, like a mantra. Yet the more he battled his instincts, the more his thoughts twisted. Desire settled deep, and his conscience was stolen away. He did not realize how he sneaked between arcs, or how he approached the unsuspecting human.

His eyes were fixated on that neck. There was a vein there, easy to reach and pierce. His mouth opened with a sick sneer, his fangs bared. He got close, unseen, yet he did not reach his prey. The pain intensified, for the man stopped leaning against the wall and walked back into the quarters. For it, his silver eyes sharpened even more. There were many heartbeats, and a lot of blood flowed with them. They would sate the hunger, completely.

It will stop. Blood will-

Before he could follow inside, he was stopped. He tensed, because a big claw latched firmly around one of his arms. He had to look up to meet the eyes of the huge shadow looming at his side. Those emeralds were as sharp as his, but less threatening.

Nerys was frowning sadly, knowingly. Bastian struggled to discern her gaze, for everything was tainted in red. Once she saw some recognition in his eyes, she spoke slowly, calmly.

“You always watch the moon by the arcs, away from all.” She sighed, to then warn. “You won’t find what you seek here.”

Bastian finally escaped his daze. Nerys was not surprised by his denial.

“I was only having a walk! L-let me go!”

She could see the horror, the fearful realization in those silver eyes. There was also hunger. And so, she offered without accusation, pulling at him gently.

“Come, there’s blood in the storage. You can-“

“No!” Nerys gasped when Bastian clawed at her blindly, forcing her to let go. He screamed angrily, fervently. “I w-was not seeking blood! I would never!”

She knew it was a lie, directed at himself more than her. He did not want to accept the facts, but she needed him to do so.

“Bastian, you…” She spoke carefully, noting how his breathing was fastening. “I’ve seen this before. You were preying on a human. It’s a normal symptom, and-“

“I’m NOT a predator!” Nerys felt pity, because Bastian pointed at everything around him, lost in his rage. “I don’t wish to force others into submission! I’m not like you! I won’t sustain my existence by hurting others! I refuse! This disgusting disease won’t take the best of me! All of you surrender to it, like-! Like if…”

He did not finish, he couldn’t.

It is something you can only live with.

Bastian stopped screaming and paid closer mind to those green eyes. Nerys had leaned slightly away, and her expression was one of deep hurt. She was hiding it, but he knew she wished to cry. The guilt stung more than the coldness or heat in his veins.

“N-nerys I-“

“You are right.” Her gaze darkened, and her whisper was firm. “You won’t be a predator. Follow me, please.”

For once, he listened, even if reluctantly. He said nothing as she led him silently towards the storage. She did not need to pull at him to make him follow, and they soon reached the room where many casks were kept. She halted there for a few seconds. When she turned to face him, she did darkly, whispering as she motioned at all the preserved blood around them.

“Drink, and the whispers will stop. You will not lose your will to the hunger.” She stepped away, with one last lament. “I will carry the blame of the bloodshed, for all.”

Bastian could do nothing as Nerys left. His sharp eyes fixed on the casks, with a remorseful and resigned expression. All that he was seeing had been given willfully, peacefully. She had been assailed by wounding laments since she awoke in those godforsaken ruins, yet she fought them. The words he said tonight were just an echo in her mind.

He was the one to ignite her anguish, due to his lack of sight. That day, he failed to recognize a threat towards her life. And today he was blind to the pain she endured. Ignorance could not excuse him.

I’m sorry.

The fledgling cried, as so did his sire.

————–

The sunset was a beautiful sight… but he was not admiring it. His eyes were fixed on the goblet in his hand, which now was half empty.

He sat there, on the parapet of a high wall, comforted by the silence. As the sun hid, he took another small sip. He did not cough or try to ignore the sensations the blood brought. His breathing was calm, even when steps began to echo. He did not look up when his sire sat by his side.

Nerys said nothing while Bastian took his time to drink. It was not the first goblet. She knew that he had consumed all that he needed last night, for his skin was not as pale. By the time he broke the silence, the moon loomed in the sky.

“Thank you, Nerys.”

She looked down at him, with a sad frown.

“For what?”

He sighed, and then apologized.

“Everything… You have tolerated my idiocy, far too much. I’m sorry for all that I said.” He let out a sharp bitter laugh, scowling and smiling at once. “I will listen, alright? I do owe you a lot. After all, if I had been more careful that day, you wouldn’t have-“

She smacked the back of his head, harmlessly but with intent.

“Not again.”

He looked up at her, disliking that she scolded his honesty.

“But-”

She smiled and crossed her arms proudly. Her next words were let out caringly, with stern jest.

“I am your sire, and you do owe me obedience, for I gave you the gift! You live in my land, so shut up and don’t question me, or I’ll make you stand guard under the sun.”

“Ah…” He grinned and leaned his head with a sharp look, showing his fangs. “Can I return the gift, maybe? It really sucks.”

He dodged her next smack thanks to his newfound agility. She just smiled, glad to see him come to terms slightly, even if there was still concealed grief.

It would not be easy to move forward, but they would manage. They were on the same side, together. He could truly understand her now.