He marched ahead, past the huge banners that hung on the stony walls. Even if the corridors were dark and grim, he moved surely towards the throne room. His pensive frown matched the dejected expressions of the vampires he crossed, for all the court was troubled.

Bastian looked up sadly. The faint moonlight brushed him as he walked by a window; it always was a welcome and comforting sight, for it had replaced the sunlight. In any other moment, he would have paused to contemplate the sky for a minute. Now, however, he averted his gaze. He kept moving forward, with a vexed focus.

He could hear the voices that echoed from the courtroom, and he hated it. They always whispered with a bitter and worried tone, almost daily. He could perceive the sorrow in her words, once more.

“How many have perished?”

Each day, the number increased. The scouts never brought good news anymore.

“A whole formation has fallen, sire.” Bastian entered the room, just as the soldier admitted the facts, which Nerys dreaded to hear. “We’ve lost a village by the border. There is strength in numbers…”

No longer did they deal with small squads of insurgents. Their foes had assembled and joined forces, to form an army that had a clear objective. They intended to conquer her land and slay all the vampires that resided in it.

Bastian stepped close to the table where all the maps laid, right by Nerys’ side. As always, he listened intently to every word, ready to assert his opinion if he believed it could be of aid. His schemes always proved to be useful, but intellect alone could not oppose an army.

He was aware of that fact, yet his mind still got to work, no matter how dire the situation was. She let him speak up and take the attention of the assembly, for he had the authority to do so; it was not through her command but by merit.

“With that town under their control, they now dispose of a tactical point from which to push forward. Reinforcements can cross the border safely, through one single point, and we have no way of preventing them from gathering…”

An official nodded, grimacing.

“Many clans have fallen after a breach like this one. They are settling, right in the open, no longer needing to hide in the forests. They are many, and organized. The insurgence only carries through this kind of attack when they are sure that-“

“Our clan is weak…” Bastian looked up at Nerys, because she said those words with a snarl. She clenched her claws, asserting facts that were not easy to accept. “Without the aid of other domains, we are seen as easy prey. It was a matter of time until the insurgence assembled its forces to brush us off the map.”

They were seen as weaklings, but that did not mean they were. She would fight back and cast away those intruders. As always, she commanded, with a sharp glare.

“Send more men to the settlements that surround their camp; protect them at all costs. If needed, divert most of the troops that safeguard the fortress. We must not let them advance through our land.”

Bastian warned, considering every threat possible.

“If we leave no patrols on the roads and simply focus on guarding those outer towns from sieges, we risk allowing spies to venture deeper. They could roam into the areas that surround the castle, and conceal themselves between the human population. That would allow them to alert their allies of our moves.”

Nerys looked at him sideways, instructing.

“Spies can truly be a threat, indeed… You shall stay here and supervise a few patrols, in order to guard the core of our domain. Meanwhile, I will banish that army, by force.”

If Bastian was something, it was paranoid. While she always confronted her foes directly, he preferred to watch out for faults in every single factor. Their cooperation always proved effective.

He did not object when she marched away and out of the throne room. She would get ready for another journey, to purge her land of insurgents. He had seen her depart many times, and he found solace in the fact that she would read any letter he sent her.

———-

It was a dark day; neither the sun nor moon would be seen, for black clouds covered the sky. It did not matter if it was dusk or dawn, no light brushed the vast fields. Her claws clenched around the reins as she glared below her helmet, furiously. She could see, hear and sense them. Many stood behind her, and she soon commanded, with deadly intent.

“Charge.”

Nerys watched as her horsemen dashed for the settlement ahead, where smoke flowed up and the scent of blood tainted the air. The insurgents were assaulting yet another village, to advance deeper into her land.

She growled below her helmet, her presence much more imposing thanks to her jagged armour. Her silhouette could be seen easily between her troops, for she towered on her black steed. She unsheathed her longsword, and then lunged forward as well, to follow her men into battle.

There were at least one-hundred rebels. Such numbers were not commonly seen in non-disputed territories, yet she was witnessing them, in her own domain. This would be the first real battle she would carry through in her land. She was not dealing with petty incursions anymore.

The insurgents had expected her retaliation. They stopped paying mind to the villagers and houses they were burning, to ready themselves for her attack instead. Her troops advanced fast towards them from the fields, riding on their horses.

Her brethren soon clashed with the frontlines of the army. They struck their infantry fiercely, their steeds providing a clear advantage. The insurgence did not provide their grunts with horses, for they were a scarce resource that was reserved for their officials.

She and her men fought easily in the fields, but eventually, they had to push forward into the town. The rebels retreated there, where there was fire. They lost their advantage, because they now needed to fight with less mobility, in the streets.

Nerys growled deeply, manoeuvring her steed expertly through the chaos. She swung her sword multiple times, and she never failed to bring a human down. Still, even if many insurgents were falling dead, many of her men were dying too.

She and her kin could resist the fire much better than the rebels, but it was not easy to see past the gusts of smoke. The flames rose high everywhere, and their gleams were blinding. Everything was reflected on the blood at her feet, which kept flowing.

She always saw red around her. But now… she saw it mixed with another colour. It was one she had missed with all her heart, bright as the sun. The dark sky perhaps had been an omen, for the light she had lost emerged from the smoke. Her eyes unfocused, while her heartbeat stopped for a moment. Time seemed to slow down as she observed a figure striding surely through the battle. That human wore a torn bloody veil, what once had been a red banner. Although her face was masked, she could see those ardent ochre eyes, which she had never forgotten.

Lyssa.

She saw her there, leading with fiery intent the attack against her people. One of her hands was blazing, smoking, swinging and burning any vampire that dared lunge for her neck. She was also wielding the sword she lost in those dreadful ruins, piercing all who stood in her way.

Nerys froze, shivering and trembling. She was seeing Lyssa, even if she thought she would never do so again. The gaze of her lost lover had changed, twisted. There was no care or sentiment, only calculative coldness, which was deadly.

Lyssa stopped looking at the vampires around her, to glare at Nerys instead. Their gazes met, from afar. Long ago, she had given her nothing but love. Now, however, there was pure raging hatred. She saw her tremble in anger, outraged by her mere sight. Her hand stopped smoking to flame instead, and she began to slash forward to make way towards her. There was murderous intent in her eyes, and no recognition. She only saw a monster, which she intended to slay.

Nerys took a minute to react, even if she was seeing how Lyssa advanced furiously. When she overcame her frozen shock, she did due to instinct, brokenhearted fear. She made a choice that she did not ponder.

“R-re…” She shouted, firmly. “Retreat!”

All her troops heard her, but most thought they misunderstood her. She never withdrew from a fight. Furthermore, even if this was a hard battle, it could have been won. They felt nothing but confusion when they saw her kick her steed, to dash away towards the fields. Most tried to follow, but many were too busy fending off their attackers.

In between the chaos, the human general snarled, enraged. Her eyes never left the warlord, who fled to safety past all troops, out of sight. Still, such evasion did not matter much…

I’ve found you, beast.

——-

The battlefield was bloody, full of ashes. Her eyes watched coldly, with no emotion, even if they had won. Soon, she averted her gaze from her troops, ignoring how they cheered and burned the corpses of the vampires they slew.

They had settled camp by the remains of a village, in order to prepare their next move and attack. She headed for her tent, wordlessly. Once inside, she sat on a chair, dejectedly. She eyed the maps on her table, tiredly.

She did not bother to ponder their next move. It did not truly matter where they headed next. Each day, the efforts of the clan grew weaker. She would claim this land easily, like the many disputed regions she had secured. That lord would die by her hand, like all who had dared face her.

Her expression was cold, but she still had a heart. It was simply broken. In the loneliness of her tent, she finally allowed a tear to fall down. She cried, burying her face against her hands. Many horrible thoughts tormented her mind, for a long while. Eventually, a figure entered her tent, but she did not react to the fact. Her mentor approached silently, and then laid a hand on her shoulder, trying to give her some solace.

“We are winning. You’re avenging them.”

It took some time for her to answer those words, because she was not comforted by them.

“Maybe so… But they are still gone.”

She never had stopped grieving.

“He could still be alive.”

Lyssa always hid her inner fears. Only three were ever allowed to see her vulnerabilities, and she had lost two of them. Sergius said nothing when she slammed a fist on the table, crying in anger.

“He may be dead! That beast could have torn him apart, to leave him dry! Perhaps it prefers to enslave its prisoners, make them work until they expire due to exhaustion! Did you not see how that fiend ran away from battle?! He is a selfish coward! Even his spawns are expendable! If he has such high regards for his kin, what fate does he reserve for his enemies?!”

“You can’t possibly know what has happened. There is no reason for you to-“

“Don’t, Sergius. Don’t dismiss my pain.”

She stood up, her flaming rage restored. Her tears stopped falling as she glared at a map, coldly. She examined carefully the areas displayed, the core of the domain, where a fortress stood.

“I will burn every field in this land. Every house that shelters these wretched beings shall crumble down into ashes. I will not stop slaughtering them, not until I find out what they did to him.” Her hands smoked once more, reflecting her fury. “Those fangs will be mine to keep as a trophy. I will pierce him with stakes, and make him beg to be burned on a pyre. His scorched remains shall be speared high, for all to see.”

He looked at her sadly, seeing bloodlust in her eyes. There was no trace of the joyful curious apprentice he had taken under his wing.

———

She can’t see me. I’ve changed too much.

She advanced, but she did not seem aware of it. Her gaze was lost and dazed, her expression miserable. The soldiers at the gates looked at her worriedly, for she barely kept herself straight on her steed. All watched as she got down from her horse, to then begin to walk weakly towards her chambers. She said no word, nor glanced at anyone around her.

Bastian had heard from his scouts that Nerys had lost a battle… and then another. She kept retreating, and now she was back. All the while, he had been sending her letters, but she did not answer any.

He had been waiting for her, each day. Today, he stood by the arcs of the courtyard, and that allowed him to see her march into the fortress. He hated what he was witnessing, for she looked broken, and he did not understand why.

He was quick to approach, worried to no end. When he took a closer look at her, he scowled. She looked paler than usual, beaten and barely awake. It was not the hunger what had her like this, but it looked like it.

“Nerys?”

His shock only intensified, because she ignored him. She walked past him, without a single glance, headed straight for her dark chambers. He chased after her, of course, even more concerned. Again, he called, but she kept walking silently through the dimly lit corridors.

“N-nerys? What happened?” She was not replying, nor looking back at him. “Answer me! Why did you-?”

“I can’t do it.”

He frowned, extremely confused.

“You can’t?” He raised his arms at his sides, to demand a clear retort. “Nerys, why the hell did you retreat?! You have let them advance! My scouts have told me that you fled from battle, multiple times! That’s unlike you! You never hesitate, not even in front of an army! What do you mean when you say that you can’t do it?! Dammit, say something!”

She finally spoke.

“I saw her.”

Bastian halted dead on his tracks, and so did Nerys. There was a minute of silence.

“W-wh-“ He managed to push away his sudden fear, not wanting that trail of thought to be real. “What do you mean…”

It was a demand, not a question. He looked as miserable as her now, for he could not avoid pondering her words. What she meant was clear, but he did not want to believe it. She pierced his heart with some simple words, spoken with the most painful of sorrows.

“I can’t kill the general.” She met his eyes for a moment, confessing in fear. “I can’t kill her.”

Nerys walked away, unable to say anything else. Only Bastian dared speak that name.

“Lyssa?”

The young vampire stood there in the dark corridor, alone, deadly silent. There were too many thoughts in his terrified mind. He remembered how fierce and determined she had been when they both suffered loss.

Bastian had not wanted to think about the possibility of seeing Lyssa again, not after changing like Nerys. However, he never had stopped wondering how much his disappearance had hurt her, for she had surely found herself alone.

He had not forgotten or stopped pondering her grief, neither of them did. But the thought of hurting her with the truth was all too much to bear. Their deaths were something they wanted her to accept.

They had not dared entertain the thought of crossing paths once more… but they should have known better. She was their enemy now, and they could not possibly defeat her.