《Blood Of Gold》


 Prologue

    The falling snow was as white as the ring of the moon overhead, a bright, distant thing peeking out from above the clouds.


    Brannon may not have been assigned to this post for long, but in the few weeks he¡¯d spent getting to know the bleak emptiness of the farthest and northernmost region of the kingdom in the dead of night and winter, he¡¯d never seen it until now.


    Nor had anything ever stopped him in his tracks so suddenly, wasting precious seconds better spent rushing back towards the warmth of Roshire. They were supposed to be back by now- the sun had set long ago.


    ¡°A beauty, ain¡¯t she?¡± His partner croaked from behind him, having paused a moment ago to enlighten Brannon about a specific type of tree they¡¯d just passed. ¡°They say it¡¯s a rarer sight than a nobleman in Danethal.¡±


    ¡°I find that hard to believe.¡± His breath appeared in a mist before him and the cold air had assaulted his skin as he lowered the scarf hiding his lips and nose to speak.


    ¡°The gods care little for what men believe.¡±


    Brannon snorted, forcing himself to resume down the path but still keeping his eyes aimed at the sky. Beside him, the wall of ice that had accompanied them during the journey stood still and quiet, the lantern in his hand revealing about ten of the two hundred foot barricade. ¡°Perhaps that is why no one believes in half of them any longer.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I suppose that is true,¡± Tobas agreed, the faint sound of his footsteps joining Brannon¡¯s. ¡°One of the many misfortunes of men today.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware you were a religious man.¡±


    He was silent for a moment. ¡°No more than any man, really. But in the days of old, they said that there would come a time when the gods would be forgotten, and in their anger, the gods would send plague and endless winter upon the world for the sins of man.¡±


    ¡°Are you worried because you feel guilty for your sins?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡±


    A heavy wind howled as it came and Brannon had to use all his might to keep treading through it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel guilty for anything,¡± he answered when it had gone. ¡°Besides, not all the gods are forgotten.¡±


    Tobas chuckled. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. But have you ever heard of the omens?¡±


    They passed by a pole holding a torch between the path and the wall, one placed every few intervals for those unlucky enough to be assigned to the night¡¯s watch.


    ¡°The omens?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. My grandmother used to tell me of them all the time. Do you want to hear one?¡±


    Brannon didn¡¯t particularly dislike Tobas. In fact, he considered the mood he always found himself in around the man to correspond more to the fact that whenever they were together, it was in the dead of night and out in the freezing cold. But his propensity for always filling their walks with ramblings of whatever new subject he had in mind was certainly no help.


    Brannon sighed and mentally prayed for this to be over quickly. ¡°Go on, then.¡±


    ¡°There were once a dozen, if not more,¡± he began. ¡°Spoken from the gods to men, and written in books long gone to the depths of history.¡±


    ¡°Because they were written in Old Lysian?¡±


    ¡°Who knows? Not a single one has been found.¡±


    Brannon refrained from asking how he knows they existed at all as Tobas continued, ¡°Anyhow, one such omen survived time and has been carried through the tongues of those who repeat it: watch for the moon¡¯s great halo, for it will usher in an unforeseen age of chaos and no one sleeping below it will be safe.¡±


    ¡°Sounds conveniently vague.¡±


    ¡°My grandmother said it¡¯s a sign of the Moon Lord¡¯s return, and with him, he will bring an army of beasts. Even now, they lie awake in the dark, waiting.¡±


    Brannon glanced at the short, beady-eyed man over his shoulder, not pausing his stead.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he added quickly. ¡°I¡¯m a worshipper of Zohar as much as any man, if such chaos is reigned upon us then I have faith he will be our savior.¡±


    He pointed to the torch up ahead. ¡°And we have his gift as our protection.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t truly believe in all that?¡±


    Tobas shrugged. ¡°If there¡¯s one thing I know for sure it¡¯s that one may never trust the darkness.¡±


    Not something you want to hear during night watch, Brannon thought.


    ¡°Even still, you can get exiled for just saying that omen.¡±


    Tobas met his gaze. ¡°Only if you tell.¡±


    Brannon breathed in another howling gust of wind and looked back at the moon. ¡°I don¡¯t care enough for things like that.¡±


    Regardless, the man shouldn¡¯t have said anything. If he¡¯d been someone else, someone who did consider his visits to the temple a thing of devout worship rather than a fulfillment of expectations, Tobas would have his ass thrown out of the army faster than he could repeat the God¡¯s name.


    Unofficially, of course.


    He changed the subject as the breeze subsided, passing by another torch. ¡°How far till the base?¡±


    Behind him, Tobas had paused to study the woods again. He¡¯d been at Frostwood Base longer than Brannon had, although he, too, was new to the job in the grand scheme of things. It was probably the most undesired assignment, one given mostly to the rookies, which he supposed they both were.


    It¡¯s not as though Lysia was in heavy need of soldiers, but one would assume the kingdom would be hesitant to send it¡¯s newest recruits to such an isolated, difficult job. One with one of the highest rates of disappearances- attributed to men who wandered off the trail, never to be seen again.


    The others said it was both a hazing and a test: if you can¡¯t withstand a simple walk in the cold at night, you weren¡¯t fit to be a soldier.


    Luckily, Tobas knew the area better than him, and had on more than one occasion explained how the smallest variations in the sizes of trees and piles of snow around them indicated their location.


    The former were tallest at the edges of the wall until they disappeared to give way to the seas, either of which no man had ever dared to cross more than a few miles of.


    What lied beyond was anyone¡¯s guess.


    But Brannon had no interest in what lied beyond the kingdom, it was the sweetness of the fruit within that called to him.


    Someday, he thought to the moon. Someday I¡¯ll be long gone from this icy hellhole and comfortably laying by the fire in a manor of my own, if not a whole damn county.


    Once he became a knight, that is. Then he¡¯d spend the rest of his days in easy luxury.


    But that was years from now.


    He shook himself out of his thoughts. ¡°Trees not telling you much today?¡±


    No answer.


    ¡°Tobas?¡±


    He turned around, but it was only endless darkness that met his gaze.


    ¡°Tobas!¡± Brannon called, panic rising in his chest. ¡°This isn¡¯t funny!¡±


    He flinched as a creak of a branch echoed from the forest beside him.


    A squirrel, or was it Tobas? Despite his strangeness, Brannon hadn¡¯t pegged the man for some kind of sick jokester.


    He was about to take a step towards the noise when Tobas¡¯s earlier words rang in his head.


    Even now, they lie awake in the dark, waiting.


    ¡°Superstitious nonsense,¡± he murmured, leaving the trodded footpath anyway.


    He descended the hill that led down into the forest, clutching his lantern tight in his hand.


    The closer he got to the spot where it seemed the noise had originated from, the more distant the light of the torch became.


    But still no sign of Tobas.


    Brannon paused to listen for the creak of another branch while he studied the endless canopy of trees around him, spotting no sign of a squirrel nor any other animal.


    Sweat was beginning to form on his brow when he spotted a dim silhouette from deeper inside the forest.


    ¡°Tobas! Is that you?¡±


    The figure disappeared within the trees.


    He looked back at the torch. They had to be very close to the base, probably no more than twenty to thirty minutes of a walk away. He could just continue towards it and come back to search for Tobas with the rest of the men¡­


    But by then, it could be too late. Tobas could just become yet another soldier lost to the night¡¯s watch, his name forgotten within a few weeks time.


    ¡°I swear to Zohar, if this is some kind of game,¡± he murmured beneath his breath, taking one last glance at the fire before descending further into the woods.


    His entire body shook as his legs melted deeper within the snow, so much so that he had to use all of his strength to walk through it. As for the cold, he merely gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the numbness seeping into every corner of his shoes, his coat, and his pants.


    Just a little more and I can beat the little shit for his joke.


    Just a little more and we¡¯ll be back at the base, back to never-ending warmth.


    Just a little more and I¡¯ll be a knight, far, far away from this hell-


    The smell of blood interrupted his thoughts.


    All the fear Brannon had been pushing down rose into his throat as he hurried through the snow. ¡°Tobas?!¡±


    As he rounded a tree the figure had been next to, the man¡¯s still, bleeding body on the ground answered for him.


    ¡°Tobas!¡± Brannon gasped, kneeling beside him. Blood was flowing down his entire coat. Too much blood.


    He went to take Tobas¡¯s pulse but was met with even more blood pooling at his neck. Luckily, he opened his eyes and widened them as he took in the sight of Brannon.


    Brannon sighed with relief as Tobas groaned, ¡°W-what are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I should be asking you that! What the hell happened to you?¡±


    More blood spurted from his neck as he coughed. ¡°It¡¯s¡­they¡¯re here.¡±


    Brannon stilled. ¡°Who¡¯s here?¡±


    Tobas¡¯s eyelids fluttered shut and Brannon shook him awake, trying to block whatever wound was in his neck.


    ¡°Who¡¯s here, Tobas?!¡±


    The man¡¯s gaze focused in on something behind Brannon as he let out one last croak and the light in his eyes disappeared.


    When Brannon looked over his shoulder, all he saw was a pair of red, glowing orbs before all light vanished from his world in turn.

 One: The Plan

    If someone had asked Tristan which window in the house was his favorite, he¡¯d have to say it was the one by his bed, the one that overlooked the fire at the center of Frostwood so far away down the hill.


    He used to watch the birds as they flew over the village and stared at the flap of their wings as he wondered how it was they worked. He¡¯d asked Marcella about it once and she gave him one of her books about all the animals native to the continent. Tristan studied the diagrams of the anatomies of various birds until his head throbbed with the mechanics behind it. It was one of the very few times he envied Mari, but she was more than happy to explain the physics to him in a surprisingly understandable manner.


    So now he just watched the birds and wondered if he could spontaneously grow a pair of wings like them and fly away. He hadn¡¯t bothered asking Mari that one.


    His room had originally been a spare used for storage, but once Tristan became old enough to venture round the house looking for something of interest, he was dismayed to find that his parents small cottage was anything but- with the exception of the small, dusty window in the corner of the storage room.


    Tristan began to spend his days staring out into the distance, and it wasn¡¯t long before his old room became used for storage instead. He had to squint to really see the people that passed by, bread and children his age in hand.


    How many days had he spent begging his mother to let him into the village for even just a few hours? Of course, he was in the village as she would tell him, but the empty grass between his house and that campfire seemed enormously vast to a small boy.


    He may had grown, but the distance remained endless.


    All he could do was sit on his bed and stare out the window, or sit beside the chickens they kept behind the house with a small plot of potatoes. That¡¯s all Tristan¡¯s world was: feeding chickens and picking potatoes. And even that was somewhat of a rare occurrence, his mother would usually cast a nervous glance outside if too many people were passing by on the way to the markets and say it was too dangerous.


    And if it was after dusk? Forget about it. At least his mother wasn¡¯t the only one who followed the asinine law. Every time he¡¯d look out that window at night, only the occasional soldier could be seen.


    Dangerous. If Tristan had a shilling for every time he heard the word, he¡¯d be rich enough to buy a castle in Rhovandy and spend the rest of his days on glorious adventures. He¡¯d be the first to sail to the very edge of the sea, the first to explore the shadowlands and return to tell it.


    He¡¯d had lots of time to think it through, being stuck inside and all, and he¡¯d always imagined precisely what his life would be like- will be like, once he signed up for the army on his sixteenth birthday.


    Tonight.


    He had it all planned: he wouldn¡¯t tell his mother until he¡¯d signed up, which he would do by sneaking out after dusk and running to the recruitment stand right next to the fire, the fire he¡¯d waited his entire life to reach, and begging the soldier stationed there to let him join. He would¡¯t leave until he got a yes.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    The plan was risky. The soldier always stayed five minutes after dusk- he had two minutes to get there or else he¡¯d have to wait a whole week during the holidays, the one period of time the recruitment stand was empty. If his mother caught him, she¡¯d never let him out of her sight.


    The stakes were high, and the sun was setting.


    As if on cue, the door opened. ¡°Hey,¡± his mother said softly, peeking her head in. She was working the fields again and he¡¯d barely seen her. Just like every day. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you turn sixteen in just a few minutes, are you sure you don¡¯t want your birthday dinner before I go?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not hungry. You can go on.¡± Besides, his birthday celebrations consisted of the three of them sitting at the same table eating the same potatoes as they did day in and out, the only difference being that he would blow out a candle and make a wish. Since he was making the same wish he¡¯d made every year finally come true, he wasn¡¯t missing much.


    She smiled. ¡°If you say so. Have you taken your medication yet? I left it downstairs for you in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Sure did,¡± Tristan lied, making a mental note to grab it on his way out.


    ¡°Alright, then. Goodnight, honey.¡±


    She closed his door and Tristan listened to her footsteps fade away as she descended the stairs and left, the creak of the front door echoing in his ears. She was out to sell her hand-woven baskets in a more affluent village nearby and wouldn¡¯t be back until just before sunset tomorrow. The coast was clear.


    Nobody in Lysia, except for soldiers, was allowed outside after sunset. After shoving that rule into his head over and over again his entire life, his mother was breaking it today.


    This winter is rumored to be the worst one in years and the eggs haven¡¯t been selling well, she¡¯d said. I have no choice.


    Neither did he.


    He slowly reopened his door and stepped out into the small hall, shutting it behind him. Creeping down the wooden stairs and cringing every time the floor squeaked, Tristan let out a sigh of relief once he¡¯d finally made it downstairs. Now all he had to do was get outside and-


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    Of course.


    ¡°Uh, just wanted to grab an evening snack,¡± Tristan said casually.


    Marcella raised a brow over the book she was apparently reading at the kitchen table, glancing from him to the front door. It shocked Tristan just how much they looked alike, with identical golden blonde hair and amber eyes. Even their features- from the way their eyes slinked downwards like a puppy¡¯s to how their lips puffed out to glimmer with the same rosy pink that tinged their deathly pale cheeks and nose. Only it made Mari look too beautiful to be human and him too innocent to be a soldier. His mother was also beautiful, though they resembled her very little. He didn¡¯t remember what his father looked like, but Tristan often wondered if they took after him. ¡°Mom said you weren¡¯t hungry. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Just keep reading your book, Mari, I¡¯ll be out for a second.¡±


    Her eyes widened. ¡°Are you crazy? You can¡¯t go out at night, you¡¯ll get sick!¡±


    ¡°Keep it down!¡± Tristan hushed, looking out the parlor window to make sure his mother was gone. ¡°And it technically isn¡¯t night yet, I¡¯ll be back before then.¡±


    ¡°Where are you even going?¡±


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you mind your own business?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re killed by vampires, mom¡¯s sadness will be my business.¡±


    Tristan groaned. ¡°Not you too.¡± There were many whispers of what lied beyond the human kingdom, especially in regards to what sort of monsters wandered the shadowlands just over the wall.


    It was all made up to Tristan, just a story told to children so they would behave.


    But part of him wished they were real, that way he could travel around the world and hunt them down- bringing their heads to the royal family so he could be crowned a noble and have too much land to know what to do with. Girls probably liked that sort of thing.


    He could even be the first to go to the shadowlands themselves, ending the rumors of what creatures roamed the wilderness out there once and for all.


    Regardless, Marcella pointed to the title of her book: Ancient creatures of Lysia. ¡°They¡¯re real, why else is everyone so adamant about not going out at night? Even mom-¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you take anything mom says seriously,¡± Tristan said, shuffling from one leg to another as if he had to pee. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this.¡±


    Without pausing to hear Marcella¡¯s reply, he opened the door and ran into the darkness.

 Two: Exhilaration

    Marcella


    Mari liked to think that she didn¡¯t have a violent bone in her body, but her brother was really challenging that thought.


    She was beginning to wonder if she¡¯d lost the ability to think entirely as she leaped out of her chair and ran after Tristan. It wasn¡¯t hard to keep up with him as they were equal in their lack of muscle.


    ¡°Tristan!¡± She called. ¡°Come back! We¡¯ll get sick!¡±


    Realizing she was on his tail, Tristan shouted back, ¡°What the hell are you doing?!¡±


    ¡°I could say the same for you!¡±


    ¡°Go back home, I¡¯ll be right there!¡±


    ¡°Like hell I am!¡±


    She didn¡¯t want to admit it, and maybe it was purely the adrenaline that filled her veins, but there was something exhilarating in running after her idiot brother beneath the setting sun- the remnants of bright reds and oranges giving way to a midnight blue.


    Mari had watched the same sunsets a million times from her home, but none of it compared to this.


    ¡°Crap, I¡¯m going to be late!¡±


    ¡°Late for what?¡± Mari asked, following his gaze as they descended the hill. It landed on the campfire that marked the center of their village, empty now but full of markets and stables and-


    The army recruitment stand.


    Mari laughed. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    ¡°Says the girl who still believes in vampires!¡±


    ¡°Vampires are more believable than you joining the army!¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± Tristan wheezed. ¡°You have no idea what it¡¯s like to be stuck inside that cage mom calls a home!¡±


    ¡°Are you a dumbass?! I live with you!¡±


    ¡°Really? Because up until now you could¡¯ve fooled me!¡±


    Mari didn¡¯t reply. He had a point, this was probably the longest conversation (if you could call it that) she had with her brother in years, and she was always curled up somewhere with a book while he shut himself in his room. But she supposed it was their mother, really, who didn¡¯t let him leave. Unlike Tristan, Mari was perfectly content to watch the sun set from their cottage.


    It was better than facing what was out there.


    Luckily, the air tonight was void of the savage winds that typically plagued Danethal. Mari recalled the passages about Rhovandy from the book her mother gave her for her fifteenth birthday, The Lands of Lysia. It was said that the small province lodged westward behind the others had the shortest winters and longest summers, during which people would hike to the shores and bathe in the clear, sparkling water. Apart from the beauty of its mountains and cities, colorful stone houses lining the rivers that all flowed to the castle, Rhovandy was known for the beauty of its citizens, especially the royal family. Tan and dark-eyed, the Windsor¡¯s had reigned all of Lysia, apart from the barren shadowlands, since all the former kingdoms (now provinces with dukes overseeing the lords that owned smaller counties within them) had united as one.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Why they united was anyone¡¯s guess. It happened hundreds of years ago and nobody knew how to read the old tongue that had evolved into modern day Lysian. All Mari knew from her books was that there was a great war that almost wiped out the continent until the kingdoms united and fought back- against who was as much a mystery, although the royal family claimed it was merely a large tribe of bandits.


    Mari didn¡¯t know if she believed that, but she would give anything to find out the truth. She¡¯d fall asleep almost every night dreaming of it- walking in the halls of the great manors, some nearly as large and opulent as the royal castle itself, that served as universities for the purpose of forging scholars for the kingdom. They were mostly found in Rhovandy, although some dedicated to more soldiery subjects were spread across Azeris, the province bordering it that was known for it¡¯s military stronghold and training of new troops.


    Perhaps in another life, she¡¯d tell herself. If she hadn¡¯t been so sick and her family so poor, she could have become an academic. Perhaps she would even cure her own illness, not that much was known about it, and she¡¯d looked. Had asked her own mother thousands of times why she couldn¡¯t, no matter what, bleed.


    She¡¯d spent too long staring down at the veins on her wrists with a hairpin in hand, a voice in her head taunting her to just pierce the skin- just once, to see what would happen.


    But her rationality would soon set in and she¡¯d pretend like the voice was never there.


    Finally, they reached the village center and made their way towards the stand past the still burning campfire, their path illuminated by the light of the fire and torches that hung from the various homes and buildings. Some were shops owned by tailors and blacksmiths, their products on display through the windows. Some were owned by bakers, butchers, carpenters- Mari even spotted a clump of wooden planks abandoned on the side of the pathway.


    She¡¯d never cared much for the village but it might¡¯ve been nice to grow up here.


    There was no soldier at the stand, but Mari could see a figure walking deeper into the village. It had to be him.


    ¡°Mom¡¯s going to kill you,¡± she said to Tristan who was still running, albeit at a slower pace. She could smell the smoke of the fire they¡¯d just passed on his clothes.


    ¡°She won¡¯t know until tomorrow, it¡¯ll be my birthday surprise to her.¡±


    ¡°Your birthday surprise is a heart attack?¡±


    He threw her a glare. ¡°If I knew you were this funny I¡¯d have treated you like an actual sister, Marcella. Oh, and if I hadn¡¯t mentioned it yet, happy birthday.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that, and right back at you!¡±


    It wasn¡¯t that Mari hated her name, it was that the only memory she had of her father was him calling her by the nickname, and Marcella felt too formal anyhow.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Tristan called, Mari realized, to the figure.


    He continued walking.


    Mari sighed. To hell with it. ¡°Hey!¡±


    The figure paused and turned, revealing a young man¡¯s face beneath the shadows, no older than twenty-two or so.


    ¡°You know, for someone typically so silent, you¡¯re pretty good at being loud.¡±


    Mari shot him a glare before the two finally crossed the distance to the man- him coming closer to meet them. She¡¯d never seen a soldier so close in person before, but his uniform looked exactly like the description she¡¯d read in books. Metal plated armor lined with sapphires that shone beneath the moonlight- the royal family¡¯s emblem, a crown sewn into a flag of blue and yellow, hung on his chest. As for the soldier himself, he had warm green eyes beneath a tussle of dirty-blonde hair.


    ¡°What are you kids doing here?¡± He asked once they met, looking from Mari to her brother. ¡°It¡¯s past sunset.¡±


    ¡°We can tell,¡± Tristan said automatically before seemingly realizing he was speaking to a soldier. ¡°Sorry, sir, I meant that we left before then.¡±


    The soldier cocked a brow. ¡°And what is it you need?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Tristan murmured, looking down at his feet. ¡°I wanted to join the army as a soldier. Today¡¯s my sixteenth birthday.¡±


    The soldier smiled kindly. ¡°That¡¯s great to hear, but you need your guardian with you to provide consent.¡±


    Tristan blinked, and Mari felt her own heart drop in her chest. Not that she cared. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, at least until you¡¯re nineteen and can join yourself.¡±


    ¡°I was just joking, I¡¯m not really sixteen,¡± he pleaded, to Mari¡¯s surprise, with tears in his eyes. She didn¡¯t understand why anyone would want to be as something as dangerous as a soldier, but what did she know.


    The soldier sighed, moving closer to place a comforting hand on his shoulder- a ruby ring on his finger. It almost looked too pretty for a fake jewel, but a soldier from Danethal definitely could¡¯t afford a real one. Or perhaps it''d been a gift.


    He paused as he studied Tristan, thinking of what to say. ¡°I- look, kid, I really am sorry. Just come back next week with your guardian and you¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    If Tristan looked upset before, he was utterly devastated now. ¡°And if I don¡¯t, I have to wait three more years?¡±


    The soldier nodded, looking at him with pity lit in his eyes. ¡°Why don¡¯t you get back home, now? You must be from around here, although I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen you before.¡±


    Before Tristan could reply, Mari chimed in, ¡°Yes, sir. We¡¯ll be on our way, thank you.¡±


    She grabbed her brother¡¯s arm and pulled him along as she began walking back the way they came, her runner''s high long forgotten.


    After a few silent moments, during which Mari peered over her shoulder to see the soldier still standing and staring after them, she said quietly, ¡°It¡¯s just three more years.¡±


    Tristan said nothing as he allowed her to drag him away.

 Three: Dreams

    Tristan


    The houses here were small and crammed together, as though they were about to crumble on top of each other at any moment.


    He never really realized it, regardless of all the hours he spent staring out at the campfire or recruitment stand, but Tristan never really looked at anything else. Now, he was looking at nothing but the houses they passed, similar to his own in design with their wooden walls and brick roofs- but they were smaller.


    Tristan felt like an idiot for only now realizing it. His own cottage, even with their lack of wealth despite their mother working each and every day, was surprisingly a tad larger than these ones, although that was more attributed to how they seemed to almost topple over one another. He supposed that everyone in Danethal was of humble means, or else they wouldn¡¯t be in Danethal.


    Extra hands to work only meant extra mouths to feed. Yet his mother made sure his was, and no matter how many times he begged her to let him work even nearby in the village, she refused.


    That was why, as he let himself hang limp in Mari¡¯s hand, Tristan could do nothing but stare at the houses.


    She would¡¯ve been furious, but he would be making a steady salary and given a small place in Azeris depending on how high he climbed the ranks. And he would climb. To see the world and free both himself and his family, he would climb.


    The houses suddenly began to glow with red, and Tristan turned his head to spot the campfire ahead of them. He¡¯d barely given it a glance on his way here, but it looked massive before him now, tendrils of smoke rising before vanishing amidst the air. A thick and sharp looking metal railing was constructed around the perimeter, lest any curious children injured themselves.


    ¡°Nearly every village has one,¡± Mari said, having paused in her step to admire the fire with him. ¡°Legends say they keep night monsters away, and fire is the only weapon humans have against them. If the flames goes out, it¡¯s a bad omen- a plague will wreak havoc on the village as they did in ancient times.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you read in your book?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she murmured, looking down at her wrist. ¡°But I don¡¯t need a book to know how dangerous a plague can be.¡±


    Tristan looked at her, feeling his own blood thrumming beneath his skin. ¡°Let¡¯s run away.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    He pulled away from her grasp, standing to face his sister fully. ¡°We can go to Azeris ourselves and join the army together! We¡¯ll say our parents are dead, they have to take us.¡±


    If possible, Mari¡¯s face turned even whiter beneath shadows casted by the fire. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    ¡°This is the most serious I¡¯ve ever been in my entire life.¡±


    She gave him a dubious look.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°I know being a soldier sounds scary, but think of all the things we¡¯ll get to see! The villages beyond Roshire, the forts of Azeris, the beaches of Rhovandy- the castles and manors!¡±


    Something in Mari¡¯s eyes shifted at his last thought, as though she began to consider it. He didn¡¯t know his sister had in interest in Rhovandyn Architecture.


    ¡°I could be a scholar,¡± she whispered.


    That made more sense.


    ¡°Yes, forget about the army! You can use that big head- er, I mean brain of yours, to study all the places we¡¯ll go to!¡±


    Mari sighed. ¡°It¡¯s nice to dream about, but that¡¯s all it is: a dream. Think of how mom would feel. Even when you turn nineteen, how are you going to run around Lysar without shedding any blood?¡±


    ¡°I will be shedding blood, it just won¡¯t be my own.¡±


    ¡°You and what muscles?¡± She snorted. ¡°No one ever became a good soldier without losing a few fights- without losing some blood.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right, you know.¡±


    They whipped their heads towards the voice to find the same soldier from earlier standing behind them.


    How the hell did they not hear him approach?


    ¡°About losing blood,¡± he clarified to their stunned silence. ¡°Even my most lethal superiors once started out as a bunch of runts like you.¡±


    Tristan¡¯s heart leaped in his chest, although he didn¡¯t know who this solder thought he was, talking to him like he wasn¡¯t only a few years older. ¡°Do you think I could do it then, even become a general?¡±


    ¡°Of course. But right now you should get home- you two really aren¡¯t from around here, are you? I would¡¯ve recognized your faces.¡±


    He pointed to his house in the distance. ¡°We live on that hill over there.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I must be remembering wrong, then,¡± the soldier said, nervously looking around the square as he fidgeted with his ring. "Why don¡¯t I walk you two home? If you¡¯re found outside by a soldier who isn¡¯t as kind as me, you¡¯ll be in all sorts of trouble. Hell, even I might get into trouble. Besides, who knows what monsters roam the village at this time.¡±


    Tristan stopped himself from rolling his eyes at a soldier, of all people, being scared of silly monsters.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be ok, it¡¯s just a quick walk. Thank you, sir,¡± Mari said.


    ¡°As a soldier for the royal family of Lysar, I insist that I accompany the two of you,¡± the soldier demanded, moving forwards so that Tristan was forced to step back. ¡°I won¡¯t have it any other way, and if something were to happen to you, I¡¯d never forgive myself.¡±


    ¡°Really, sir, it¡¯s fine-¡°


    She was interrupted by Tristan¡¯s howling gasp, who''d felt a great surge of pain shoot out of his hand.


    He looked down to see that he had scraped and cut almost his entire palm against the metal railing he was about to back into.


    And there, between smidges of dirt and the glow of the fire, rushing out of his open wound, was a bright stream of blood.


    Blood of gold.


    For a few moments, nobody moved or spoke.


    Tristan wasn¡¯t sure if it was the pain or the sight of his own blood that made the moments feel like eons, but he suddenly felt as though something was very wrong.


    He regarded that as a pretty fitting feeling, considering.


    He looked up at his sister and the soldier, both their faces just as shocked and colorless as he felt his to be. Both were staring at his palm. At least he wasn¡¯t going insane.


    Technically he¡¯d never seen blood before, but he knew enough about basic anatomy to know that it wasn¡¯t supposed to be yellow.


    He said the first thing in his head. ¡°Am I dying?¡±


    Mari looked to the soldier, apparently never having read about gold colored blood in one of her books. A shame.


    ¡°I, uh, I don¡¯t know,¡± the soldier uttered in a daze, realizing what he¡¯d said a second later to look up at Tristan. ¡°No, surely not.¡±


    ¡°We have to get him to a doctor!¡± Mari yelled, kneeling beside him. ¡°Just breathe, Tristan. Everything will be alright.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the soldier barked, holding up his hand. His ring glinted beneath the moonlight. ¡°He¡¯s not going anywhere.¡±


    A sudden wave of stillness rolled over Tristan. He couldn¡¯t put a name to the feeling, he¡¯d never felt it before. But it was an agonizing panic, as though everything in his body was screaming to run- a deep, primal instinct woven through centuries of evolution.


    With one motion, the soldier pulled off his ring and his eyes began to shine with such a vibrant blue that Tristan felt as though he were going blind, the skin of his ears morphing into pointy tips.


    And as the soldier bared his razor-sharp fangs to him, Tristan found himself not looking at a soldier at all- but a vampire.

 Four: A Terrible Scream

    Run


    I can¡¯t, Tristan said in his head. I can¡¯t move.


    Judging by his sister¡¯s frozen body beside him, she was in the same boat.


    You¡¯ll be dead if you don¡¯t.


    Maybe I¡¯m already dead, he thought. Maybe this is hell.


    That¡¯s what he felt like as he looked up at the man before him. He was so different now, his kind face absent in the place of one belonging to a monster.


    That¡¯s what he was, Tristan realized, as he began moving towards them. His youth was the only thing that remained- the awkward mannerisms, the face all too frail, the human- it had all given way to an almost handsome beast.


    More than handsome, the way his cheekbones were now set beneath his eyes, burning and beautiful at once, the way he was slowly gliding towards them as if he had all the time in the world, it was mesmerizing as much as it was a thing of ancient horror.


    Maybe this is what I deserve, he wondered. Maybe I¡¯m being punished, for lying, for sneaking out, wanting to run away and be free.


    Perhaps there was no freedom in this world.


    The vampire staked closer.


    Perhaps he was never meant to explore it, never meant to leave this little village he¡¯d spent his life in, no- the house he¡¯d spent his life in.


    Perhaps the world was no bigger than that.


    The vampire dived at them just as Tristan threw himself and Mari out of the way, his limbs searing at the sudden movement.


    Why? Why was he still putting up a worthless fight? To save a sister he never got to really know?


    It would be better to just get it over with.


    He glanced at Mari, her face covered with dust from the stone she¡¯d landed on, her arm shielding her head. She looked up at him.


    Tristan was used to seeing his sister¡¯s fear-stricken eyes. Every time their mother warned them to never go outside, to never bleed, whenever she read one of her books on the creatures that lurked within the darkness- she had that same look on her face every time.


    And now, in the shadows that still danced atop it, he realized that her nightmares had come true.


    His eyes widened with another realization.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not going to kill you,¡± the vampire taunted, inching closer. ¡°I¡¯m just going to take you back to my home.¡±


    ¡°Y-you mean the shadowlands,¡± Mari stammered.


    He said, with lethal calm, ¡±You¡¯re a smart girl, smart and pretty. Perhaps I¡¯ll take you as well, I¡¯d bet anything you have the same blood. Oh, the rewards I¡¯ll receive for such a find¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch her!¡± Tristan spat, tucking his fists beneath his chin and running at the vampire. He took his fear and plunged it far, far below, pushing it into the deepest crevices of his mind. Just for a little while, just to save Mari, even if it was the last thing he did.


    The vampire blinked in surprise, allowing Tristan the few seconds he needed to close the gap between them and-


    He had only extended his arm, but Tristan was flung across the square, landing right into the side of a house and collapsing to the ground.


    He¡¯s so damn fast.


    If he thought the pain was bad before, it was utterly blinding now. He was pretty sure his arm, and maybe his leg, and maybe his whole damn body was broken. There was a loud ringing in his ears, and Tristan could barely tell if he was still even alive or not.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Until he vomited his own blood onto the floor, a dark puddle of gold.


    * * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * ** * * * **


    Marcella


    ¡°How disappointing,¡± the vampire sighed. ¡°And here I was expecting something a little more challenging, given all the legends.¡±


    He turned to Mari, who was now staring at her brother¡¯s limp body across the village square. The fear in hers had numbed her to everything but complete shock, yet the gravity of the situation was starting to hit her full force, and her tears finally fell.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯ll be fine. As for you¡­¡±


    The words did little to comfort her.


    Beginning to make his way towards her, his eyes shining with an insanity even brighter than before, the vampire continued, ¡°I can smell it now, your blood- and your fear. I¡¯m sure the king wouldn¡¯t mind if I just took a small bite, would he?¡±


    Mari crawled back until she hit a wall, her head frantically bobbing side to side as she looked for a way out.


    ¡°Go ahead and run. It¡¯s no use, but I certainly won¡¯t turn down a chase.¡±


    No, this can¡¯t be it.


    Mari thought that all this time, it was Tristan who was locked up in a cage, Tristan who begged their mother to go outside, who wanted to leave Frostwood behind and see the world.


    But he wasn¡¯t the only one.


    How could she be so blind? All the reading, all the daydreaming- she¡¯d wanted to see the world, too.


    Yet she had let it erase her.


    A scholar, living in some grand manor by the shores of Rhovandy with her peers, perhaps studying botany or astronomy or maybe even philosophy¡­perhaps she¡¯d know it all.


    Maybe she could have, if she agreed to run away with Tristan, if they left before the vampire could catch up with them. Or maybe even before, if she¡¯d made a better effort to get to know him. Or if she had successfully stopped him from sneaking out, they wouldn¡¯t be in this mess.


    Mari had failed, and now she was probably about to die or suffer a worse fate, and Tristan wasn¡¯t even with her.


    The vampire was finally upon her. His smirk sent faint waves of panic over her, but she didn¡¯t care any longer.


    She had lived all her life in fear- dying with it was a mercy in comparison.


    She looked over to her brother, wanting to see him one last time.


    But he wasn¡¯t there, the ground where he¡¯d fallen still covered in his blood.


    No, he was in the air- a burning plank of wood in hand, his eyes laced with bloodlust, and releasing a terrible, terrible scream as he set the vampire alight.


    He was fast, and would likely have been able to dodge Tristan if he¡¯d turned his head just a moment earlier. But he¡¯d been staring at Mari with a hunger that seemed to possess his entire being, as though the smell and sight of her blood overpowered every other sense.


    And now, he was burning.


    Mari watched the vampire as he howled in pain, flailing his arms in an effort to put the flames out.


    But it was useless. Even creatures who could kill you with a single gesture had weaknesses, apparently.


    She glanced at her brother and expected to find at least some remnant of fear within him, but it had entirely vanished- the look in his eyes was what terrified her instead. They seemed to burn with hatred.


    The vampire finally went still, and only a breeze wept amongst the smoke-filled air as he disappeared like a piece of parchment, leaving nothing but a pile of ashes behind.


    Mari rushed to her brother. He was still covered in his own blood, but he didn¡¯t seem to be actively bleeding as much now. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Tristan seemed to snap out of his trance, giving her a smile. ¡°I should be asking you that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. I can¡¯t believe you¡­how did you know to¡­¡±


    ¡°Because of you, Mari,¡± he said. ¡°You told me that fire is the only weapon we have against monsters. Who knew that being a huge nerd would actually pay off?¡±


    ¡°I suppose I was just repeating an old folktale¡­well, not really a folktale now, I guess,¡± she mumbled, trying to steady her breathing. ¡°You saved my life, Tristan.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°No, you saved mine.¡±


    To her puzzled expression, he clarified, ¡°I was ready to give up, Mar. I was ready give it all up- my dreams, my life, all of it. You gave me a reason not to- you were a reason not to. You and mom.¡±


    Mari felt a little awkward at this sudden display of affection that she¡¯d never expected from her brother, but settled for saying, ¡°Does that mean you¡¯re not going to run away and join the army?¡±


    ¡°Only if you become an evildoer and I have to bring you down.¡±


    She grinned, but the edge in his voice betrayed him. ¡°You¡¯ve got a deal.¡±


    She wondered if there was anything or anyone strong enough in this world to hold him back.


    ¡°That I do, although I¡¯m not sure you can get any worse than that.¡±


    They both looked to the pile of ashes.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe they really exist. Should we get rid of it?¡± Tristan suggested.


    Mari thought for a second. ¡°No, I say we just run home and wait for mom to get back. Then she¡¯ll have to explain what all¡­this is,¡± she said, gesturing at the blood stained on his clothes. ¡°Do you think I have it, too?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that like it¡¯s a disease. But yeah, she¡¯s just as overprotective of you.¡±


    ¡°And the vampire seemed to think so,¡± Mari added.


    Tristan¡¯s face recoiled in disgust. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you hold any weight in that monster¡¯s words.¡±


    ¡°He clearly knows something we don¡¯t. We¡¯ll just have to tell mom all about it, she might be mad but she¡¯ll be glad we¡¯re ok.¡± She wondered if their mother knew about the existence of vampires, too. Not believed like everybody else, but knew. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get out of here.¡±


    They only got a few steps in before multiple doors of the houses around them bursted open and out came the people of the village.

 Five: Fear or Truth

    It was cold.


    So utterly cold.


    Mari¡¯s eyes fluttered open as she awoke, only dirty stone walls and metal bars there to bid her good morning.


    If it even was morning.


    It was hard to tell. Some light trickled in through the bars, but it was from the torches that hung outside her cell.


    Drip Drip


    Pitter-Patter


    Mari flung her head around to find the sources of the sounds, but she could find no water droplets leaking from the ceiling nor any animal scrounging around.


    Panic seeped into her veins for just a moment before she remembered who and where she was, only that didn¡¯t help her situation.


    She was in the cell some soldiers threw her into after she and Tristan were found in the village square beside a pile of ashes, him covered in his golden blood.


    They had heard screaming, the villagers said. And they¡¯d peered out of their windows to see a man on fire, which was when many ran out their back doors and grouped up to confront the assailant- only it looked like the assailant was Tristan.


    Their pleas did little to convince them.


    ¡°Seize them at once!¡± A woman yelled, pointing to the twins. ¡°They¡¯re changelings, I tell you! Changelings!¡±


    ¡°No, they¡¯re clearly ghosts of the dead who¡¯ve come to haunt us!¡±


    Tristan had placed himself in front of Mari, blocking her from the mob. ¡°We¡¯re not any of those things, we were attacked by a vampire! He was pretending to be a soldier!¡±


    ¡°Liars,¡± a man snarled. ¡°I reckon you¡¯re the ones who are vampires!¡°


    Tristan scowled at him. ¡°How dare you?! We live here!¡±


    Mari tried to think of something to say, something smart to get them out of there or at least convince the villagers that they were harmless. ¡°It¡¯s true, my brother fought off a vampire! That¡¯s why you see a pile of ashes there. If he was the real vampire, why would he use fire?¡±


    A few people remained silent as they looked to the ashes, but the same man said, ¡°Nobody knows if vampires truly exist, let alone if they are really weakened by fire. To declare both these things is a bold claim, especially with no evidence. Besides, nobody here has vouched for you being citizens of the village. How do we know you aren¡¯t lying about that, too?¡±


    The villagers hummed in agreement. ¡°Look at his clothes!¡± One of them shouted. ¡°It¡¯s yellow! His blood is yellow!¡±


    The crowd was much larger now as all the ruckus had awoken many residents nearby. Some people in the back moved up to see Tristan, gasping as their eyes indeed landed on the blood covering his body.


    ¡°I just gave you evidence, didn¡¯t I? There¡¯s not even a single legend that states vampires have golden blood, nor do any mythological creatures!¡± Granted, Mari had a very limited supply of books and wasn¡¯t sure if her words were true, but nobody corrected her.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here? Hey! Let me through!¡±


    Amongst the crowd, an old, bearded man wearing an oversized white robe emerged- the symbol of a golden sun etched into the underside of his sleeves.


    The priest.


    Every village had one, although Mari had never seen theirs in person.


    ¡°Can someone tell me what is going on-¡°


    His eyes had fallen on the blood.


    ¡°By the grace of Zohar, it can¡¯t be,¡± he murmured beneath his breath.


    ¡°They¡¯re vampires, your holiness!¡± Someone called out. ¡°We must burn them at once!¡±


    ¡°Not so fast,¡± a man said, making his way through the mob. With a start, Mari realized he was a soldier- his emblem and uniform identical to that of the vampire¡¯s, although his badge was a tad different. Her gaze wandered downwards and she was relieved to see he had no ring.¡°Royal law decrees that we hold these two for questioning.¡±


    ¡°And give them a chance to escape?¡± Another yelled out.


    ¡°I assure you that won¡¯t be happening.¡± Turning to Tristan and Mari, he unsheathed the sword at his side. ¡°Will you two come peacefully?¡±


    Tristan looked as though he were about to curse the soldier out. ¡°Yes,¡± Mari said quickly. ¡°We will.¡±


    Her brother gave her an incredulous look, but she whispered, ¡°They¡¯ll kill us if we make a run for it. Just go along with them and don¡¯t do anything stupid.¡±


    As two other soldiers grabbed and took them away, Mari wondered if it was too late for that.


    After the memories had fully returned, she sat up and tried to calculate how long it¡¯d been since she was detained. She felt like she¡¯d slept for years, but it could only have been a day at most, she guessed. She¡¯d been in and out of sleep and her stomach grumbled with hunger. The soldiers must have dosed her with something. But with what? She tried to recall if any of her books had ever mentioned a drug that could knock someone out for hours. When nothing turned up, she tried to think if she¡¯d ever read of someone having golden blood, thinking of any defense she can give to spare her and Tristan¡¯s life- with no more success.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Was this it, was she going to die down here?


    Had they really defeated a vampire only to be brought down by the ignorance of man?


    The memory made Mari cringe as it resurfaced. She¡¯d been useless, able to do nothing but stare up at the vampire in fear as it taunted her. If Tristan hadn¡¯t grabbed and lit that plank on fire, they would¡¯ve been dead.


    And it would have been her fault.


    If only she tried harder to stop Tristan from sneaking out, if only they didn¡¯t stop to look at that campfire after talking to the vampire. Maybe they would have made it home.


    The sound of footsteps and metal jingling brought her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see three soldiers arrive at her cell, the one in the middle being the same man that brought them in.


    He pointed his gun at her.


    A bead of sweat fell down Mari¡¯s face.


    ¡°I¡¯m warning you now: if you don¡¯t behave, I¡¯ll have to do this the hard way.¡±


    She nodded meekly.


    He gestured for another soldier to unlock the door, him doing so with a key that dangled from a silver hoop- one among many. ¡°Are you ready to talk, then?¡±


    ¡°How long has it been?¡± Mari asked, trying to keep her voice soft and docile.


    ¡°Twenty-one hours, and we¡¯re the ones asking questions here,¡± the last solder chimed in, a newer recruit by the look of his badge and youth.


    The middle soldier held up his palm and the young one hung his head down in respect. ¡°Do you need anything? Food, water?¡±


    Every sense in Mari¡¯s body screamed yes, but she shook her head. He was only being kind so she¡¯d let down her guard.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he said, seeing the look in her eye. ¡°I¡¯m here to get information out of you, no matter what manner of methods I deem appropriate to do so.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s illegal to hold me for more than twelve hours without some sort of trial.¡±


    The soldier, a commander she realized now that she had a closer look at his badge, smiled. ¡°You know your rights, good. Then you should know what other kinds of things are illegal.¡±


    The cell turned silent, save for the endless droplets of water and shuffling of feet.


    The young soldier suddenly turned on his heel and left. Mari felt her heart drop in her chest as her mind raced with all sorts of possibilities. The commander had to be bluffing, there¡¯s no way an officer would break the law.


    He continued, ¡°Who are you? What is your relation to the boy?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s my brother,¡± Mari answered, trying to keep her voice from breaking. She wouldn¡¯t cry, wouldn¡¯t let herself drown in tears at a time like this. ¡°We live here in Frostwood, atop a hill near the square.¡±


    ¡°Your brother told us the same thing. We searched the house- it was nearly empty.¡±


    Her eyes widened. ¡°Our mother¡­ she left for Graymire, she should be home by now.¡±


    The young soldier returned with something behind his back.


    Drip Drip.


    Pitter- Patter.


    Dread overtook Mari before he revealed it to be nothing but a worn, dusty chair. He placed it on the ground and Mari released a breath as the commander took a seat, his gun still casually aimed towards her.


    ¡°That¡¯s interesting, your brother said the exact same thing- after we told him your mother wasn¡¯t there.¡±


    Let him interrogate her about whatever he wanted, her mom, her brother, their blood¡­she expected it all.


    The commander hummed. ¡°Are you a human?¡±


    Except that.


    ¡°What? Of course I¡¯m a human.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s also the exact same thing your brother said.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because it¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°True, is it? But isn¡¯t truth such a fickle thing?¡±


    Mari stared at him, not sure if she was being tested.


    The commander leaned back, ¡°So many things we regard as true. Our officers did find lots of books in that house. I take it they¡¯re yours- how many of them do you think hold the complete truth?¡±


    ¡°Probably very little,¡± she admitted, wondering if the commander was trying to assess her intelligence.


    ¡°Wrong,¡± he said. ¡°Everything in those books are true because the truth is what the writers deem it to be.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need an agent of the kingdom to tell me that the kingdom lies,¡± Mari spat, regretting the words as they left her lips .


    But the commander¡¯s grin only grew wider. ¡°Of course not. What you need is to decide what story you want to tell me- because here, in this cell, you are not a subject to the law of the land. In this cell, I am the law of the land. You are a girl who nobody will go looking for if she happens to disappear.¡± He leaned in. ¡°You want to speak of truth? Fear is the absence of truth. As long as I can control fear, I can control the truth. And I am the one who decides how true your story will be, just as I decide how true your rights are.¡±


    ¡°Now,¡± he continued. ¡°The good news here is that you have a choice, a choice I am giving you out of the kindness of my heart. What will it be- fear or truth?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer. How could she? She barely even understood the question.


    Drip Drip.


    Pitter-Patter.


    ¡°Let¡¯s try again, shall we? Are you a human?¡±


    Mari thought for a moment and decided it¡¯d be more foolish to lie, even though it seemed like the question was rigged against her. ¡°Yes.¡±


    The commander sighed and stood upright.


    The younger soldier vanished once more, only this time taking the remaining officer with him, to return seconds later with something behind his back again. This time, it was no chair.


    It was a blade.


    He traded it for the commander¡¯s gun, which he held at her now instead. The commander slowly approached her and Mari immediately rose, trapped against the wall of her cell.


    ¡°Is that your final answer?¡±


    Her mind raced with any idea for what to do. Should she change her answer? Was this another test?


    ¡°Yes,¡± she breathed with a prayer.


    The commander grabbed her arm before she could slink away. She instinctively lifted her other arm to claw at him with her nails, but the soldier still standing at the foot of the cell cocked his gun.


    ¡°Another movement and the next time you¡¯ll see your brother will be as a severed head,¡± he murmured against her forehead, so close that she felt the heat of his breath.


    All she could do was nod, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill out. She retracted her arm but had managed to leave a small scrape against his jaw.


    Drip Drip.


    Pitter-Patter.


    With his other hand, the commander raised the blade still in his grip and skimmed the length of her forearm, piercing the surface. It wasn¡¯t extremely painful, but Mari still bit back her lip as the wound began to ache.


    He removed his blade from her skin and dangled it in her face.


    ¡°Look at this and tell me again that you¡¯re human.¡±


    She stared at the blade- her blood dripping from it¡¯s tip and pooling at her shoes.


    Golden blood.


    She was silent.


    So she did have it too.


    The commander released his hold on Mari as her mind again raced for an explanation. She¡¯d never read about anyone having golden blood, and her mother had certainly never mentioned it.


    Her mother.


    She knew. All this time, she knew and didn¡¯t say a thing, filling their heads with stupid rules- never get sick, never go outside, never let anyone see them.


    She wondered if their mother also had golden blood. It had to be genetic, both she and Tristan possessed it.


    They¡¯ll confront her when she returns, Mari decided. And she¡¯d have to tell them, she¡¯d have to finally reveal the truth.


    ¡°So that¡¯s it, then? Do you intend to kill me now or keep torturing me for information you already know?¡±


    He paused.


    Drip Drip


    Pitter-Patter


    The sounds were going to drive her insane now that her own blood added to them.


    It was only when the remaining soldier returned that she remembered he was gone, and he made no effort to hide what he¡¯d brought: a large bucker of water and some cloth.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know the meaning of torture.¡± The commander reached into his pocket and dropped a tiny block of cheese onto the ground. ¡°But you will soon.¡±


    A horde of rodents appeared seemingly out of nowhere and attacked the cheese all at once, clawing at each other¡¯s throats for the singular piece.


    ¡°The rats here are just as hungry as you are,¡± he said as the two soldiers rushed into her cell and placed the bucket of water on the ground, grabbing her and forcing the cloth over her face as she tried to break free of their grasp.


    The last thing she saw before it covered her eyes completely was the commander turning to leave. ¡°Let it be fear.¡±

 Six: Darkness

    ¡°Hey!¡± Tristan yelled as he shook the metal bars. ¡°You there! I can see you!¡±


    The guard whose attention he was trying to get was standing a few empty cells down the hall, staring blankly at the wall. If Tristan wasn¡¯t able to see the rise and fall of his chest, he¡¯d doubt the man, a soldier seemingly from his uniform, was alive at all.


    ¡°I¡¯m starving!¡±


    ¡°You were fed an hour ago,¡± the guard grumbled.


    ¡°I¡¯m a growing boy!¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°I have to use the bathroom!¡±


    ¡°You went fifteen minutes ago.¡±


    Tristan shuffled from one foot to another. ¡°But I still have to go! You can¡¯t deprive me of my rights!¡±


    ¡°So much talk about rights today,¡± a voice fluttered in.


    He looked down the other end of the hall to see the same soldier that had questioned him earlier. ¡°You again.¡±


    The soldier strolled up to the bars. He had a small, fresh cut on his jaw. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°Spectacular.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great to hear.¡±


    ¡°When are you going to let me out?¡±


    The soldier grazed his chin with his fingers and glanced at the ceiling above. ¡°Hmmm, that is a good question.¡±


    Tristan rattled the bars so he¡¯d look back at him. ¡°You promised you¡¯d let me go after I told you everything I knew.¡±


    ¡°I did?¡±


    ¡°You did.¡±


    ¡°Odd, I don¡¯t seem to recall that.¡±


    Bastard.


    ¡°What more do you want to know?!¡±


    The soldier shrugged. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind the truth.¡±


    ¡°I already told you the truth.¡±


    ¡°Ah, see, I don¡¯t think you did.¡± He pressed his face against the bars until he was eye to eye with Tristan. ¡°So there¡¯s no reason for me to release you anyhow.¡±


    Tristan reached out to grab the soldier, but he had ducked away too quickly.


    ¡°Quite a violent streak you have.¡±


    As he shot him a death stare, the soldier added, ¡°Oh, and your sister¡¯s awake.¡±


    ¡°How is she?¡± Tristan demanded, almost falling with relief.


    ¡°Hm, not too bad all things considering.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean you¡¯ll let us go now?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± the soldier said, leaving the way he came.


    What felt like several hours passed when he returned with two other soldiers, the guard in the hall having allowed him to relieve himself in the meantime. The toilet was comprised of a small seat with a circular hole in the center and it was just as small and dirty as he remembered, but Tristan had nearly tripped over a rock in the doorway as he rushed into the stall.


    One of the soldiers held a metal hoop from which dangled what looked like hundreds of keys, and the other had a pair of shackles.


    ¡°Cheer up, kid. Today¡¯s your lucky day.¡±


    Tristan rushed to the bars from the spot on the floor he¡¯d decided was the least uncomfortable to lay on. ¡°You¡¯re letting us out?¡±


    ¡°Both you and your sister,¡± the soldier said, taking the keys from another and unlocking the door. ¡°The military has reviewed your statements and we¡¯ve decided that neither of you are a threat to the kingdom.¡±


    The door made a loud creak as it flung open. The shackles were placed and locked on Tristan¡¯s wrists, cold metal digging into his skin. Then, with one last look at the silent guard still staring at the wall, he was led down the hall and up a dark spiral of stairs.


    Atop the stairs was an even taller hall of stone, but the light streaming in through the windows told Tristan that they were above ground. An equally large door was on the other side.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± He asked, looking around for anything that could clue him into what this place was.


    ¡°One of the fortresses owned by the military,¡± the soldier who¡¯d questioned him, seemingly the leader, answered. ¡°Built hundreds of years ago to keep out the enemies of the kingdom. It seems that times have changed, but our situation has not.¡±


    Tristan glared at the back of his head. ¡°Are you referring to me?¡±


    ¡°Are you referring to yourself as our enemy?¡±


    ¡°I thought you were letting me go.¡±


    They reached the door and the leader held it open for Tristan. ¡°That I am.¡±


    Tristan found himself stepping into the outside world, empty of nothing but snowy grasslands as far as his eye could see- that and the wall.


    He¡¯d never seen it before, and the massive wall of snow and ice was still far off in the distance, but it was all he¡¯d imagined it to be- silent and looming.


    According to what his sister had told him, the wall was built hundreds of years ago during the great war to keep out wild tribes, splitting up the continent between the kingdom and the shadowlands.


    Tristan stared out at the horizon, yearning to see what was beyond.


    He began to panic as they approached a carriage. ¡°Where are you taking me?¡±


    ¡°Relax,¡± the leader said, leading them towards it. ¡°We¡¯re dropping you off at Frostwood, it¡¯s only a few miles away.¡±


    When they reached the small, wooden carriage, Tristan saw from a better angle that two brown horses were attached to it, another soldier holding their reins atop his seat. He stared at them in awe, only having seen horses from a distance before- whenever he stared out at the village square from his garden or window.


    He¡¯d dream that he was the one riding them off into distant lands, a dream now corrupted by that abhorrent vampire. If not for him, Tristan would have set off for Azeris and likely began his military training by now.


    But now he was as free as these horses forced to pull the carriage.


    No, he told himself. You¡¯re being released. You can finally join the army and live the life you¡¯ve always wanted.


    The cramped interior consisted of two cushioned wooden benches facing each other. Tristan found himself squeezed between the two soldiers who hadn¡¯t spoken a word this entire time, the leader taking a seat across from him.


    ¡°Go on, then,¡± he called out a small window carved into the door. A crack could be heard as the soldier seated outside flicked his reins and the carriage began to move.


    ¡°Why am I still shackled if I''m being released?¡± Tristan asked as the fortress he¡¯d been locked up in began to fade away into the distance. He had no idea that was where he¡¯d been held, but he supposed it made sense. The fortress was large, but Tristan knew that the ones in Azeris were even larger.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The leader was reclined back on the bench with a sort of lazy hubris, his short chestnut-brown hair sprawled against the wall, staring out the window with his chin in his palm. His blue eyes slid to Tristan¡¯s. ¡°Procedure.¡±


    ¡°When will we arrive at Frostwood?¡±


    ¡°About half an hour.¡±


    ¡°Where is my sister?¡±


    ¡°What is it with you and questions?¡±


    ¡°I have a right to know where she is.¡±


    The leader raised a brow. ¡°I don¡¯t remember reading that in the code of laws.¡±


    ¡°I have a¡­a moral right!¡±


    ¡°Ah, one of those.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll be there, right? At the village?¡± He pleaded, leaning forward.


    ¡°Yes, your sister will be there.¡± Tristan sighed in relief. ¡°Perhaps she can teach you a thing or two about your rights.¡±


    Tristan didn¡¯t know what he meant but decided to stay quiet for the rest of the trip, not wanting get himself killed by irritating the soldier.


    It may have only been half an hour, but the trip felt like an eternity. He couldn¡¯t help grinning to himself like an idiot as the village finally came into view, the campfire still burning bright in the square- filled with more people than he¡¯d ever seen there, let alone in his entire life.


    The holidays, he remembered. They spanned a week long and celebrated Zohar for giving humans their two most important assets for survival: fire and the sun itself. Without them, they¡¯d be just like those uncivilized tribes of old, having to scrounge around just to survive the winter.


    But that was the extent of Tristan¡¯s knowledge.


    The horses stopped before a stable on the outskirts and Tristan was helped out of the carriage, the wind carrying whiffs of spices and an assortment of noises over the air. Cheering, laughter, music- he looked towards the square but could only see a hint of embers and an overflowing crowd of people. Something delicious filled his lungs and it took every ounce of self control Tristan had to not make a run for it.


    Yet even here, hordes gathered as they made their way to the stables, figs and strawberries in hand.


    ¡°Why are there so many people here?¡± Tristan asked, watching as the soldier who had driven them fed his horses. The holiday always did bring a crowd, but this was something else. There was no way all these people lived in Frostwood.


    The leader replied, ¡°This year is a special one, many have come from villages nearby for the celebration.¡±


    ¡°Celebration?¡± Tristan racked his brain for a celebration that occurred during the holiday, but came up empty. All he knew was that people drunk themselves silly and danced until the sun set.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡±


    The leader led him deeper into the village (meanwhile the other two flanked him), past various soldiers that stood guard as they watched the festival, past children dragging their parents from shop to shop, past stray dogs and cats as they scurried after one another, past drunken old men who made a bed of the pavement. It was warm for a winter day.


    Tristan had always thought that Frostwood looked so alive from his bedroom window, but being here now, he realized that he really had no clue.


    Not one as to how alive it could get- how alive he could feel in the thick of it.


    A few people stared with curiosity at his shackles and the soldiers but most paid them no mind, too busy enjoying the festival. He decided he¡¯d stay and join them once he met up with his sister, maybe even explore the village with their mother if she was back by then. But first, he figured they deserved an explanation.


    She had to have known, about his blood. All the times she made a fuss over him bleeding or getting sick- it had to all have been a lie.


    Tristan gritted his teeth. He couldn¡¯t believe that his and Mari¡¯s freedom had been restricted all these years because of a lie. He couldn¡¯t believe he¡¯d been punished for someone else¡¯s fears.


    He didn¡¯t know if he could forgive his mother for that.


    In fact, he didn¡¯t know if he could stop hating her.


    They arrived at the edge of the square and Tristan followed the leading soldier as he guided them through a thick, enormous crowd, ordering the festival-goers in front of him to get out of his way


    His stomach grumbled as he took in the sight of all the people holding bread, corn, tarts, and fruit, things he would never be able to taste in his wildest dreams. ¡°Do you think we can stop for something to eat?¡±


    ¡°A bit later, perhaps.¡±


    But his mouth only continued to water at the lingering scent as people they passed barely regarded them, gazing up at whatever it was they all gathered around. Some were wide-eyed as they looked towards the center of the village, some shouting vulgar insults and others looking on in fear.


    Tristan tried to see what they were looking at, but the tall soldier in front of him blocked his view as he continued making his way through the horde, it being far too cramped to get around him. He could merely see the smoke of the fire as it wafted up towards the afternoon sun, blazing at its highest peak of the day.


    They reached the clearing at the front of the crowd and Tristan finally side-stepped the soldier before him to see what was causing all the commotion.


    A wave of nausea rolled over him when he saw his sister, her limp body hanging from the chains that tied her hands to the metal railing that encircled the great fire.


    Beside her was a small wooden platform with stairs attached. Four guards stood nearby.


    Tristan could do nothing but stare at his sister. The only sign of an injury was her bandaged wrist, her golden hair and dirty clothes slightly damp.


    But she looked lifeless- her eyes shut tight against the crackling of the flames behind her. Tristan would¡¯ve thought she was dead if not for the rise and fall of her chest.


    ¡°W-what did you do to her?¡± He whispered, the words barely audible beneath all the noise.


    The leader made no reply as he watched him over his shoulder.


    ¡°WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!¡±


    The people around them finally turned to look at Tristan, their gaze landing on the shackles locked around his wrists, then sliding to his hair, his face, his eyes¡­


    ¡°It¡¯s him!¡± One of them yelled out. ¡°The kid was there with the girl last night!¡±


    Tristan lifted his head to see who the voice belonged to- recognizing the man as one of the villagers that found him yesterday.


    Found him beside a pile of ashes with blood on his clothes.


    ¡°Detainee,¡± one of the soldiers behind him finally spoke, pushing Tristan further into the clearing. ¡°You are hereby under arrest for the crimes of heresy and murder.¡±


    He was speechless.


    Mari opened her bloodshot eyes and looked up at her brother, tears welling in them.


    ¡°No!¡± He screamed as the two soldiers at his back grabbed him. ¡°You¡¯ve got it all wrong! We killed a vampire!¡±


    A wave of gasps and whispers trickled through the crowd. ¡°He¡¯s a liar!¡± A woman shouted out, but some appeared to not be so sure.


    ¡°Silence!¡± The soldier who had led him here commanded.


    And command he did- the entire square fell silent and watched as he ascended the small wooden platform, towering over the crowd. The music abruptly stopped and even the breeze seemed to pause.


    ¡°The two detainees you have before you now were found in this very square after dusk- claiming a vampire disguised as a soldier had attacked them.¡±


    A few more murmurs echoed throughout the square.


    ¡°Their identities could not be verified, nor could any part of their story. Through our interrogations, the military has uncovered the truth: they are outsiders who aim to spread panic within the kingdom. The trespassers burned a man alive and lied about him being a vampire- the existence of which the kingdom has officially disproven¡­¡±


    At this, a cry of outrage was levied at Tristan, still frozen in the grasp of the two soldiers. ¡°Last chance, kid,¡± one of them said. ¡°Tell us the truth- who you are and why you have golden blood. Tell us and we¡¯ll let the two of you go.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve told you everything,¡± he insisted. ¡°I swear.¡±


    The soldier sighed. ¡°Fine, have it your way.¡±


    ¡°¡­Therefore, they have been sentenced to death by fire.¡±


    No, he thought as the crowd began to cheer. This couldn¡¯t be happening.


    They were about to die and he was helpless to stop it.


    He¡¯d finally had a taste of freedom only to have it snatched from his grasp.


    ¡°Burn the heathens, commander!¡± Someone shrieked. So that¡¯s what he was. Fitting.


    One of the guards beside his sister pulled out a barren torch from it¡¯s stand on the wall of a nearby shop. The commander bent down to take it before using the campfire behind him to light the torch- holding it above Mari¡¯s head.


    ¡°Please,¡± Tristan bawled as she silently watched him with a hollow look in her eye, as though she was resigned to her fate.


    This was all his fault, he realized. He was the one who dragged her into this, into leaving their house.


    If nothing else, he wished he could at least tell her he was sorry. Tease her about her books one last time.


    Tristan thrashed in the arms of the soldiers with every ounce of strength inside him. But he had little.


    That was what he was: weak.


    If only he hadn¡¯t been too weak to run away before his birthday.


    His birthday, he remembered with fury. It was still technically today, at least until the sun would set. He hadn¡¯t yet made his wish. But what the hell was the point in having a birthday, of making a wish year after year, if you were going to die before you saw the world?


    What the hell was the point in his imminent death if he¡¯d never had a chance to live?


    Please, he said to the world, to the fire- just as he did every year before blowing out his candle. Let her live. Even if I have to die, just let her live.


    ¡°Any last words?¡± The commander said to Mari, the torch slowly slipping from his fingers. The ground itself seemed to shake the slightest bit from the crowd jumping up and down in a frenzy, roaring at his sister.


    I¡¯ll do anything it takes.


    The fire danced with madness.


    It¡¯s embers flared and the ground beneath suddenly shook, as through a terrible quake plagued the stones below.


    Tristan widened his eyes, but the crowd didn¡¯t notice.


    Not until it spread throughout the entire square and the very buildings trembled- shops and houses crumbling into one another, windows shattering beneath their weight.


    Then the village erupted in chaos.


    The people that had been watching the execution dispersed in a throng of screams. Tristan looked to the commander, his expression just as frightened as theirs, but the torch did not fall from his hand.


    Tristan tried to break his arms free, but the soldiers held firm. ¡°What the hell is going on?!¡±


    The sky bled in answer.


    In a flash, it had turned from a bright blue to a deep crimson, speckled with yellows and oranges. And the sun was no longer at its peak.


    It was falling.


    Tristan felt as though he was watching a sunset, only it was accelerated. The shining ball of golden light faded as it sank westward in a perfectly curved path.


    The people of Frostwood stared up at the sky and could do nothing but watch as it burned.


    Not as the reds, yellows, and oranges gave way to a dark blue.


    Not as the sun sunk lower and lower beneath the clouds.


    And not as it finally disappeared beyond the horizon and the village was plunged in darkness.

 Seven: The Long Night

    If Tristan thought Frostwood was chaotic before, it was unrecognizable now.


    A tremor still rippled across the square, filled with great booms as stands and buildings toppled over.


    Except he could barely see where they were about to fall, only the fire and some nearby torches illuminating the village center.


    Including the one still in the commander¡¯s hand.


    Screams echoed between the crowd as chunks of walls and roofs fell onto it, flattening the people unlucky enough to be standing in their path.


    One man dashed for an alley only for a flying brick to strike him in the head, his blood splattering against the ground.


    Another simply stood and looked at the black, empty sky.


    No- not empty at all.


    An approaching flock of bats began to shriek as they descended upon the square.


    And once they hit the ground, their small, fuzzy bodies transformed into that of humans.


    Pale humans with shining eyes, their ivory skin glistening beneath the light of the fire.


    Vampires.


    Now the village was unrecognizable.


    They wore


    Tristan scowled at the creatures as they moved in on the crowd, and his fury only grew as he realized that many were either smiling or wearing expressions of boredom.


    He didn¡¯t know which pissed him off more.


    Everyone around him tried to run at once, each in a different direction. But there was one of them at every corner, surrounding the stragglers and trapping them inside the square.


    A few were grabbing people by the neck instead, sinking their teeth into their flesh.


    The two soldiers suddenly let go of him and withdrew their rifles. Tristan didn¡¯t have time to cover his ears before they began shooting, a ringing forming in his ears from the blasts.


    And yet, the cries of a little girl caught his attention and Tristan turned expecting to find her in the hands of a vampire, instead she was laying flat against the ground- trampled beneath the feet of those who tried to flee.


    It was only when he tried to dash for her that he realized his wrists were still cuffed and his arms were still being held by the soldiers. ¡°Take these off me!¡±


    They either couldn¡¯t hear or outright ignored him.


    Tristan turned to his sister, his gaze landing on the fire behind her.


    The fire.


    In her eyes, he knew she was thinking the same thing.


    But the back of a man blocked his view of both Mari and the fire before he could do anything about it.


    He turned back to where the little girl was¡­


    Laying still on the floor, unrecognizable beneath all the blood and shoes.


    He only allowed himself a second of respite before looking back over his shoulder. ¡°What the hell are you standing around for?! Shoot them-¡±


    All it took was a single moment.


    A single moment, and one of the soldiers who¡¯d been holding him was on the ground, a red, shiny bullet lodged into his skull.


    The ones thereafter were long and heavy.


    Tristan didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been staring at the equally shiny blood flowing from the soldier''s head until he snapped back into reality and tore his eyes away to the crowd around them.


    There were more of them now, in those same fine, regal uniforms- although some had cloaks and were wearing more badges than others.


    With a start, Tristan suddenly realized that he could see more of them now. In just a blink, the crowd had become far emptier, and there, just across the square, were groups of people being handcuffed and encircled by the vampires- some sitting against the shops in batches, others lifeless on the ground.


    He could also now see all the vampires at the far ends of the street and the alleyways- blocking the exits.


    They¡¯re rounding us up. It hasn¡¯t even been five minutes and they already have half the square.


    He couldn¡¯t spot who or what had shot at the soldier, he didn¡¯t even know of a material that made ruby bullets.


    But he did know he wouldn¡¯t be next.


    The other soldier had finally noticed the limp body of his colleague beside them, and he, too, only spared a few seconds to stare at him before he withdrew his own gun and finally let go of Tristan, shooting into the crowd.


    Tristan went to make a run for it, but the gleam of something peeking out of the dead soldier¡¯s waist caught his eye.


    His gun.


    He glanced at the other soldier who was still shooting at the vampires and paying no mind to Tristan.


    Then he grabbed the gun and was gone in a flash, the metal heavy and cold against his palm.


    They had a chance. If he had a weapon, he and Mari could escape whatever it was they were planning.


    Tristan bolted towards the fire, shoving aside anyone in his way, not daring to look back and see if the soldier was chasing after him.


    And when he could finally see through the mob, he noticed that the man who had blocked his view of Mari was joined by a second one.


    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s her?¡±


    ¡°It has to be, who else would they be trying to execute?¡±


    Their words sent a wave of panic over Tristan and he pushed himself to run faster.


    Even with their backs turned to him he could sense it- they were vampires.


    ¡°Get her out of the chains, then,¡± the first said, glancing over the crowd of screaming humans and waving with his hand. ¡°And quickly.¡±


    The second did as he asked, using the crimson sword in his hand to seamlessly cut through the metal. Only the cuffs on her wrists remained as he grabbed a frightened Mari and began to haul her away.


    Not again, he thought. Don¡¯t take her away from me again.


    ¡°Let her go!¡± Tristan roared, lifting his gun and aiming it at the vampire¡¯s head.


    They turned to him with startled expressions.


    Tristan¡¯s blood ran cold.


    Both of their eyes were a bright, haunting blue that felt as though they pierced right through him. Just like the vampire from yesterday.


    He already knew what they were, but seeing their eyes- no, he wouldn¡¯t allow himself to hesitate.


    He pushed through the fear rising in his chest, pushed through even as his heartbeat echoed in his ears, and took the shot.


    A ringing pulsed in his ears as he watched the vampire holding Mari fall to the ground and blood poured out of his skull- just like the soldier.


    A rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins. He¡¯d actually hit him.


    The other vampire looked between Tristan and the body. ¡°You little¡­How in the world did you get that?¡±


    Tristan ignored him, aiming the gun at his head as he yelled to Mari, ¡°Run!¡±


    She simply stared back at him in shock.


    ¡°And who might you be?¡±


    He froze.


    The voice had come from behind him, from another vampire.


    And Tristan didn¡¯t have to see him to know, as instinctually as he knew a stick he dropped would fall to the ground, as instinctually as he knew how to breathe, that there was very little in this world more dangerous than the creature that voice belonged to. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    He couldn¡¯t explain why. It sounded completely ordinary.


    Yet the vampire that came into view was anything but.


    His uniform was the same as the others, but a thick, onyx coat was draped over his shoulders.


    He was as pale as the others, but his eyes were a dull red.


    And he was a vampire, just as the others, but his smooth, lazy stroll whispered of something far greater.


    The other one had waved him over, Tristan realized.


    The vampire stalked closer until he was just a breath away from Tristan, until his own head was in the pistol¡¯s line of sight. ¡°Hm? I¡¯m sure humans have the capability of hearing?¡±


    He gulped in an effort to get words out as his heart beat louder and louder. When had his mouth become so dry?


    RUN, something deep inside him screamed. YOU HAVE TO RUN AWAY NOW.


    His fingers curled around the trigger.


    The vampire smiled as he leaned in closer- pressing his forehead against the barrel. The strands of his long, ivory hair fell around it. ¡°Well, what are you waiting for?¡±


    A tremor rippled through Tristan¡¯s body. The gun shook in his hands, the cuffs still lashed around his wrists jingling with the movement.


    Don¡¯t give in to the fear.


    Shoot him and there¡¯s only one left, shoot him you can get out of here. You and Mari.


    Tristan gritted his teeth. He¡¯ll kill him. He¡¯ll kill them all.


    He pulled the trigger- nothing happened.


    A muffled groan interrupted the silence that followed. ¡°M-my lord.¡±


    It was the other vampire, the one he shot. He was sitting up, taking in the sight of Tristan¡¯s gun leveled at the white-haired vampire¡¯s head¡­


    Rubbing his perfectly normal temples.


    The white-haired vampire sighed and leaned back. ¡°Why even use one of those if you don¡¯t know how it works?¡±


    He glanced at the formerly dead one now rising and added, ¡°Although I suppose you did rather well for someone who has never done so before. Now, are you going to answer my question or do I need to pry it out of you?¡±


    Tristan opened his mouth to retort-


    ¡°Let go of the boy this instant, heathen.¡±


    The vampire turned over his shoulder and Tristan got a glimpse of a middle-aged man in ivory robes with a sun sewn into the sleeves.


    The priest from yesterday.


    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t a Zoharist,¡± the vampire cood. ¡°How wonderful to see they still exist after all these years.¡±


    ¡°Looks like I can say the same to you.¡±


    He let out a laugh, a deep, haunting laugh that Tristan felt in his bones, one that would have made him cringe if he wasn¡¯t currently incapacitated. ¡°Ha! How amusing, at least this new batch will have a sense of humor!¡±


    The words hit Tristan full force.


    He couldn¡¯t mean¡­were they going to be taken as slaves?


    He suddenly thought back to the legends his mother used to tell him and Mari. Vampires: a race of beasts who lurk within the shadows, beasts who don¡¯t need to sleep or eat, beasts who sustain themselves on human blood¡­


    That¡¯s why they weren¡¯t killing anyone- they needed them alive.


    ¡°I would rather die than become a slave to a monster like you.¡±


    Tristan was inclined to agree.


    ¡°That can be arranged.¡±


    The priest looked up at the moon, one of his arms sliding inside his robes. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d live to see the day our greatest fears came true, but if you think for a second that humanity will bow down and serve you without a fight then you¡¯re sorely mistaken. I only wish I could¡¯ve lived a little longer, just enough to feel the warmth of the sun one last time. But there¡¯s no need for that.¡±


    He narrowed his eyes back at the vampire as he pulled out a sword, the flames coating it just as bright as the fire dancing within his eyes. ¡°We can watch you burn from the heavens instead.¡±


    Tristan looked on in shock as he jumped and was gone in a flash, appearing behind the formerly dead vampire and slashing at him from above.


    He had no time to react before he was burning alive.


    I don¡¯t even think the priest pierced him with the blade, Tristan thought. The flames just caught onto the vampire in a single motion.


    Indeed, Tristan spotted no wound or blood spilling from the vampire as he screamed and fell to the ground, rolling in an effort to put the flames out.


    But as his skin turned a dark onyx, the vampire stilled.


    The white-haired one merely stared at the priest with an irritated expression. ¡°They let Zoharists have these now?¡±


    ¡°I do not seek permission to do what needs to be done,¡± the priest responded, pointing the sword at the vampire. ¡°And I am willing to bear any punishment for the protection of my village.¡±


    The vampire unsheathed a small dagger from within his own cloak. Tristan was surprised that it was seemingly ordinary, more so than the one of the priest still burning in his hand.


    How in the hell is it flammable? Some kind of secret technology developed by the church?


    The vampire raised the dagger and Tristan braced to see it thrown at the priest¡¯s head-


    Only to watch as he sliced his own palm instead.


    Blood began to spill from his hand but just before it hit the ground, it solidified into a long, thin, crimson rapier.


    ¡°Very well, then,¡± the vampire said, letting the dagger drop to the ground. ¡°I won¡¯t turn down a fight.¡±


    Then he launched himself towards the priest, moving at a truly inhuman speed.


    The priest blocked his rapier with his own sword, the flames roaring with madness at the vampire. He stepped back to dodge another attack before dashing forwards for one of his own. The vampire just narrowly jumped out of range of the flames as they hurled towards him, almost as if they had a mind of their own.


    Tristan looked back to his sister as they continued to fight, seemingly just as confused as he was.


    He gestured for her to try and break free from the remaining vampire¡¯s hold so they could make a run for it, but she seemed to have frozen from shock.


    He was about to go help her when a scream stole his attention back to the fight.


    The priest was once again in the air, his sword held high above his head as he dropped onto the vampire with a howl-


    But the vampire pierced his chest before he had a chance to use it.


    The priest fell to his knees with a gasp, coughing up blood as he doubled over.


    The vampire¡¯s rapier turned back into liquid blood of its own before it was sucked back inside the wound on his palm, closing shut as though it¡¯d never been there. ¡°I¡¯m afraid the fun¡¯s over.¡±


    The priest lifted his eyes to him as he struggled to stand upright. ¡°You won¡¯t get away with this. Zohar¡­he will return and save us from you monsters once again.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting.¡±


    What happened next happened in the blink of an eye, and Tristan needed a moment to decipher it all.


    First, the priest had lifted his arm- the one still holding the sword.


    At the same time, the vampire appeared before the priest in a flash, his own arm sunk inside his chest.


    But by then, once his dead body had hit the ground, his hand was empty.


    And the square was burning.


    Tristan could do nothing but watch as building after building was consumed by the fire, as many humans that had been grouped up against them were screaming as they burned alive- them and their vampire guards.


    A single flame from a sword couldn¡¯t be responsible for all this, he thought, and indeed saw the remaining vampires stop whatever they were doing and descend upon all the men and women in robes that had seemingly jumped out of hiding, some he faintly recognized as Zoharists from the day before.


    A sigh stole his attention, and Tristan turned to the white haired vampire who was staring at his blood-soaked arm.


    ¡°How irritating, I just had this uniform fitted.¡±


    ¡°My lord!¡± the one still holding onto Mari said. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    The arrogant one sent him a glare. ¡°Well, you don¡¯t see me burning, do you?¡±


    Not a single wound or bead of blood even hinted at him having had his head penetrated with a bullet as he struggled to stand. ¡°What-¡±


    ¡°Crowley, what in the hell happened?¡±


    Two vampires in similar cloaks and uniforms had suddenly appeared before them, a man with cherry-red hair and a tan, dark-haired woman. Around them, the fire grew as vampires from all over the square reached into their own cloaks and pierced their own palms- releasing gushes of blood onto the raging flames.


    They were putting them out.


    ¡°A Zoharist happened,¡± the white-haired vampire, Crowley, said.


    ¡°A Zoharist?¡± The girl questioned, not paying him any attention. ¡°Has the target not been located?¡±


    He looked at Mari, her honey eyes still full of fear. ¡°She has.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t take her!¡±


    All eyes suddenly fell onto him. Around them, the smell of smoke filled the air.


    A part of him knew he was being stupid, that he should just make a run for it while he still could, but he wouldn¡¯t do it. He wouldn¡¯t leave Mari to the beasts.


    ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡± the red-haired vampire asked.


    ¡°I was just about to find that out when the priest so rudely interrupted,¡± Crowley explained.


    The girl, meanwhile, gave him an exasperated look. ¡°You were distracted by a human?¡±


    ¡°I guess you could say- hey, what are you...¡±


    In the blink of an eye, Tristan was being held high in the air by the girl, her olive fingers clasped tightly around his throat.


    He thrashed about and tried to scratch at her irritated face but she was so, so strong.


    ¡°Half of my unit is gone because of this kid! Johannah, Arcus, Lottie¡­they¡¯re all gone! When I¡¯m through with him, he¡¯ll-¡±


    ¡°Calm down, Vi,¡± the red-haired one said, putting a hand on her shoulder. ¡°You can¡¯t hurt him, we barely have any of the humans left.¡±


    Tristan tried to say something, anything, but he could barely breathe, let alone think.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care! I¡¯m going to kill him right here and now-¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s my friend!¡±


    Everyone turned to Mari, her eyes widened in horror.


    Mari, why are you¡­


    The red-haired male sighed. ¡°Just put him with the rest of them, we have to extinguish the fire.¡±


    The girl, Vi, simply stared at Tristan with hatred lacing her features.


    ¡°No.¡±


    With a flick of a wrist, Tristan could barely make out the rest of the square as he was flung across it into a nearby building- a house, he faintly thought.


    His back splattered against a wall and he fell to the floor, pain radiating throughout his entire body, just like when he¡¯d been hurled by the first vampire- the one that began it all.


    It only doubled as he tried to move. At least a few of his limbs had to be broken- far worse than when he¡¯d been tossed by the first vampire he fought. .


    Tristan opened his eyes and let out a groan as the ringing from earlier returned, drowning out the screams from outside.


    If he squinted, he could ever so slightly see his sister through all the chaos.


    I have to go, I have to save Mari¡­


    As it began to dull, another sound faded into his consciousness- a growing creak.


    Tristan looked above to where cracks were forming in the roof of the store, dust falling beside him.


    And before he even had time to react, it shattered into a hundred pieces and swallowed him whole.

 Eight: The Perfect Predator

    Marcella


    The world was spinning.


    Mari could feel it beyond the confines of her eyelids, waves of black and grey swimming through the darkness.


    Nausea crept in as she carefully stretched her arms, feeling the cold, dusty stone of the floor she laid upon, the equally freezing stone wall behind her head. She dared not open her eyes.


    Whatever room she was in was agonizingly quiet. But, she thought as she tried to sit up, there were things much more harrowing than silence.


    Like the screams of Frostwood as the sun disappeared, the cries of children as they were trampled to death or impaled by falling debris, not to mention the fear in their eyes as the vampires-


    Mari heaved with a start, placing a hand on her abdomen and curling over as whatever sat in her stomach (Zohar knows it certainly wasn¡¯t food, she couldn¡¯t remember the last time she ate) threatened to break free.


    For better or worse, it was only dread that rose in her throat. She took several deep breaths to push away the onslaught of sobs she could feel forming.


    But her body wasn¡¯t hers any longer, it did not care for what she wanted.


    The tears erupted.


    As did the memories, so fresh that she had to focus all her strength on pushing them away.


    It was a futile effort.


    Her head seared with pain as the images shot through one by one- how the entire square fell apart along with the sun itself, how her brother was tossed aside like he was nothing but a piece of flint, how she could do nothing but watch in horror as en entire roof crumbled onto his limp body.


    It was so potent, this pain. More than the throbbing in her head or her neck or her throat. She could feel it in every bone, in every inch of skin that covered her body along with the dirt.


    She didn¡¯t know what she looked like, but she hoped her hair was as disheveled and her clothes as stained as she thought them to be. She hoped she looked as pathetic as she felt.


    That was all a weakling like her deserved- to be pathetic and to have been crushed beneath that roof instead of Tristan. He was the one who tried to save her when she couldn¡¯t even bother to save herself.


    She should have tried to escape her cell in Frostwood, or tried harder to convince the commander to let her go. Better yet, she should have stopped Tristan from running to that damned recruitment stand in the first place.


    Then she wouldn¡¯t have been-


    She shuddered and breathed in deeply to keep the screams away in her head. Not just of the villagers or her brother, but of her own in the darkness of that cell.


    Then she wouldn¡¯t have been abducted for Zohar knows what reason, she told herself instead. Her instinct was to rationalize it and she was helpless to stop the generation of possibilities. The vampires- she still couldn¡¯t believe they were real, probably wouldn¡¯t kill her. If that had been the plan, they would¡¯ve just done it back in Frostwood. Was it for her blood? But then why wasn¡¯t anyone else taken, unless they¡¯d done it after they made sure they had her first¡­


    Or was it for her blood?


    That had to be it. Mari had no idea why her blood would be important to them, but she didn¡¯t know anything about it herself. Perhaps it was more than just some genetic mistake, perhaps she could be useful to the creatures.


    The idea didn¡¯t comfort her.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Despite her efforts, more memories resurfaced.


    She could feel herself hyperventilating and an even stronger wave of nausea overtook her as she felt the hands of the soldiers holding her down, unable to see anything with the rag over her head, unable to do anything as water was poured onto her face.


    It was like drowning. They¡¯d pour the water for seconds at a time before asking her a question, and every answer of hers, the words muffled beneath the cloth, was met with a slightly longer stream the next time. Once they finally left, it was only because the water had been poured for so long that Mari had stopped breathing and gone unconscious.


    She tried to steady it now, but it was if the water was still being forced down her lungs- the more she tried to breathe, the worse it became.


    With more tears, she realized that she¡¯d been the one thing that, no matter what other faults she possessed, she could never stand the thought of becoming- a fool. She may not have been the strongest or the richest or the most beautiful, but if there was one thing she had it was her wits.


    At least that was what she used to believe.


    Now she¡¯d understood that the one thing she¡¯d always clung onto, the one thing that fueled that distant dream of becoming a scholar and living out the rest of her life in some manor or even the grand research towers of the royal castle itself, was never hers to begin with.


    And she was a fool to think otherwise.


    She flinched as a door creaked open somewhere nearby and footsteps shuffled closer, finally opening her eyes to see that she was in a similar cell as to the one in Roshire, although this one was much larger and cleaner.


    But it was much darker, the hall outside her cell baring no torches. She could barely see the faces of the two people who arrived at her bars, only some moonlight from a window providing her a view of their faces.


    With their pale skin and knowing eyes, they were both vampires.


    She crawled back against the wall as even more panic rose in her chest.


    ¡°Hello,¡± one of them, a girl with pinkish-reddish eyes, said. ¡°I¡¯m Elaine.¡±


    Mari didn¡¯t reply as she stared warily at the vampires. The girl seemed to be a little younger than her, although the legends made her wonder if she really was. She wore a girlish black dress with sheer sleeves, her glowing white hair sprawled across her chest in soft waves. The man beside her seemed older and was wearing what looked like a guard¡¯s uniform, although his was much more elegant than the one of soldiers back home.


    The girl, Elaine, gave her a warm smile. ¡°I know this must all be very confusing, but I promise no one is going to hurt you. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    Mari wondered what the point was anymore in listening to her self-preservation instincts, but she did so anyway and stayed silent.


    The girl sighed and turned to the male vampire. ¡°Why is she in a cell?¡±


    ¡°His majesty ordered it, Lady Elaine.¡±


    ¡°Unlock the door.¡±


    ¡°But his majesty-¡°


    ¡°Does it look like his majesty is here?¡±


    ¡°Well, no-¡°


    ¡°Then you take orders from me, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Even in the dark, Mari could see as the guard¡¯s eyes flashed in fear. ¡°Y-yes, my lady.¡±


    ¡°Then open it.¡±


    He didn¡¯t need to be told twice as he removed a lavish pin from his belt and used it to prick his finger, a droplet of crimson blood forming on the tip.


    Mari watched with wide eyes as the blood solidified into the shape of a small key and the guard used it to unlock the door of metal bars which swung open before her.


    Elaine extended a hand. ¡°Come with me, I¡¯ll answer all your questions.¡±


    Perhaps Mari would have refused or tried to make a run for it, but she was resigned to her fate now, whatever it may be. ¡°Do I really have a choice?¡±


    ¡°Sure you do,¡± she said, amused. ¡°If you¡¯d really like to stay down here then I won¡¯t make any objections, but I''ll ask that you humor me and at least see the rest of the manor before you make your choice.¡±


    She was in a manor?


    To hell with it, what more could they do to her?


    It took a few moments for her to gather the strength to stand, her muscles crying out in agony as she used the wall to steady herself. If Elaine was impatient, her face didn¡¯t show it as she quietly waited until Mari had crossed the distance between them.


    ¡°You may go,¡± she said to the guard. Being this close to her, it was hard for Mari to deny that she was beautiful, her features warm and youthful but also otherworldly. She certainly couldn¡¯t pass for human, but she didn¡¯t fit the traditional, monstrous depictions of vampires in folktales either.


    And yet even the air around her seemed dangerous, a lethal grace hidden in her delicate movements. There was also no denying that she could kill Mari with a single gesture despite her gentleness. But perhaps that was the point, her beauty perfectly sculpted to lure in unassuming humans.


    The perfect predator.


    The guard gave Mari a hesitant look. He also shared that air of danger and elegance, but his was much more muted, more so like the vampire that had attacked her and Tristan in Frostwood. ¡°Are you sure, your grace?¡±


    ¡°If a human manages to kill me then it is well deserved, and she certainly would have the means to kill you as well.¡±


    The guard did not seem convinced but nodded and used the key to lock the cell behind them, the blood turning back to liquid and disappearing into his finger as he walked away.


    ¡°Now,¡± Elaine said as she turned to Mari. ¡°Where do I begin?¡±

 Nine: Monster

    Tristan


    Tristan groaned as he slowly slipped back into consciousnesses.


    With a start, he realized that he was alive.


    And with another, he realized that he was lying in the middle of an open field, encircled by a crowd of people who were aiming arrows at him.


    Flaming arrows.


    ¡°He¡¯s awake!¡±


    Tristan looked towards the voice to see two men standing on a platform behind the formation, the commander being one of them.


    At the sight of him, Tristan remembered.


    Remembered how he awoke beneath a pile of stone, breaking free with newfound strength in his veins as he smelled all the blood and smoke in the air.


    Remembered how an arm grabbed him from behind and struggled to keep him still as a deep hunger overtook his body.


    And remembered the commander¡¯s voice low in his ear as he held Tristan back and suffocated him with his hand, the image of the vampires taking his sister away in the distance being his last before he passed out.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere, kid.¡±


    Now he looked down at Tristan with curiosity, the sun shining high above.


    The man next to him also seemed to be a soldier, but his badge was a tad larger and more ornate.


    And from what he¡¯d seen of pictures in his sister¡¯s books, it flashed the symbol of Azeris, not Danethal.


    At the thought of his sister, Tristan felt a heat of anger rush over him. Anger at those repulsive monsters, anger at himself for being too weak to stop them, and anger at the world for finally showing him a glimpse of freedom only to take it all away.


    ¡°You, there,¡± the soldier said, his voice booming with authority as it filled the field. ¡°Explain yourself at once.¡±


    Tristan stood, thinking he was going to have an aneurysm if one more person said that to him with weapons shoved in his face. ¡°My village was just attacked by vampires before they abducted my sister who you were trying to kill. I¡¯m the one who deserves a damn explanation!¡±


    ¡°Do not speak to me that way! You are being accused of treason!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already been accused of treason, not to mention murder!¡± He yelled, not caring about the consequences any longer. ¡°Why not accuse me of witchcraft while you¡¯re at it?¡±


    The commander who¡¯d held him back stroked his beard in thought. ¡°That depends, does your kind fall under the category of witchcraft?¡±


    ¡°What the hell is that supposed to mean?!¡±


    ¡°I mean vampires as a collective group.¡±


    Tristan scoffed in disgust. ¡°Now you¡¯re accusing me of being a vampire?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± the commander clarified, to his relief. ¡°I¡¯m saying it as a fact.¡±


    More outrage quickly replaced it. ¡°You take that back right-¡°Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Enough!¡±


    They both turned to the soldier with the fancy badge.


    ¡°One who has been accused, are you denying these claims?¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡­¡±


    Tristan¡¯s eyes widened.


    He didn¡¯t question it once he awakened, but there was no way he could¡¯ve survived being tossed into that house, let alone the roof falling onto him. But he did, and he emerged atop the rubble with not so much as a scratch, feeling more alive than anything.


    Alive and hungry.


    It couldn¡¯t be¡­


    ¡°Answer the question!¡±


    ¡°I, I-¡° Tristan faltered. ¡°I¡¯m a human!¡±


    The air around them stilled.


    The soldier sighed, reaching into his holster to remove a pistol. ¡°If that is really true, then I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Wait! Sto-¡°


    The blast echoed throughout the field as it hit Tristan point blank in the chest.


    He could almost feel it pierce his heart, his breathing staggered as he fell down to the ground in agony, his golden blood painting the grass below.


    Tristan waited for death to come, more pain than he¡¯d ever experienced in his life surging throughout his body. He welcomed both with open arms.


    He waited.


    And waited.


    But the pain began to subside and Tristan almost felt disappointed.


    The only way he could describe his next feeling was that it felt like his heart began to sew itself back together. With a grunt, Tristan leaned on his elbows and looked down at himself to see his skin¡­regenerating as the hole in his chest slowly disappeared beneath his blood.


    It still hurt like hell, and a heavy blanket of exhaustion crept over him, but he was alive.


    No, it can¡¯t be-


    ¡°As I assumed,¡± the soldier said, still holding his gun. ¡°You¡¯re no human.¡±


    Tristan looked up at the soldier and was genuinely lost for words. If he was in his position, he probably would be just as distrustful of himself.


    But still¡­he couldn¡¯t believe it.


    Was he always like this?


    No, it wasn¡¯t possible. He only felt this¡­strength since he woke up in the rubble. And don¡¯t vampires not age anyway, at least according to legend?


    Perhaps he knew nothing about them at all, nothing apart from the fact that he apparently was one.


    It drew so much anger that Tristan¡¯s entire body shook with it, something rising from deep within. His world had been turned upside down, the only two people he cared about within it taken away by those monsters.


    That¡¯s what he was, a monster.


    He couldn¡¯t help the laughter that suddenly erupted from inside his now healed chest.


    Everybody stared at him as he buckled over and filled the open field with his roars.


    ¡°Is something funny?¡± The soldier asked.


    His words only made Tristan laugh harder, so much so that tears began to well in his eyes.


    What wasn¡¯t funny about him being a monster? It was rather fitting, after all.


    ¡°Tell us everything you know about the attack- how were you able to help them?¡±


    A silence fell.


    ¡°Help them?¡± Tristan murmured, his voice breaking beneath his breath. ¡°You think I helped them?¡±


    ¡°Are you saying you didn¡¯t-¡°


    ¡°I would have rather died than helped those beasts!¡± He cried. ¡°They took everything away from me!¡±


    The soldier looked to the commander. ¡°What do you make of this?¡±


    ¡°On the one hand, I find it hard to believe. There¡¯s not a single record to prove he even exists,¡± the commander said as he studied Tristan. ¡°But on the other, he truly wanted to kill the vampires who took his sister away- I saw it in his eyes.¡±


    ¡°What are you suggesting?¡±


    ¡°To be quite honest, this situation is above both our pay grades. Procedure dictates that we take him to the general.¡±


    ¡°Since when have you been a man of procedure?¡±


    The commander gave him a smile. ¡°Since this glorious opportunity presented itself.¡±


    ¡°What opportunity? What the hell are you talking about?¡± Tristan yelled.


    To his surprise, even the soldier seemed puzzled. ¡°Whatever you¡¯re thinking, forget about it. He¡¯s a vampire. We¡¯re lucky he hasn¡¯t killed us all already.¡±


    ¡°What is it you¡¯re suggesting, Bole?¡±


    ¡°We end this here.¡±


    A heavy panic set over Tristan as the soldier, Bole, raised an arm and called out, ¡°Ready your aim!¡±


    Some of the soldiers who had been watching the exchange with interest snapped out of their trance and pointed their flaming arrows back at him.


    Why was he afraid? Isn¡¯t this what he wanted?


    The bullet may not have done anything, but fire could kill a vampire.


    If that¡¯s truly what he was, then he deserved this.


    ¡°The general will not be happy if you kill such a fascinating¡­suspect,¡± the commander said. It made Tristan happy to see the panic in his face.


    ¡°I will not put the lives of my men and my people at risk, I will not allow him to do to Azeris what they did to Danethal.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re committing treason. They can have you beheaded for this.¡±


    Bole shot a glare so vicious at Tristan that he expected to burn just from beneath his gaze. ¡°If it saves humanity, then so be it.¡±


    The last thing Tristan saw before he shut his eyes was the downward sweep of his arm.

 Ten: Mondever Manor

    Marcella


    ¡°At the beginning?¡± Mari suggested.


    Elaine gave her a smile. ¡°Yours or mine?¡±


    To her look of puzzlement, she clarified, ¡°For you, this all probably began when the people of your village found you with blood all over your hands, is that correct?¡±


    Mari thought back to that day. ¡°Well¡­¡±


    She found herself staring off into space as the vampire¡¯s words dawned on her.


    It was such a small detail, perhaps she was overthinking it, but¡­


    ¡°Yeah, a vampire who had been disguised as a soldier attacked me and my friend.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to bring up that day, it must hold some disturbing memories.¡± She gestured towards the end of the hall. ¡°Come, I¡¯ll show you to your room. I promise it¡¯s much more comfortable than a dungeon.¡±


    As she began to follow her past many other empty cells, Mari wondered if Elaine didn¡¯t question her story on purpose or because she was truly unaware that it was false.


    Because it had been Tristan who was covered in their golden blood. But if the vampires really had taken her because of it, why hadn¡¯t they taken Tristan, too?


    ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°In the nation of Valoria- South Valoria politically speaking, and not too far from the capital in the east geographically speaking.¡± She glanced at Mari over her shoulder. ¡°But you humans just know all that as the shadowlands.¡±


    So the legends on that were real, Mari thought. What others were?


    ¡°My blood- is that why I¡¯m here?¡±


    She saw Elaine nod from behind and added, ¡°Do you know why it¡¯s¡­like that?¡±


    ¡°Nothing but a genetic mutation, really.¡± She considered Mari for a moment. ¡°Ah, forgive me. I¡¯m unsure if you know what that is.¡±


    Mari thought back to her books on biology. ¡°I understand the gist.¡±


    ¡°Good. As I¡¯m sure you know, we need to drink blood to survive. The blood of other vampires will do, which is why we haven¡¯t all died off here in Valoria where there are very few humans. However, it isn¡¯t ideal, and yours in particular provides us with more strength while helping us regenerate our own blood at a faster rate. It¡¯s also said to taste better. That¡¯s really all there is to it, but golden blood is exceedingly rare and only occurs in humans.¡±


    Mari contemplated her explanation as they reached a dark, circular stairwell. A part of her rushed with excitement at learning something very few people back home probably knew, if any at all. ¡°So the attack on my village was specifically to get me?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t provide you with the details, of course, but that was one of the main objectives, yes.¡±


    ¡°How did you know, then?


    ¡°We have several spies throughout your kingdom, including the one you fought. One of them heard of an adolescent found with golden blood and informed us. The rest is history.¡±


    ¡°You said this is South Valoria, politically speaking. What does that mean?¡± Mari asked as they climbed the stairs, studying the curved wall around them. It seemed to be made of regular stone, and she wondered when the structure had been built.


    ¡°I¡¯m flattered in your interest. It¡¯s pretty complicated to summarize in a few sentences, but I¡¯ll try. North and South Valoria were once united as one kingdom under one royal family since its founding. When King Vesemyr died two hundred years ago, the throne was to be inherited by the most worthy of his legitimate children as is tradition, this being Bram. His only other child, Alistar, however, claimed the throne despite being a bastard. He was very charismatic and popular with commonors, especially in the north, so he gained many supporters. A war was declared between the two brothers who fought each other for several years until a treaty was passed for the fighting to pause temporarily. By then, Alistar had seized control of a good chunk of Valoria¡¯s northern territory, roughly about a third. He claimed it to be the true Valoria with him as the true king, vowing to someday reclaim the rest of the kingdom- as did our king, Bram. So here we are.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    They were still ascending the stairs as Mari pondered how much of Elaine¡¯s recollection was biased, not to mention whether or not she was being deceived purposefully. Better to take everything with a grain of salt, she decided, even though it was hard not to get excited at the prospect of so much knowledge.


    ¡°How is worth measured in terms of being the one to inherit the throne?¡±


    ¡°Typically it means physical strength, but not necessarily so. Unlike in your kingdom where the crown is automatically passed onto the eldest son, the role of king or queen here signifies power and is therefore open to any member of the royal family who proves theirs. Most often that is done through serving in our military as a warrior and becoming a powerful bloodweaver, but one may also prove their worth through political or strategic cunning instead.¡±


    Mari wondered if Elaine was aware of the fact that the throne only being available to legitimate children of royals threw a wrench in the idea of a meritocracy, but knew better than to offend someone''s pride. ¡°A bloodweaver¡­is that what that guard did with the key?¡±


    Elaine threw her a fascinated look. ¡°You seem to catch on quick for a human. Yes, he is a bloodweaver, as are all warriors and most nobles. Bloodweavers can manipulate their blood and use a range of techniques to fight with it, most common being to solidify the blood into armor or weapons. It¡¯s a skill any vampire can theoretically learn but it is very difficult to do so, even for the lucky few that have an aptitude for it, especially when it comes to mastering your technique at the level it takes to sustain during battle.¡±


    Mari thought of another question and hesitated, wondering if it would be considered rude to ask, but did so anyway. ¡°Are you a bloodweaver?¡±


    ¡°Despite being a noble,¡± Elaine began, confirming one of her suspicions. ¡°I¡¯m not. Not being one would be frowned upon in most noble families, but mine is known more so for our¡­esoteric work for the royal family. We¡¯ve had a few enlist in the military but we mostly focus on honing our umbra.¡±


    Mari¡¯s head was beginning to spin with all this information, but she couldn''t help her thirst for even more of it. She almost asked what exactly ¡®esoteric work¡¯ meant but decided it wouldn¡¯t be wise to pry further. Instead, she inquired, ¡°What is an umbra, if I may ask?¡±


    ¡°Please, ask anything you¡¯d like. It¡¯s not every day that I get an opportunity to explain the inner workings of vampire culture to a human. An umbra is another skill that can be learned, but they are so rare and so powerful that they¡¯re typically only passed down through families- and these we title as nobility. An umbra is the very thing that gives a family or vampire power other than bloodweaving. Because of this, they are kept secret and we know very little about what they even are. Generally, though, they can be summarized as magical abilities that range from reading minds to creating illusions. We don¡¯t even know how many there are so exact limits are anybody¡¯s guess. They are just as difficult, a lot more, in fact, to learn compared to bloodweaving.¡±


    To Mari¡¯s thoughtful silence, she continued, ¡°Like many others, my family¡¯s umbra is secret to everyone but the royal family, House Kirelle. Due to its nature, however, we can focus on other pursuits whereas becoming a bloodweaver is typically the only path to prestige for existing nobles and commoners alike.¡±


    ¡°Typically?¡±


    Now Elaine gave her such a big smile that it almost unsettled Mari. ¡°As you¡¯ve likely been able to ascertain, prestige is everything here, and it¡¯s not simply wealth or fame or physical strength that gives someone status. Those things are important, but power is the true prize. Many vampires mistake power for one¡¯s skill in bloodweaving or their umbra, but power is so much more than that. My family has a saying- it does not matter how strong a weapon you possess if you can not recognize the enemy, the strongest weapon is the tongue that tells you who it is you should strike.¡±


    They had finally reached the top of the stairs as she concluded, ¡°Alistar was not able to wage a war against the most powerful family in the entire world because he was a good bloodweaver, he did so because he knew the right things to say and do. One powerful warrior can be outnumbered by hundreds of average warriors, but one powerful mind can not be outsmarted by thousands of clever minds. If you ask me, it is not sheer strength that makes a vampire, it¡¯s your intellect.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn''t mean to start preaching to someone who could probably care less,¡± Elaine said suddenly, as though she¡¯d snapped out of a trance, and opened the door before her. ¡°Welcome to Mondever Manor.¡±

 Eleven: Powerless All The Same

    Tristan


    He waited.


    And waited.


    And waited some more.


    But no heat enclosed him.


    Beyond the darkness, only a few whispers broke the strained quiet.


    Tristan wanted to hide behind that darkness forever, to bury himself within the silence and be consumed by it.


    For a few moments, he let it do just that.


    But the whispers grew in both quantity and volume, and before long Tristan could no longer pretend he was nothing but a small, invisible speck in the world.


    He opened his eyes to see both the commander and the soldier in charge- and somebody else.


    A man in an expensive-looking leather cloak was holding Bole¡¯s arm upright, earning a scowl that rivaled even the one given to Tristan.


    ¡°Does the army always burn people alive, or is this just a special occasion?¡± He said, his voice smooth and slightly accented.


    ¡°Let go of my hand this instant!¡±


    Tristan glanced at the soldiers around him curiously. He¡¯d expected them all to have killed the man by now for interfering with the two commanders, but they were simply gaping at him instead.


    He looked to Tristan as the soldier struggled for his arm back. ¡°So your men can pummel this poor boy with arrows?¡±


    "Let go or you¡¯ll be the one pummeled with arrows.¡±


    Every soldier gasped in horror.


    The man chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t threaten me with a good time.¡±


    Bole finally broke free of his grasp, gesturing at the soldiers to stand by. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°I could ask you the same thing.¡±


    The soldier leaned in closer to the man and whispered something in his ear, to which he erupted in laughter.


    ¡°You think the lad is a vampire? Have you slipped on some horse shit and hit your head?¡±


    Bole gave him a look that suggested he wasn¡¯t one to talk.


    The man began to walk towards Tristan, something glinting from just beneath his cloak. ¡°Well, I suppose I should take a look into this slanderous accusation.¡±


    ¡°Wait, don¡¯t get too close!¡± Bole called after him.


    Tristan couldn¡¯t help but hold his breath and stay still as he paused before him.


    ¡°A vampire, you say?¡± the man said as he looked down at Tristan.


    Before he could even think to speak, he grabbed his throat and lifted him off the ground.


    remnants of strength had faded after Tristan''s body healed itself. Still, the man wasn¡¯t even a little concerned as Tristan helplessly scratched and clawed at his tan, muscled arm.


    ¡°All I see is a brat weaker than my baby niece.¡±


    Tristan struggled harder to hurt him, the man¡¯s rough features growing dimmer in his vision. From this angle, he could see the hilt of a sword in its sheathe at his waist.


    ¡°Stop! He can kill you!¡±


    ¡°Oh? Go on, then,¡± he drawled to Tristan. ¡°I hear meeting a glorious end makes one popular with the ladies.¡±


    The field was silent, save for Tristan¡¯s choking, as everybody waited for him to do something.


    But despite his efforts, he failed at that, too.


    The man sighed, releasing his hold on Tristan just he was about to pass out. ¡°How disappointing.¡±


    He fell and grabbed at his own throat as he finally took a breath.


    ¡°The kid is now under the custody of the Kingsguard!¡± The man announced to the field, holding an arm out. A badge, the largest and most ornate Tristan had seen yet, was now visible from where it¡¯d been hidden beneath his cloak. ¡°Anyone who so much as lands a scratch on him without my consent will answer to the king himself.¡±


    As Tristan looked from the man to his badge to the looks on the soldiers faces, his words dawned on him.


    The Kingsguard.


    The highest ranking officers in the army- their power second only to the royal family itself in all of Lysia.


    The unit he dreamed of someday joining.


    And now he was theirs.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡¯¡± The commander yelled across the field. Beside him, Bole looked like he was having the worst day ever. ¡°Who the hell do you think you are?¡±


    ¡°Does the army now allow those who are hard of hearing in addition to stupid within their ranks?¡±


    To Tristan¡¯s delight, all color drained from his face as even more murmurs echoed amongst the soldiers. ¡°How can we know you aren¡¯t lying? Where is your general?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re looking at him.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    The soldiers stared at the man in a mix of shock, disbelief, and awe.


    Even the commander gave him a dubious look. ¡°You¡¯re Garen Hawthorne?¡±


    ¡°You know my name- how flattering.¡±


    ¡°Of course I know who the general of the Kingsguard is, I¡¯m just struggling to believe that you¡¯re him.¡±


    Tristan had to admit that he agreed. He¡¯d never read about the current general of the Kingsguard but he expected such a person to be more¡­general-like. The men handpicked by the king to be his personal soldiers were said to be the most ruthless of warriors, and the man before him looked more like a lord or nobleman with his leather cloak and not a single piece of armor in sight. His only weapon was the sword tucked into a scabbard at his waist.


    And he may not have had a lot of examples to go off of, but Tristan was pretty sure that generals weren''t typically this crass. Especially not ones of such a high caliber.


    It almost made Tristan like the damned guy, him choking and insulting him aside.


    Leader of the most powerful and elite group of people in the world, he thought. What he would do to become someone like that¡­


    ¡°That¡¯s the beautiful thing about reality,¡± the man, supposedly Garen, said. ¡°It doesn¡¯t give a rat¡¯s ass about what you believe.¡±


    Tristan bit down a smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m still failing to see any actual proof of your identity.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask your friend?¡±


    As if suddenly remembering he existed, the commander blinked and glanced at Bole. ¡°Is it true?¡±


    The soldier simply looked straight ahead at the man claiming to be Garen Hawthorne. ¡°I¡¯ve only met him once years ago, but unless someone¡¯s found a way to impersonate him with perfect accuracy, I¡¯m afraid this man is speaking the truth.¡±


    The commander turned back to the man and studied him. ¡°If someone had told me just a few days ago that vampires exist, I¡¯d probably laugh in their face. Anything is possible, I refuse to believe that he is who he says he is.¡±


    ¡°Even though anything is possible?¡± Garen retorted.


    ¡°I find the existence of vampires to be more believable than you.¡±


    ¡°Very well, then,¡± he snorted. ¡°Take me to Lord Gellard- that old bloke is still in charge of these lands, is he not? He¡¯ll recognize me, less his sight¡¯s finally kicked the bucket like the rest of him.¡±


    The commander narrowed his eyes at him before turning to discuss the matter quietly with Bole. The rest of the soldiers fidgeted with their bows and arrows as if lost without orders.


    Garen glanced at him over his shoulder. ¡°Cheer up, kid. When this is all sorted out, we¡¯re getting you out of here.¡±


    ¡°W-where are you taking me?¡± Tristan¡¯s mouth was dry as he spoke.


    He smiled. ¡°Why spoil the surprise?¡±


    A range of possibilities raced through his head as Garen looked back at Bole and the commander, still muttering about what to do with him.


    They finally turned back and Bole said, ¡°We¡¯ll take you to Lord Gellard, but you must surrender your weapons.¡±


    ¡°Very well, then,¡± Garen agreed, unclasping the scabbard from his belt and pointing to Tristan. ¡°But I also have a stipulation- this one comes with us.¡±


    Bole approached them. ¡°Absolutely not.¡±


    ¡°Relax, I¡¯m not going to abduct the kid,¡± he said, unclasping his sword. ¡°I¡¯ve only got this, but I must warn you not to unsheathe it unless you¡¯d like an early demise.¡±


    Bole took the scabbard from Garen¡¯s hands, asking him to remove his coat so he can ensure he wasn¡¯t hiding additional weapons.


    Garen smirked as he did so, stretching his arms out. ¡°Is this just an excuse for you to pat me down?¡±


    Bole rolled his eyes as he waved for one of the bow-wielders to join them, handing him Garen¡¯s sword and coat before running his hands through his sleeves, boots, pockets, and pants. Once he was satisfied that Garen wasn¡¯t hiding any weapons, he allowed the soldier to give him his coat back and took the sword for himself.


    ¡°Lord Gellard¡¯s manor is an hour by wagon. We¡¯d better get going before the sun sets.¡±


    ¡°You, there,¡± Garen suddenly said to Tristan. ¡°What is your name?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Tristan.¡±


    ¡°I apologize for the delay in plans, Tristan, but what can I do against idiocracy?¡±


    ¡°Plans?¡± The commander echoed, having joined them after dismissing the rest of the soldiers who were now packing up their bows and walking off in a flurry of murmurs. ¡°Care to enlighten us?¡±


    Garen shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m afraid my hands are tied- top secret Kingsguard business and all, I¡¯m sure you understand.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of tied hands¡­¡±


    The commander withdrew a pair of handcuffs from his belt. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll have to incapacitate you, just in case. I¡¯m sure you understand.¡±


    ¡°You fellows really like to cover all your bases, don¡¯t you?¡± Garen said, presenting his wrists. ¡°Be gentle with me, then.¡±


    The commander cuffed his hands and gestured behind him. ¡°The wagon is this way.¡±


    With a look to Tristan he added, ¡°I say let him come with us. At the very least, it¡¯ll make things more interesting.¡±


    Garen laughed. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit.¡±


    Bole reluctantly nodded before leading them down the path to a wagon with a brown horse already attached, its driver napping atop his seat.


    ¡°We¡¯re back, Jackson,¡± he said.


    The man jumped awake and took the horse''s reigns, curiously glancing at Garen and Tristan. ¡°Where to, sir?¡±


    ¡°Lord Gellard¡¯s manor, and make it quick.¡±


    They climbed into the carriage, seemingly no different than the one Tristan was in before. This time he was next to the commander with Garen facing him beside Bole.


    As the horse began to pull them the commander spoke. ¡°So how did you know where to find us?¡±


    Garen comfortably splayed against the back of his bench. ¡°My dumbass alarm went off.¡±


    ¡°I suppose we¡¯re the dumbasses in this situation.¡±


    ¡°How perceptive of you. Perhaps my alarm needs a few tweaks.¡±


    Bole rubbed his temples. ¡°Enough. Please answer the question.¡±


    Garen gave him a look that suggested he was the only adult in the carriage but said, ¡°I asked around. I don¡¯t know how you handle things in your towns, but in my unit it isn¡¯t difficult to get soldiers to talk when you¡¯re their superior.¡±


    The commander snorted. ¡°Right, I forgot we¡¯re going with this story.¡±


    ¡°Is it so hard to believe that I¡¯m the general of the Kingsguard?¡±


    ¡°Honestly,¡± Bole said, gazing out of a window. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to believe anymore.¡±


    Garen looked between Tristan and the commander. ¡°I heard you two were there yesterday.¡±


    The memories flooded through Tristan like a knife in his heart. After a tense pause, the commander said, ¡°I¡¯m waiting for the punchline.¡±


    ¡°There is none, I¡¯m just sorry about what happened.¡±


    Another pause. ¡°You know.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Both Bole and Tristan¡¯s heads perked up.


    The commander¡¯s typical arrogant expression melted into fury. ¡°If you¡¯re really who you say you are, then you¡¯re one of the only Zohar damned people in the world who knows what happened.¡±


    Tristan¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Is that true?¡±


    All eyes fell on him.


    ¡°Do you know¡­why the vampires- why they attacked us?¡±


    Garen studied him. ¡°They didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°¡­What do you mean, they didn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Vampires don¡¯t exist. Your town was attacked by rogue bandits.¡±


    ¡°Bandits?¡± Tristan echoed, his voice shaking. ¡°You¡¯re telling me it was bandits who made the freaking sun disappear?!¡±


    Garen looked out of his window. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lying! You probably aren¡¯t even the general after all!¡±


    ¡°On the contrary,¡± the commander said, ¡°the fact that he¡¯s repeating the kingdom¡¯s official position on the existence of vampires makes it all the more likely.¡±


    He gestured towards Tristan. ¡°What do you make of this one, then?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just a kid with weird-colored blood,¡± Garen answered, still watching the trees as they passed by.


    ¡°Is that what you think or what the royal family has decided?¡±


    ¡°Niles,¡± Bole warned, and Tristan was taken aback at suddenly learning the commander¡¯s name.


    But he continued, ¡°How many people do you know who can survive a shot to the chest? Or is the Kingsguard so special that such abilities are normal for you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see any bullet wounds.¡±


    ¡°And Frostwood?¡± Niles said. ¡°Do you intend to gaslight the entire kingdom about what happened there? What about all the refugees- it was a miracle we escaped with even ten carriages full. Do you have any idea how many people were at the festival, how many we couldn¡¯t save?¡±


    Garen finally met his eyes. ¡°I have better an idea than any of you.¡±


    Niles scoffed. ¡°I bet you do. Must be nice, being the most powerful person in the entire army, knowing all the king¡¯s dirty little secrets. Everybody wants to be you and yet nobody knows what it is you guys even do.¡±


    ¡°Niles-¡°


    ¡°What about the rest of Danethal? None of our messengers have returned, we¡¯ve been in the dark for almost twenty hours.¡±


    Garen stared at him.


    Niles gritted his teeth. ¡°Answer me.¡±


    The carriage was silent as Garen seemed to mull something over in his head, finally saying, ¡°Danethal has fallen.¡±

 Twelve: A Glimmer Of Something

    Marcella


    Mari wasn¡¯t sure what she was expecting behind that door, but the sight of a long, dim hallway filled her with relief.


    She¡¯d half anticipated to find a pack of vampires waiting for her, but it was just further darkness.


    That almost unnerved her more.


    Elaine gestured for Mari to continue following her, and she studied the hall as she did.


    There were several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, although unlit. The only light in the room, just as within the dungeon, shone from the moon that peeked through the windows.


    It was much warmer up here despite the lack of torches. Mari allowed herself to curl into it, relaxing her frozen limbs.


    Shadows gathered in the corners and atop the chestnut-colored carpet that led them to the end of the hall.


    Elaine turned right and a round, onyx staircase greeted them. Mari warily ascended it behind her, feeling the cold metal of the railing beneath her fingers.


    They passed several landings that opened into darker halls, and Mari tried to steady her breathing as all sorts of ideas as to what may have been lurking within filled her head. She pulled herself closer to the stone wall for comfort.


    It felt like an eternity had passed until they finally arrived at a large singular door at the very end of the stairs.


    To her surprise, Elaine reached into a pocket and withdrew a small key, using it to unlock the door¡­


    To yet another, albeit small hallway.


    Only seven doors lined the dark walls inside this one, three on each side and one at the end.


    ¡°Here we are! This is where you¡¯ll be staying.¡±


    Mari looked between the doors. ¡°Which one?¡±


    ¡°All of them,¡± Elaine said, handing her the key. ¡°They¡¯re all empty bedrooms. You can choose whichever one to be yours.¡±


    ¡°What about the rest of the manor?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately I can¡¯t stay for long so we¡¯ll have to delay the tour.¡± She gave Mari a smile. ¡°But I¡¯ll be back tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Is there¡­ is there anyone else?¡±


    ¡°A few other humans, mostly. You have nothing to worry about, this entire wing is yours. Tomorrow we can charm it so that no one but you or whoever else you choose can enter,¡± Elaine explained.


    ¡°Charm it?¡±


    ¡°Ah, my apologies. There¡¯s still so much I have to tell you but I¡¯m afraid duty calls. Please, make yourself at home.¡±


    She turned away and Mari blurted, ¡°Am I going to stay inside here for the rest of my life?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± she said over her shoulder. ¡°This isn¡¯t a prison.¡±


    But as Elaine left through the same way they entered, Mari thought that she wasn¡¯t so sure.


    A great wave of sadness washed over her.


    She¡¯d long outgrown any childish delusions of life being fair, but this seemed too cruel a joke even for fate to play.


    Yes, she grew up knowing that she¡¯d never lead a normal life let alone the one of her dreams. Obviously life wasn¡¯t fair. She¡¯d accepted that.


    But did it really have to shove its injustice into her face? Did it really have to kill both of the only family members she had in front of her?


    When she was young, her mother taught her to read by bringing her all sorts of children¡¯s books home. It seemed like their pages contained a different world, one where karma ensured that good deeds would be rewarded and bad ones punished.


    She knew. Of course she knew, how could such a world be the very same one that imprisoned her? She¡¯d always been good. Tristan was the rambunctious one, the one who gave their mother a hard time. Mari was the one who always did the homework their mother assigned, the one who was always careful not to hurt herself, who kept her mouth shut when they went days without food during the winters.


    She was good.


    And, most of all, she never dared to really consider the possibility of ever going outside. No, she was perfectly happy to live and die in that cottage.


    At least until that day, when she allowed herself to really see it for the first time: the clear skies and seas of Rhovandy, the flowing robes of scholars as they leaned over their books.


    But all she¡¯d done was blind herself- that was the sin she bore.


    Not so easy to see your dream through the darkness, is it?


    Was that what life thought when it sent a liege of vampires to her home?


    Mari fell onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was pitch black in her room and the tears that welled in her bloodshot eyes burned.


    I understand now, she thought. This is my punishment for ever thinking I had a choice.


    Now she had even less freedom. Her prison may be grander but so was the horror of her wardens.


    Now she¡¯d never return to her hometown, let alone the capital.


    And that was entirely her fault. But their blood¡­what did she and Tristan do to deserve that? Why was everyone else allowed to be normal?This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    She chided herself for asking such a pointless, childish question, but it suddenly made her so angry that she shook with it. She blamed the cold.


    As if she had run out, both the sadness and the tears stopped.


    And an endless pool of nothing filled their wake.


    Mari hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d fallen asleep until she slipped back into consciousness with an unrelenting disappointment.


    Her sleep had been a calm, dreamless one, and reality was anything but.


    She had not a clue as to how much time had passed, and the darkness beyond her window seemed eternal.


    A faint sound drifted in as she sat up in the bed and studied her room more closely, the memories of the past couple of days once again threatened to break free.


    Only this time she was numb to their onslaught, not even trying to push them away as tears spilled of their own volition.


    This was it, this was her life now.


    She couldn¡¯t find the strength to do anything but sit and stare at the gothic decor of her room, at the moon shining outside the giant window, the even larger bed she found herself glued to.


    Then she realized the faint sound was music, that of some kind of instrument.


    She didn¡¯t know which, but it sounded so¡­melodic. Not at all like the lute that had been played at the festival. It was either one exclusive to her captors or people who could afford not to live in Danethal.


    Her stomach grumbled.


    Right, Mari thought. I haven¡¯t eaten in ages.


    She allowed herself a few more moments of staring at the wall before she dragged herself out of bed and into the hall, holding her breath as she slowly trekked down the spiral staircase. The music grew louder as she did.


    Surely she would be allowed to eat, if she was here for her blood then they would to keep her fed and healthy.


    Although seeing another one of them was not something she thought she could handle at the moment.


    Luckily, the passageway the stairs led to was completely empty. Mari¡¯s shoulders sagged with relief even as she followed the music and whatever beast it was leading her to.


    But as she came to a large, open room (seemingly some kind of parlor), she was surprised to see a perfectly human-looking girl sitting at a grand piano, her long ginger hair slightly moving as she bobbed her head from one end of the piano to the other.


    Mari was filled with awe as she watched her play, leaning against the giant doorframe with no door. She¡¯d only seen the instrument in pictures, but it was so much more beautiful in person. And she had no idea what a ¡°good¡± player was supposed to sound like, but she¡¯d be willing to bet that girl was-


    A squeak left her mouth as her hand slid off the doorframe and she had to grab onto the wall to stop herself from falling.


    When Mari looked up, the girl¡¯s blue eyes met her own. She¡¯d stopped playing.


    ¡°Uh, hi,¡± she said meekly. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to spy on you.¡±


    The girl gave her an equally shy smile. ¡°That¡¯s okay, we weren¡¯t sure when you¡¯d wake up.¡±


    Mari paled. Was this¡­was this girl a vampire, too?


    ¡°I¡¯m not one of them!¡± She clarified quickly. ¡°My name¡¯s Ginny. I live in this manor.¡±


    Right, Elaine said there were other humans here. ¡°I¡¯m Mari.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you!¡± She turned to fully face her. ¡°You¡¯re from the outside world, aren''t you?¡±


    Mari¡¯s breath was caught in her throat.


    It was Ginny¡¯s turn to look horrified. ¡°Oh my- I¡¯m so sorry! I forgot what happened.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Mari assured her even as Zohar knows what stirred in her stomach. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you knew.¡±


    She gave her a look of pity. ¡°Elaine told us.¡±


    ¡°The vampire?¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve met her!¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Mari chose her next words carefully. ¡°So she¡¯s- so you like her?¡±


    Ginny nodded. ¡°She¡¯s the caretaker for all the humans in the community. Whatever you need or have questions about, she¡¯s there to listen.¡±


    ¡°And you, are you not from the¡­outside world?¡±


    ¡°No. I was born and raised in Valoria.¡±


    Mari¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Humans live here?¡±


    ¡°Well, some of us. I¡¯m Glysi.¡±


    Glysi, Mari thought, turning the word over in her head. Why does that sound so familiar?


    ¡°It¡¯s alright if you¡¯ve never heard of us. Even people who aren¡¯t shut in from the outside world rarely have.¡±


    Just how much did the vampire tell her? ¡°Glysi¡­isn¡¯t that an ancient tribe? One said to be lost?¡±


    Ginny¡¯s eyes sparkled. ¡°So you have heard of it!¡±


    ¡°I, uh, just read about it somewhere,¡± Mari answered shyly. ¡°That¡¯s mostly how I passed the time.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re right. Except that we obviously aren¡¯t lost, we just sided with the vampires in the great war almost one thousand years ago. And now we live here.¡±


    So the war was against vampires, not bandits.


    Mari wondered if the writers of the books, those scholars in Rhovandy, knew that. ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never lived in your kingdom so I can¡¯t compare it to that, but I have no complaints. I was born and raised in this community, and all the vampires I¡¯ve met have been nothing but kind. There¡¯s going to be another party tonight, lots of the regulars will be there.¡±


    ¡°The regulars?¡±


    ¡°Elaine is from a famous noble family, so a lot of them are other famous nobles.¡± She leaned in. ¡°I¡¯ve been eyeing one of them- Lord Frederick. He¡¯s so dreamy...¡±


    Mari tried not to let her disgust show on her face as she asked, ¡°Why have a party in a manor full of humans?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re entertaining to them. Sometimes they¡¯ll even hire you- I¡¯ve been training,¡± she said, gesturing to the piano. ¡°Working for a noble is very cushy, and on rare occasions, they¡¯ve even taken humans for marriage!¡±


    Mari decided she¡¯d rather die than face a fate like that. ¡°How many live in the community?¡±


    Ginny looked up in thought. ¡°This is a rather small one. There are only two other manors, and they¡¯re not as big, with anywhere from seven to twelve people in each. Fourteen live here now, including you and I. So excluding a few vampires, maybe about thirty-three people?¡±


    ¡°Is everyone else Glysi like you?¡±


    ¡°Most of them, but there are some people who were captured from your kingdom.¡±


    Excitement stirred within Mari. ¡°Really?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t that she didn¡¯t trust Ginny specifically, but she had to be careful. If the rest of the humans in the community were anything like the girl, they might not be sympathetic to Mari¡¯s opinions of the vampires. At least there would be someone she could be herself fully with.


    ¡°You¡¯ll meet some of them tonight!¡±


    For the first time since she¡¯d been in that cell back in Frostwood, Mari felt a glimmer of¡­of something.


    She didn¡¯t know if it was hope, or joy, or something entirely else, but she was here. She was alive.


    And all she had to do was make it through the day in one piece. Again and again.


    Her stomach grumbled.


    ¡°Oh my- forgive me! You must be starving,¡± Ginny said, jumping up from her seat and grabbing Mari¡¯s hand. ¡°I can give you a tour of the place after you eat! Then we can get ready for the party together!¡±


    Mari almost let a small smile make its way to her lips as she was pulled away.