The Vampire's Kiss: Act IX - Revelation

Over there, at the end of that clearing that had been slowly filling of white thanks to the snow soundlessly falling from the sky, a few yalms from the mansion, the most deafening silence had fallen. Even nocturnal animals had quietened. Everything had petrified at the sound of that velvety, sweet and yet also mercilessly letal voice; not a leaf was moving in the woods.

The priest couldn't move a muscle, as if his limbs had stopped following his will, as if those eyes had hypnotized him, binding him to immobility. He couldn't get away from the gaze of that vampire, dressing of nothing but a white shirt and dark trousers despite the growing cold weather.

In that state of silent contemplation, the only sound breaking the quietness was the low chuckle of the creature, approaching him with slow, calm steps, closer, closer, with that vaguely sweet smile still on his face. When they were but a few inches from each other, so close he could've touched him by reaching out, the priest snapped out and backed away, simultaneously grabbing the emblem with his right hand and holding it out between himself and the creature, preaching in the ancient language.

The vampire chuckled again, softly, shaking his head. He placed one hand over the priest's, lowering his arm. - That thing is useless on me, Father. - He whispered with an honeyed tone, almost languid. He had a strange accent, as if English had been a second language to him. - Better put it away.

The priest felt his blood freezing in his veins to that physical contact. That hand was as cold and hard as stone, almost as if made of marble, yet to the touch felt velvety and silky, like the hands of a maiden. Startled by the the smile on the vampire's lips, he felt a sort of terror twisting him inside, in his innards; the priest took another step back, not daring to look away.

He was sure of it now. All the folklore regarding those creatures were wrong; they didn't fear the Goddess, and to stab those immortal bodies seemed out of question. That body slowly approaching him was made of stone.

- Matris in Aurora, et ad portas paradisi. - He preached, the emblem now in his left hand and pointed towards the creature, as his right hand motioned an holy sign.

Another chuckle slowly arouse from the vampire's chest, his blue eyes studying his brown ones with meticulous attention, almost kindly. - You are trying to exorcise me? - He whispered amused, slightly rounding the sound of that 'r'.

A second shadow moved between the fronds, making the branches and leaves rustle, as fast as an arrow, and another creature appeared in the clearing. His blue-gray eyes shun in amusement towards the first figure.

- Don't scare him like that. - He chuckled, approaching. - If he has an heart attack, you won't be able to amuse yourself as you wish.

The vampire arched slightly his chestnut eyebrows, and turned to look at his red-haired companion, making his brown bangs sway slightly. The fronds above them rustled and the cold grew even stronger, the air spinning around him, filled with evil sadness.

- You know I don't want you to meddle. - He said, perfectly calm despite his expression. - When…

- … I hunt, I don't want you around. - Completed the red-haired, as if reciting a rigmarole. He smiled, looking at the priest staring at them in shock. His blue-gray eyes shun with irony as they met the brown ones of the priest, who was carefully studying his face, his traits now cleared by the feeble moonlight.

He had a young diaphanous face, with crimson spiky hair and an unruly fringe swaying slightly before his eyes, that were looking more and more amused; they shun about as much as his perfectly pearl-like canines. He was the one that had been bringing terror in the past few days. He was sure of it, it was him.

- Nach eil e sona, Athair [1]? - Asked the chestnut-haired of the two, who also looked a little older than the other, looking more than amused at his startled expression.

The younger glanced at him, shaking his head. - You should stop talking like that. - He said. - Not like he understands.

The other shrugged slightly, as if not minding that. Then, after looking askance at his companion, he looked back at the priest, who had done nothing but swallow unsuccessfully, not understanding what was taking place before his eyes. That language sounded familiar, but he couldn't recall when or where he had heard it in the past. A dream, maybe? One of his visions? It wasn't English… Maybe a northern language?

He once again tried to heal the sudden dryness that had spread into his throat, his heart hammering furiously in his chest, as he stared at the younger vampire licking his lips, clearly eager to sink his canines in his flesh.

- Habit. - Said the long-haired vampire, speaking English again. - I've awaited for this moment for so long. - He whispered sweetly. - This situation is teasing me so much, it brings me back to speaking our mother language.

- Wow. - Replied the other, blinking curiously. - I've never seen you so excited for a hunt, mo bhràthair [2].

- Very excited, I'd say. - Replied maliciously, as if giving that answer a double meaning, moving one bang away from his face. - Also, I thought you had just said to stop talking our language.

The red-haired one chuckled softly, shrugging, not looking away from what he had decided to be his dinner. - As you said, 'habit'. - He joked, cracking his neck and flexing his body as if preparing to attack.

The older vampire glanced at him, watching him show his fangs. His blue eyes immediately narrowed into two cat-like slits. - Don't you dare. - He intimated. - He's my prey.

The other tilted his head, frowning, vaguely assuming, much to the priest's horror, a child-like face. - Meanie. - He complained, mocking a kid's tone and then leaping to go sit bored over a tree branch. - I'm thirsty too, what do you think?

The older looked up slightly to watch him with a completely blank expression, as the other let out a small snort, as if annoyed.

- You've had enough for the past five days. - He reminded him, completely ignoring the priest walking back, ready to run. - Should I remind you that you already fed yourself with a dozen people, including the Mayor?

An amused laughter came from above, where the young vampire was, echoing throughout the clearing like a dirge, making a shiver climb up the priest's back.

- Your dinner is running away. - Said the red-haired vampire, crossing his legs.

The creature brought his attention back on the priest, who was entering the woods at full speed, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and those monsters. He ran with all the breath he could hold within, his legs growing weaker and heavier as he continued his mad race, not daring to look back, his emblem bouncing against his gasping chest.

He felt terror enveloping his heart.

He felt his end was drawing near.

Memento mori. [3]

He remembered the sentence a Trappist bonze he had met used to repeat over and over, without stopping his desperate race, as thorns and low brushes scratched his face, closing in front of him as he passed by. He was overtaken by panic.

What had he hoped to do, a simple friar that had not learned the basic exorcism techniques for those creatures, against such monsters? What did he think he could do, when he decided to go after them? He had felt pushed to do it by something that had suddenly moved inside his soul, something he couldn't understand yet.

A mix of anxiety, fear, sadness and nostalgia…

His head started to hurt again and he tripped over a root, collapsing, crashing violently on his elbows, and quickly moved hands over his face to protect it. His eyes dilated when he heard the ominous laughter echoing in his ears, and desperately tried to get back on his feet, shifting on all-fours, his left hand holding his head; he heard a weak rustling sound of crushed leaves coming from behind.

He started to run, ignoring the dizziness, growing scared, the voices that had been tormenting him for days hammering in his head again, as he tried to push away that pain in his innards. It eased almost immediately, but he didn't stop running. He didn't want to die.

Egoistically, he found himself thinking that he wished the vampires would find someone else in those woods and go after them instead.

Pulvis es et pulvis reverteris [4].

No, he didn't want that. Not that way, at least.

He was immediately caught back, even though there was no rush in those vivid blue eyes. They simply studied him, there, in front of him, hampering his escape and blocking the path. The vampire smiled briefly while making a polite bow with is head, as if he was kindly asking him to take a seat for a tea.

Slowly, calmly, he approached and grabbed his wrists and pulled them above his head, glancing into the pure and simple terror into the brown irids of the priest. They looked at each other for a long instant, both of them showing conflicting feelings into the depths of their gazes: the blue was almost sparkling in amusement and irony, along with something difficult to recognize, something one couldn't understand; the brown was tremendously widened in fear, agony and anxiety as he foresaw what would've likely happened…

Those feelings were palpable in the air, almost detectable to the eyes, as strong as they were branded inside them; one could've touched those emotions and shaped it into something concrete.

The only sounds now were the suffocated noises of the forest, the continuous rustling between the fronds, the unexpected flies of nocturnal birds running away, afraid to become the new victim of that vampire with that kind smile, hiding an harsh and dark soul behind it, vaguely resembling the darkest and cold waters of a storming ocean.

The creature kept smiling and let him go, allowing the priest to back away startled, moving one hand over his gasping chest. He did that automatically, gripping convulsively on the Goddess's emblem, so hard his knuckles turned white, digging his nails into his palm, ignoring his pain spreading throughout the body.

He closed his eyes to ease the dizziness, reciting all the prayers he could think of, his voice turning into an endless rambling murmur, all under the curious gaze of the creature, who wasn't moving a muscle.

The vampire still wouldn't put an end to his pain and fear. He was playing with him like a cat with a mouse.

He sighed in amusement and grabbed the priest's chin, forcing him with his mind control to open his eyes and stop his prayers. One finger went to his lips, intimating silence, while shaking his head, that small grin still on his face.

- There's no point in prayer, Father. No Goddess will come to save you. - He murmured softly, stroking his face briefly.

The priest shook, trying to take another step back, then he glared at him, moved by a bravery that he didn't recognize as his own. - Who are you to doubt Altana?

The vampire blinked, as if surprised, and looked absently at his right hand, glancing every now and then towards his companion, who had followed them and was looking in silence, amused. He looked back at the priest and shrugged, with a sheepish smile.

- Then tell me, Father… who is Altana? - He asked, mercilessly.

Mirror's eyes dilated at those words, and he gasped as if he couldn't believe to what he had just been questioned. He stood still, glancing nervously behind his back: the only escape was a small path that disappeared between the trees. He looked back ahead, and watched the red-haired vampire yawn loudly, visibly bored and willing to put an end to the whole situation.

- There is no Good nor Evil, Father. - Resumed the chestnut-haired vampire, moving a few steps forward, slowly. - Only us and our choices.

The priest winced, his head spinning non-stop, moving a step back whenever the creature would move one forward, getting closer to his only, impossible escape way.

- That… - He swallowed again, crossing the blue-eyed gaze. - That's blasphemy. An heresy, you son of Promathia..

He gasped when the two vampires burst into laughter for apparent no reason, and he stared at them, his gaze blank with shock and his heart racing faster and faster in his chest; the two glanced at each other chuckling, visibly entertained by his words.

The older then glanced at him, recovering his polite smile. - What a god-fearing man you've turned into, Father. - He chuckled, approaching more, once again at a few inches from his face, before starting to walk in a circle around him, under the alerted watch of the other vampire, not too far from them. - So devoted to a Goddess who did nothing to save him from coming here. - He continued, more and more amused at the lost expression over the priest's face. Then he moved a step back, spreading his arms wide open to gesture at his own body.

- Look at me. - He said calmly, bringing one hand to his chest. - Look at me, for example. Look at what I am. - His blue eyes narrowed with sadness, as the priest stared at him against his will, with an heart-rending and strange awareness that he couldn't understand. - Where was your Goddess when I needed her?

He opened his eyes again, studying him, looking at the pressing conflict of emotions on his face. He placed one cold hand over the cheek, gently, as if caressing the petals of a rose, allowing himself to get lost into the gold of those brown, widened eyes full of terror, showing a strange sort of hatred and fear.

He could see him gripping convulsively on the silver emblem, still naively trying to hold it between them, like a magic wall to keep them separate. He could see him glance anxiously at the darkness of the wood or towards his brother, trying to figure out a way to escape. But what the priest observed the most was his expression.

As if he who was inside him was trying to believe to his words.

As if he believed to his words.

- Is your faith faltering, Father? - He asked quietly, pulling his hand away.

The priest's breath grew faster, his head hurting more and more. Once again, a strange, feeble pain took over him, disturbing him. In those conditions, he had no chance to even try to escape. He was done for.

- Or perhaps you realized that is not what you believe in? - The clear crystal chuckle of the young vampire echoed throughout the forest, under the frozen stare of the priest. - I was skeptical myself, the first time I saw you.. - He moved his hair from his face, in a slow, graceful movement. - If I think of what you've taught me, back then.

Mirror squinted his eyes, not sure he even wanted to understand. He felt once again the cold hand of the vampire touching his face with allusive kindness, his blue eyes examining the body wrapped into the black robe with… was that desire?

He shook and felt a strange shiver running up his back, and it wasn't caused by the snow still falling over his head, but from the hand running down his neck with a lustful movement, slightly parting his white collar, and moving down slowly towards the chest, resting just below its abdominals, making him hold his breath.

What was that feeling he was experiencing? Why did he feel he wanted more attention from that vampire? He felt disgusted by himself, while the hand moved down one of his sides.

- Starting to feel something you don't understand, aren't you Father? - Whispered the vampire with malice, licking his own lips. - Maybe you're wishing more? - He leaned towards him, placing both hands on his shoulders, approaching his face, starting to slowly play with one of his earlobes.

The priest felt his abdomen stiffening, pervaded from that heartbreaking yearning more and more, and unable to explain what was happening to his body he jerked backwards, on instinct, putting a distance between himself and the vampire.

The other looked at him, his head tilted, as if not understand his rejection. - You don't remember me, do you? - He asked with a bewitching voice, sensual in a way. - You don't even know why you're here, or whose voice it was that forced you to come here, do you? - He continued, letting out a joyless, sad sigh from his cold lips. - To think of the many beautiful moments we had together… You're seeing me again for the first time… - His blue eyes had turned languid. - You're hurting me, you know?

The priest was more and more confused. What was that abomination talking about? The only one he had seen before was his companion. It was his first encounter with this chestnut-haired vampire. And how had he managed to make him feel so strange?

- No answer? Perhaps I should refresh your memory? - Resumed the vampire, snapping him out of it. - Try think about it, it's not that difficult. - There was a small note of pain in his voice, as he approached again. - Since when you've seen that, you've had a lot of headaches.

Mirror clenched teeth, feeling the cold hand on his face again, running fingers over his traits.

- You don't know what I'm talking about… right? - That was hardly more than a murmur.

The other hand went to the priest's chest once again. He froze in terror. What would've happened, had he moved? Would he have… died?

He gathered all his courage to manage a few steps back, gasping, never looking away from the blue wells of that creature. His heart was pumping so far, he felt it could've exploded any second. He was going to be attacked, his throat torn mercilessly.

But the vampire smiled, smirking. - The portrait in the mansion.

The priest's eyes went blank, and he stiffened. As if he had it in front of himself at that very moment, he clearly saw the family portrayed in the small frame; he focused on each picture, and stopped on the smiling face of the little boy with those sweet blue eyes.

He compared the two pictures.

It was him, no doubt on that. The same eyes, the same facial traits… Only slightly marked by the age. And then, somewhere in the depth of his mind, those eyes were being compared to something else, as if he had seen them before, as if he had never stopped looking for them. What was that strange pain aching in his chest?

Were those the eyes that he had seen in the church and that had been haunting his dreams? Those eyes that, the day he had seen them amongst the beams of the Abbey's ceiling, he had linked to something he couldn't get even now?

- Are you shocked, Father? - The voice shaken him, and he snapped out of it, staring at who had spoken. - It's normal, after all. I think that portrait had over three-hundred years.

The priest couldn't explain the reasons behind such abnormality. The boy in the portrait had looked absolutely… human. Why was it a vampire standing before him now?

The creature read his gaze, and smiled. The more he knew, the easier it would've been later. Might as well explain everything. Perhaps he would've remembered then.

- Do you wish to know how I became what I am? - He began, ignoring the threats his companion was hissing. - It'd be easier done than said… but I'll tell you anyways, Father.

- Don't you dare! - Growled the other vampire walking up to the chestnut-haired one. - You mustn't talk about it!

- What's the matter, Kirious? - He asked detachedly, without looking at him.

- I'd rather fight for dinner with two dogs, rather than remember! - Exclaimed the red-haired one, freezing the air.

It was but one instant. The trunk of a tree behind him exploded in a thousand pieces, shooting dark tree bark everywhere, making him fall silent. His old brother was angry. A lot.

- Don't make me do things I'd regret, Kirious. - He whispered evilly, as snowflakes whirled around him in a graceful dance. - I have my reasons to dig up the past.

A few seconds of silence filled the air around him, deafened even more by the white surrounding the three in a cold, solitary embrace.

- Our uncle will be mad… - He whispered, almost with fear.

The chestnut-haired vampire smiled sheepishly at him. - Let him be mad. - The evil energy was dense with electricity, and it grew unstable, as his vivid blue eyes stared in annoyance to his brother. - It's not my business. - Then he looked back at the priest, who observed with one hand to his head, frowning, afraid.

The creature smiled sweetly at him again, studying him carefully, and in his eyes there was a glimpse of nostalgia. Once again he moved a few steps forward, the wind that seemed to be forming around his body kindly swaying his hair and clothes. The more he'd smile, the more the priest seemed unable to find the strength to attempt another escape, able to do nothing but observe with a lost gaze every step, every movement, bewitched by the cadenced moves of the creature; he was keeping him chained to his blue eyes, as hard as stone, as cold as the snow spinning around them.

He kept observing him, his mind now empty from any thought; the fear he had felt up to a few moments ago had completely abandoned him, as well as the rest of his feelings and emotions… only a few words from the same words he had heard for a couple days were filling his head… blurring his sight.


- Such an exemplary student.

- What… what are you doing here?

- I wanted to see you… But from what I'm seeing, I shouldn't have come.

- It's not that… I'm worried about my uncle.

- Your uncle will be busy talking business with my father for a while.

- So you're not alone.

- I wish I had been.


He blinked, shaking himself, looking around as if finding himself somewhere he hadn't recognized before, and focused his attention on the chestnut-haired vampire, still calmly walking around him. Suddenly he stopped, even the air around him went still, and lowering his brown head, he raised a feeble, ominous chuckle from his chest.

He looked back up, with a grin.

- It's time.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––-
[1] Aren't you happy, Father? (Bastokan)
[2] My brother (Bastokan)
[3] Remember you must die.
[4] As ash you are, as ash you shall return.

The Vampire's Kiss: Act X - Gold-Streaked Utopia

A tremendous silence spread through the forest, the air was frozen, almost heavy, as the priest's breath condensed in small steamy clouds. His body was whitening more and more because of falling snow, but he seemed to be paying it no mind. His gaze was firm on the creature before him. He had received a questioning look from his companion, and then moved forward, his head tilted to observe the white ground.

- It's time for me to explain everything, Father. - He whispered, quietly and sadly. - So that you can remember.

The priest observed in silence. He was trying to recover from the dizziness that had struck him again, showing him things and making him hear voices he didn't understand. His limbs weren't responding, they wouldn't let him try to run, but for some strange reason, he felt tranquil. Even too tranquil.

Everything was taking place under the gray-blue glare of the other vampire, who was snarling, glancing between his figure and his brother's, a few steps ahead, looking at the ground still.

- You know, it's my uncle's fault that I'm like this. - Began the older vampire, aware that his interlocutor wouldn't have ran away. - Back then, creatures such as me weren't so rare. - He closed his sapphire eyes, opening his mouth, revealing his sharp fangs. - That night, my Uncle died.


Somewhere in Grauberg, 612 C.E.

The sky was dark and cloudy, the air so filled with rain and humidity one could foresee the incoming storm, the kind of storm that would last for days. After turning off every light in the mansion, the boy was heading to bed, wondering absently where all the servants had gone, forcing him to deal with that hassle.

But he paid it little to no mind, his sleep had priority, invading him step by step, making him yawn loudly. He walked past his uncle's office, and found a lantern still lit. He entered, and saw his brother sitting over a great carpet filling most of the room's wooden floor, focused on browsing a couple books together.

He smiled, shaking his head.

- Don't you think it's a little late to read, Kirious? - He asked cheerfully, making him jump. He snapped the book shut, turning to look at him while scratching his head, making a face.

He stood up with one of the tomes under his arm, that he immediately placed on the big mahogany desk. - I was waiting for uncle. - Was his excuse, along with a shrug.

The older's face made a skeptical frown to that. He chuckled, covering his mouth with one hand. - He said he wasn't going to be back any soon; are you planning to wait up all night?

- If needed, I will. - Snapped back the other one.

The older brother rolled his eyes, letting out a feeble sigh. His brother would've never changed. When it was about their uncle, especially since their mother's death, he had managed to stay up very late to greet him when he'd return from his business dinners. He focused back on his brother, with a thoughtful expression.

- Off topic, Kirious… Do you know where the servants have gone? - He asked, crossing the room to sit on one of the small couches in there, one elbow resting on the armrest. He looked at his brother's shocked expression for a bit, blinking perplexed, as if trying to understand the reason behind that question. Then Kirious shrugged and shook his head, before approaching and sitting on the couch next to his, plopping into the soft cloth.

- I don't care about this kind of stuff, you know that. - He replied, yawning. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and rested his head against the back of the couch. For a little while they both sat in silence, abruptly broken later by the younger's laughter, ashe looked amused towards his brother, who had almost drifted into sleep. He received a frown, but didn't let his smile go. - I had been meaning to ask a while ago, brother… - He said, giggling, a trace of malice in his voice. - … You've been following out dear uncle in his business meetings in Tavnazia for a purpose, don't you?

He added nothing else, but his brother's gasp confirmed his suspicion. He started laughing again, amused by the embarrassed expression on his face.

- I have no reason! - Snapped the other, his cheeks burning red. He had a good idea of what his brother was trying to imply. The first time he had been forced to follow his uncle, he was very reluctant; that's why he had asked. Even though he didn't know who he truly would go to meet there. If Kirious had found out, it would've been a lot of trouble.

- Don't think you can fool me! - Laughed again the red-haired boy, ignoring the low muttering coming from his older brother. - Just admit it already: you've got a girlfriend!

The other stared intently at the floor, clearly embarrassed. They should've been both more careful during their encounters. His brother was notoriously sharp, even though he thought he was seeing a woman. Trying to recover his usual calm demeanor, he opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a low thid coming from the entrance, right as a thunder teared up the sky, lighting ominously the room, and revealing their uncle's figure on the threshold.

He was looking at them with an empty, dark glare, as if he didn't really know where he was. But what scared the boys more as they ran to greet him, was the blood copiously streaming from his side, that he was gripping on convulsively.

- Uncle! What happened, uncle!? - Exclaimed Kirious, moved aside by his older brother so that he could support their uncle and help him sit on a couch, trying to make him pull his hand away from his side to check the wound. It was deep, and he was fearing the worse.

The older brother heard his own voice die in his throat when he met his uncle's eyes: there was no spark of life in them even though he was slightly smiling. - Uncle, can you hear me? - He asked with a shaky voice, panicking.

He received a glance, but he wasn't sure the man had understood his question. His eyes were two dark voids. Afraid, he turned to his brother, who was still frozen a few steps aside. - Go get something! Hurry! - He yelled, and the red-haired snapped back into his senses with a jump, disappearing quickly into the hallways to retrieve bandages and other stuff he thought could be useful.

The chestnut-haired one focused back on his uncle's face. He touched it. It was cold. He had always thought he was a bastard, that he never could stand him, but now, at that moment, he was afraid for him and his brother losing even their uncle, alone. And he didn't want that. As much as he despited that man, he didn't want him to die. He tried to check if his eyes had any reaction to light, moving a lantern in front of him, but the eyes were completely blank, the black pupils dilated and staring into space. He looked back at the wound, growing more and more scared. He had to stop the blood loss. But how?

On instinct, he tried to press his hands on the wound so that blood wouldn't spill out, but his uncle's pushed his aside, resting firmly on his arm.

- It's all right, Kenjii. Don't worry. - He said, his voice way too calm and firm, as if he hadn't realized to be wounded. And that scared the boy even more. He placed one hand on his forehead. It was cold as well. He looked back at his uncle, his chestnut eyebrows frowning in concern.

- No, it's not all right, uncle! - He exclaimed, nervously, glancing towards the threshold desperately, as his brother finally walked in. He motioned to him to approach quickly, and together they struggled to slip the black coat and shirt their uncle was wearing, beginning to tend to him as much as they could. When their uncle's chest started to move up and down regularly, the fear diminished, but didn't disappear, as his eyes still looked empty.

And those same eyes moved on the older brother, that gulped as he smiled. - Go take me something to drink, son. - He said calmly, placing one hand on Kirious's, who was gripping on the couch's armrest. With no objections, Kenjii complied, his breathing short and fast in terror. He disappeared towards the living room at full speed, where he knew his uncle kept his bottles, cursing the servants for disappearing at such a critical moment. With a continuous shaking that had taken over his body completely, he reached towards the furnishing to retrieve a bottle of liquor and a glass, but both fell to the ground, shattering as he heard his brother's scream echoing throughout the mansion.

Running as fast as he could into the office, the scene before his eyes froze the blood in his veins. His brother was laying to the floor in a pool of blood, and knelt over him was his uncle, his lips opened and placed over the boy's neck, staring ahead with eyes as black as charcoal, into the threshold where he was. He pulled his face away from the limp body of his younger nephew, displaying a set of sharp fangs stained with blood, and without looking away from his other nephew he licked their tips, wiping two fingers over his lips to clean them up.

The boy covered his mouth in shock, his eyes blank with terror, and backed away, glancing at his uncle and then at his brother, whose hand was reaching up to him, just as his gaze, his mouth was moving as if trying to let out words that Kenjii couldn't hear. Kirious's blue-gray eyes were not empty, without any light.

- Calm down, Kenjii. - Said his uncle, his fangs still showing. - It will take just one instant.

Not relieved by what he had just heard at all, Kenjii's breath grew faster and shorter, as he backed away more and more, his face a mask of pure fear, watching his uncle moving forward, feeling his heart pumping in his chest, filling him with adrenaline.

- I'll explain everything later. - He said again, fixing his shirt's collar.

Gasping, Kenjii looked around frantically, looking for something that could be useful against what he had once been his uncle. Now, not sure how, what he had in front of him was… a vampire.

His eyes shortly spotted an hunting gun, and with a jump he reached for it, grabbing it and pointing it to him. - D-Don't come any closer! - He exclaimed in panic, keeping one shaky finger on the trigger.

He had no time to realize the situation before his weapon was violently torn away from his hands and thrown in the other corner of the room. He met the empty eyes of Aaron, shaking violently, his heart aching.

- I'm doing this for your own good, Kenjii. - Said calmly who wasn't his uncle anymore. - Everything will become clear after, you'll see.

He grabbed his wrist, pulling him to himself, and even though the boy tried to get away, wriggling with all his strength, that firm grip didn't let him go; instead it tightened, as if trying to break his bones.

- We can't wait anymore. - He continued, moving the long chestnut hair aside, caressing his neck with the fingertips. - I've risked too much already, letting you grow affectionate to that boy.

At those words, Kenjii's eyes widened, and he started to fight again the strength that was holding him in place, shaking his head, trying to push away those cold fingers tickling his neck, but something invisible blocked it, and his breath stopped in shocked.

- I'm sorry for his father, but that boy will be cursed… - He heard the freezing breath of his uncle against his skin, the fangs tips touching his neck. - He's just a trouble for you.

Before he could even scream for help, before he could even try to escape or fight, the canines sank into his flesh, and he felt his body shaken by shivers and violent spasms at every suck, gripping convulsively on his uncle's shoulder, in one last, pointless attempt to push him away, to stop that intense burning throughout his body. All he could see were darkness, as a name, just one name, whirled in his mind.

- Tegian.


- Enough! That's enough! - Kirious's rambling voice warned his brother, interrupting his tale. He approached him and gripped convulsively on his shoulder, but he shook him off with a slithering movement of his hand, whipping the air with one arm and creating a sense of void around them, showing his canines, pulsing and extending.

- You must shut up! - He hissed back, his dark blue eyes showing boiling rage, as his brother reluctantly backed away, pushed by his blind fury. The air was vibrating like a violin's chord, the snow whirling even more furiously under the startled, lost gaze of the priest.

He didn't know who was the more dangerous amongst the two creatures. But the veil of mystery, anger and pain coming from the older caused conflicting feelings that he couldn't explain nor understand. It was as if something terribly scaring was attracting Mirror to him.

The two were still staring at each other with showing fangs, ignoring him.

- You wish to set off his Wrath, do you not? - Whispered the red-haired vampire, snarling. - You want to see how fa a dying vampire can go, don't you!?

The wind around them stopped, and the snowflakes resumed their normal fall, the vivid blue eyes of the vampire were observing him with irony. - If I were a more expert vampire, I would've torn his throat apart with my own fangs, or ripped his heart with my hands, you know that. - That sounded like a threat, coming from his soft voice. - Even in such a state he would manage to tear me in pieces within seconds.

A sigh filled the quietness that had fallen on the group.

- Then why won't you stop, mo bhràtair? - A low mumur. - Put your Pride aside. You're still in time to change your mind… Let's kill this priest and go find him.

Hearing his title mentioned, the priest recovered some of his fear, and backed away. He couldn't hope to run, because of the pain in his innards. The voices resumed, even stronger and louder than before, as well as the headache. He squinted in pain, his breathing faster, sweating despite the cold, his forehead beaded with tears.

A laughter, a smile…


- Oh, this would drive him nuts.


He was struggling to breathe. Why was he so sick? He had the feeling of the vivid blue eyes resting on him, but he couldn't lift his eyelids, that just shook briefly in a spasm. With the eyes of his mind, prey to hallucinations, he saw the blurred face of someone calling him, looking upset.


- I've been… calling you for half a hour… you moron!

- I'm sorry, My Lord, I couldn't hear you.


Sickness was gripping on his stomach, his throat was sore and wouldn't let him gather oxygen that his lungs were demanding with force; his face was pulled into a pained mask.

A worried tone vibrated in the voice filling his ears…


- Is something wrong?

- You know I hate when you call me 'My Lord' or 'Lord'. I've been telling you for like, what? Six months at least that you must call me…


- … Kenjii! - Yelled the priest without even realizing, shocked and desperate, tightening his arm on his abdomen in a deadly grip, feeling the gaze of both creatures on him.

The older vampire's fangs shun as he smiled sweetly hearing the priest call his name, and he noticed his brother's vaguely curious gaze, who was blinking confused, trying to get whatever was missing.

Meanwhile, as sudden as it had come, the pain abandoned the priest, who opened his eyes weakly, gasping, trying to look at the two figures, one curious, the other worried, staring at him a few steps aside.

He heard the feeble sigh of the chestnut-haired vampire, who glanced briefly at his brother. - I've already finished, Kirious. - He whispered.

He moved a few steps towards the priest, with a bitter smile on his face. In a few seconds he was next to him, as Mirror held himself with his back against a trunk, his legs shaking and to the point of giving up under him.

- I'll never forget what came next, Father. - He murmured sweetly, resuming the tale he had interrupted because of his brother. - I could only feel the fire in my veins, I felt burning alive, all I wanted was that it would end quickly and that I'd stop suffering.. - he took a deep breath. - I awakened in a pitiful state in my room a long while later… and I was like this.

He took his face in his hands, caressing it with lascivious sweetness, to then let it go again with a sigh. - I could've never imagined that my uncle had been a vampire all along. - He spoke again with silky voice, almost a light whisper in the night. - But that's now what hurt me more. It was what he did after. He went to find… you.

The vampire's cold hand went to Mirror's face again, and before the priest could even realize, the hard, cold and yet of burning velvet lips of the vampire placed over his, making his eyes go wide. He was shocked, frozen. He snapped back into his senses only when he felt the vampire's tongue exploring his palate, twisting with his, he felt his hard and smooth fangs against it.

He showed him away immediately, bringing the back of his hand to cover his lips, his brown eyes glaring almost in disgust. In the vampire's face there was a trace of what could've been sadness.

- Ma 'se ur toil e mo chridhe [1] - murmured without any formality in that language again. - Remember… Why can't you…? … Why…?

The red-haired snorted and unfolded his arms, approaching his brother and resting one hand on his shoulder. He didn't know how he was feeling all of a sudden. That sadness in his brother's eyes, he had never seen it before.

- Kenjii? - He sounded almost sweet now, speaking in that low tone. - What is this priest supposed to remember?

The other decided to stop the sibling fight for a change, and shook his head. - It's useless, Kirious. It's something too far back in the past.

- Back when we were… humans? - He asked with melancholy.

Both of them were ignoring the priest, who had started to try and back away again, also startled. What was the deal with that whole story? He watched the long-haired vampire nod, his gaze low. The sadness he could see looked… almost human. And that shocked him. Even more than that kiss, which, oddly, had felt tremendously familiar, as if he had done nothing else during his life. As if he had always missed those lips…

- Now I see why you wanted him. - The one called Kirious said, glancing coldly at the priest. - Now that I think about it, he does look like him. Although you never mentioned this to me before. - He turned back to look at his brother.

There was something he was missing there… As lost in his thoughts as he was, he hadn't heard them. What did they mean, that he 'wanted him'?

The sapphire-eyed vampire looked at him, languid, trying to approach. The prise tore the necklace supporting the emblem, and the beads touched the vampire's flesh which sizzled briefly, without troubling him though.

- You mustn't fear me. - He murmured. - Everything will be all right, we'll be together again.

- Vade retro! [2] - Exclaimed the priest, pointing the emblem against him again. He rolled eyes, shaking his head. There was now a note of irritation in his traits now. As if he felt… hurt, betrayed.

- It's useless with me. Don't you get it? - He asked, as formal as he initially was, noticing his expression. - What is it, Father? - He seemed to think about it for a few, then he sighed bitterly. - Oh, right… the Vow… There's no need to worry. From now on, you won't have to worry about such foolishness anymore… Not like you ever did, after all.

He said that as if talking about something extremely lame.

He placed one hand on his chest, throwing him forward, making him hit some roots with his back. He knelt down on him, enjoying the fear shown in the traits of that young face, foretasting the moment in which it would've stayed as young forever. He had waited far too long to have him back again, he wouldn't have that chance to be denied too. His uncle, who he had always hated for what he had made him become, tearing him from the only thing he had cared for after his mother's death, would've had to accept it.

With time, he would've made him remember everything, he was sure of it. Even though in a different body, in a different century, it was always his Tegian. It would've been complicated at first, painful, he would've turned into more of a puppet in his hands but… with time, the resurfaced memories would have replaced the host.

His fangs started to pulse and extend as he smiled. - Everything will be as it once was.

The priest gulped and closed his eyes at those words, biting his lower lip. Fear was tearing him inside. - Per Altana te oro [3].

A chuckle escaped the vampire's lips at this words, and he smiled at him. His eyes glowed of azure in a way he had never seen before. Mirror started to recite for himself a prayer that he had repeated too many times those past days, he felt he was going to cry for the fate that had befallen on him. He knew he was going to die.

- Mater et Deam Noster, hanc animam…

The vampire chuckled again. He would've never reached the arms of his Goddess. Not with him. - Calm down, Father.

The robe's collar fell on the dead leaves with a rustle, and the vampire smiled more, caressing the showing skin with lascivious movements. The priest wriggled to the touch, trying to get back to his feet, unable to bear that situation. He wanted to try and run one last time. But his foot was stuck under a root, he couldn't escape. He surrendered. There was no way out. His arms fell limp to his sides, as he stopped fighting.

- If I have to die, do it quickly. - He whispered, his throat cracking. - I'll go apologize to all those who lost their innocent lives to you.

The creature laughed again, a clear and crystalline laughter as a child's, his companion laughing alongside him this time, as he approached them more. Why were they laughing? What was so funny? Not like he cared at that point. He knew surrendering would've taken him nowhere, nor fixed anything about the homicides that were to come. But… there was one last card for him to play. All he could do was hope for the best.

- Kill me. - He almost begged. - Kill me… but, I beg you, spare the village.

- You decided to immolate? - They asked.

He automatically moved his head in a nod, staring straight into the vivid blue eyes of the vampire. A wrong move, actually. But he couldn't know.

- Please… - He repeated, completely bound by that gaze.

He watched him sigh joylessly before looking up at his brother, shrugging, to then stare back at him in amusement.

- You have my word. - He whispered, and the eyes seemed to shine.

- Let me go past the Gates of Paradise, then.

- Oh, I'll be merciful. I won't kill you, but.. - His face moved towards him. He could feel the cold invading his body. - Your Paradise is here in Hell…

The marble-like lips approached his neck dangerously. The tongue caressed him gently, almost with eroticism, one hand running down to his side to kindly massage one leg, over the robe's cloth.

- … Here, with me.

The priest finally realized the situation, and his eyes widened, remembering the image in the water mirror. He had had a vision of himself… in his life as a vampire, probably.

- No, no… don't. - He pleased almost in tears, his voice shaking. - Please… no.

He received a gaze full of benevolence from the vampire, almost extreme commiseration, as if even him was sorry about that. The hand went back up to caress his face, perhaps as if trying to comfort him, to then go down on his chest, holding him pinned to the ground. His face contracted in terror, the priest watched him bring his face to one of Mirror's wrists, before baring his fangs completely and sinking them in his veins.

He screamed, wriggling, trying to pull his arm away, free it from the irony grip of the vampire, but every attempt was in vain. That creature with his blood-stained face ran his lips up to the inside of Mirror's elbow, biting him mercilessly there as well, causing him to scream again, a demon-like scream that got lost in the forest, deafened by the snow and the ominous darkness. The priest only got a glimpse of his sapphire eyes before he'd make a pained expression, almost a sorry frown, before sinking his canines in Mirror's neck. Cold, stingy.

And as he heard him sucking and swallowing, his blood streaming warm down his neck, an intense burning feeling invaded his body. It didn't stop. Then the creature pulled away and Mirror managed to look into his eyes, scared. He was feeling his whole being change, watching his own image reflected into the blue irids of the vampire knelt over him, who was smiling, satisfied.

His facial traits, the shape of the eyes and cheekbones… everything was turning as he had seen it into the water.

- We have one last job to do. - Whispered Kenjii's calm voice in his ear, as he observed his transition. - But we'll wait for you, Mirror. No… Tegian.

His head was heavy. The pain overtook him with brutal force, and he curled up instinctively, holding his own chest with both arms, feeling his intestine twisting, gritting teeth and clenching his jaw, his forehead beaded with sweat. He screamed feeling his body twisting, his bones cracking ominously against the cloth as his muscled spasmed in a violent contraction that left him breathless and red. The changing in his body was happening too quickly.

- We'll give you all the time you need.

Even the vampire's voice was more flat, difficult to hear. He could catch only a few words, but he didn't know what they meant, as he arched his back, so much he thought it would snap; he was struggling to gasp for hair, his lungs empty and about to collapse. One hand slid on the wet soil, clawing on it in a desperate spasm and he could sense its consistence under the palm without really feeling it; his sight blurred, turning into infinite darkness, then the light, then darkness again.

- I've been waiting three centuries, I can wait for more… long as you're with me.

He screamed again and felt something embracing him, his forehead resting against something smooth and velvety that he couldn't recognize, as he had completely lost his sense of orientation. Something cold started to caress his hair and a strong smell of blood filled his nostrils, way too close. That smell was making his head spin.

- You will remember bit by bit. - Whispered excitedly the vampire.

His head was lifted up, his lips touched something that had to be a wrist, however thin and cold, but he realized to be actually a neck, and they quickly stained with the vampire's blood. He could sense its coppery essence. He smelled the air, unable to see anything. Everything was still blurred by a strange fog, as he burned slowly.

- I'll give you the strength you need.

His gums were hurting, as if tearing up, and right as his fangs developed and extended, he voraciously pounced on that neck, sucking that crimson liquid that he couldn't see but could smell, tasting its flavor in the palate, on the tongue, while another kind of appetite he had never felt before, and that he immediately needed to satiate, took over him from the inside.

To his ears, confused into the night's rustling noises came the pained moans of the vampire. But he gripped almost with excitement to that one and only elixir that was placating his pain, without stopping the humid sucking in his mouth, not letting a single drop go lost. Slowly, everything ended.

He was pulled away gently, and he ragdolled against the creature's chest, his eyes closed, his breath slowly returning. He sighed in relief as he sensed the fresh consistence of snow falling gently from the sky, touching his chin without melting, as if it had landed on a cold marble statue. He tried to move his lips, trying to let his voice out.

The other vampire pulled him to himself, placing one finger on his livid lips. - Don't force yourself. - He murmured sweetly, and he just nodded slowly, his chest starting to drop and raise regularly. The taste of blood was still spreading in his palate, as he gulped and moved one hand in the empty air looking for the one belonging to who was holding him in their arms, and let another pleased sigh escape when he felt him grab it, as if refusing to let him go. Instinctively, his free hand went to rest on his chest, clenching on the white shirt.

Images had started to overlap and blend in his mind, binding past to his present, but he still struggled to give it a meaning. He tried more and more to stay conscious, but he just couldn't. Something, inside him, seemed to have cracked forever. But even so, his lips, as if they hadn't belonged to him anymore, pursed into a smile.

An evil smile.

And the weak, sweet chuckles that had started to fill his ears were the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. A sound that he wanted to hear forever, and that he was sure to have heard before.

The thirst for blood was possessing him already.

To kill. That was the only thing slowly invading his mind.

The human side of himself horrified, while the fire flamed for one last time…

And it felt like to be thrown into the fire.

THE VAMPIRE'S KISS - THE END

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––-
[1] Please, my heart. (Bastokan)
[2] Stay back!
[3] Please, in the name of the Goddess.

Aaron - Night of Sins (Part I)

Heaven a blaze in our eyes, we're standing still in time
The blood on our hands is the wine , we offer as sacrifice
Come on, and show them your love
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
For your soul, my love
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
For your soul

Once upon a time, I wasn't who I am today.

I wasn't just the death bringer bewitching his victims before putting an end to their lives, stealing their blood from their drifting bodies in their homes, or in the maze of streets where one would easily lose their way and barely catch a glimpse of my eyes before their breath would stop. I wasn't the monster forced to spend the early years of his life hidden in dark dungeons waiting for the twilight, roaming like an hazel ghost in the obscure streets. I wasn't even the creature playing the role of the prestigious man that I had become in the centuries, bringing chaos for over fifty years in the rainy Windurst or in the foggy Tavnazia.

Immune to the weak sunlight of those places, after spending centuries in the shadows, I was able to walk by unnoticed by humans, unable to perceive my immense power, blinded by their ignorance, unaware of who I was until my fangs would sink into their flesh, tasting the pulsing blood, streaming as water in my hands as I carried their essence away.

But let me tell you how it all began.

It was during the years of the first Elvaan migrations from the Northlands to Quon, back when they were one grand, united people with no distinct clans, and when the TaruTaru had never been seen on my continent. The star of Gordeus had gone supernova signing the advent of Altana about 170 years before.

I was the modest son of a farmer, belonging to one of the many clans before my people would ultimately settle in the lands you now know as Tavnazia; I lived with the poor harvest coming from the barren lands we'd work ourselves. It was my twenty-ninth summer when it happened.

My father had died after contracting a disease that only the nobles could've survived, locked in their comforting forts and in their warm clothes made with wool and mane, with the best conjurers working for them, paid with the offerings we were forced to pay as a fee to the landlord every month. Nine years before my mother had been carried away by the same illness, and my father and cousins had taken care of the small land we owned to allow me and my only sister to be fed with bread and turnips. I had never accepted that others would do something for me. That is why, despite my young age, I helped them to make some money working as an apprentice for an herbalist, coming back home only when the sun had already set.

Then the invasions began.

During the continuous outbreaks, two of my cousins lost their lives, and the strong arms to work the soil diminished up to my father's and my last living cousin. It didn't take long before death carried away him too along with my sister, leaving just the two of us.

My father and I managed what we could, often working beyond our strength. We had found a job under the small property of a mid-class Hume who needed laborers over his fields, and even though the salary was pitiful and we were forced to squeeze into a small shack with other workers, we could have a roof over our heads and a warm meal everyday. Soup and bread, enough for me. Until my father went sick because of the struggles.

I'd watch over him instead of resting, even thought he'd tell me not to, and when the dawn came I'd go to work in the fields, asking the scullery maid that usually brought us food to check on him. He endured for over a year in that state. But his conditions grew worse in the autumn 177 C.E., when the cold got so stingy, even that shack, with a campfire burning inside and everybody gathered around it, wasn't enough to warm us decently. That night the rain was heavy, the soil had turned into mud surrounding the shack and the wind raged shaking the roof and the rotten wooden beams, threatening to make it collapse. The shivers that had climbed throughout my father's body were becoming more intense whenever he'd open his mouth to cough, and I could do nothing but clean up the blood often staining his lips when he did that. I was powerless and I could only watch him die. I had assisted him as much as my miserable mortal strengths allowed me, wiping the sweat off his forehead or his chin, refreshing his face with a wet dirty mop that I had found next to the bowl everybody used to clean up. He stopped breathing a bit before the night turned into morning. And the same day I watched him be buried under yalms of earth, in a nameless grave and with no honor to his ancient clan.

I wasn't the religious type, but I remember that day very well, as I stared into that turned-up soil where the mortal rests of the man who had been my father laid; I had murmured some undecipherable word, maybe moved by the feelings of a son for his parent. The rain had kept falling, that is true. But, even with all the willpower I had, I couldn't move. I hadn't cried a single tear, but the affection I had felt for him had left the images of the time we had spent together looping over each other without a real order, overwhelming the cry I couldn't give life to.

The landlord had allowed me a day of mourning and I had used it watching over the silent grave, going back to the shack only when the humidity had grown unbearable. Three more years passed before I decided to leave those lands. I roamed in the streets of a nomad village near what you now call the Konschtat Highlands, cold and dirty much like a street urchin. I'd collect a few pieces of gold working as an helper in a bawdy-house. I cleaned wooden floors filled with dirt, the improvised tables and the small desk just as dirty where the clients would drink, mostly beggars or criminals that would amuse themselves with the local sluts.

The moments I could concede to myself were few. I'd spend night and day doing little jobs for the house owner, often serving drink and food to the few cultured men that would come in for one of our poor drinks or the liver stew made off of our malnourished lambs. I'd often get lost in the big talks they'd start, fascinated by that world I could only dream and never reach.

Often times I'd find an excuse to take them something else, and stay longer than needed to listen to them, to learn what they knew, their knowledge was shaking my soul as a stream getting wider and wider after every word. I was twenty-five and had spent all my life working the fields or cleaning floors, I was illiterate and the few things I knew were what few was needed to live. All what I'd hear when they'd discuss was new, unknown.

It was during the 184 C.E. that an accident put an end to that existence.

The whorehouse where I had worked was shutdown by the Elvaan, and we all ended up wandering in the streets, under rain and snow hammer the country. We started to live in small communities, we didn't want to separate because we had learned to live together as a family during those years. We were four men and two women, and we'd often rob warm clothes for them so that at least the girls could not suffer in the stingy cold. We lived like that for about two weeks. Precisely after two, or maybe three evenings since the last theft, a sudden illness struck me in my sleep, as I slept wrapped in mops, curled next to my companions in a small stabled filled with the smell of the ill chocobos sharing it with us. I started to cough so hard I awakened the others. They all asked how I was feeling, but I couldn't talk, just cough. All I could think about was that I was going to end like my parents and relatives, and that I didn't want to be tossed in a mass grave where no one would've even remembered my name. I didn't want to die without knowing anything of that world, without feeling love. But I just kept coughing and coughing, unable to breathe. My lungs were on fire, and my eyes were burning because of the fever spreading in my body, as the shivers of delirium started to slither on my back and under my skin. I was gasping and spasming.

- He won't survive the night if he keeps at it like this. - That's all I could hear from one of the two women who were with us, Lenina, before my sight would slump into complete obscurity.

Everything was foggy where my companions' silhouettes were impossible to distinguish, as I watched them move as slow as ghosts, leaving behind white trails with no consistence nor smell. They looked like smoke trails melting in the darkness. The smell of hay had become bitter and dense, and in my state it took me some time to understand that the man had gathered a lot of it and placed it over my body, trying to warm me up to let the fever go down.

- We'd need something much heavier. - Insisted Lenina. - This hay isn't enough.

I tried to move my lips to thank her, I remember this, but when I managed to open them after some struggles, I could only mutter some incomprehensible word that neither of them managed to translate, as with what few strength left in me I tried to look in their darkened faces. I laid like that for so long that I can't even manage to remember, now that I think about it. Even my companions, had they been alive, wouldn't be able to tell. I felt as if I was experiencing a thousand pains, for what looked like to be an eternity as it probably was a few hours or a few minutes, or maybe half a day. I was burning. That's how I felt.

I felt on my skin the feel of fire wrapping my body, the silent demons of fever were yelling in my mind. I watched my life as something I similar of a play. The joy, the torment, the struggle and the sadness. Everything ran before me in an indistinct flash without a voice; I could see the slender body of my mother, her never-ending smile on her lips; my father working the fields under the sun of summer, wiping the sweat off his face with his left arm, and next to him were my brothers, waving at me and my sister with smiles, as if they were having fun rather than working. Then, a scream echoed in those faded images, tearing them apart with its invisible claws like pieces of cloth before my eyes. I didn't understand, back then, that I had been the one screaming.

- The demons are calling him, there's nothing we can do now. - A whisper from one of the others, Seraphaelle.

He once was a sorcerer. And if he said there was nothing to do for me, that's just how it was. I knew it, they knew it. Even the chocobos had started to wark, in fear. But I didn't want to give up, I refused to abandon that miserable grip on my life. I tried to grab to one of their rags, tightening convulsively on it with both my hands as much as my strength would let me, feeling Lenina's hand as cool as a stream water over my burning forehead. The grip started to weaken but a few moments later. Too weak, I couldn't even keep my eyes cracked open. I lowered my eyelids completely, letting my arm fall limp with a low thud over the bunch of wet hay under me.

My heart had stopped pumping for two minutes, precisely. And that cold feeling that struck me after was the last thing I remember perfectly. I couldn't feel anything at all. Just cold, I think. I can't explain it all now, what I felt. But perhaps, I'd say it was more similar to a bath in the Zeikt Creek during the winter, when the water are so cold your skin seems to be going on fire to the touch. It was as if I was floating in the darkness that had embraced me the moment I had closed my eyes, as if my clothes had been made with freezing void, as I felt the roaring quietness of nothing. The voices of my companions had disappeared a while ago, as well as the chocobo warks.

I opened my eyes only some time later, outside, in the darkness enveloping the village. I had tried to stand back up clawing into the mud I was laying in, looking around lost. The stable was gone, and I was alone amongst many dead (some of their limbs were still spasming) and diseased corpses, far away from the village, near the borders of some woods. They had abandoned me. Seeing me not breathing, maybe they thought to leave me there to rot, not even giving me the luxury of a simple, modest grave.

I clawed my nails in the mud, feeling my face pulled into a grimace, my hair covered in dirt and sweat and rain, sticky against my face, like brown threads framing my traits. I didn't know, at first, what was that feeling that had suddenly filled my soul. Resentment, abandonment. Those two emotions were building something inside me, something that I can only describe as an unlimited rage, feeding the beast of madness.

The whispers of the underwood and night were blending with the laments of those who like me had been left dealing with their fate, out in the cold night amongst the corpses of who hadn't survived the frosts soaking the cloths of those lucky enough to still be wearing some, such as me. Little by little I regained control of my limbs. As I moved each step I could see injured and diseased men staring at me, their gazes blank and pale with the candor of death, trying to warm each other in their dirty mops or to stand up like me and leave that cursed place. The mass grave, that's where I had awakened. A place where no one would want to be.

If I remember correctly, I went past over twenty dead corpses, piled up one over the other, the blood of their wounds coagulating in the muddy, viscid soil. Abandoned to myself, I went into that mountain of corpses, hearing as I moved them out of my way, the vague whispering of the moans coming from the survivors growing more feebler and feebler. I hadn't gotten over thirty yalms away when the low, melancholic voice of someone called me, a whisper similar to the lapping water in the forest. I searched around the creature that voice belonged to, unable to find it. I didn't say 'person' or 'human being' for a good reason there. No mortal would've been able to give that tone to their voice. It was similar to the song of a breeze amongst the steppe blending with the call of the white partridge; melodious as the quiet blooming of wild irises; as pure and dense as the fragrance of evergreen trees; as palpable as the weed wet with morning dew. It was all that and yet nothing, emblematic as fire, mysterious and lonely as the night embracing us in its silent hold.

I was bewitched by that voice.

I wanted to find the creature that voice belonged to, at all costs. I looked for it for long, even though still shaken by some coughing fit. That voice kept calling me to itself, as if desperately looking for me. I found it shortly after.

There he laid, his face pale, with clear platinum blond hair framing it. He was sitting on a bunch of ferns, one hand resting on his bare chest and the other caressing the head of a deer, while staring at me with a charming smile, his gray eyes so dull they looked white.

- I can smell death on you. - He said in a whisper, with that non-human, bubbling voice, caressing one of his bare shoulders. - Come to me, let me look at you.

Senn.

I don't know who that man was. I'm not even sure it was a man, or if he had a name to begin with at all. I didn't even know what Senn meant, nor what language it belonged to, but that's the first word I thought as I saw him. It was almost suggested to my mind, as if told by some voice that wasn't my own. Did he show me that word in my head? Was he a mage? One of my regrets after so long is that I never bothered to find out.

As if my legs hadn't been mine anymore I moved, captured by those eyes and those lips that kept moving quietly, not spelling any word. I knelt next to him, looking at his candid skin only slightly pink, the black eyes of the deer reflected in his. He sat up, letting the thin veil wrapped around him slide down slightly over his alabaster skin, as the animal he was caressing approached, resting its head on his lap as if trying to hide him. One hand as cold as death I could barely notice placed on my cheek, stroking it slightly before he leaned his face towards me.

- You are so young. - He murmured languidly, tracing the line of my lips, then the cheekbones, then the eyelids I had just lowered. - And I'm so tired.

Calm, that's all I had felt when that man held me against himself with his thin yet strong arms, his lips caressing my face gently. I felt the warmth irradiated by the body of the deer, but not his. He was as cold as ice. Yet his beauty was no equal to the one of any woman I had seen before. He looked like one of those creatures someone had called Avatars. Dressed of nothing but the living fur of the animal keeping him warm and company, he was splendid even with those unruly hair around his face. And his eyes… those eyes were the fatal attraction that had made me fall into his web. A web promising lust and passion.

- Be my strength, and Death shall not take you amongst her servants. - Another calm whisper, the melody of his voice grew slightly, becoming muffled. - I can feel your torment, I feel your most dark and hidden desires… Abandon yourself to me and you'll see what life has negated to you; your old pains shall be but a far, fading memory.

I looked at him and it was as if I could see nothing but his silver-colored eyes. Mirroring into those gelid orbs, I saw the dreamy smile surfaced on my lips, my head nodding in a quiet agreement. It was easier than I thought, what happened after. I didn't even realize the deer had ran away letting out a vibrating lament into the air. Those lips and those eyes I had so much admired in that man became dark voids as he leaned towards me more, licking my neck with a small pinkish tongue, as rough as a cat's. I'm not sure what I expected, given the feeling that had invaded my body. It definitely wasn't what I had thought about in the beginning. I realized that only when he bit my neck, right above my artery, making my back arch and my mouth open into a voiceless scream.

The wet suck of my blood came pretty clear to my ears, but oddly I didn't even try to get away from that charming creature that had revealed to be a vampire. All I thought was "Well, better dying in the arms of an handsome man rather than in a field stinking like manure." I did nothing to stop him from sucking all my blood away, and he didn't. He didn't kill me. I remember I felt the smell of his blood mixed with mine, of his candid skin pressed against my dried lips. Then, a suck. That was me drinking his blood.

It's impossible to describe what I felt when tasting that sweet flavor on my tongue, feeling it flowing dense and warm into my palate. It was a life stream, a continuous orgasm, the deadly spasm of a body dying then living, living then dying to then be born again, again and again in torment, darkness, blood. I watched him in front of me, a few minutes later, slowly running his left hand pinkie over his lower lip, cleaning it of the blood. He was looking at me, now standing, completely naked. Even though his thin veil had fallen to his feet, forming a small lake. A chuckle arouse from his chest, as if he was amused.

- Go as far as you can from this Goddess-forsaken land, before they find you. - He said with that sweet smile never tuning off of his nice face, despite his lips still stained with blood. - Slàn leat, mo brèaga aingeal. [1]

I sat still with one hand pressing on my pulsing swollen neck, staring into the point he had disappeared leaving nothing but thin fog melting into the nearby plants, and a feeble smell of steppe and wild flowers. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes. I could feel the pain burning inside me, without really paying mind to it. The situation hadn't been clear yet, and I'm ashamed to admit it today. I, scourge of mankind in this age, hadn't realized I had been infected.

It was rather hard to follow the advice of that majestic vampire for me. I had barely managed to stand back on my feet after several attempts, and walk like a ghost in the dark, thick forest, finding shelter in the narrow, suffocating lair of a pack of smidolons. They didn't attack me, maybe smelling what I had become. But when I had tried to go outside with them, I had been blinded by the shine of sunlight, that forced me to go hide in the depths of the cave, next to the cubs. Only when night came I had been able to peek outside. It felt like arriving into a new world, a world I had never seen. Soon enough I started to learn where I belonged.

At first I'd feed myself with the animals living into the forest, mostly deers or hares, some wild cat every now and then whenever I'd manage to spot one. I had also learned that the more time passed, the less my eyes would get burned by sunlight, growing dull to its heat. Even my skin seemed to resist it. Although briefly. But I didn't dare to go hunt in the daylight. I awaited the favor of shadows, now my sole companions. I lived like that for a few months, moving with the new strength of my body, that I had learned to control and master perfectly, into a busy and comfortable village, where the frost was fading away. I think its name now is Ronfaure, that we call Ronfchu, if I remember correctly. Anyways, I managed to gather all the needed nourishment for several years, with none of the humans living there realizing what was happening. I kept wandering without a bother, almost amused by that world that suddenly and casually was surrounding me. I gathered riches, I built prestige. I favored high-ranked victims so I could take possessions of their goods and treasures. They were mine, and with that I could create a new life I had never lived. If only I had wanted, I could've brought back the honor of my ancient clan, claim the lands that had been wrongly taken away to my ancestors by the invaders, and giving them back to their offspring. I would've done it, had our country not been one corroded by wars and feuds.

So I simply got rid of my old name of helper boy and making up one worthy of my person, living tranquilly amongst humans as much as I pleased, joining the celebrations of the nobles pretending to be what we call Laird in our language, a landlord. And they believed me, they believed to the illusion of vast lands I'd show them, to the utopia of my possessions in Gustaberg, as if hanging from my lips and swallowed in any word coming from me. But I wasn't the only one, after all, owning those wonderful powers. Often, even too often, I'd cross ways with commoners, looking like either beggars or nobles to everybody's eyes as well as my own. But during my hunting hours, I'd recognize their figures leaping agile and graced in the night, stealing my preys from under my nose, smiling slyly at me before fading in the darkness surrounding us.

I perceived an immense power from them, something that couldn't be absolutely compared to the strength and mysterious shining I irradiated, something that was beyond mere comprehension, be it mortal or immortal. I could never speak to those creatures so similar to me. I heard their thoughts, the strange sort of warning emanated by their smell of graveyard soil, as if they tried to warn me against a lascivious danger looming over us all. Those creatures disappeared a couple months later, carrying their ominous feelings away from the village and its streets, hunted by what they had called, in their minds, the "hunter". A witch hunt, perhaps? Was that what their silent words meant? To understand such allusions was difficult to me as if I couldn't understand the immortal world I had joined, even when I'd smell burning bodies myself, without even realizing it. Someone was hunting us, me. One of the many creatures that they considered heresy. An abomination to their Goddess.

I didn't let that panic me: I kept living tranquilly in the luxury and comfort of my mortal treasure as much as I could, joining any party the shining world of nobility would start almost every night, drowning in the void of pleasure. I was born for that. I was born to made men aware of how frail and delicate their lives were compared to mine, much like a flower petal that I could dry out with a stroke of my fingers, teaching them how to enjoy their existence before it'd tragically end. I was born to charm them and lead them into perdition, to seduce them and let them taste the pleasures of flesh, the deep lust and passion that I, as emblem of desire, could irradiate with the simple sound of my voice and the sparkle of my eyes. Eyes that with their power alone could bewitch the spectator, eyes made of pure ecstasy, not that pale autumnal hazel hue I had when I was but a mortal.

I was clear disillusionment, the sinful pleasure, the thrill of a new moon night, even the shadow of fierce, never-ending greed, becoming an absolute reality. I was all this and neither of them could stop, neither of them could resist my temptation and the silent calls of my voice. I lured them to me, I made them mine. I played with these immortal hands the immoral melodies of illusion, notes of songs only my victims would hear, simple tracks turning into masterpieces from their mortal musicians, my fingers running over the keys of their mental instruments, playing with their feelings like the chords of an harp only I possessed.

I contemplated throughout the flow of time, their faces aging, their skin drying as parchment, as if slowly burning without the use of fire. I looked at all this, as time went by quickly between their powerless fingers. They lived and died. While me, healed from the mortal flaws, had no fear of any disease, was free of any obstacle.

My body was immortal and perfect, I didn't even need to work and break my back as I had always done before.

I felt… Invincible.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––-
[1] Goodbye (to you) my beautiful angel (Bastokan).

Aaron - Night of Sins (Part II)

This endless mercy mile, we're crawling side by side
With hell freezing over in our eyes, Gods kneel before our crime
Come on lets show, them your love
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
For your soul, my love
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
For your soul
[Rip out the wings of a butterfly]
Don’t let go
[Rip out the wings of a butterfly]
For your soul

I basked into the following centuries with a sort of feral joyfulness, watching the continuous changing of the world surrounding me, claiming more lands and riches, as I observed the battles shaking the country from afar, watching life arise from death anew.

I even had the insane idea to join the Coumlaud into their pointless struggle to defend Derfland from the Quadav invasion in 291 C.E., witnessing the construction of Beadeaux in 301 C.E.

In the darkness of night, hidden in the shadow of the nobles' possessions, I watched quietly their discussions, their strategies. And I laughed, all I could do was laughing.

They were talking about the death of Tukuku, the founder of a young Federation far to the east, as well as the first person able to use black magic… or that's what I'd let them believe.

And every night, as clashes and insurrections alternated each other, I stayed hidden in the darkness, amused by how human stupidity hadn't changed. Another war, another slaughter. The most of my family had been taken away from that reality, and now more would've pointlessly lost their lives for a political battle. But that had stopped being a problem to me at least a couple years before. I simply let humans drown in their greed, in the insolence of their actions, in the skirmishes they simply loved to arise.

When the wars ended and the insurrections were suffocated, I decided to leave that small village, almost entirely wiped, and go to the most beautiful city of that age: Urht Wehnse, or as you would call it, Windurst.

I think it was in the 329 C.E.

Yes, the Heaven's Tower had recently been completed, and rumors were spreading about a possible break in the alliance between the TaruTaru and the Yagudo, and a possible invasion of the beastman city of Oztroja. This topic had aroused many debates, especially amongst the nobles that had enriched themselves over that peace treaty, and who feared for their so-easily claimed lands; while others wanted to move forward on that scheme, expecting to gain even more power and control over new soil. This had caused continuous battles amongst the nobles themselves. I won't deny that I had participated in that myself, at first. But I had always desired peace, more than anything. The peace I hadn't found since when that beautiful vampire had bit me. And I found it right there, in that city. No one could ever imagine the impervious pleasure I felt as I met all those writers and philosophers gathered there, basking myself in their knowledge, learning what they knew just by sitting there and listening from afar. With my powers, I had even managed to emulate them. I was able to read and write, as I never could before, and often times I'd approach them, jumping in their discussions, having philosophical arguments that I could've never had, had I been the human boy I once was. My surprise was so overwhelming I initially didn't even recognize it as such, wandering around the grassy streets when the day would paint of a bloody hue, the same blood I'd pour, absent in the grandness and splendor of that city, under the sunlight, under the moonlight.

I bought a mansion not too far from town, an old kind of estate that I don't see anywhere nowadays, where I spent many of my days in the great, filled library, hunting at night to then go back in the deep reading of those texts that I wasn't once even able to touch because of their enormous value.

It was a sort of pleasure that was beyond its pure meaning, what I was feeling and living. I loved the smell of blood, I loved to wipe it off my lips when it threatened to stain my luxurious clothes, but I also loved to just let it stream without refrain, staining my hands and my face like an elixir of eternal youth that many fools were trying to reach. I was the emblem of eternity.

I spent wonderful centuries in the torpor of that essence.

The nourishment never lacked, especially during the years of wars that followed, and that still do, indistinctly between us and the Beastmen, while back west, Lungo-Nango was conquering all the Elvaan lands one after the other, gaining the favor of many landlords, and the hatred of some others. I was able to kill tranquilly whenever I wanted, without having to worry if the rather strict vigilance spotted me or the victims I'd abandon in the streets. I even learned I could create others like me. The loyal servants that I sent around the world to learn the joys and torments, to understand its deepest secrets. The apex of what had become to me an unexplainable lust was reached during the VI century in the Crystal Calendar, between the Fourth Yagudo War and the disappearance of Queen Marelinne. I felt a bizarre sort of excitement when I'd witness those battles unfold, not just political clashes, but also religious. I pretended to be on either side as I pleased, waiting for the right moment to make my move, feeding myself with them and enjoying the terror painted on their smooth and clueless faces before their end. I saw many of those, in those centuries. Religious conflicts, civil wars. Elvaan destroying each other under different banners for reasons that were not worth my attention. The peace didn't come any soon. It took the accession to the throne of countless kings, presidents, and sybils.

But that was when I met her.

Even though I had turned into the prey of a hunter who had somehow managed to track me down and recognize my identity, even though all the victims I had destroyed, I had managed to meet her. Sephirya. That was her name.

I'd take a walk outside every afternoon to see her, watching her from afar, sitting at an herbalist's stand. She was beautiful; I had never seen a woman that would charm me that magnetically since my encounter with that god-like vampire. Her hair were of light hazel, clearer than my own, almost of a golden copper hue when the sun caressed her head, and she kept them cut to the base of her neck, when she wasn't holding them tied in a small bun during her work. Sometimes her big green eyes had almost met mine. When they'd do that, I was quick to disappear, refusing to be seen for some childish feeling that amused me and embarrassed me at the same time. Those eyes were so full of light, I was subtly afraid they could burn me as the sunlight once did.

I desired that woman. I wanted her. But an unexpected surprise awaited for me as I finally decided to go talk to her and introduce myself. Before I could even speak the name I had made up and used for centuries now, she dropped the herbs in her hands in shock, and ran into my arms, crying a name that I didn't know. Aaron.

Concealing my confusion, I listened to her, either keeping quiet, or giving one of those vague answers that were good for any question, trying to learn about the person she had mistaken me for. Apparently, I closely resembled her younger brother, a boy with the same eyes as mine, and hair of matching color (although longer than mine, she commented on why I had cut them short). He had left his home to join the Federation in a clash against the Yagudo in a sudden spurt of patriotic pride, wishing to contribute on the defense of the lands where his family of chocobo breeders had established. Apparently he had never returned, even though the Yagudo War had ended several years ago. Sephirya remarked of how my (his) health had never been good, and that she and our (their) parents had given up all hope to see me (him) back, convinced that I (he) had been struck to death by a foe, or collapsed prey to the sickness that had been tormenting me (Aaron) since birth.

When she started demanding explanations, I wasn't really sure on what to say. And I'm still wondering on what pushed me to decide to act a play and actually pretend to be him.. maybe it was because I had a discrete passion for theater and actors in general. It was a career I hadn't given myself a chance to try out, although I had gone to see many plays with the other nobles.

Immediately getting into the role, I explained my lack of answers with a shell shock-induced amnesia. Naively comprehensive, she took me to her house and showed me a family picture where Aaron (I) was portrayed. That was when I recognized him.

I had stopped looking into mirrors a long time ago, as I knew my appearance wouldn't have changed, no matter what, and perhaps that was why I couldn't have noticed that one of my victims from the years past was amusedly similar to me. Yes, I recalled that boy. He was a soldier fighting on chocobo-back, with a proud, cold attitude. His mask of arrogance had quickly collapsed the moment I had unsaddled him and pinned him to the ground, baring my fangs to enjoy his terrorized expression. Thinking about it now, his blood had struck me with a sickly-sweet flavor that was rather enjoyable. Yes, he was sick. He wouldn't have survived on his own even had we not crossed our paths.

I told her I had never regained my memory, and lied, telling her of how I had been taken under the care of a renown doctor, who had managed to heal my illness and then adopted me like his son, causing me to inherit all his goods and possessions as he passed away (That wasn't a complete lie. I did get the possessions of a renown doctor after he had died. But it wasn't a rather natural death. Heh.), as well as his title of Laird. She was shocked to learn that, but didn't hesitate to believe me, even though there weren't many Hume landlords around the Federation.

We spent a lot of time talking, and in those few hours she was able to make me feel a warmth that I hadn't felt in centuries, something deep that had no voice. I wanted her to become my bride. I wanted to take her into the luxury and prestige of my possessions, and that she'd accept me in her bed as a normal man, loving me as no other woman nor man could've ever done. She wasn't even questioning the cold of my body, and I loved her for that even more. Maybe, just with her, I could've opened. I could've told her the truth of who I was. I could've made her join me in the eternal embrace of immortality and together we would've experienced joyful moments that I hadn't even dreamed of up to that point.

But my newfound dreams quickly shattered when, a few hours later, two children, a few years apart from each other, busted into the house, throwing away their schoolbags and running up to the woman I was coveting, hugging her and calling her 'mom'.

That's when I learned that Sephirya Idavoll was a married woman. Always wearing protective gloves during her work as an herbalist, I had never noticed the wedding ring on her left hand. I asked about it, and she explained that she had met the man that became her husband some years ago, little before Aaron's (my) disappearance. The man's name was Mathias Asgard, and he was often away from home for his job as a general of the Republic of Bastok. The older of the two children immediately showed an upset frown as she mentioned their father. Apparently the man was a problem to him.

As he was to me.

A problem to be solved.

When she introduced me to her children as my new identity, the two seemed hesitant to recognize him in me at first, but Sephirya reassured them that it was just because they were very young when their uncle had disappeared. She also showed us a portrait where the children, she and I were posing together. The people in the picture all looked very happy.

I decided to keep up my act and stay, while trying to figure out what to do. I was determined to make her join my kind, and take her with me, but the children (who did eventually seem to accept me and like me, at least the younger, red-haired one) were a problem, as well as their father. What was the best first move in that intriguing chess game? Without even realizing so, I let my hair grow as long as that of the man in the picture.

As time went by, I received more ominous news. Apparently, Sephirya was, much like her brother before her, in very poor health. She sighed bitterly as she joked about how she wished the doctor who had healed me would still be alive to cure her, but I was suffering just as much as her. In her conditions, I couldn't be sure she would've survived her transition. Others before her had died in my arms as I tried to transform them into my kind, and they had looked healthier than her. For that reason, I kept holding back on my plan to turn her into a vampire. I wondered how she could've possibly survived two birth-givings… assumed that they both were her natural sons.

A few months after those dire news, a soldier came to our doors to inform Sephirya that her husband (that had never come back since when I had met her, as much as my desire to get rid of at least that issue was growing stronger) was assumed to be dead in a war operation in Konschtat. No body found.

Sephirya had already grown sicker from missing her husband so much, despite my best efforts to be close to her and comfort her, trying to bewitch her and make her allow me to take the man's place in her heart, oddly without success, and those news only worsened her conditions. She was bedridden, and I was now in charge of the family. The children didn't mourn too much for their lost father, but were afraid for Sephirya's conditions and started to look for comfort in my reassuring words more often, starting to look up at me as if I was their father now. At the sight of those small creatures, frail yet strong, I don't know how I felt. I should've been proud, as an uncle or father should be. But I'm not positive the emotion slithering into my soul to be pride.

She learned of my nature a couple years after, when I came back home at a late hour with my clothes stained with the blood of one of the coven who had tried to exterminate me. She had stood up from bed in one of her rare spurts of health to go look at one of her sleeping children, Kenjii. The kid was eleven and had contracted a strong fever that had made her fear she could lose him, as I lost my parents and as I once risked to die as well, hadn't I become what I was. And that night, my Sephirya hadn't let the servants or the housekeeper take care of him; she had wanted to do it herself. It was terrific, the expression on her face as she saw me.

I'll never forget, even now.

She had a small necklace with the Goddess's emblem over her night vest. She had been wearing it since when Kenjii had gotten sick, to pray for him and summon Altana's blessings on him and her gone husband, that she firmly believed to be still alive somewhere, and that he'd come back eventually, like her dear brother had…

At the sight of the blood on my face, collar and even on my sleeves, her eyes had widened and grown bigger, as she approached slowly, carefully. She touched me, terrorized.

- Were you attacked? - A feeble, hearty question, her hand caressing my whole body, looking for wounds that weren't there.

It wasn't rare in those days, with so many brigands and criminals around ready to ambush wealthy men such as me. Veiled by her ignorance, even her couldn't have guessed I was the assassin. I had placed one hand on her cheek gently, stroking it briefly before taking her hands off me and wrapping one arm around her waist to lead her in the small living room. When she sat, I looked at her intensely, not really feeling the bravery to do it.

I could feel grief carving my face, I knew that I would've ruined everything I had done in those years with her, the happiness and intimacy that despite our cultural and social differences had bound us, even despite our different lineage. Even though she was from a family of farmers, she had accepted her new life as an aristocrat without wanting to lose her ties to nature and the countryside. I had even bought a mansion nearby a small tavnazian village, where I live even now, just to make her happy. But that is another story.

I remember I was lost in her big eyes, in the waves of her hair, that had grown longer over her shoulders, contrasting with the pale white of her ill skin. I couldn't say anything, but just look at her. It wasn't something I could explain with words. I sat next to her, resting my chin on her shoulder and inhaling deeply her scent, focusing on the regular beat of her heart, of the warmth of her body against the cold of mine. I had desired her like a man can desire a woman, but I had also desired her as one of my kind could've desired blood.

It was also her blood that had attracted me to her, not just her body. I had always controlled myself, especially in not telling her the truth. But that night, I don't know what pushed me to do it.

I slightly pulled away from her to stand back on my feet, taking a deep breath and turning my head, unable to bear her careful gaze.

- Are you all right, brother? - Another question, demanding an answer.

It was ironic, no matter what I could've said, to me it would've sounded ironic. A vampire can't be all right, no matter how long ago he last nourished himself. And I felt a grip on my heart as I looked at her.

- I haven't been all right for years now, mo annwyl.[1] - I murmured, leaning towards her. Once again I inhaled her scent, a mix between wild roses and lavander that she always carried on herself, even though she hadn't many chances to walk outside into our garden anymore. I don't know what pushed me to do it, but all I did was opening my mouth very slowly, baring my fangs without a single word. They spoke by themselves, those pearl-like canines I had. And I had no problems catching the expression on her face.

Her eyes dilated, her mouth clenched as if she was struggling not to scream to not wake her children up nor the servants, her body standing up to get away from me.

- Vampire… - That only one word, as I watched her grip on the small emblem on her chest, stepping away more and more.

When I tried to approach, she pushed me away, shaking her head frantically and running away as best as she could, weakened by her sickness, running across the house, outside in the cold, rainy night. I followed her figure from the great windows, unable to move. Everything was shattered now, torn in pieces like a broken mirror… and all I could do was let its shards stab my heart, that felt nothing from that very moment. We found her two days later, parted from the world, sleeping in her garden. She was very cold, and her poor health had gotten worse. She left us some months later. Her sons didn't recover from the loss any soon, just as me.

The mourning was more eternal than the centuries I had spent in solitude.

To forget, I started to travel, carrying Kenjii and Kirious with me to show them the world, despite their young age, or leaving them for a few days with the housekeeper to reach the lands I had inherited in Tavnazia, to check their value. We didn't stay long in Windurst, especially because I wanted to put a distance between me and the hunter who had become my shadow. Often times we'd found ourselves in that small mansion; I'd take them there with the excuse of summer holidays. But it was just to not think of the horror I had given birth and shape to, the horrible mistake that I had done by telling her the truth. Nothing, however, seemed to help me forget.

I'd see her in Kenjii's face. Their facial traits were the same.

I'd see her in how Kirious arched his eyebrows when he was puzzled. He had copied that gesture from her.

And the portrait that I often admired, the one with the man that I had murdered and taken place of, it couldn't help but remind me of her. It was the only portrait with the four of us together. The only thing showing the beauty she had possessed to who would've never seen her. I'd lose myself staring into it for hours, at night, after hunting. In my solitude, it was all I could do.

An episode has left a mark in my heart, something that I didn't believe could happen again at that time…

I had just returned from a patrol around town, after feeding myself and fading to make my shadow lose my tracks. I had found Kenjii and Kirious in front of the portrait, staring up at it and moving their gaze on the few candles illuminating the room. I couldn't immediately understand what they were doing, or at least until I heard Kirious murmur some word in our language, words that reminded me of one of Sephirya's prayers. And the small chuckle Kenjii had let out, clear and crystalline, struck me like a slap straight in the face.

It was identical to the sweet, delicate laughter of the majestic vampire that had granted me that second life; charming, full of innocence and at the same time disturbing. I was hidden in the shadows, observing them, watching every detail. Kirious, who had to be eleven by then, was now talking calmly in normal english, a language everybody used now, caressing the portrait's frame, glancing at Kenjii from time to time, his two-years-older brother. The latter was instead staring at the candles with stupor, shaking his head from time to time, muttering some word in an ancient language to himself.

- If uncle finds out you know that language, he'll punish you. - Warned him Kirious, with the easiness of the child he was.

I watched Kenjii smiling at him with tolerance, a smile that made him look even older. - Not unless you tell him. - He replied, widening his smile and then bursting into a small laughter. - I learned from mom; I don't want to forget her.

- Mom never taught you. How did you do it?

- All I had to do was listening as she spoke it.

Maybe what I felt behind my back was a cold shiver, as he spoke those words, I can't exactly tell now. I was afraid that sentence, in his innocence, was concealing some obscure mystery. I hoped it had only been a coincidence, that he was a boy like any other with just better than average learning skills compared to those of his age. But I had to change my mind when he turned fourteen and I had entrusted him to a private teacher to teach him all he needed to know.

One day the teacher talked to me privately just before I'd go outside. We were in the living room, and his words surprised me.

- He knows all the texts by heart, he reads them in half a day, my Lord. - He said, and terror was visible in his face. - Whenever I try to ask a question, he anticipates me asking me the meaning, in his own way. It's as if he could read my mind.

It was definitely terror to give him that color and dilated gaze. He was afraid of my nephew. I had to get rid of him that very day. He was planning to quit the job and go elsewhere, carrying with him the secret of my family. And I couldn't have allowed that others could possibly learn what my nephews could've possibly become; of the real terror they could've ensued.

If only I could know how they had gotten such powers. Was it because of my presence in their lives? Was it something from their father?

I still need an answer.

I fed myself with my nephew's ex teacher, getting rid of his body before others could find him, and making it so that clues would've induced them to believe he had left the island. I had to immediately verify his words, to understand how far this virus that I had apparently transmitted to them had advanced. And when I mirrored into Kenjii's eyes, of that vivid water-blue hue he had when he was a child, I understood the moment would've come sooner than later.

They were close to turning into sapphire blue, deep and sweet as two calm pools.

- Is there something you want to tell me, uncle? - He asked, blinking graciously.

He was preparing to lay down next to his brother, who he was sharing the bedroom with. I felt invaded by terror, remembering what had happened with Sephirya. So I shook my head, kissing both their foreheads.

- Sleep well, my sons. - I said, letting a small smile out. - Sweet dreams. The moon will watch over you two.

I left them to go hunt, running freely beneath the night cape embedded with stars covering the dark sky, feeling the consistence of darkness on my skin, like a caress; the rustle of the man chasing me was an inconsistent and threatening presence. He wanted to see me dead, as his job demanded. But he never attacked me. He limited himself to follow me quietly.

I spent the following years carefully checking on him and to any change from my nephews, studying them in awe, watching their behavior as they walked, their grace and elegance they shown as they turned their heads or talked to other people. And I was more and more sure that everybody was listening to them, charmed, even though they were sixteen years old kids barely entering the golden realm of nobles.

The time came on Kenjii's eighteenth summer.

It was the sixth month of our stay in the estate in my lands in Grauberg, and I had just returned from the encounter I had had with one of the rich middle-class men that were working in Tavnazia, finding the room I had been sharing with my older nephew empty. The shadow that had been watching over us was gone, perhaps giving me a break even though I hardly believed that, and I had thought Kenjii could be sleeping. That's why I had entered silently. But I didn't notice him. He returned but one hour before dawn, with a scent that wasn't his own enveloping his body. For a moment I believed it to be blood, what I was smelling, that the transition had began in his body without my intervention.

Only later I realized his innocence was gone.

- Where have you been? - I had asked, tired as the time for my rest was near.

He had glanced at me confused, perhaps troubled, as he was fixing his fringe that was oddly out of place, trying to part it in his usual hairstyle, and turning back away from me.

It was the behavior of someone feeling ashamed.

- I went for a walk, uncle. - Was his answer, as he forced himself to lay down, his shirt still on. - I was outside for less than a hour.

- Liar. - I snapped, receiving a blue glare.

- You can't know if I'm lying. You weren't here.

- I returned three hours ago. That is why I don't believe you, Kenjii.

The blue eyes dilated at my words.

I had the impression he bit his lower lip almost to the point of cutting it, and had he done that, as hungry as I still was, I would've been overwhelmed by the scent. And even as he moved his hair from his neck slightly, I detected the smell on his skin. But there was something else mixed to the smell I had learned to know in those years. A familiar smell. It was the smell of another man, the smell of the son of my alibi for my victims. That's where he had been, that night. Disobeying me, he had been with that boy. But that wasn't the exact reason of their change. Maybe it was the fact that I was dying. That was the break point, much likely. Because as we returned to Grauberg, some time later, even the hunter who had persecuted me followed us; I engaged a furious battle with him, surviving it miraculously.

The silver blade had cut through my side, and hadn't I managed to bite him to his throat like a werewolf, he would've stabbed a pole straight in my heart. Once home, terrorized by death and at the idea that my nephews would've transformed in something they weren't aware of, I took that drastic decision. I accelerated the hour, taking care of it myself. First I got rid of the servants. Then I dealed with them. The fear on their faces, their eyes staring at me. The same eyes Sephirya had shown me, the same terror. The screams, the beats quickening, their blood streaming.

What followed were hellish days, as I waited for the transition to complete, especially when I was forced to take out the only obstacle stopping Kenjii's thirst for blood.

That boy, I had to kill him, and curse him. The sentence was a life that wasn't a life, letting time decide whether he'd be allowed to be reborn or not. I think his name was Hamish, or maybe Tegian. Yes, the latter. Tegian. His name was Tegian.

I cannot forget Kenjii's ferocious glare, those blue eyes turning nearly into black, showing all his hatred, his newborn canines pulsing between his lips. And even now he won't forgive me. After three hundred years since that event, even now he thinks of that story.

We're in 915 C.E. now. That tragedy had taken place in 612 C.E.

I don't know how many times he tried to die during those years. He refused to live that life as if it was the worse curse to him, a doom that would leave him no escape. He even tried to attack me, to run back to the land where he had been born.

Kirious, on the other hand, had accepted it way faster than him. He'd come with me to hunt, he enjoyed the overwhelming scent of blood fluctuating in the air and the fear vibrating in the victim's body before he'd massacre them. He was still shedding too much blood, but he was learning fast. It didn't take too long however before Kenjii too let his good ideals go.

I remember, about fifty years ago, he had to deal with a group of hunters. That was the first time I had sincerely felt proud of him; when I had seen him lose control for the very first time. Too thirsty, he couldn't reason anymore. I had stayed back to admire his strength and agility as a real parent could look on the efforts of a son working or studying. The fluid movements with which he wounded those men trying to strike him down, the moment in which he had scarred one of them on the face, leaving a mark forever. All the blood streaming wonderfully like a river, godly contrasting with his candid skin and his sapphire eyes. After three hundred years one has little reasons not to kill anymore, after all. You do it, or you die. He had learned that fast.

I let him do as he pleases now, waiting for the proper moment for the sacrifice.

We found the offspring of the hunter that had almost killed me, and I don't want to waste any chance to eliminate his dynasty once for all. Even though he's focusing more on stalking that priest, he'll soon have to obey. I know he reminds him of his ancient lover, and I know maybe it's actually him, but to tell him now would mean to condemn myself to death. Without him, I cannot see my revenge unfold. And soon, very soon, I shall write the last word over the sea of blood we're creating.

The graves shall scream, the bells shall toll the requiem to mourn us, immortal specters. Even the shadows shall fuse into one thing with ourselves, giving us the protection we need to consecrate our cause and wash away the dishonor and humiliation from our name.

Revenge is a dish best served cold. But in my hands, it shall turn into hellfire. One Hell from which nobody will be spared. Maybe not even us. To live or die, after almost a thousand years, doesn't really matter. This, however, will be decided by time. Or by my nephew Kenjii.

All I have to do is wait.




––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
[1]My sister (Bastokan)

Tegian - Scarlet Blackness (Part I)





I remember that day like yesterday.

Which is weird, considering it's been three thousand years or more.

But there's no way you could be able to follow me without starting from the beginning. So, listen up… Cause I won't repeat myself.

I think it was in the 612 C.E. that I met him and realized what I really was.

I was in Tavnazia with my uncle, following him in one of his usual business travels despite me expressing many times the wish to stay in our estate in Grauberg. During the whole journey in our carriage, which had taken at least over a day that I remember, I had done nothing but loud pouting and complaining, ignoring the warning glances he'd throw at me from time to time. I was the heir of a Laird [1], and he thought I should've behaved in a way proper of my status, even though we were frowned upon, given our origins.

So you can guess whatever I could care whether I'd sound childish or, as he loved to pitilessly say, like a "country boy".

Anyways, we arrived in the rainy Tavnazia the morrow's sunrise. The irony, right as I stepped out of the carriage, it started to rain. I caught a glimpse of my uncle sheltering himself with the long coat that he wore, while I had stupidly refused to listen to him and hadn't carried any heavier clothes with me, and quickly soaked completely as I followed him into an inn. He stopped to look at me, and chuckled seeing my hair glued on my face, dark chestnut threads contrasting in the almost-pale tone of my skin. Still chuckling, he approached me opening his coat slightly to cover me with his ermined velvet.

- See what happens when you act on your own? - He teased me with a smile.

I glared up at him, squeezing in my shirt and jacket to dodge the stingy cold sinking into my bones, rubbing my hands on my arms.

- You could've warned me about weather changing so fast here, uncle. - I snapped, moving away the lace-edged collar irritatedly.

- Hmph, I did have warned you. - He immediately replied, covering the both of us as best as he could as we trotted quickly inside the inn, where the pleasant torpor of a fireplace made me unwillingly let out a small languid and pleased sigh.

He chuckled again, shaking his head in amusement and leaving me there to bask into the warmth of blazes as he walked calmly into the throng of the inn, leaning against the counter to talk to the innkeeper. I paid them little mind, trying to warm my hands with the fire and my breath, feeling them colder than ever. Even my face felt unfeeling, while my eyes were slightly burning. Maybe I was just tired because of the trip. I yawned, a few instants before my uncle came back. He placed something on my shoulders, and turning to look I saw a wide tartan blanket, with red and black fringes woven to the edges. I looked up at my uncle, granting him and half-sarcastic smile.

- Can I stay here and drink something, rather than going back out in that downpour with you to go and meet that man? - I asked innocently, but his face assumed a strange expression, as if I had said something wrong. He stared at me with his green-hazel eyes, so empty and emotionless. But he quickly snapped out of it, shaking his head and bringing one hand to his forehead, as if his temples were hurting.

- The downpour will end soon. - He simply said, although his voice sounded sorta hoarse. - Go upstairs and change into something dry for now; I'll give you one of my shirts. It's a little too big for you but it will still keep you warm.

I didn't counter, and just nodded before standing up. As I walked up the stairs though, following the innkeeper's son with my uncle's shirt under my arm, I sensed a shiver climb up my back, as if something was observing me carefully. I glanced quickly behind me, almost causing my neck a cramp, but everything looked absolutely normal, just as when we had entered. I blamed my tiredness again, as I brought my attention back ahead and kept following that quiet boy. He lead me into a small, narrowed room, and closed the door behind himself. I heard his footsteps heading downstairs into the tavern.

With a certain disappointment, I turned that wide shirt between my hands, to then remove the soaked one I was wearing. I squeezed my hair and ran the blanket over them, trying to dry them up. When I was ready, I examined myself. It was like twice my size, and the wrists were tight into the puff sleeves, while the cloth ran down like the oldest maiden dresses, making me look bizarre and somewhat scruffy.

I pouted and went back to the door. Downstairs, my uncle was sitting at a table, thoughtfully sipping a liquor that looked like whiskey, although the color was of a dark golden shade. I didn't even want to know if that was because of the glass being dirty or anything. I crossed through the rambling mass into the inn and sat in front of him, frowning up at him, upset. He glanced at me and I noticed the amusement carving into those gree-hazel eyes, as he pulled the glass away from his lips and placed it on the small table.

- You look good. - He grinned, running his gaze all over my body and hair, falling around my face, almost curled up because of the humidity.

I grunted and clenched teeth, resting my folded arms on the table's edge, without giving him the pleasure of an answer to which he could counter sarcastically for his own amusement, and focused on the people going in and out, chatting loudly into the inn's tavern; sometimes I'd receive a curious glance from them, which only annoyed me further. Tavnazia was a whole big stage set up to make fun of me! We stayed there, sitting for at least a couple hours before my uncle stood up. He went to pay for the food and wine we had ordered, going back to me and motioning to get up as he moved towards the entrance, opening the door.

The sunlight slowly invested us, and I narrowed my eyes at its intensity, barely managing to follow my uncle's figure quickly advancing, crossing streets and stone roads as if knowing perfectly where to go. I was surprised by his almost pained look, but decided not to inquire about it. We arrived into a small central plaza, and he sat on one of the many benches that were there, pulling out from a side pocked of his coat a small worn-out book, to start reading it calmly under my thrilled look.

I almost opened my mouth in shock, pouting loudly as I approached him, letting myself plop next to his side. We didn't even talk. A sort of thoughtful silence had formed between us, as if there were things to be told that neither of us wanted to explain. I looked around, vaguely curious. The streets were busy and chaotic, especially in the market street, where the coming and going was so intense people were almost squeezing between the buildings surrounding it, not to get stuck in the cobbled streets. That sound was paining my head. There were too many people busy in the shops and stands, too many vendors shouting the values of their products. Though to a rogue esteem, looking from afar, they looked nothing but junk.

Pouting, I fixed the wide collar of my shirt, glancing at my uncle. Just as minutes ago, he was still lost in his reading. His collected tranquility got on my nerves.

- Why didn't you take Kirious with you instead of me, uncle? - I asked, trying to hide the exasperated harshness in my voice, jerking my head back to look at the sky, while extending my arms to rest on the back of the bench, leaning against it.

I watched him flap a page absently, as if listening only because he had to. - Because as your mother's firstborn, you will eventually be my successor. - He replied. - You must learn how to handle family business.

- But, uncle… you know I don't care about it. - I muttered, annoyed, crossing legs over the bench, lowering arms to rest my hands over my ankles.

He glanced at me, warningly. - Behave as your status demands, instead. Stop whining like a common villager. - He snapped, scanning my less-than-aristocratic way of sitting. - And sit properly. - He added, shaking his head slightly.

I was about to counter when I suddenly saw him snap his book shut and place it on the stone bench, smiling ahead. I arched an eyebrow, confused, and turned my head in the same direction as he stood up and motioned that I'd do the same and follow him. Two men had just arrived, and my uncle seemed to know the older one. He was mid-sized, perhaps taller than my uncle, but looked a little older; he had to be in his forties or above. His graying dark brown hair, of an almost black shade were moving slightly under the breeze blowing throughout the city, and the smile on his lips was framed by a stubble chin. But what caught my attention was the boy next to him.

Just as the man, he had dark brown hair, and he kept them long, tied in a braid with a black ribbon that was almost blending in the clean, lucent color of his hair. His eyes were particularly unique, of a chocolate brown hue with streaks of gold, of a shade I hadn't seen around before, not even in the noble mansions of the many friends my uncle would take to visit. He seemed to have around my age, although he was more-than-slightly taller than me and his face had a certain something that made him look rather mature. I couldn't help but almost immediately frown at the strange lines he had marking his cheeks: a couple of straight lines climbing from his just up pointing at the cheekbones. At first I thought they were made with some black paint, maybe what my uncle had called 'china' when he had showed me a Far Eastern painting he had acquired last year, but as they approached I realized they were tattooed in his skin, like some tribal marks I had seen on street performers in a nomad caravan we had crossed during our journey on the carriage.

- I hope the journey wasn't too tiring. - The man's voice snapped me back into reality, and I watched him out of the corner of the eye shaking hands with my uncle to then glance at me.

His dark brown eyes scanned me with a curious glimpse.

- Not at all, it was a splendid ride. - Replied my uncle nonchalantly, returning the handshake with a smile.

I restrained myself from mocking him, muttering by myself. A splendid ride, right… I folded arms, repressing some insults.

- I imagine this to be your son. - I heard him adding, and I watched him glance at the tattooed boy who, oddly, was staring at me instead.

I didn't know why, but I felt the urge to punch his stomach for doing that. I hated to be stared at that intensely.

- You guessed well. - Replied the boy's father, patting on his son's shoulder, who finally stopped looking at me to turn to him. - Come on, Tegian. Where are your manners?

I observed him in silence as he bowed reverently to then reach out one hand towards my uncle, shaking his. There was a smile on his face, and I vaguely wondered if he were one of those idiots that would always smile no matter what, or if it was just an impression of mine.

- It's a true pleasure to meet you, Mr. Idavoll. - He said with a warm, soft voice, looking at me again.

I had a change of heart on my second theory.

He was an idiot.

- The pleasure is mine, Tegian. - Replied my uncle, looking at me as well.

I glanced at him, seeing him move his lips in muted words, but my attention focused again on the braided boy who bowing gallantly with his chest, had gently taken my right hand to kiss its back like a gentleman.

To say that I frowned would be superfluous at this point. I blinked, perplexed, staring at his brown hair. I threw an hateful glare at my uncle, watching him smiling tranquil.

I didn't understand.

- Enchanted. - Murmured softly in a pleased tone the braided boy, who lifted his head back up to focus his gaze on me, smiling.

Was he winking? I suppressed a gulp as I turned my head back to my uncle, with a more-than-vague sense of embarrassment. I hated to admit it, but that smile had some kind of charm.

- Tha e gòrach, Uncail [2] - I said in our language, so that only he could understand. But doing so, all I gained was a warning glare.

- Don't be impolite. - He replied, ruffling my hair with vigor before turning back to look amusedly at the boy, who had tilted his head in a frown. - I fear you have misunderstood, my boy. - He chuckled, and with him I looked at the two exchange a lost look.

The moron, as I had baptized him at that point, let my hand go and threw a glance at his father, as if trying to understand something we were both missing. Did he think I was… a girl!? Not only had I had to suffer for hours in a stupid carriage, get soaked like a dirty mop in the rain, almost catching a cold, fitting in that shirt that made me look ridiculous and then wait for them forever… I had been believed to be a female too!?

Irritated, I could only cough out my nervousness, as they all turned their attention back on me. - I'm a guy. - I snapped, reaching out to grab his hand and shake it as hard as I could, making sure to hurt him a little before letting it go. - Name's Kenjii.

As if he could hardly believe my words, he widened those annoying gold-streaked eyes to then cover his mouth with one hand, our relatives watching us and chuckling whole-heartedly. He scratched the back of his neck, maybe uneasy or embarrassed, looking at me suspiciously.

- I-I'm sorry. - He apologized, defensively. - It's just, you have such a cute face, I thought you were a lady. Forgive my insolence.

I couldn't help but blush as he confessed that. I felt to be the one with the stupid reaction. In my eighteen years, the only person that had ever dared such compliments about my appearance had been my gone mother; but that's normal, any mother thinks their son is beautiful. To receive such words from a man like me made me feel weird. But I didn't want to let that be noticed, as I didn't even know him.

I folded arms on my chest, scanning him with pedant aloofness, trying to put up a superior attitude, to intimidate him. That wasn't easy to do on someone clearly taller than me.

- Shall I consider that an insult to my virility, or a compliment? - I snapped.

My uncle suffocated a giggle, perhaps amused by my tone, before patting my back hard. I looked at him in disappointment, irritated at his amusement.

- Quench the ardor, Highlander. Don't be so sour. - He joked, before turning his full attention on the boy's father, pointing at the stone bench with a wide motion of his hand. - Go take a walk, we've got business to discuss. - He added, looking back at me.

Learn family business my ass.

- You go too, Tegian. - I heard the other man saying.

And so I was forced to walk away from there, with that moron on my heels. I didn't know where to go, as that was my first time in that great city, but any place far enough from my uncle's boring talk and from that braided boy that kept pestering me quietly would've been perfect to me.

- Hey, uh… I'm sorry. - I heard him say a few steps behind me, but I pretended to be alone, as I walked into one of the few paths with the least amount of people.

I wanted to put as much distance as I could between him and I. Maybe it was because of those strange eyes of his, making me nervous. Or maybe just because he had mistaken me for a girl. Meh, who am I trying to fool?

I wanted to get away from him because he made me feel weird, that's why.

- I didn't mean to doubt your masculinity, seriously. - He continued with a pressing tone, and in less than a second he was to my side.. curse his long legs. - But it's true that you're cute, I wasn't kidding about that.

I blushed so hard I froze on the spot, thanking goodness I was still a few steps ahead and that he couldn't see my face clearly. I couldn't believe he was able to have such a grip on me. What was he, a sorcerer? A bewitching mage?

One of those druids performing weird rituals? Perfect, now I was starting to ramble because of him. I was going insane. I looked at him out of the corner of the eye, scanning his composure. His unruly bangs were slightly waving over his face because of the breeze, giving him a certain charm.

- Y-You too. - I confessed on impulse before I could even realize, but I rushed to clasp hands over my mouth, my eyes widening.

- Oh. Heh, I'm flattered. - He replied cheerfully. - So, how about we forget that little accident and start anew?

I was about to say something, or at least try to, but he was quicker. Reaching my side again, he forced to turn around as he grabbed one of my hands to shake it like a true gentleman, smiling with a seducent grin.

- Tegian, pleased to meet you. - He said chuckling, as if playing a game with me.

I lowered my gaze, observing our hands, frowning. Then I looked back up, meeting his brown eyes with my own. I had to admit it at that point. He wasn't cute. He was splendid. I allowed myself the luxury of a smile, tightening my grip on his hand.

- Kenjii. - I murmured.

He laughed. A crystalline laughter that felt to be filling my heart. I didn't know what pushed me to do so, but I didn't let him go, as if afraid he'd fade away in a cloud of smoke. He looked at me questioningly, but as I met his gaze, all I did was was shrugging, determined not to give any explanation.

- Well, should I consider this a sign of affection? - He sneered, and I threw another glance at him, before staring down at the stone floor under my feet.

- Consider it however you please. - I muttered, trying to make my tone as sullen as I could. But I was shocked at how I just couldn't manage that.

- Oh come on, you tell me. - He insisted.

I looked back up at him arching eyebrows in a skeptical expression, but for some weird reason I immediately felt at ease, and smiled.

- Never argue with a Bastoker, remember that. - I warned him, watching him cover his mouth with one hand as he chuckled, trying to contain some curious hilarity.

Before I could do anything, he he also kept his grip on my hand and dragged me away from there, in a small street with many plants climbing up the walls and a small fountain refreshing the air.

- I was just wondering where you were from. - He said amused, keeping to lead me. - I couldn't understand from the language you used before.

- I didn't think it could be that difficult to recognize. - I replied, almost chuckling.

Perhaps curious at how friendly my tone had turned, he threw a smiling glance at me. He stopped turning towards me as we arrived next to the fountain, and let my hand go as he sat down, one leg resting on the opposite knee.

- I thought you were wearing a skirt. - He commented, as I mirrored in his eyes, that were shining happily.

All I did was arching an eyebrow, not immediately understanding if he was fooling with me or not. Then I shrugged, letting myself plop sitting next to him, my hands resting on my legs I looked straight ahead. I still refused to look straight at him, unsure why.

- As you can see I'm not, okay? - I snapped, giving an askance glance.

He smiled more, scooting slowly on the marble fountain, coming closer. I watched his thoughtful, almost pleased expression as he scanned me with his gold-streaked irids throughout my body, as if enchanted. He even leaned a little close to my face, keeping a minimal distance between us. I felt blood flowing to my cheeks so hard I imagined them going from their usual candid tone into a scarlet one. Like a child, he tilted his head to the side, his long braid sliding and falling in front of his shoulder, making him look almost girly.

- I've never seen eyes that blue. - He murmured, with a sort of devotion in his voice.

His tone caught me off guard so bad I backed away slightly, feeling uneasy. Why was he looking at me like that, now? I gulped, unconsciously giving a convulsive grip on my shirt's cloth, looking around before staring back at him.

- They… They turned like this as I grew up. - I said, my uneasiness building up. - When I was a kid they were closer to aquamarine blue.

- They're beautiful. - He whispered gently, reaching out to my face, touching one of my cheeks. - They're like water crystals.

His slightly round face sweetened, the brown eyes motionless. I couldn't understand what was going on with him, all suddenly. But it was when he moved two fingers towards my lips that I decided to put an end to it. I stood up so quickly he jumped, blinking as if he had just snapped out of something, looking at me without really looking. He brought the hand that he had caressed me with to his temple, shaking his head vigorously, trying to clear his mind.

- What happened? - He asked in a whisper, looking strangely at me.

I moved a few steps backwards, almost bumping into the few people that were crossing the cobbled street.

I found myself gulping again, not sure on what to say.

- I don't know. - I mumbled, watching him stand up.

He looked at me and then at his feet, scratching his head as if he couldn't understand what had happened, much like me.

We were okay just moments ago, and then all of a suddenly he had looked almost bewitched.

- Maybe I didn't rest well last night. - He muttered, rubbing his eyes absently. Then he shrugged, making a strange motion with his hands as if moving something away, like he was trying to say to put the matter aside.

Back to the boy he was a few minutes ago, he smiled, approaching me.

- We left Tavnazia in the early morning, I'm probably just tired. - He said, flexing his arms as if stretching. - I still haven't had any food; maybe that's why I felt a little weird earlier.

I nodded slowly, silent, as I followed him in the streets of the citadel, watching him, his hands in his pockets, as he moved aside from time to time to dodge people or stop to wait for me. I doubted his words. It wasn't normal for a guy to watch another guy like that. It was the same gaze I had seen noblemen using when looking at their ladies in their expensive dresses during balls.

I was torturing my hands, trying to keep up with that agile, quick figure, feeling invaded by a bizarre emotion. especially when my gaze fell on his backside. I turned blood red, and when he turned and noticed where my eyes were frozen at, he grinned cheeky at me.

- A real masterpiece, huh? - He laughed amused, making me blush even more.

I turned my gaze on the cobbled floor so quickly, I didn't even notice the man twice my size I bumped on, and frantically apologized as I walked back to that boy, Tegian, embarrassed.

- I don't know what you're talking about. - I muttered, refusing to give him a win on such foolishness and keep the last word. - I haven't seen anything worth calling a masterpiece in this silly town.

He laughed again, so exquisitely and clearly my heart skipped a beat.

- Oh, my buttocks are one, I'm sure. - He replied, his hilarity growing at each step as he watched the red that had almost become permanent on my face. - Never seen anything better, I bet.

- How many girls did you charm with this bullshit? - I replied rudely.

Something, in my own words, made me extremely jealous.

What surprised me though was that he laughed again.

- I'm not exactly a good choice, so none yet. - He giggled, moving his hair backwards before staring back at me.

Maybe it was the shocked expression on my face, that made him laugh again before patting my shoulder, as if we had been friends forever. He then waved his right hand in the air, motioning to a small street, and gesturing to go before him towards the small square where our relatives were. I didn't argue nor add anything else. Instead, I was almost glad to get away from there, and particularly, to put an end to the small discussion between us.

I didn't really know why, but I felt strange next to that boy.

As strange as I never had.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––-
[1] Lord (Bastokan)
[2] Uncle, this guy is an idiot (Bastokan)

Tegian - Scarlet Blackness (Part II)

I’ll be the thorns on every rose
You’ve been sent by hope [You’ll grow cold]
I am the nightmare waking you up
From the dream of a dream of love [Just like before]
Let me weep you this poem as Heaven’s gates close
Paint you my soul, scarred and alone
Waiting for your kiss to take me back home
Hold me [Like you held on to life]
Like you held on to life
[When all fears came alive and entombed me]
My Vampire Heart
Love me [Like you love the sun]
Like you love the sun
[Scorching the blood in my]
My Vampire Heart

We kept quiet until we arrived into the plaza, and I roamed with my gaze into its vastness to spot the figure of my uncle and his father, finding them still busy chatting, almost animatedly and excitedly about something, laughing and joking politely.

- Meh, they're still rambling. - I muttered, letting out an annoyed sigh.

I knew all too well how my uncle loved to entertain those little merchants. Next to me, that Tegian guy burst into a small pout.

- Hey, saying it like that makes it sound like I'm not that great of a company, you know. - He said sarcastically, and as I turned I looked at his skeptical expression of who wasn't expecting such rudeness.

I shrugged, waving both my hands absently.

- I'm not saying that, but you're still a stranger. - I said, not wanting to bring up useless arguments with him, although I couldn't tell why.

I started to walk towards the center of the plaza, determined to try and convince my uncle to continue that conversation elsewhere.

My stomach was about to demand nourishment, and loudly, and I'm sure he would've been hungry too, as I had almost never seen him in front of a plate. Thinking about it, I didn't see him eating much at all. After short, I felt the braided boy by my side again, stretching calmly and moving his braid away from his shoulder absently, repressing a yawn.

- Out of curiosity. - He started, trying to get back my attention and at the same time to have some conversation. - How many of your coetaneous friends are used to chitchat with you?

I glared daggers at him as he asked that question, unable to tell where that was coming from, and I stopped a few steps away from the bench where our relatives where. Huffing, I folded arms, muttering to myself before bothering to give an answer.

- It's not like many of my uncle's friends have sons of my same age.

- Ahhh, there's why you're so cantankerous. - He simply said, with a clear, positive mark of irony in his voice. - You spend your time with those pompous nobles.

I felt irritated, and frowned, nearly pouting. He had managed to make me jump from a state of sympathy to one of anger in a finger snap.

- Know what? I'm taking back everything I've said earlier: you're annoying! - I grumbled, nearly exclaiming, glaring at him arching one chocolate-brown eyebrow in amusement.

- You're the seven-hundred forty-third person to tell me that. - He said humorously.

- And you even brag about it! - I snapped, surprised by his innocence as he spoke up.

With a sly smirk emphasizing the shape of his eyes, he tilted his chest slightly, moving with cadenced movements his right hand, and bowing his head to look at the ground.

- Of course I brag about it, My Lord. - He said, accentuating the title in particular.

I folded my arms again, offended.

- I'd rather watch the Brilioth for the umpteenth time rather than keep on talking to you. - I snarled, and when he looked back up at me, he showed a slightly surprised expression.

He rubbed his neck absently, smiling again.

- And just wondering, what or who is a Brilioth? - He asked innocently.

I was the surprised one this time.

- Never been in a theater? - I asked, startled. Many back at my place knew those dancers. Its dancers didn't even need to speak up their names before being surrounded by adoring admirers. He shook his head, shrugging.

- I may look like I've got a lot of free time, but I'm almost always helping my father sell his wines. - He said, as if that explained everything, even his bizarre ignorance.

- I thought anyone would know the Troupe Brilioth by now. - I insisted, blinking.

Yet again he shrugged. Everything looked different now, in how he was acting and posing. He looked almost unaware of what was around him, as if living in his own world and didn't care about anything, basking in the tranquility that seemed to irradiate from himself. And without me even realizing so, he let the topic drop and came closer to me, with that unique smile lighting his face.

With my great surprise, he sneaked one arm around my shoulders, pulling me so close I could feel the beat of his heart against my right arm.

- I think we should focus on something else. - He said, clearly amused.

Yet again that morning, I blushed without a real reason. I was about to demand that he'd let me go, when he turned his head to look at his father, while the hand of his arm around me caressed absently the top of my sleeve.

- Dad, don't you think it'd be rude not to invite Mr. Idavoll over for lunch? - He asked with a cheerful smile, while dragging me next to the bench without me even fighting him.

His father looked absently at him and then at the sky, to then look back at my uncle.

- Would you like to have something to eat? - He asked, with the same smile as his son. - There's a little tavern not too far from here, where they make delicious meals.

My uncle seemed to be considering it, and then he smiled as he stood up.

- Perhaps along with a glass of your wine? - He replied amusedly, with a sort of emphasis on that last word, as if adding a sort of seductive note in that answer. Was that even possible? Nah, maybe it was just how that Tegian guy had glued on me that was making me hallucinate. Whatever could I know back then about seduction?

Anyways, his father nodded with respect, leading us without another word. I followed, or rather, was dragged by the braided guy, feeling treated like a child.

I didn't dare to look up at him until we arrived in the small tavern his father had mentioned, and he went quickly at the counter to order a meal for four people. When the waiter brought us the food, I flung onto it, starving, and just as I had imagined, I glanced at my uncle not even touching his plate. Often times I had wondered when would he eat, and I had even questioned him about it. The answer was always the same.

"I eat while at work."

I should've guessed what he was from such kind of hints.

Of course I didn't even think such a thing could be possible, so it never crossed my mind. Ah! If I think about it… what a fool of me! But that's not what we're talking about. It's a whole other issue what I'm going to tell you.

As I said, we started to eat together, except my uncle who would just reach out to his fork from time to time, to absently play with his food without having a taste. Nobody said anything; maybe out of respect, maybe out of something else. When the wine was brought to the table he seemed to brighten up a little, straightening his back and leaning forward towards Tegian's father, his elbows on the table's edge to support his face, hands clasped under his chin.

I yawned loudly as I watched them fill their glasses, inhaling the strong smell of the wine as much as they lungs could let them, like two sommeliers, sipping bit by bit to then talk again. Next to me, I heard Tegian also yawn, as if he was really bored.

I glanced at him, one corner of my mouth pulling into a smile seeing a veil of tears peeking from the outer corners of his eyes, just like when little kids were too tired to stay awake.

- Get used to it. My uncle talks a lot. - I informed him quietly with a veiled amusement, as he yawned again to then run the back of one hand absently over his cheekbones.

- And here I thought my father was the bubbly type. - He replied, avoiding to stir just to not look rude.

I chuckled and placed my chin on the back of my hand to look at him.

- I guess they found just their perfect match, then.

- Uh huh. At this rate, we'll be the ones getting sick.

I let another pleased chuckle out hearing his sarcastic tone. We spent most of our time in the pleasant torpor of the tavern, talking just as two old friends would, paying no mind to our relatives. They were back in their rambling and discussed excitedly of wine and business, as focused as I had never seen; they seemed to have completely forgotten about us and what was around them. We were invited to their place that evening, but my uncle rejected kindly the offer, saying that he had already booked a small room at the inn, and saying goodbye with a smile and the promise that he would've had a taste of more of their wines the day after.

When night came and we went to our room, I passed out in my bed quickly. That meeting had made me feel happy and vivacious as I hadn't ever been since my mother's death, as difficult as it was for me to admit it.

I awakened when I heard a strange noise coming from the window. My eyes still half-closed and swollen with sleep, I looked around briefly, noticing that I was alone in the room lighted by the moon. That worried me. But the following morning, when I met my uncle downstairs in the tavern, I decided not to question him, and simply followed him around to his next meeting, feeling oddly lively and perky, as if I was eager to see that boy again. We kept at this for weeks and months. We'd often meet, leaving our relatives to their business as he made sure to show me every place in town, every small wonder inside it, even the many gardens full of plants and flowers of species I had only seen in books before.

It was during one of those walks, that we felt something changing. As often times before, the sky had clouded and after short, lightning and thunders had arisen to introduce the thunderstorm that had started not five minutes later. We were in the city's outskirts that day, with no other shelter nearby but an abandoned shack, with nothing left inside from its last owner but the ripped clothes of what had once been a pair of trousers, and a blanket half-chewed by rats. I made a face as the strong smell of dirt filling the place reached my nostrils. I heard Tegian sneering, and out of the corner of the eye I saw him sit at the center of our shelter, next to some humid chunk of woods.

- It may not be the Marquis's palace, but we're not getting wet at least. - He said sheepishly, patting the moldy wooden floor next to him to invite me to sit.

I shook my head frantically, backing away towards the threshold. I would've rather staying out under the rain rather than sitting on that crap. Perhaps reading my thoughts, he laughed louder.

- Come and sit, you fool. - He said with a smile, trying to convince me.

I reluctantly complied when he looked at me and winked. We had spent enough time together to bond a sort of synchrony between us, something that up to that point I had only had with my brother Kirious. It was a perfect understanding, almost special, the one between us. An understanding similar to the one between very old friends, or very stable couples. An odd paragon the latter for now, but you'll understand why I used it when I'll get there.

Anyways, regretfully, I sat next to him, and watched him reach out absently for the wood, moving away the wet chunks to find the drier ones. After finding them, he stood up to find a flint stone or something he could've used to start a flame. When he came back to me I watched him holding two sticks in his hands. I arched an eyebrow, skeptical. We would've frozen to death before he could manage to start a fire out of those, that was for sure.

Nothing my expression, he just shrugged and sat back, starting to rub them against each other, his brows furrowed in focused attention. I rested an elbow over my knee to support my chin, huffing in boredom and slightly shaking. It took a lot of time before a sparkle would form. With a cry of triumph as he watched the fire catch on the wood and dry threads of the worn out cloth, Tegian tossed the sticks into the flames, and the heat arouse immediately to his face, giving his cheeks a colorful hue, forming strange orange reflections in his hair and eyes.

I was enchanted looking at him. During the one month and a half that I had spent with my uncle in Tavnazia where we had ultimately moved when his "partner" had to go back for business, I had grown affectionate to that boy, an affection that I had at first compared to sibling love. But as I observed him, I couldn't really tell what I was really feeling.

I felt my heart pumping blood to my brain way too fast, the muscles of my arms and legs stiffened and my body was almost hurting in the urge to touch the skin on that face I was now admiring. Perhaps sensing my gaze, Tegian turned to look at me, giving me one of his usual warm smiles, smiles I had eventually learn to appreciate.

- Much better now, no? - He asked, scooting closer.

I blushed at the close distance, and thanked the fire for hiding the color that had just aroused on my face.

With my great surprise though, I also scooted closer, as if the heat of flames wasn't enough.

- Yeah, thanks. - I murmured unconsciously, feeling him encircling my shoulders.

I looked up at him, and it almost looked like he was blushing as well. Or was it maybe because of the fire? The way he was acting made me think I wasn't just imagining it. His other hand was absently rubbing his cheek, and he had looked away to gaze around the shack nonchalantly, as if trying to avoid meeting my eyes. I was the one to grin that time.

- This is the first time I see you blush. - I scoffed him, trying to goad his ribs to pester him as he blushed even more, muttering something to himself and trying to get away from my finger.

I managed to free my arm easily, and we started one of those playful fights made of pinches and tickles we had done a few times in the past, especially him when he'd piss me off and then do that to get me to stop frowning quickly. At first I had hated it. It wasn't something boys our age should do. But Goddess damn it… tickle is tickle. We're not immune.

- Please, stop! - He exclaimed while laughing, dodging as best as he could and trying to stand up to get away.

As he did that though he fell over backwards, pulling me along in the fall. We found one over another, our eyes widened in surprise while mirroring into each other. I saw him gulp and I imitated him unconsciously, my gaze unwillingly moving over his body before going back to stare into those gold-streaked pools dilated by something that seemed to be possessing even me. I didn't realize at first what he did. In less than the fraction of a second, he leaned up towards me, and his lips touched mine, in a chaste, fleeting contact. My eyes emptied as I felt the warm consistence of that mouth, that red velvet now caressing my face, burning as much as the flames that were slowly warming us. But when his gaze met mine, his pupils narrowed into two dots. He immediately got away and I did the same, sitting almost painfully back on the floor as I jerked backwards, staring at him, perhaps troubled. His chest was rising and dropping fast as he tried to clear his throat, his breath had grown shorter. He unconsciously brought two fingers to his lips, running his tongue over it before looking back at him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

- I-I'm sorry. - He stuttered, backing away more. - I-I don't know what's gotten me, I didn't… I didn't want, I mean, yes… no, wait…

He trailed off and covered his face with both hands, as if refusing to let out something he didn't want to. As for me, I was paralyzed. Had he just.. kissed me? My first kiss, from a boy!

I gulped nervously, daring scooting a little closer, trying to see his face, tilting my head. I was embarrassed, a lot, but I wanted to show confidence. Seen how he didn't seem to be planning to move however, I hesitantly poked his shoulder, and he lifted his head slightly, his gold-streaked eyes meeting mine. I could clearly see the red on his cheeks. He made his hands slide slightly down his face, so that only his eyes could be seen.

From his expression, I could tell he was waiting for something. Perhaps for me to say or do something. But I was as shocked as him, for that matter. I didn't really know what to say in such a situation. I had already thought the affection between us to not go beyond the one amongst good friends, but I didn't know we had passed that threshold.

Once again, I gulped, sitting on my legs and placing my closed fists on them, staring down at the wooden floor. The fire was playing with light and shadows, making the atmosphere in that shack all too awkward. Intimate, almost. Even though the embarrassment that had formed between us was oppressing everything else. I started to absently play the hair on the back of my neck, avoiding eye contact even though the temptation was strong. For some odd reason, a small smile escaped my lips as I rubbed my neck.

- Y-you know that was… my first k-kiss. - I said in a whisper, trying to alleviate the tension between us with something I thought was somewhat ironic and laughable. I mentally slapped myself when I realized what I had just said. I watched him gasp, to then look away shaking his head, as if trying to deny the truth of what we had done.

- Shit. - He cursed under his breath, catching my attention.

It was the first time I had heard him talk like that. I didn't know why he had done that, and I didn't want to ask. Yet he was the one to explain, collecting his bravery, and looking at me, his face still clearly showing signs of embarrassment.

- I-I think I've just caused one big mess between us with that… - He murmured nervously, one hand tormenting his braid on his left shoulder. - …And I t-think I'll do that even more after I tell you.

Neither of us talked for a little while. We just kept observing each other; at least we were doing that again. Then, shortly after, he took a long breath, half-closing his eyes to stare down into the fire.

- You see… I've been feeling something, for you, for some time now… something I shouldn't feel because it's wrong. - His voice was as low as it could've ever been, as if afraid someone else other than me could hear him. - This 'something' makes… makes me weird, but at the same time it makes me feel as if my life had a purpose… call me stupid if you want but… well, I think what I feel for you is… - He let out a noise that could've been a pained moan, or a nervous, shaky laughter, before staring back into my eyes intensely. - I think I love you, Kenjii.

My heart skipped a beat at those words, perhaps even more than one. I didn't know what to reply, I didn't even know where to begin. Since when I was a child, I had never been the type to get interested in romance; I had spent my years reading books to gain a knowledge that would've meant to bring forth a dynasty in my family. I had never felt the minimal interest in women, never mind men, and I didn't even know the basics.

I felt my cheeks on fire just thinking about that. And I didn't know where I found the courage to scoot closer to him. Hesitantly and somewhat uneasily, I dared to sneak one arm around his waist, sensing the tension of his surprised body.

- I don't… I don't know if what I feel is l-love but… - I started, feeling overwhelmed by embarrassment. - … but when you're with me I… I feel I can't breathe.

I felt him embracing me, caressing my hair slowly, his hand shaky and hesitant.

- That's exactly how I feel. - His voice was sweet and heartbreaking, despite the slight shaking cracking it.

That was when we really started to date. With the excuse of the meetings between my uncle and his father, we were always able to see each other and go around town as normal friends, daring taking each other's hands only when we were sure to be alone. A couple more months came by, and even when time came for my return, not to Grauberg, but to Windurst, we tried our best to stay together.

I didn't want to leave him, not now that I had finally understood what to love really meant. But things took a turn neither of us could've expected. We'll get there slowly, let me tell you from the beginning.

Even though his continuous withdraws whenever I'd ask him to make that step, it was himself, one night, to take me to his house. Our relatives were having a dinner to talk business again, and he had come to pick me up in the tavern where I was, making me the happiest person in the world. I still remember how he had decorated his bedroom, trying to put up a romantic, sensual atmosphere. I had to force myself not to laugh, of course, but also not to swoon in embarrassment. When we had found ourselves naked, looking at each other with wide eyes and our faces on fire, I had really thought I wouldn't have survived that flood of adrenaline. Pain, sighs, excited moans. Everything had blended as we became one thing, making concretely that sinful fruit that was our forbidden love. But, as I said earlier, our situation changed shortly after that moment.

It was night, and it had been raining for a long time. I was in Grauberg with my brother, and had found him reading as he waited for our uncle, outside as usual. I won't ramble on how all that happened.

Just know that when he came back, he almost died. He was wounded and losing a lot of blood, even when Kirious and I tried to stop the blood loss we couldn't do much.

What he did, though, was terrible.

He asked me to get him something to drink, but when I heard my brother scream, I dropped everything to run to him. The scene before my eyes was horrible. I didn't see my uncle. I saw a vampire that looked like him. And that's when I became what I am now, a miserable creature who drinks human blood to keep on living and stay strong. I could not do it, but at this point death is better than madness in this form.

And so my friends, after all I've told you, we're back to the present time.

It's the 922 C.E. Three hundred years thrown into the wind, to tell you the truth. Because one week after I had become a vampire, the man I loved was killed. I could let you guess by whom, but I want to say it. It was my uncle. Yes, that very uncle who had shown so much kindness and care for me and for him. Some odd twist, isn't it? But I didn't give up on finding him. Or rather, on finding he who wasn't him. It took me some time, that is true, but he has been back to my side for eight years now. And despite destiny reunited us once again, after three hundred years, nothing is like before. His soul was almost lost in his transformation.

I forgot to mention that he was a priest in this new life. Perhaps that's why his dark side is conflicting with the other one so much. He repudiates me. He repudiates himself and anything that could help him forget the past. Only a few times he returns to be my lover. And I enjoy those moments throughly, fonding nourishment and sex in a wild and erotic dance, something that has little to no romance.

But neither of us can take the blame. We're creatures born to bewitch, to trouble. Lust itself is guiding us.

Soon enough, however, I have the feeling something will drastically change in what we're metaphorically living. Something that will turn this eternal curse less suffocating.

All what has started in blood will end in blood, and this distorted vision of the world will come to its end.

Dust to dust, ashes to ashes.

What better end for a vampire.

Don't you agree?

Kenjii - Corrupted Life, Corrupted Obscurity (Part I)

There's a flame that leads our souls astray
No one's safe from its tender touch of pain
And every day it's looking for new slaves
To celebrate the beauty of the grave

We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverance
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire

I awoke in warm, comforting darkness, so dense and yet muffled it almost felt like I could grip my fingers around it before it'd disappear like smoke. I was inside it, trying to focus on something.

I was in a world of perpetual obscurity, oppressed with terror, slowly invading my whole being without me really understanding why, making me shake in violent spasm leaving me out of breath. I soon realized to be all-four on slimy, wet soil.

A smell that closely resembled rusting iron filled my nostrils immediately afterwards, stiffening my throat in a devastating grip. I repressed a keck, trying to stand on legs that I felt extremely tender, shaky; something viscous and dense was encircling my ankles.

The sensation of rust increased, making my head hurt. I pressed both my palms against my temples trying to contain at least part of the pain that was torturing my brain, but it still slithered throughout my body irregularly, and it felt like my abdominals were twisting in spirals.

An iron grip clawed my stomach, making it burn like fire, and I fell forward, screaming, landing with a thud that was deaf to my ears in what, to my temporary blindness, felt like an enormous pool of stagnant water. Only when a feeble light in the distant lighted the place where I was, I could see what it really was.

I widened my eyes in horror, bringing one bloody hand to my mouth as pain kept climbing harder and harder inside me, slithering like an evil snake in the depths of my soul. That weak source of light was showing me mountains of corpses shred in pieces, their heads cut off and piled up in the various corners. And I was squelching in their blood…

I screamed so hard my lungs felt on fire, and I awoke again, covered in cold sweat over a bed covered in luxurious red silk, wrapped in semitransparent curtains of the same shade. I moved it aside slightly, starting to look around as my breath shortened and my heart started racing, as if looking for the same horror I had witnessed in my nightmare. I scanned every corner with my eyes, carefully, looking at everything surrounding me as if I had seen it for the very first time, when I knew it wasn't such a case.

I was in my room. but the furnitures looked unknown to me, ethereal. Feeling dizzy, I lowered my eyelids slightly, keeping one arm pressed against my stomach. I felt the powerful rumbling of my cardiac muscles, the shaky pulsing of blood in my veins; everything felt a thousand times louder to my ears, as small as it could be; I could hear the sound of my thoughts and of my body as one entity.

It was a strange, bizarre feeling. Something I had never felt.

Everything had grown more consistent than I could remember, as if I could reach out and move through matter and melt it in one motion. The scents were dense, coming to my nostrils like when I'd walk into the steppe as a child, enjoying its smells carried by the gentle breeze. I couldn't tell whether what I smelled could be pleasant or not.

I ran one hand over my eyes, and opened them weakly. In front of my face, I observed carefully the pale color of my skin, gulping loudly and licking my lips that were feeling dry.

My gums were hurting horribly, and almost unconsciously I brought the hand I was looking to my mouth, touching them fleetingly. Something cut my finger. Something sharp, pointy.

I immediately withdrawn my hand without understanding, just staring stupidly at that scarlet pearl that was my blood. I blinked a few times, staring at it, letting it run down my finger in a thin trickle in deep contrast with my alabaster skin.

Its smell reached my nostrils with devastating power, and I started to gasp as if I suddenly found myself underwater, out of breath, trying to unsuccessfully escape that deep scent of iron and rust.

My feverish eyes couldn't delete the image of blood recorded in my mind, making the nightmare I had just escaped from resurface. I don't know what pushed me to do it, but I pulled by finger over and licked the wound with the tip of my tongue, feeling a strange, lascivious desire oppressing my chest terribly. The smell of blood became stronger, nearly destroying my integrity, and I started to suck it with greed, licking the whole finger to not let a single drop escape, in a motion that would've looked deviated and erotic to the eyes of strangers.

But not to me. I was placating my blood thirst.

My blood thirst…

Soon as I realized that, I stopped and jerked behind falling over the bed, as if trying to escape invisible hands threatening to touch me; I almost hit the head of the bed with my back. I began to breath with my mouth to not let the smell of rust get over me again, but it only a great mistake. It filled my throat, increasing the insane desire that was animating me. I squeezed my eyes trying to push away what was now a devastating desire, but I didn't succeed.

A cadenced sound of footsteps however called me back to reality, making me open my eyes.

I looked towards a door that I had initially not noticed, revealed the vague silhouette of someone who was slowly advancing towards me. Despite the darkness filling the room, I could see his face clearly, and my mouth moved in an expression of disgust.

Only then I remembered what had happened to me.

I had died.

Or at least, I was no longer living what could be called life.

And it was all because of the creature I was now looking at, that monster I had once called uncle. Without a word, he tried to reach out to me, as if to caress my cheek or hair sweetly.

I snarled and bared the fangs that had wounded me a moment earlier, threatening him with a low growl rising from the depths of my throat. He didn't wince, standing still and watching me like a know-all with those green-hazel eyes of such a similar shape as my own. He moved one of his brown bangs away from his face, his loose ponytail swaying gently along his movement.

- Don't fidget so much, Kenjii. - He said eloquently, and a feverish desire to assault him struck my stomach like an arrow.

My fangs pulsed for a reason I wasn't aware of, and my hands clawed convulsively onto the red blankets, trying to suppress my berserk desire for revenge. I wanted to tear his heart away from that chest. I wanted to sink my canines in his flesh and suck all his blood away. He was the one who had turned me like that, and I would've been his ruin.

Like a beast chained to starvation I leaped over him, my fangs showing, almost managing to sense the mutation in my dilated, black eyes.

But before I could even scratch him he threw me back over the bed and put one stone-hard hand over my chest, choking me, my lungs desperately summoning air. For whatever that could matter, considering what I had become.

I clawed his arm, cutting deep gashes on his flesh, trying to make him loosen his grip, my eyes meeting those fervid irids that observed me without emotion. I fumbled as if something much heavier than a mere man twice my age was resting over my stomach, trying again and again to get free, but I quickly stopped to fight, and let my arms fall limp over the blankets. That was when he let me go.

I started to breath fast and irregularly, dilating and compressing my lungs, on the verge of hyperventilation, gasping and at the same time trying to not look away from that smooth, candid face. Was I of the same color of death, too? Would've my face not aged ever again as well? Although to many the perspective of eternal youth would've been pleasant, I wasn't of that opinion at all.

That was a never-ending punishment. That's what I thought as I laid there on that bad, staring as he absently fixed back his clothes nonchalantly; he was wearing clothes even older than his usual ware, yet just as luxurious.

With a certain detachment he looked back at me, his fangs shining briefly between his lips as he moved them.

- Do not covet the death of he who gave you a new life. - His voice sounded distant, velvety as silk, sharp like a blade. - Accept it, just as your brother did.

My eyes widened at those words. He had reserved that corrupted life for Kirious, too. What kind of uncle would've ever condemned his nephews to nocturnal drifters, chained to feed themselves with human blood not to perish?

Only.. a vampire.

A creature whose existence solely based on lies and blood. Unconsciously I touched my neck, convinced to find the deep marks his canines had to have left as he bit me. With great surprise, I found nothing. The skin had already regenerated.

I threw him a questioning, angry glance, as he pursed his lips into a smile, careful not to show me his fangs however. I returned the smile with a low, deep snarl, narrowing my eyes.

- Where is Kirious, now. - It didn't sound like a question, more like an order to which I demanded an answer.

That mocking, sardonic smile widened, and he reached out to offer helping me stand back up. I slapped it away, doing it on my own.

- Where is he. - I repeated, challenging him with my glare.

The air surrounding us intensified as if we were inside a cyclone; everything felt to have stopped, awaiting his voice. An unpleasant feeling struck me, along with a current saturated with sulfur; its smell was enough to make me sick again. But it didn't last long, and I stared back into his empty eyes.

- You mustn't worry about him, now. - He intimated, his powerful voice seemingly bounding all over inside my skull. - He regained consciousness three days ago.

- That's now what I asked, uncle. - I insisted, still fighting him, marking the appellative with disdain. - I want to know where my brother is.

- Everything in due time. - He reiterated calmly, and the smell in the air became honeyed and dense, almost as flowers' sickly-sweet scent.

I tried to argue once again, but his icy glare forced me to keep quiet. No human being could've ever shown that kind of glare to another. It looked like hell was portrayed in those hazel irids, the same Hell where I had fallen, sucked up by flames, and where no mortal nor godly hand could've saved me. I was condemned to eternal damnation. I, whose only sin had been to love a tavnazian boy more than myself, was now lost in a labyrinth with no exit.

My heart felt into a grip at the thought of not seeing him again… And thinking about it, even had I seen him… would he have accepted me? Would he have loved me just as he did before? There was only way to find out. But the fear to discover the truth was overwhelming.

I snapped back into reality, hearing those light, yet terribly loud footsteps of that vampire who I would've never again called 'uncle', calmly heading towards my room's threshold. A bizarre negative awareness possessed me, as I observed his back. Unfortunately, I didn't know what it meant. I just found myself gulping without a real reason, trying to stand back up on my feet. I received another of his distant glances. And the air surrounding us seemed to freeze.

- You're staying here, Kenjii. - He commanded, grabbing the doorknob with his left hand. - I cannot afford losing you. You're too precious of a resource for me.

I stood there in shock, trying to assimilate his words fruitlessly. Not like I was planning to obey. Maybe I couldn't have hoped for a normal life at that point, but…

- You can't treat me like a pet. - I snapped, and the air surrounding me seemed to be compressing before exploding. I didn't even wait for him to reply; I stood on my feet and hesitantly moved a few steps forward, trying to regain control of my legs. Although struggling, I could still walk. How many chances where there that I could attack him and then run?

- You cannot destroy me. - He said suddenly, as if able to read my mind, and my confused gaze stopped on his face. - Now stay here, I have one more thing to take care of.

He disappeared with the echo of those words before I could even do or say anything, leaving nothing but a strong scent of flowers and a thin white fog that faded like smoke. At first, I didn't understand what he meant.

But slowly, I thought of the words he had pronounced before biting me and before I had lost consciousness for who knows how long. There was an obstacle he had to remove…

Before I could even think about it, my legs moved fast, following the trail of that scent through the corridors of our mansion, to the entrance, and my gaze looked frantically around trying to spot his figure, in vain. He was gone.

And even though it was dark, I could clearly see every detail of the landscape, sense every sound, every presence. But not his. Only a faint smell of flowers and rust. The scent that I had sensed in that room earlier and that I had followed.

I ran through the trees, smelling it fully with my lungs, and detecting the cracking rumbles of a storm in the sky above me as it I could touch it with my skin; rain quickly started to fall, soaking my head.

Yet I kept running as fast as I could, like a confused silhouette in that thick darkness that enveloped me, the tree branches and downpour twisting and falling furiously over me, deafening every sound.

I prayed the Goddess that she'd make me arrive in time, even though I knew that at point, as the damned creature I was, she wouldn't have listened to me.

I prayed and prayed unable to make up any other though while the weak side of my body pleaded me to stop to let me catch some breath. I pleaded even myself and my body, hoping that it wouldn't abandon me when I needed it the most, but everything was useless.

Even tracking down the scent, it was too late when I arrived.

He laid almost completely still in a black pool of blood, lured in that clearing with Goddess-know what subtle trick. His long brown braid had untied, and the hair was spread all over the ground wet with rain, blending into that dark scarlet stain, framing his pale face.

He was still breathing, yet barely.

His chest raised and dropped irregularly, his hand convulsively gripping the grass, as if he were struggling to cling to life.

Not too far from him, the bastard who had struck him to death. My uncle.

Something inside me shattered, at that sight.

The pain had subsided to a blind fury, all my body was shaking unstable with waves of negative energy.

- What did you do… you BASTARD! - I growled furiously against him, a thunder roar echoing my voice before a lightning struck the black sky, tearing it apart.

A movement, barely a blink, and suddenly it looked like the rain had intensified; the leaves were tearing away from the brushes, whirling above us frantically, almost blinding me.

Only partially looking at me, his face still emotionless, my uncle approached slightly, and we stared at each other baring fangs, the sky roaring, crying endlessly.

His blood was staining my uncle's lips; he hadn't even bothered wiping them clean, perhaps to show me what he had done to him and, had I not obeyed, he could've done to me. But was there anything worse than a condemn to eternal void?

A blow in the air, a flashing leap; the trunk of one of the trees shattered completely, and tree bark rained over us, as thunders kept ferociously strike the ground not too far from us, almost setting the vegetation on fire. I barely had the time to see the green sparkle in his eyes before the world went back and my back jerked backwards, leaving me breathless.

I hit something, that only later I realized to be a tree trunk.

Footsteps, the cold and calm breath of someone approaching, mixed with the low, gasping one of someone who was instead parting from this world; an icy hand moving my hair from my face.

- Learn your place, Kenjii. - He whispered to my ear, and when I weakly opened my eyes to meet his gaze, I had only a fleeting sight of his face before it disappeared, leaving me alone with him, dying on that ground stained of his own blood.

All emotions smoked away from me as if carried away by a stream of emptiness; all what was left was the oppressing awareness that he was leaving me forever.

Kenjii - Corrupted Life, Corrupted Obscurity (Part II)

Let me wake up in your arms Hear you say it's not alright
Let me be self dead and gone So far away from life
Close my eyes Hold me tight
And bury me deep inside your heart
All I ever wanted was you, my love
You… all I ever wanted is you, my love
You're all I ever wanted, just you
Let me never see the sun
And never see you smile
Let us be so dead and so gone
So far away from life
Just close my eyes Hold me tight
And bury me deep inside your heart

Slowly pulling away from the tree that was supporting me, I stumbled towards him, and let myself fall on my knees, my eyes dilated, unable to say a word, any word. I felt only worse when he looked for my face with his gold-streaked eyes, smiling tiredly as he found me.

- I was… waiting for you. - He whispered bit by bit gasping, his voice so low others would've struggled to hear it. - I haven't seen you… in a while.

He raised one arm, trying to stroke my cheek with his hand, but as it started to fall back down half-way I grabbed it, holding it tight and bringing its back against my lips, pressing it. He spasmed slightly at that touch, and coughed. But he didn't let his tired smile drop.

- You're… so cold. - He tried to joke, gasping for air, as rain kept falling on us. - Or maybe… I am.

I tried to say something myself, to think of something, but I couldn't pull out a single word, no matter how hard I'd try. I didn't want to watch him die before my eyes. I was refusing to believe he would.

- You're… you're even more… beautiful, mo beag. - He called me with his fatigued, sweet voice, forcing me to face reality again. - There's something… different. - His lips, usually of a deeper pink hue and full were now livid and thin, and pursed in a wider smile. - Death makes everything… more beautiful.

Perhaps it was that pinch of humanity left in me to allow me to do it, who can tell. All I know is that I held him close against me, crying.

The smell of his blood mixed to the salty one of my tears and the humidity of the ground were driving me insane, but it was grief what was tearing my heart apart, away from my chest. There wasn't room to feel hungry. Only pain.

Weakly, his hand rested on my back, trying to convulsively grip on the cloth of my shirt, soaked with rain. His skin color was contrasting more and more with the dark brown of his hair, now almost black because of the rain. Life was abandoning him completely. And all I wanted at that moment was to go with him.

- Ken… - His murmur almost died before reaching my ears.

I pulled slightly away to turn my face, streaked with tears that would immediately be carried away by the rain, to look at his; he was still smiling, as if unaware of what was happening. I forced myself to smile back, trying to reassure him.

And in doing so, unfortunately, I showed my fangs.

He stared at them confused at first, then coughed, nearly spitting blood, before raising one hand enough to touch my lips with two fingers, before his hands would both drop limp to the ground.

- I was… right. - He murmured, his voice hoarse but still all too sweet. - You're.. beautiful.

A sob escaped me, and I tried to suffocate it into a sort of hysteric chuckle. It came out as more of a pained moan.

I moved his hair off his face, bending slightly to kiss his forehead gently. I saw the deep gashes of two canines over his neck, not enough to transform him, but enough to kill him.

I stroke them slightly, feeling him hold a shiver. What would've happened, had I bitten him? Would that have saved him… or finished him? I cracked my lips open to let the fangs out, but wasn't brave enough to sink them into his neck, right above the artery. I was still more human than I thought, apparently. All I could do was caress his hair obsessively, my canines still peeking from my mouth.

His breath was getting slower and slower. He stared up at me, his eyes veiled with death; I couldn't tell whether was was streaking his face were tears or just rain. He smiled briefly, with dreamy sweetness.

- Do you… love me? - He asked suddenly, his pale, cold hands were trying to touch me, as it he couldn't see me anymore and was making sure I was still close.

I felt a lump in my throat, as I listened to his breath fading more and more, his chest rising and dropping slower and irregularly. I forced myself to smile, though I could feel my lower lip was shaking.

- W-words wouldn't… wouldn't be enough to tell you how much… - I said with cracked voice, hoarse due to sobbing that was shaking me, as I resumed slowly caressing his cheek, unable to even give him some warmth. I was as cold as him, if not more.

With some struggle, he grabbed my free hand with his, weakly, but with some strength in it. E seemed determined to not let it go.

- I cou… couldn't be… happier. - He murmured, slowly lowering his eyelids.

He stopped his breath for a few seconds. I tightened harder on his hand, furiously biting my lower lip. I feared what my mind had just thought. And that thought was tearing up that demon heart I now had. But he called me again, gasping, making me almost jump. He was keeping his eyes closed, but still tried to breath, as if drowning into an invisible stream. He made a pained moan, his face contracted into a sorrowful expression.

Between his cracked lips, peeked a pair of fangs. Small and thin. Like those of a pup. He squeezed his eyes, wriggling into my arms.

- It's hot. - He cried, shaking in pain. - It's too hot… the fire…

That scene was unbearable. The pain I could see in his traits was excruciating. He started to struggle on his breath, gripping on my hand in a vice, perhaps looking for something to cling on what was invading him inside at that moment.

- Why.. won't rain extinguish… it… - He continued, letting out a louder moan as water trickled on his face, gluing his hair to the forehead. The cold around us was almost gone. There was only him, burning. And all I could do was watching.

Suddenly he opened his eyes, staring intensely at me. Two dark brown pools. Almost a night sky with no moon. That's what his irids looked like right then. All the gold was gone.

Gasping again, he seemed to wrinkle his nose, like a dog reading to snarl. His mouth opened ravenously, though he didn't have the instruments to placate his thirst yet.

- K-Ken.. - He called me, his voice cracked by what had to be tears, as his hand, tighter and stronger, seemed about to break the bones inside mine. - W-What… What is goin…

Ignoring the grip, all I could do was hold him against me, unaware of what I should've done there and then.

If only I had known, I could've saved him.

- It's all right. - I tried to say, knowing all too well that nothing was all right.

I watched him clench his jaw, as if trying to hold in a much greater pain of the one he was showing. At some point he snarled, turning his head towards the ground. Small clouds of steam were condensing from his irregular breath, becoming thin white fog within the fraction of a second.

- I'm… scared. - He murmured, and I heard, just as if my ear had been against his chest, the feverish pulsing of his racing heart. The beats went slow at first, then faster. It continued for instants that felt neverending. Another quick glance; those eyes lacking any light were observing me. Those small fangs, now peeking from his lips, seemed to shine with their own light, in that black, starless world.

- Why didn't… didn't you tell me. - He asked feebly, gripping with what few strength was left in him to that small sparkle of awareness that pain hadn't carried away yet.

I understood almost immediately what he meant. What I was, what I was showing him. And what, for reasons I couldn't know, was happening to him too. I caressed his cheek, my other hand almost senseless.

- I didn't know either. - I confessed, watching him frown, as if still trying to resist the pain. He forced a weak smile, rain trickling over his lips.

- Had you known… would you have… told me?

Another question. Another confirmation.

I didn't waste time answering.

- You would've been the first to know. - I reassured him, trying to calm him down.

He was agitated, I could sense it in the insisting beat of his heart. The answer seemed enough for him, because he nodded tiredly, breathing in fistful gasps. He dropped and lifted his eyelids, his dark voids lucid. There was shining folly in them when they met my eyes. His fangs between his lips were pulsing.

- I'm sick. - He said with cracked voice, choking. - This smell.. makes me… sick.

I knew all too well what he meant. He was smelling his own blood. I tried to placate him, caressing his long, rain-soaked hair. Without a word I leaned over him, stealing a kiss that tasted like rust and humidity. He didn't search for my tongue nor returned it; he just tickled me with his newborn fangs on the lower lip, with a lascivious desire I had never sensed in him before.

When he looked into my eyes, I could see the tormented need to placate his thirst. I felt strange, under that gaze. They were the eyes of a snake observing its prey.

I summoned my courage, and showed him my neck without even realizing why. If needed, I would've given him all the blood he wanted.

However he seemed hesitant, and only approached me slowly, smelling my scent as it mixed sinuously with the rain, the woods, and his blood. His canines stroked my skin, his cold breath tickling it.

- I… love you. - He murmured, perhaps unconsciously.

I waited, closing my eyes.

But something struck the air surrounding us.

Not a lightning.

Not a thunder.

The rumble of a shot.

I couldn't even realize, as the grip of his hand grew weaker until it fell limp over the wet ground. I widened my eyes, refusing to believe.

Not too far from me, he had returned.

My uncle, had returned to complete his scourge of devastation.

He started at both of us without a word, cold, under the heavy rain hammering us.

Startled, I looked back at Tegian's face. At his closed eyes, at his lips pressed in a thin line. I couldn't hear his heart beat anymore. Something, perhaps a bullet, had pierced his chest. Tears began to blurry my sight, blinding me to what surrounded me and his face, still caressed by the insisting rain. I caressed his eyelids gently, my body slightly shaking, not even minding my uncle's presence anymore.

He was… dead.

I couldn't think about it.

I didn't want to think about.

Eternity without him…

At that thought, I felt invaded by blind fury, and found myself growling and screaming in that blood-stained night, everything around me was shook by a wave of freezing hatred that seemed to bounce against the bark of trees around there, wounding them, shattering them.

I only hoped that fury could also strike that basted I had once called an uncle. Rain drops and wood shards were shot in every direction, whirling in a tornado I had created, as I screamed his name to the furious wind hitting my face, forcing me to clench my jaw and squeeze my eyes, perhaps in an attempt to hold back tears.

Chaos had embraced me. Everything flew with discord as I kept holding that still body tight against me, the ground at my feet seemingly drying up as the leaves hitting me, turning into dust just as they touched my body.

And the terror that possessed the inhabitants of that forest didn't fade until I fell limp next to him, feeling only an unknown cold hand resting on my shoulder to force me to stand up.

Slowly opening them, my eyes slowly adapted to the landscape surrounding me; I blinked, looking around, as if I had just resurfaced from the depths of the ocean. It was a clearing in a feeble light.

Oh, that's right.

I had spent too much time, remembering the past.

It had been my brother's voice, now next to me, and his hand that had barely touched me, to call me back to reality.

I took a deep a deep breath, closing my eyes, my head low, before turning towards him weakly, observing him with detachment. That I'd get lost in my own memories was something that had happened often at that point. Especially when I'd go hunt with him.

I received a curious glance, his scarlet eyebrow arched in a skeptical expression that I'd often see on his face.

- You're not usually this quiet, mo bhràthair. - Was his answer to my questioning frown, his voice irritatingly sarcastic. - What happened to the thunderstorms you usually create just out of amusement?

I ignored that comment, resting my hand on the branch we were sitting on. I snorted quietly, raising my gaze towards the green ceiling of leaves above our heads.

- If that's what you distracted me for, you might've as well saved your breath, Kirious. - I said in a low voice, aware that my words would've only irritated him more.

In fact, I heard him shift to stand up, and the cold shiver of his anger climbed up my back. I looked at him, keeping an emotionless gaze, but enjoying the angered expression on his face.

- I was just going to tell you they've left the mansion, you imbecile. - He said in a detached, serious tone that he was clearly faking. - The Mayor seems doubtful, I smell it.

My lips pursed in a smile at those words.

I didn't give a damn about the Mayor. But about he who had followed him and his men…

Copying my brother, I stood up as well, pointing my gaze towards the underwood.

- You're sure about that? - My whisper seemed to fade in the air.

Next to me he seemed to hesitate, perhaps confused by my tone. Then a small chuckle arouse between us, and the atmosphere embraced us into a cold breeze, as if we were being covered with snow. The sun above us, high the sky, couldn't hurt us in that forest.

Kirious looked at me with an expression that could've meant anything, smiling slightly.

- Never been as positive as now. - He chuckled, looking then in my same direction.

- Well then. - I replied, sitting back down. - You can take care of the Mayor.

I felt his eyes going back at me, intrigued.

- I thought that was your job. - He pointed out aloofly, and I heard him move confident steps on the branch towards me. - You're not rebelling to the orders again, are you?

- You know all too well I'm not interested in this whole revenge business. - I snapped, facing him with my eyebrows frowned in poorly-hidden anger.

And he noticed that, and something I was unsure on made him take a small step back. Perhaps he expected a sudden lightning summoned by my uncle to strike me there and then, and didn't want to get scorched.

- I've warned you before. - He said, his gray-blue eyes examining me. - I'm not gonna move a finger for you if I see you with a silver Goddess's emblem hanging from your neck.

A sound similar to a chuckle arouse from my throat without me even wanting so. But I wasn't laughing out of amusement or anything; it was more of a way to refrain myself from standing up and bite my own brother in hateful impetus.

- He still needs me; he won't do a thing for now. - I reassured him, smiling bitterly. - My only target, now, is that priest next to the Mayor.

He shifted slightly, sitting next to me on that branch in such a graceful movement it didn't even make a sound, not a single leaf swayed on it.

- I don't get this either. - He said calmly, moving his crimson hair backwards with one hand. - Amongst all the humans you could have, you want the son of a Goddess. Your taste in victims is disgusting compared to mine.

I chuckled again, this time amused by his curiosity. One of my hands absently reached up to fix the collar of my laced shirt, as well as the small black foulard encircling my throat, as I tilted my head towards him, mocking the expression of an innocent child with a fake smile.

- Who knows, perhaps he can save my soul. - I laughed, as a feeble breeze played with the hair bangs to the sides of my face. - Or perhaps condemn it, chaining it further into this Hell we call 'life'.

His expression didn't flinch. It only grew more detached, almost disgusted.

- You're not funny. - He snapped neutrally. - Three hundred years and your sense of humor still sucks.

I laughed more at those words. - Why would we need that? - I replied sarcastically, smiling to mock him. - You're plenty humorous to be the clown in our family.

- Don't mess with me, Kenjii. - He intimated, freezing the air.

I challenged him with my gaze. - And what if? - I asked in a murmur, barely cracking my lips open.

Above us a cloud loaded with rain shadowed the sun. Everything seemed to grow darker and quieter, the wind that had arisen was shaking every single fiber of the trees in the forest, their branches swaying ominously towards us. Even the animals in the underwood fell silent; not a single wings flurrying or chirp could be sensed. I smiled even more at the expression with which my brother had looked around, probably wondering on what was going through my mind.

While he was physically stronger than me, he was aware of my superiority in the magic control over the elements. He had had a taste of my wrath, one time. And he knew all too well that I was as quick as him in losing my temper. I had an edge above him that him, in his proud and egocentric attitude, didn't have.

I had lost someone, something that had meant everything for me. And the fury that had been born from that loss had fueled my powers in a way he couldn't even hope to reach. And that did worry him, perhaps even scare him. Maybe not as much as our uncle, but it did.

Who knows, perhaps one day he would too learn what to love and lose love meant; maybe then he would've even passed my powers, because unlike me, he enjoyed his strength and powers as a vampire. He wouldn't have held back as I still did.

I hope I'll never find out.

When he couldn't handle standing the void in my eyes anymore, he looked away, clearly intimidated and irritated at his own fear.

- I don't want to fight now, mo bhràthair. - He said lowly, his throat sounding hoarse. - I was just trying to understand why such obsession for a miserable human.

I decided to not answer that, even though it would've been pretty eloquent. With a graceful movement I moved one of my bangs away from face, behind the right ear, and slowly stood back up to touch his chest as I approached his ear.

- You'll understand soon… - I said in an honeyed, velvety whisper, feeling him stiffening. - …very, very soon, my dear Kirious.

And for one of the rarest moments in his life, he looked at me with something that almost resembled panic, but he dared to show a small, pulled and somewhat hysterical smile.

- I had a feeling you would've answered like that. - He whispered, stepping back from me again.

Before he could add anything else though, his ears almost seemed to perk up in alert, and suddenly he turned towards the noise he had heard in the air. I also heard a rustle amongst the vegetation of the underwood, and looked down in the same direction, and my smile widened as my eyes rested over the agile, nervous figure of he who had interested me.

He was older than I remembered, but just as beautiful. I wondered if the fact that he still adopted the same hairstyle of his previous life was a sign that his subconscious was closer to emerge than I had even hoped, or just a coincidence. His dark brown braid swayed slightly in the wind streaming through the woods, as he advanced amongst the twisted roots of the trees, murmuring in a very low tone to what should've been our main target, perhaps trying to not be heard by the other men that were with them. But just as I had told to my brother before, our target wasn't important to me.

I wanted only him.

Death had kept us apart for three-hundred years, and now that I had found him again, I didn't want to let him go away. I didn't even care what that bastard uncle could've thought.

He would've returned in my arms, at least in what now I called death.

What would've happened from that moment and after, would've only been the true beginning.

Son of Darkness: Act I - Past Returns

Grauberg, 889 C.E.

- Get back here, you sorry excuse for a petty thief!

A cloaked man who could've been past his thirties, walking down the streets of a lively town in Grauberg, turned curiously in direction of the scream he had heard coming from one of the vendors, a Galka, in the back of one of the many stands; he saw him grab the wrist of a Hume boy with dark brown hair, that showed around four, perhaps five years old.

The child was keeping a few apples in both his hands and seemed to be trying to wriggle away in every possible way, poorly pulling his arm, yelling what had to be insults addressed to the vendor in a strange language. When the washed out gray-blue eyes rested upon the child's face, the man's skin went pale, and he looked like he had just seen a ghost. He quickly walked up to the vendor and, after resting one hand over the one that was holding the kid, received a questioning frown.

- Is it really necessary to be so upset, sir? - He asked calmly to the vendor, who was scanning him. - He's just a kid, after all.

The other let the wrist go, looking at the kid with hatred before turning back to the man who had spoken. He massaged his thick black beard, his eyebrows furrowed in a threatening expression.

- This is not the first time he tries to steal. - He pointed out, folding his muscular arms over his chest. - This runt is a real pain in the ass.

- This doesn't alter the fact that he's just a child. - Answered the cloaked Hume, pulling a corner of his mouth as if trying to show a joyless smile. He looked over to the kid, who was stubbornly staring with redundant interest at the stone floor under their feet.

He knelt next to him, bracing on his knees, and tilted his head to the side. - Where is your mom and dad? - He asked quietly to not scare him further, and the kid snapped his head up, before shaking it vigorously for some unknown reason.

- Chan eil pàrantan agam. [1] - He murmured in that language the cloaked man had heard in his father's tales when he was a child, but that he didn't fully know. It was the language of Gustaberg.

He turned to look up at the Galkan vendor, still staring with arms crossed. - What did he say? - He asked, with slight anxiety in his calm voice.

The Galka just shrugged. - Nobody understands him. - He explained. - He's an orphan; he's always wandering around here, and rarely speaks our language. That's all I know.

The man nodded, oddly. - I shall take him under my care, then. - He said, gaining a startled look from the ominous grocer. - And I'll also pay for what he's stolen, do not worry. - He added.

At those words, the vendor's face grew interested, and he didn't even try to object when the man swung a good-loaded jingling purse before grabbing one of his strong hands and put it on his palm.

- I trust this will do, my kind sir? - He said pleasantly, smiling under his beard.

He watched the vendor starting to count the coins inside the purse, nodding to himself. He then put it in a pocket without a comment and gave him a bag containing the stolen apples. Then he motioned to get lost as he walked back to a blond Mithra who was calling him to buy some fruits.

The man smiled more, looking down at the child who was watching him with big, innocent brown eyes filled with golden streaks. He grabbed his hand and took him away from the market, the child seemingly opposing no resistance. As they walked, he couldn't help but think about how that small kid, one day, would've become the ruin or the possible salvation to all their problems in his family. Those eyes, that face. He couldn't be wrong.

As they arrived in the square, they sat on one of the benches around there; the man opened the bag and handed him one apple, that the kid stared at before grabbing it to eat it with big, starved bites. The older smiled, and ruffled the child's hair.

- How old are you? - He asked sweetly.

He received a curious glance from those topaz-like eyes that barely shun in that face covered with dirt, as he kept the apple between his small hands. The man arched his eyebrows, absently scratching his bearded chin.

- Do you understand my language? - He asked again tranquilly, watching him nod slowly. - Can you tell me your age, then? - He repeated gently, and the child slightly frowned before turning his head, as if refusing to answer.

Then, biting on the apple, he watched him again. He counted on his fingers and showed him the number.

- Ceithir. [2] - He murmured quietly.

The man smiled more, trying to look reassuring, and pulled out an handkerchief to slowly clean his face. - My son is only slightly older than you, you know? - He said amused, watching him wrinkle his nose as he rubbed the handkerchief over it to remove the dirt.

As he finished, he pocketed the cloth, and tilted his head to the side as he watched him finish to eat that small meal and place the core on the bench of stone.

- Do you want something to drink? - Asked the man.

The child nodded with a big smile, seemingly now tranquil enough to scoot closer.

- Bainne. [3] - He said, and the man arched an eyebrow again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sneaked one arm behind the kid's shoulders to pull him closer. He couldn't still accept the fact that such an innocent child could actually be he who could've caused even more trouble in a feud that had been lasting through centuries.

- I don't understand, unfortunately. - He said, with a low, measured tone, caressing his hair. - Were your parents from the Highlands, perhaps?

He was almost positive that was the case. But he was surprised to see the kid shake his head and shrug. He didn't know, then. And that only further supported his theory. He had no parents, he ignored his origins, he was alone and spoke a different language than English. Unfortunately, once an adult, that kid's future would've been a troubled one, worst than his poor childhood.

- Can you speak English? - He asked.

He watched him think, the small forehead frowned in focus, as if he were trying to understand his words. Then, one at a time, he counted on fingers, and showed him the number seven three times.

- Twenty-one? - He asked, not understanding. - Twenty-one words, perhaps?

The child nodded, and looked down.

- Tha mi duilich. [4] - He murmured, and his tone sounded sorry. At least he could get that meaning.

The man simply nodded, and held him closer, watching the people walk back and forth, chatting as if nothing was wrong. The only thing he couldn't understand was why the child was talking a language that wasn't his own, when his ancient origin was actually Tavnazian.

Could that be His doing? Because of what he had done? It was a possibility. He looked down at the child, who had clenched his tiny hands over his shirt and was staring around everywhere, as if afraid from all the coming and going in the street. The man looked at his light dresses, unable to shield him from the cold that would've soon arrived in that city, making him look worn out, crumpled. And his thin arms, peeking from the holes of the large shirt, made him look even worse. He sighed sadly at that scene. That kid needed the affection of a family. He couldn't abandon him to his fate. Even though he knew that was the best thing to do.

Biting his lower lip, he brought one hand to his belt, touching the sheath where his knife was, but as his eyes met the child's, so big and innocent, he felt like the lowest of worms. With what courage could he… no, he didn't want to think about it. Perhaps, taking him away from that place, he could've managed to somehow hamper his fate from its advent, changing what had already been written. Perhaps, even though he didn't really count on it. Pulling away his hand from the knife, he caressed his hair, and rested a kid over his head.

- Would you like to come with me? - He asked sweetly. - I'll teach you to speak English, you'll have a home and a warm meal everyday… How about that?

For a few seconds the child just stared, considering the man's offer. All the sounds that could be heard were coming from the bustle in the square and the nearby market. Then he gave him a wide, sincere smile, nodding vigorously. The man returned the smile, and pinched the child's cheek with a chuckle.

- All right then, tomorrow we'll leave for the North. - He said heartedly, ruffling his hair again. - Then we're going home. - A few seconds after, he blinked, thoughtful. - Now that I think about it, I don't even know your name. - He said with an amused smile.

Cheerfully, he reached out to shake the small, frail hand of the kid, holding it in his, much bigger and stronger. - I'm John Renford. - He introduced himself chuckling when the kid looked at that hand almost in shock.

The child shook his head and let out a laughter as he let it go, to then bring his arms around the cloaked man's neck, looking at him with smiling eyes.

- Mirror!





Ten years.

It had been ten years since his father's death because of those creatures. His friend had also left without a trace since. He was the Mayor now, and just as every night, he was keeping an eye around the village. About five or seven years before, the climate had returned to be normal, seasons naturally following each other again.

Now however, just as ten years ago, strange rains and out-of-season snowing had resumed, and the breathable gloomy, dense atmosphere was making all the community uneasy. The ominous feeling he had been sensing for about two months now had completely possessed him, as he shed light on his path with a lantern, wandering the desert streets and narrow paths. He had decided to fully dedicate to his destiny as a hunter, and had been ready to any eventuality for a long while now. No vampire had been sighted in a long while however.

There weren't many strange creatures around usually; all he could hunt was some wolf bigger than usual, more commonly called a 'werewolf'. Men condemned by a curse to transform in feral wolves every Full Moon, aggressive and dangerous beasts. From what he had learned, silver bullets were plenty useful with them, if one wanted to keep a safe distance. But also melee weapons made out of the same metal were effective.

How many heads of those beasts had he cut, before burying them? How many did he have to burn, still in their human form? He didn't even remember, even though those beastly hordes seemed to have progressively diminished, maybe because of the cold.

Or maybe because they had smelled something dangerous. Their senses were much more sensible than human's, and they were likely able to understand that there was something very wrong over that cursed town. Something to stay away from.

The Mayor was about to turn around the corner when his light revealed the silhouette of a young white-haired Mithran girl, her face contracted in a mask of terror as she observed with eyes widened and her arms shielding her chest, a shadow moving in the darkness.

- Ayuki! - Exclaimed the Mayor, almost angrily, running quickly to her to rest one hand on her shoulder, feeling her stiff as a piece of ice. - What's going on with you?

Overwhelmed with fear, the girl didn't say a word, hiding quickly behind the Mayor's shoulders and pointing a finger towards the street in front of her. the man moved the lantern towards the darkness, revealed a figure wearing a simple white shirt with a laced collar and black trousers. And at that sight, without him even knowing why, the blood in his veins froze. He couldn't believe. It wasn't real.

His frontal hair bangs had grown much longer than he remembered them, and were falling unruly in front of his shoulders, while his eyes, completely emotionless, were observing him without really seeing him.

His heart racing as it hadn't been in a while, Peb gulped, perhaps trying to swallow that strange uneasiness that was climbing all over him.

- Mirror? - He asked in a whisper, his throat hoarse. - Is… Is it really you?

A low growl arouse from the throat of the shadow with those long dark brown hair; as he heard him, his upper lip pulled up to reveal shining, pulsing canines.

The Mayor and the girl both backed away in shock on instinct, as the man, or rather the young vampire in the form of their priest, moved a few steps forward; inside the depths of his dark brown, almost black eyes Peb could see a dark void streaked with blood.

- Mirror. - He whispered, shielding the Mithra with his body. - Good Goddess… what have those bastards done to you?

He felt his jacket being pulled, and out of the corner of the eye he saw Ayuki's terrified face, her cerulean eyes dilated in terror.

- Mayor Renford, let's go… - She was spasmodically repeating, as she tried to pull him away with all her strength. - … Let's run.

Hadn't he been frozen in terror, Peb would've ran away. He had absolutely nothing on him. Since when the werewolves had stopped showing up too often he only carried a couple silver bullets in the pistol he had had to commission to one of the men he was training, but when it came to weapons he was better than him. Peb was well aware his developed magic would've never been enough to contrast a vampire. And three bullets wouldn't have been enough. But most of all, he wouldn't have been able to shoot, knowing who stood before him.

His man automatically went to the pistol in his sheath, as he gulped. There was no time to hesitate. If the priest had moved but one step forward, he would've shot. He couldn't risk that others could be involved after years.

Their attention was brought back to the long-haired man by a low chuckle. Next to him appeared a second figure from the shadows, his lips pursed into a smile; he moved silently, his dark cape rustling behind his legs. Looking in amusement at both of them, then, he embraced tightly the priest from behind, lifting his face up with one hand to his chin, as the other wandered to caress his abdomen, almost to the lower part of it. He did so without ever looking away from the Mayor for a second, as he licked the neck of the priest before the terrified, shocked gazes of their two preys.

- It's too soon. - He whispered sweetly in the ear of the other vampire, amused by the palpable terror in the air. His long dark chestnut hair swayed slightly in a breeze, and they both disappeared leaving nothing but smoke and dust before the shocked, lost eyes of the Mayor and the girl.

Peb parted his hand from the pistol, staring at the slight fog that they had left behind, his eyes wide. - This… isn't possible. - His cracked voice was barely a deaf murmur in the night. - They've turned him into one of them…

He slumped to his knees, holding his head in his hands. The small, shaky hand of the girl rested on his shoulder, and she could clearly hear his suffocated sob. The Mayor rested one hand over the girl's, holding it tight. He had never thought that something like that could've happened to his adoptive brother. Better dead, than seeing him turned into one of them. Than seeing him transformed into one of those monsters…

And now instead, one of their enemies was their priest, the man who had supported them with his sermons, the man who had known them better than anyone… The man he had let go that night ten years ago, without stopping him. He couldn't kill him, not him.

In the diary his father had left he had learned his family had always been a family of hunters who had been forced to change its name to escape the revenge of a vampire belonging to the high aristocracy. And it was because of him that his father had died. Because of that vampire, still alive and coveting, after centuries, revenge against his family. And he would've been the next one, now that they had returned.

The Mayor turned to look at the girl, standing back up and embracing her to calm down her hysterical sobbing. - Calm down, Ayuki. - He murmured, caressing her back. - They won't hurt you… calm down.. It's all right.

Ten years before, the girl that was now in his arms had to watch the tragic end of her mother at hand of those monsters. She had seen death painted on her face. She would've never forgot the tragic events that they all had to live through in those dark months, with fear hidden behind every corner.

And now, after ten years, the monsters had returned to complete their task… If he were to choose an opponent, he would've much preferred werewolves. Their strength was beyond human, and they were covered in fur and had sharp fangs, sure. But most of them at least couldn't even talk and wasn't a perk of intelligence. Vampires, instead, were even too refined for his taste. And they were abominations that would feed themselves with blood, sucking life away. To deal with their powers was much more complicated.

- Ayuki… - He lifted her face to stare in her eyes. - …Go back to the Headmistress right away, and never look back for no reason at all… lock inside, you hear?

She nodded, still shaking. She wiped tears away from her face, sniffling. Then she looked at Peb, her expression still afraid.

- What… what about you, Mayor? - She asked hesitantly, in a whisper.

A few moments of silence, then he sighed.

- I have something to do. - Was his only answer.

That said, he followed the girl's path for a little, making sure she'd get home from afar to then take another road and reach the building to the right, into the tavern where most of the town's men were gathered. As he walked in, everybody turned, and he greeted them with a bow of his head, making a couple steps in the large hall of the pub as he looked at them one by one.

- I need at least one of us to follow me. - He said quietly, calling a sitting in a corner to the far left, with a book opened on the small table at which he was sitting. - You're in, Roy?

Looking around anxiously and seeing as his lost and curious expression was painted over everyone else's face, he nodded and closed the book before pocketing it in his coat before standing up to walk to the Mayor. He had known him for a while now, and knew when something was wrong. Although at that moment he couldn't quite tell what it was.

Only him and another few men knew the past of their Mayor, but he was the only one to have almost completely learned the techniques of the hunters. And when the Mayor's face was like that, it meant something dark was ahead.

Without a word, never mind an explanation, the two left the tavern, quickly heading towards the abandoned Church at the top of the hill to the far side of the city outskirts. Roy obediently followed the Mayor, no questions asked, as the dark night grew thicker, enveloping them in complete obscurity, only a small oil lamp in their hands showing the path.

They entered it crossing through the dusty benches to enter a tunnel that was accessible through a secret door under the altar, and he watched Peb pick up his silver gun from the small table to the far side to then motion him to follow him outside again. The two shortly arrived in the open, in the absolute silence of night.

Only when the nocturnal sounds of the forest started to fill the air he was overwhelmed by a strange anxiety. He looked around nervously, inhaling the cold air of that odd seasons. He felt something was very wrong, in that whole damn situation they had been facing for many months now.

Often times they'd gather in the abandoned Church that the clerics had left when the priest had gone missing, and frequently, in its basement, they'd fulfill they role of protectors, bringing down there the corpses of the creatures they had killed. Nobody could've ever guessed that Church had originally been built for that very duty, about five or six centuries before. To exorcise creatures such as werewolves. And, occasionally, vampires.

- You've got your gun with you? - Asked Peb flat, snapping him back from his thoughts.

Swallowing and taking a deep sigh Roy quickened his steps to get next to him, nodding. Around them the breeze had died, and even the typical calls of nocturnal birds had quietened down, as if the whole forest was holding its breath. It was terribly dark and only the light from the lantern showed them their path, creating ominous shadows dancing fleetingly in the dense darkness.

The snap of a cracked branch suddenly echoed, making the two men jump. Roy looked down, noticing he had caused the noise himself. Taking a deep breath in relief he gathered his courage and approached the Mayor more, placing one hand on his shoulder to stop his wide strides.

- May I ask where we're going? - He asked, serious and worried.

Narrowing his eyes and biting his lower lip Peb turned around, various conflicting feelings shining in his washed out gray-blue eyes, and his low whisper came out with a trembling, alarming tone in the nocturnal quietness.

- To the mansion.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
[1] I have no parents. (Bastokan)
[2] Four. (Bastokan)
[3] Milk. (Bastokan)
[4] I'm sorry. (Bastokan)

Son of Darkness: Act II - The Shadow Of A Gone Man

Near Tavnazia, 612 C.E.

It was during one of the few days in which the sun, after the usual heavy downpours, had been warming up the town and its people, filling the streets where the market took place, or the square not too far from there.

He was sitting there, on one of the wooden benches, along with his older nephew who kept playing distractingly and bored with the tip of his hair just barely touching his shoulders, waiting for the arrival of the person his uncle had to meet that day.

They had gone through a stressing carriage ride for hours before arriving in a town near the capital, and he still didn't understand why it had to be his duty to follow his relative instead of staying back in the mansion that belonged to his possessions near Grauberg, where his little brother had stayed.

Huffing, he fixed the laced collar of the large white shirt he had been forced to wear – because they had walked under the rain about a few hours ago –, glancing every now and then at the man sitting next to him.

Absolutely quiet and patient, he was flipping the pages of one of his beloved books as if everything was perfectly normal.

The boy huffed again, exasperated.

- Why didn't you take Kirious with you instead of me, uncle? - He asked, resting both hands on the back of the bench to support his weight.

The man flipped a page nonchalantly, almost folding the worn-out leather cover. - Because as your mother's firstborn, you will eventually be my successor. - He simply replied. - You must learn how to handle family business.

- But, uncle… you know I don't care about it. - Muttered the boy, crossing legs on the bench and resting his palms on the ankles. He received an intimating glare from the relative, in doing and saying so.

- Behave as your status demands, instead. Stop whining like a common villager. - He countered, looking at his composure with criticism. - And sit properly. - He added, weakly shaking his head. Then, suddenly, hearing someone call his name, he looked up and placed the book on the bench, smiling.

The boy didn't understand at first, but seeing his uncle waving gently at two men that were approaching and then seeing him stand up, he did the same, following him towards the strangers.

One of them was a man around the forty years old, with dark brown graying hair and a stubbled chin; the other was a yoing boy, perhaps barely eighteen, with long dark brown hair tied in a braid that rested on his back, and gold-streaked chocolate brown eyes. Something quite rare, in Tavnazia.

- I hope the journey wasn't too tiring. - Said the man, shaking hands with the one who had been previously sitting, looking at his nephew with a curious glance.

- Not at all, it was a splendid ride. - Replied the other in amusement, returning the shake with a smile. - I imagine this to be your son. - He then added, looking at the long-haired boy who had been politely quiet, although observing the blue-eyed boy with interest.

- You guessed well. - Replied cheerfully the newcomer, patting the young one's shoulder and receiving a glance from him. - Come on, Tegian. Where are your manners?

The boy bowed his head, reaching out towards the man and shaking hands with a gentle smile that gave his particular eyes a certain sparkle. - It's a true pleasure to meet you, Mr. Idavoll. - He said with a warm, soft and muffled voice, still glancing at the blue-eyed boy.

- The pleasure is mine, Tegian. - The man with the loose ponytail looked back at his nephew, standing quietly and with arms folded to his side. He opened his mouth to introduce him to the two men, but he was surprised to see the braided boy anticipate him, bowing profusely and taking gently the other boy's hand to kiss it like a gentleman.

That made the blue-eyed one frown deeply, who just stared at the brown hair as perplexed as his uncle, unlike the other man who seemed tranquil, as if considering that a normal ritual.

- Enchanted. - Murmured the boy with the braid, looking up to smile and wink.

The blue-eyed boy frowned even more, despite liking that smile even though he couldn't quite tell why. With his free hand he pointed at him, looking at his uncle. - Tha e gòrach, Uncail [1] - He said calmly, in a language the two didn't understand.

The adult warned him with a glare. - Don't be impolite. - He replied, resting one hand on his hair to ruffle them in a fatherly gesture, to then look amused at the braided boy who kept blinking in confusion. - I fear you have misunderstood, my boy. - He chuckled, seeing the expression that had painted over the two's faces, who were looking at each other perplexed.

The boy let the other's hand go, looking carefully at his father for a second before the very blue-eyed boy called their attention back with a small cough, nervously.

- I'm a guy. - He snapped, already irritated because of his perilous journey, and grabbed the braided boy's hand to shake it in a vice hold, causing his fingers to tingle as he let it go. - Name's Kenjii.

The boy with gold-streaked eyes brought one hand to his mouth, before widening eyes, hearing the laughter of his father and Kenjii's uncle. He felt invaded by a vague sense of embarrassment as he rubbed his neck, uneasy.

- I-I'm sorry. - He apologized defensively. - It's just, you have such a cute face, I thought you were a lady. Forgive my insolence.

At those words, Kenjii couldn't help but blush, much like a girl. Nobody had ever called him 'cute', never mind a… well… a guy. He tried to not let the fact that statement had been appreciated be clear, recovering a detached attitude and folding arms on his chest.

- Shall I consider that an insult to my virility, or a compliment? - He asked cynically, receiving a vigorous pat on the back from his uncle. He looked up at him, noticing his amused expression.

- Quench the ardor, Highlander. Don't be so sour. - Was his answer, as he motioned to the other man to sit down on the bench. - Go take a walk, we've got business to discuss.

- You go too, Tegian. - Echoed the father of the braided boy.

Kenjii, knowing all too well how boring those talks were, and glaring askance at the other boy, started to walk away, pouting, crossing the square and entering one of the main streets, while Tegian trotted behind him.

- Hey, uh… I'm sorry. - He heard him say, but he paid him no mind, continuing the walk as if nothing was around, as if the boy hadn't spoken. The more he'd keep him away, the merrier. He didn't know why.

- I didn't mean to doubt your masculinity, seriously. - Continued the other, insisting, approaching him in four strides. - But it's true that you're cute, I wasn't kidding about that.

The blond froze on the spot, blushing even more. Why was he blushing, damn it? What kind of charming power did that boy have on him?

- Y-You too. - He confessed without a real desire to, and immediately regretting doing so, quickly clasping hands on his mouth.

No, it wasn't a boy. He was a bewitching mage or something of that sort, if he was able to do such things.

- Oh. Heh, I'm flattered. - He heard him say, oddly amused. - So, how about we forget that little accident and start anew?

Without being able to say a word or object, Kenjii found the boy next to him, and sooner than he realized his hand was shaking his again, who seemed to be smiling in a seducing way.

- Tegian, pleased to meet you. - He said cheerfully, as if playing a game.

The chestnut-haired boy looked at their joined hands and then into those gold-streaked eyes, and had to admit it to himself. That boy wasn't just cute. He was beautiful. And even absurdly smart and perky.

Hadn't he been outrageously tall, he would've been smart enough to pass as a Taru-Taru.

Yet he granted him a pulled smile, returning the shake.

- Kenjii. - He said, hearing him laugh. And he liked that laugh. Hesitantly, he kept holding his hand, blushing again as that gaze rested on him and he, uneasy, rubbed his cheek, just shrugging.

- Well, should I consider this a sign of affection? - He asked in a chuckle, receiving half a glare from Kenjii, who steadily moved his gaze over the stone floor.

- Consider it however you please. - He snapped, shocked at himself for the lack of harshness in his answer, nowhere as rude as he had wanted to sound right then.

- Oh come on, you tell me. - Insisted Tegian, smiling sensually to that strange boy with those girly traits. He watched him look up again, before one of his thin chestnut eyebrows arched slightly, as if to show a clear skepticism.

But he smiled, as if actually amused. - Never argue with a Bastoker, remember that.





There wasn't a single torch lit in the vast halls of the mansion, silence ruling over it, only broken every now and then by some inhuman scream or the sound of shattered glass.

Holding his head with his hands, he was desperately trying to exorcise the evil soul that had nested inside his heart and that was growing more and more everyday, becoming more and more powerful. But his prayers had become useless years ago.

The first months he had hoped to have managed to placate the bloodlust twisting his innards, and had reduced to bite himself not to give in to that illogical desire. But all he had obtained was to poison himself pointlessly, and his thirst had grown more intense, torturing him deeply, in that fragment of human soul that was left in him and that was spasmodically gripping to his heart to not vanish completely.

He wanted to die.

He had been fighting against himself for ten years: the transition in him, for some odd reason, was still incomplete, and that could've meant for him a weakness or almost an immunity. Usually, as the vampire who had transformed him had explained, it wouldn't take more than a couple days to complete the stage, but his willpower hadn't allowed it and neither it did now.

And the pain was stronger. A thousand times greater that anyone could ever imagine.

Inside him the fire kept burning, never dying; the flames from Hell were burning him eternally, without consuming the body of the damned. Like him.

There were moments, such as now, where he would almost go back to being a human, lucid, conscious of the situation, and desperately he kept crashing the glasses of the mansion, trying to wound himself, screaming at that fire never abandoning him.

To those moments alternated dark emptiness in which he couldn't perceive what was around him, and his body moved against his will, roaming like a specter in the woods surrounding the mansion and attacking anything in which it would perceive the flow o life.

At that point, as his canines sunk against his will in the neck of who had lost his way in the forest, with his victim's blood trickling from the corners of his mouth, his vacuous emotionless brown eyes let fall tears that nobody would've ever seen.

Because of this, every evening for over ten years now, he had tried to self-mutilate to end that life, if he could even call it life. He kept trying and trying, with no success.

A young vampire, still immature, couldn't do much without depending for the best or the worst from the vampire who had brought him to his new life. His powers were weak, not developed, very few things made him different from the other normal humans: he was stronger, he had a pair of fangs peeking from his lips, he could regenerate. And then there was his continuous, lascivious bloodlust. And the unsatisfied carnal desire. Not to mention the continuous images that his mind kept registering just as it had done a moment ago, making him feel even greater pain, a pain he couldn't explain, a pain that seemed to flow into nostalgia.

In those moments, he was afraid of himself. He would hear voices overlapping each other, eyes overwriting other eyes, moments he felt to be missing.

Almost everything caused damnable pain, all he could see through the black fog inside him was the wrist of his lord, that candid wrist stained with the blood he'd feed him with to placate at least a part of his terrible pain, and his mind only focused on the cold, gentle hand that ran on his bare, freezing skin, in that act of exciting and dreaded eroticism.

Those however were the only moments in which he could regain consciousness.

And at that point he'd immediately shove him away, disgusted by his gestures, under the blue gaze of the young vampire who, without a word, would cover his naked body with a light blanket and leave him alone. Alone with his heartbreaking screams of realization of what had happened.

He'd scream and scream until his throat would start to burn, curled up on himself, his hands convulsively gripping on his hair, his legs folded to hist chest, enveloped in those blankets and sitting on that bed that felt completely wet.

With sweat. With blood. And he perfectly knew with what else.

Suddenly, left to his own thoughts, he had looked around with his eyes completely dilated, as someone who was constantly kept under watch, his breath short causing his chest to raise and drop irregularly, as he felt his thirst for blood rising.

Something had touched his shoulder and his head had perked up as he turned. In front of him was one of the blood servants that were kept in the house. A brief second and he was over him before he could even move or scream, clawing his shoulders and tearing his flesh with his feral nails, ignoring the screams as he moved towards his abdomen. His head jerked backwards, his face pulled to bare the fangs; he sank them in his neck before completely tear his throat open, feeling his blood flow down his chin.

And at that penetrating smell of rust he had jerked back, falling to sit on that cold floor, staring alarmed with widen eyes at the horror he had created.

Innards, blood.

A vice had gripped on his stomach, as he was holding the urge to gag. He had quickly propped on his knees to stand back up, staggering, trying not to look at his hands, dirty with blood up to the wrist.

He had looked at the windows; the sky was feebly lit by the moon.

- Forgive this sinner, Goddess… - He had whispered in vain. That fake faith was all what was left to not let him go insane. Not entirely, at least. He had thrown a last glance at the still body from which he had just taken its life, and felt an empty emotion to his chest. A monster, what's all he had become. Just and only a monster.

And now there he was…

Slamming another first against a wall, fragments piercing in the skin almost fully regenerated already, his long brown hair falling on his shoulders and his face beaded with sweat, he let those thoughts out in a piercing growl that echoed throughout the walls of the West side, reaching the ears of the landlord.

Aaron briefly looked up from the book he was reading, to then glance at his nephews, who were sitting to the opposite far side of the room they were using as living room, to then look towards those others three or four vampires who he had managed to call in those years of forced rest. He fixed his glasses over his nose tiredly, turning a page absently.

- Every night it's always the same story. - He muttered quietly, almost reluctantly, fixing his lace collar and the small red opal almost tight against his throat. - He really can't behave.

He took a deep breath, crossing legs nonchalantly and trying to focus back on his reading. He sipped some of the tea one of his blood servants had brought minutes earlier, and put the cup back down to read again, but another growl distracted him, and he massaged his temple in exasperation.

- You know what to do. - He said to his nephews, watching them out of the corner of the eye, still sitting on their couches, as if the whole deal wasn't their issue. He snapped the book shut, fixing his glasses again before glaring daggers at them. - Move, stop lounging over there. - He ordered, objections out of question.

The two vampires looked at each other and huffed before disappearing in a blink; they walked lightly down the dusty corridors, taking one to the right and entering the music room, where the piano their mother had loved to play had been turned upside down in a tantrum of rage against the wall, sliding on the shards of glass that were spread throughout the room like small diamonds. The younger repressed a curse, looking at his brother.

- I hope you're satisfied, Kenjii. - He snapped irritated, his gray-blue eyes burning with poorly-hidden anger. - It's been ten years and he's still trying to fight your poison… while he destroys all of our mother's belongings.

He immediately looked away as he met the darkened pools of the older vampire, who seemed even angrier than him. His disappointment could be smelled in the air.

- I've punished him several times, for this. - He pointed out, calmly walking down the stairs that divided the room, followed by his companion.

- Perhaps you should let me handle it. It doesn't sound like he learned the lesson, since he left without your permission. - Countered the other.

- At least I didn't create a vampire slayer. - Kenjii's voice was sour, and the two walked in silence for a bit, before he'd sigh. - Perhaps I should've let our uncle transform him, at least that old freak would've been of some use. - He said to himself as if playing a monologue, tilting his head to the side to avoid a shard of glass the priest had just thrown against him. - It seems my poison is too slow.

The younger one snorted at those words, glancing at his brother. - He would've never fulfilled one of your whims, you know. - He informed him, arching an eyebrow. He gained a gloomy glare.

- I think he would've. He owed me. - He replied matter-of-factly, approaching the priest further. - But that way he would've likely subjugated Tegian to obey to him.

They both looked around the room, finding one of their servants in a pool of blood, his hands limp on the floor, still stretched towards the dead chimney. Glancing briefly at it, the older shook his head in a frustrated motion and focused back on the priest who was standing a few steps aside, his hands convulsively gripping on the edge of one of the small desks in the room, his dark brown hair had untied and were falling over his shoulders, blending with the cape he was wearing. He approached him slowly to touch him, but Mirror jumped away suddenly with a low growl, alerting his presence, and showed his fangs.

Fire burst in a gold and orange sparkle in the chimney as if lit by invisible hands, and a lightning tore the sky; an howl could be heard in the distance, as the two vampires stared at each other, one filled only with disgust, the other completely indifferent to the rage he felt bursting from the other.

A few seconds, and the brown-haired one leaped against him on terrifying feral instinct, as if to turn against him could've fixed anything. He gripped Kenjii's collar with both hands, forcing him to lift his chin slightly, his fangs pulsing between his lips, while the brown eyes, now streaked with red rather than gold, were so dark even the pupils were impossible to distinguish, still on Kenjii's face.

The blue-eyed vampire didn't flinch, looking at him aloofly. He sighed, slowly raising one arm to warn his brother not to intervene, seeing him flexing to strike out of the corner of the eye. One of Kenjii's hands rested over the priest's, and with a quick movement forced him to let go, to then bend his arm quickly behind his back before Mirror could even realize. Another inhuman growl turned into a scream from the priest's lips, who tried to turn his head to fight the grip, wriggling.

Behind him, Kenjii flexed Mirror's arm more, as if he were planning to break it, forcing him down on his knees and ignoring his pained moans.

- Do you see what you force me to do, Tegian? - He whispered languid, bending enough to stroke his ear with his lips as he spoke. - I don't want to hurt you, but if you keep fighting like this… - He slowly ran his face down, tasting the skin of his neck. - … all the pain you feel will only increase.

Next to him he could only sense the absent presence of his brother, who seemed to consent in silence despite the veil of power that was still emanating around him because of the avoided fight to which he was expecting to have to participate.

- Let me go, you son of a bitch! - Snarled the priest, shaking his shoulders, trying to get free, his hair falling over his face and partially hiding those dark eyes. A pleasant chuckle filled the air around them, although Kenjii's gaze was still undecipherable.

This had been going for ten years now. His uncle was probably right. It wasn't really him.

He let him go abruptly, watching him back away, one hand still convulsively clenched into a fist, shaking with angst.

- Very harsh words, for a man of the Goddess. - He said in a whisper, as if trying to tease him. - Oh, I forgot you're not such a thing anymore. - He then added, moving a few steps towards him to then kneel down, his hands resting suggestively on his own legs.

The dark brown-haired vampire backed away more, his dark eyes dilated with bloodlust, terror and fury met the blue ones of the vampire before him, only veiled by the dark veil of his curse.

How many times had he gotten lost in that gaze? How many times had he lost the concept of his being and become a true vampire? And in those moments, when the thirst overwhelmed him, he had throughly enjoyed of every single attention that creature was able to grant him. How many times had he let him take his body? He had lost the count at that point…

His integrity as a priest had disappeared ten years ago, when he had become a vampire. Now he knew lust, he knew pleasure… All because of that being, taking advantage of him when he was thirsty and weaker, compliant, and everything he'd do to him was tremendously pleasant… What was left to him was that little shard of faith that he had managed to preserve, unsure how and unsure with what strength.

And if that weren't enough, the monster in front of him would only keep reminding him of his sad situation. He backed away more, sitting on the dusty floor, moving his gaze towards the younger vampire to then spot the image of the servant he had killed. Shocked again for what he had done, he quickly rubbed his hands on his dark trousers, in a desperate attempt to clean them from that last sin.

The canines were still bared, peeking from his livid lips.

- In the name of Altana, Promathia, whoever is your protector. Let me part from this world. - He whispered anxiously, bringing his attention back on the alabaster face of he who was in front of him. - Let me be free. I do not want to kill anymore.

The lips of the blue-eyed demon pursed in a bitter smile as he remembered the sparkle of excitement he could notice in the almost-black pearls of the priest when he'd kill, the same sparkle he had seen in those very same eyes almost three-hundred years ago.

Desire, passion… although briefly, he had seen it.

- I must remind you that our job isn't done yet, Tegian. - He said calmly.

- My name is Mir– - The dark brown eyes shrunk in two dark dots. - You can't ask me to do that… I don't want. - He whispered slowly, looking with a pleading expression in the blue pools of the vampire. - I could never.. he's a brother, to me. I do not want to kill him, nor others.

- You will have no scruples after half a century, I promise you. - Murmured Kenjii reassuring, standing back up to approach him. He knelt again, bringing his lips close to his ear to whisper something in amusement. - He will be your next victim… Peb Renford.

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[1] Uncle, this guy is stupid. (Bastokan)