“Enough of what? Pointing out the obvious. You babying her all this time when she’s literally a vampire is far worse by my standards than just telling it how it is.” Ella retorted, emerald eyes still searching along her body for any wounds she hadn’t yet seen. “Besides, she isn’t the worst off person…”

Kell wanted to retort, a slew of swears in the many languages he spoke, but found it hard to refuse that his crying sister hadn’t been dealt the worst hand of cards. That belonged to the only person absent.

“Should we go check on the stage, he could be up.” Kell asked, unsure of what to do. On one hand, he had a sister he had to take care of, on the other, he owed Vannis for helping Delphines transition. While he could be a bit of a mopy asshole at times, Kell knew Vannis’s intentions were always in the right place and he by far wasn’t perfect himself.

“I’d rather not.” Ella mumbled, going back to her roof staring. “We can’t do anything to help, so why watch?”

“Vannis… will be fine.” Delphine mumbled beneath her brother's coat.

“Oh really? Well why don’t we hear your brother's two cents on it, he’s the “duelist expert” after all.”

Her words were laced with venom but from the way Ella eyes vacantly gazed towards the roof, it was clear enough to any that looked she wasn’t thrilled about her friend dying. There was almost a sad acceptance in her eyes but if one looked deeper they might notice the vendetta she already had set on.

Unlike Kell, who didn’t really process death properly or Delphine who adamantly refused to expect it, Ella knew.

It may not have been today, or tomorrow, or even this decade.

But Grisile’s life would end in the most horrible way she could conceive.

“Vannis wouldn’t match well with anyone I’ve met so far, Grisile least of all.” Kell said blankly, laying out his honest opinion even if he didn’t like it.

Silence prevailed over the room after Kell’s assertion. They were all tired and just waiting for the hellish day to be over. As painful and grim as the future prospects of service were, they seemed a cake walk in comparison to that day. The clashing of metal reverberated behind the walls, along with a crazed cheers until they went silent.

All of it went silent.

The three Fangless got up as the cheering resounded in even greater volume, all scumming to the most unnatural feeling as if their blood was screaming in protest. They didn’t even have time to look at each other before they felt as if a part of them, an invisible string…

…had been severed.

*********

Darkness, nothing but unending and unforgiving darkness surrounded me as I lay weak on it. I had awakened naught but moments ago in this place, feeling my body assaulted by overwhelming fatigue and weakness. I huddled my skeletal white limbs together, trying to defend myself from the all consuming pit in my stomach that slowly spread.

I felt like my insides were churning, pleading and bending around each other to torture me.

The scenery didn’t help much either.

This abyss that I had come across twice was not anymore welcoming, so unfathomable in it’s truth veiled by dimensions of a lightless vat I couldn't even begin to understand. A void of the deep that felt so disturbingly familiar. I didn’t even deign to ponder it, trying to stop my insides from leaking out. The pain was so hallowing and yet when I opened my mouth to scream, nothing came.

There was not just no sound, I hadn’t screamed.

I tried to, but something stopped me. Had I forgotten how to scream… wait, how had I gotten here? Who was I? This pain in my stomach, was that me? Did I do this to myself? Had I always been in this void?

So many questions plagued my mind as I felt my sense of self start to slip into the all encompassing oblivion around me.

You’re back.

Is that not obvious nondescript incoherent amalgamation of intention? Whatever, it didn’t matter. Right now I just need to patch the hole in my stomach… no chest, then I’d…

…I’d

What was I doing again?

One moment…

The silence spoke to me, before divulging into this abyss’s form of rustling wind. It was like the darkness howled at me. Something I found both disconcerting and rather perplexing. Suddenly it started to swirl around me, forming some unnatural creations before eventually settling on a form. Me.

The thing standing above me and staring with a downright look of disgust painted across their face looked exactly like me. The yellow eyes like luminescent topaz, the raven black hair unkept and muddled. It was an exact replica of myself, yet looking at it I felt like it had perverted my image to it’s own wicked design.

“...There we go. Since our last conversation I gave some thought to donning a more fitting image.”

It had my voice, but it’s way of speaking somehow made the difference between us more night and day. I wanted to ask what it was but my stomach, no whole upper at this point, burned with a devouring pain.

In my stupor I tried to form a few words; like the scream nothing came of it.

“You won’t be able to speak here. Not anymore. This place has no reason to give voice to the intentions of a dead man.”

A… what? I wasn’t…

“You are. A Fangless on the verge of becoming a ghoul can’t survive having their heart cut open.”

No but the… the… it miss-

“Did it? Or were you too far gone to notice the difference between a shallow and deep cut. Even by the time the Sanguine took his anger out of you, it was already too late. We wouldn’t be able to talk if it wasn’t.”

My throat gagged for a moment before I felt a terrible sensation convulse my chest, hot red liquid retching out my shivering mouth. A body so numb with a head that ached like it was being bashed against an anvil. So hot, so cold. Shivering and burning. Any attempt to move or even lift my head caused a tsunami of nausea and another fit of vomiting up blood.

Eventually the best solution despite my continuous shivering was to lay still on the floor of oblivion. Everything still hurt but staying completely limp made it easier.

This feeling of helplessness. A complete distrust in my own body, like it was a prison with scolding bars locking me down. Why was it so… Familiar.

Oh.

“Don’t be surprised, this is what you are without me.”

The dark version of myself kneeled so my eyes laid against the ground could see his revulsion. He was looking down on me. Both literally and metaphorically. Who was this… no what was this?

“Why can’t you see? I’m you.”

No you aren’t.

“I beg to differ. Afterall you aren’t just yourself anymore, right? Haven’t you had a creeping suspicion since you woke up? You were different, changed. Become me just as I had become you.”

I had trouble arguing with myself that there wasn’t some slight of fear that I might not have wholly been myself anymore. No, more like I wanted to live in a world where I would reap all the benefits of new life without any consequence. Too good to be true. That's what it was.

Did it matter now though?

If this thing was telling the truth, that meant I was…

“Dead. Scary isn’t it. Even now your consciousness is only held together by the few absolutes that you forced into your Ichor. Strands of identity desperately holding onto primal forces of this world. Even then, you’ll slip all the same.”

My head tilted slightly towards the ground, trying to instinctively turn away from this thing. If I ignored it, I'd go away. Of course it would. Everything would go back to normal if I was just patient. Everything would fix itself with time. That's what everyone always says, right?

THESE SEETHING WOUNDS WOULD LICK THEMSELVES RAW IF I JUST WAITED FOR CROWS TO PICK MY EYES CLEAN.

“Unfortunately not, “Vannis”. You are fading, for good. Soon I will have my rest and my meal along with it.”

TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE THEN!

“You’re really no fun. Fine, I’ll spell it out for you, mister “inquisitive”.”

He took his own hand to his forearm, slowly dragging obsidian claws against the skin. It tore apart with such ease like a hot knife to butter. Deep red liquid darker than any normal blood, dripping to the floorless floor. An abyss’s bottom, if there even was one.

“What was it that the healer said again, “Trust your blood”. I’m inclined to agree with him, you should trust me “Vannis”.”

“I tried to help you but your sickly body took priority. When walking is a challenge there is little I could do to keep you alive in a fight. If only you weren’t so completely helpless, you might actually be alive. In that regard, I guess you earn my pity.”

You… never helped me.

“No? I certainly didn’t talk but I’m sure I gave you small, creeping insights. I can still watch you, still see what you see.”

“You’d have died without me, more times than I can bother to count.”

…

“Go on, deny it. Blame someone else, this could never be your fault. No, not the holy “Vannis” who looks down upon us mortals from his bedside.”

It mocked me, casting it’s wicked laughter into the void as the world around me shook. Every thought became harder to form. My body had become numb and still with little strength left to move. Shivering but otherwise lifeless. I could feel cracks on this place forming, the fabric of a mind's eye simmering into ash like bark.

“Time draws near, my final feast is almost upon us boy.”

With limber movements he grabbed me by the nap of my neck and dragged me lifeless body further into the abyss. Patterns and symbols formed in my thoughts, replacing them sometimes or overlapping. Arcanes, specifically from the six basic elements.

Fire, a blazing rebuke.

Water, a flowing contant.

Wind, a soaring escape.

Earth, a solemn understanding.

Light, a fulfilling denial

Dark, a hollow acceptance.

The words repeated in my head, over and over, and over, and wind, and fire, and earth.. Air, land, sky, deep, high, rotten, new, dead, alive, fact, facition. A hand dragged, taking me towards a… well.

Yes, a well, Built of pearl white and filled with red that might harm the beauty of the shiny material that contained it. The world around us started to split more, dark of the hungry abyss coming to claim it’s occupants as some sort of unholy prize. End was near, it was close.

Not the “It” infront of me, the other it.

The scary one.

“For what it’s worth, I hoped to have a better feed. Consistent as always “Vannis”, a disappointment till the very end.”

I felt my legs give out from their ground as a single hand raised me, enough to feel the raging winds of oblivion smash against me. Something was coming. Why was this version of me not running? I looked into his eyes, filled with nothing but hunger and annoyance. A deep settled amount of discontent.

Slowly he etched closer to my neck with fangs but they were of no concern to me. I could feel it. In every fibre, every etch, every… empty space between. It was close. No… no no! no! no! no! No! NO! NO! NO! NO!

Something paralysed me with complete fear, a shadow of lurking despair. Unable to move, my mind caved in on itself searching for an answer. How? There had to be a way. Arcanes made every thought harder. Arcanes. Elements. Absolute.

Strength.

Safety.

SANCTUARY.

Sharp points stabbed into my neck, my mouth jerked open in pain for no sound to come out. It cut my thoughts out. Or it should have.

But for every chance I got to have a thought, those whispering absolutes would make a haven within them. Bending them to a better design.

The fake stood in front of me, his fangs bearing down on my body and draining the last of what I was. But I didn’t care. That thing was coming. With almost all my strength gone I no longer had any hesitation left in me, there was no space for fear of what might happen.

In that moment, I only feared what was coming, everything else faded in comparison. Including this fake. He wasn’t frightening. He wasn’t even intimidating with his fangs sunk deep.

He was a means to an end.

A gift from the dark.

My blood was…

…NOTHING BUT A CANVAS TO PAINT MY SPITE UPON.

“Urh, w-what…”

The fake reeled back from the pain of my claws embedding themselves deep in his gut. His eyes flashed with a moment of confusion before he staggered back, now looking up at me as our position had changed. He attempted to get up again but I pinned against the white well, the only structure that maintained within oblivion. Blood from my neck and mouth dripped onto the copy, smearing clumps of red across the white exterior of the well.

“Arhhh, what are you doing boy!”

My blood screeched in refusal; I didn’t care. His compliance or willingness was not a factor. I intended to escape that thing, that seeping darkness. The claw carved deep into my blood's flesh started to move, tracing crude lines across him. He tried to struggle but the surprise and collapsing abyss made it almost impossible to muster the strength to turn the situation around.

He could only watch in horror as my claws carved the flesh of both of us.

“You… no, do not do this.”

No.

“You don’t understand!”

I don’t care.

“You’re being brash and an idiot, doing this will disgrace and twist your own existence in ways neither of us can imagine.”

So be it.

“You need me you fool! My guidance is the only reason you haven't fallen already.”

I DON’T NEED YOUR GUIDANCE, JUST YOUR FLESH AND POWER.

“You… will have minutes at best.”

My claws ripped across his bare chest, carving precious manifestations into him. The struggle had ceased. My blood just eyed me with an expression I found indecipherable as I desecrated him. Something was seeping into the abyss’s cracks. My hands grew shaky and my own blood ran cold. Faster, I had to work faster. Frantic work still remained precise. How couldn’t it be? The things I was painting were bludgeoning pillars caving in my own consciousness.

What I was doing was wrong, unholy.

The deepest pits of my gut could feel how sacreligious this was.

In the face of this overwhelming fear though, all caution was cast aside.

Manic laughter resounded in the crumbling void that had yet to stabilize. Hands just like mine, only healthier and far less frail latched on. My blood’s expression had contorted into one that was excited, frantic and amused. I finished painting Arcanes across him and felt the winds of oblivion begin to shift. The cracking and crumble ceased in but a moment. All had returned to silence.

Everything was still, my consciousness close to the surface again in spite of the blood loss.

I had averted my death but at what cost? Identity began to defragment itself and I stumbled back, facing down my copy. Flesh had been cut from his body in the shape of my Arcanes; claws still fresh with his blood. Something was deeply wrong within me. Like a domino effect that was falling in slow, excruciating motion, I had probably minutes before the effects took place. I knew this and so did my blood.

Yet that smile on his face never left, nor the leer of a predator who had still somehow come out on top.

“You may have my flesh and any power I can still give. In exchange…”

…You will feed me the world.