Cold, stale blood that clumped together hit the buds of my tongue, sending shivers of disgust down my spine. It tasted how I imagined a long-dead tree's sap would if the nectar hadn’t already condensed and corroded into solid. Nothing about it was exhilarating or rewarding like before. Dry, churning and with a texture so thick I found it hard to choke down.

This was Awful and a complete waste of time. I don’t regret what I do though. At the very least you might satiate my hunger Sanguine

Grisile neck slumped further and further the more blood I took. His body shook from time to time in protest but it yielded no fruit. He was too weak to stop me, unable to fight the oncoming tide of inevitability he faced. From time to time my hunger felt quelled by his blood only for it to come back stronger.

I realised only after his body thudded to the floor rather uneventfully that the dead Sanguine wouldn’t be enough. My body craved more. My blood craved more. It needed more than just the Sanguine to sustain it despite all the knowledge I knew about the Blood Rite saying otherwise.

A bucket of water couldn’t put out an inferno, that was absolute.

The red mist around me started to glow in an even more vibrant scarlet but all that did was enhance my hunger to utter starvation. I dropped to the floor squirming for some form of sustenance.

What’s wrong? Why aren’t I healing!

I wondered in ravaging anxiety trying to cover my body from the cold that seeped through it. Death was coming for me, again. Even after twisting my own flesh and killing my opponent that oppressive fact of nature itself still came for me.

Feeling my skin begin to devour itself that tranquillity broke, divulging into a panic. How was I meant to stop this? I tried moving my Ichor but it had become inert and refused to budge. A blistering headache beat against my spine as the red mist started to drive me to the brink of insanity.

It stole all forms of sense, similar to oblivion, leaving me perpetual in a space of pure red. There was no escape… I was going to die.

“Hello, Stray.”

A feminine voice pierced through the numbing mist, confident and refined. I felt a pair of hands smooth yet somehow so deeply calloused wrench my neck up. There was no affection in the motion but due to my lack of resistance, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it could have. Or maybe I couldn’t feel pain anymore?

“How did you do that?”

Red eyes that I barely managed to separate from the mist stared holes into the back of my head with blatant curiosity. I understood what she was asking, if only just a little, but I lacked the strength to speak. A stare was all I could reply with. Seeing the topaz shine reflected from those eyes only made me feel worse.

She moved like a ghost so seamlessly I couldn’t even tell she was there besides the red eyes and words. There was no oppression in her aura like the others I had come across, instead, it was silent. Eerily silent.

“Forgive me, I got ahead of myself and forgot how fragile Fangless are.”

The mist around me shook before a sleek pure red longsword of exquisite make manifested. At a glance, I could somehow intrinsically tell it wasn’t magic. Not the magic I could use. Snow white hair dripped over the flickering dress as the woman standing in front of me let the blade slowly slice across her forearm. Deep red blood started to leak from the wound and she began to prop my slumped head up towards it.

“Usually we do this with our own fangs as a sign of commitment but I prefer to keep a level of decency in front of guests. I’m sure you understand or at the least doubt you care.”

With just enough sense of touch left I felt her plunge my head into the forearm, forcing my jaw down on the open wound and the blood in my mouth. There was no kindness in it, nor any sort of goodwill that I could feel. No choice, no options available. I hadn’t the strength to resist and this woman for whatever reason refused to let me die so easily.

I didn’t want to die, so it worked for me, even if the method was more forceful than I would’ve liked.

The ice-cold liquid that squealed and squirmed hit the back of my throat, snaking down my throat like it was alive. A skin-crawling feeling that made me regret not having completely lost the sense of touch. The sensation between this and anything else I’d ever had was incomparable.

More of my senses and strength returned with each drop but more than that, it seeped into every pore of my being, changing me. I felt it changing me, like a furnace boiling iron to be stripped of impurities. My Ichor was more potent, my world so much clearer.

To describe it properly would be like saying I’d opened my eyes for the first time, again.

What bliss! This is fantastic, it’s… it is… ARRRRGGGGHHHH!

My head whipped back from the forearm letting out a screech of pain so visceral the crowd went deathly. I dropped to the floor again for probably the last time, writhing as I desperately tore flesh from my already battered body, trying to stop the endless feeling of small creeping bugs burrowing their way in.

So many bugs, some new, some old, nesting inside my body. What was this? I hated this!

“Get out!” I roared, trying so hard to stop it.

Greater changes creaked through my body but the never-ending barrage of bugs was such a revolting feeling it trumped everything else. Stranger than that, I couldn’t actually see them, nor could I smell or hear them. Just feel them.

Whatever the case was, I no longer had a reason to stay awake as the pit in my stomach had been filled by the woman’s blood. The rest could come later.

Get… out… zzzz

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

“This was unquestionably more intriguing than I had imagined it would be,” Lady Zelkren said in whispered mumbles, watching the thick red haze seep into the sleeping. “This one will be doing a lot of talking when he wakes.”

A thin smile imperceivable to anyone viewing from the stands smeared across her face before being replaced by a wider but much more fake one. The haze cleared once and for all, allowing all those unendowed with Arcane sense to understand what had happened. Some felt it strange that there was a woman now in the ring, before realising it was Lady Zelkren herself standing so nonchalantly they found it hard to decide whether she had done anything wrong.

Even if the battle had ended until the red haze left no one was supposed to intrude. None bar Zena and the grey attendant still observing the patio acknowledged Grisile cold corpse, ravaged already and beginning to rot from the aftereffects of darkness magic.

There were rules to these things though and the body of their comrade belonged to its murderer.

Lady Zelkren wasn’t bothered by the stares and confusion, ruckus was a given in these times. What she was concerned about was the continued seizing the sleeping Fangless underwent. Each one was more violent than the last. She already knew he would be a sort of unique occurrence for Fangless considering what she had witnessed prior, but not knowing the Fangless fate to be certain bugged her.

I spilt my own blood and almost dirtied my dress for this, I need him alive. Anything else is intolerable.

She thought, letting her purposefully dulled senses expand just a bit to make sure the Fangless’s heart hadn’t stopped beating. She didn’t care about him in particular, just what he could do, mainly because she didn’t understand it.

And anything one didn’t understand could be used against them.

Vannis’s body creaked and shuddered again, bones splitting and skin whitening further to a disgruntled pigment before settling back to what it once was. His claws became so deeply black they might swallow the sun and his veins burst to the skin above with a crystal blue glow.

Lady Zelkren hadn’t a clue what was happening to him even after inspecting his body. Besides the Ichor which underwent the qualitative changes it would naturally have when a Fangless had their soul fully restored into their body, nothing about what was going on made much sense. From just a short glance though she could tell the boy wasn’t waking any time soon. It was going to take a while before she got some answers, that was for sure.

“Lady Zelkren, it’s a pleasure as always.” said the figure walking through the open gateway that Fangless normally stepped through, a tall man, slightly smaller one and scarlet haired woman following behind, all regarding the one ahead with a different type of demeanour.

“Keldri, Qixi.” She replied, too fixed on making sure the Fangless wasn’t going to fall apart.

Vale and Sella Rez made their stance on the arena’s edges, not daring enough to approach the acting head of a clan while Vannagrash and Qixi approached. Of the two it was clear that Qixi held a more relaxed sense about him but was still openly alert to the woman in front. Both took their time switching glances between Vannis and the woman standing above him before Vannagrash decided to speak.

“You-”

“Inducted someone into my clan.”

“By force.”

“No one else was willing to jump down and help him, this one was on the edge of death. I claimed him rightfully the moment I was willing to act when others weren’t.”

One was not considered a vampire as a Fangless, only as Fledgling, so the natural direction of both ownership and family for a vampire sided heavily in their second sire. The true gift of blood, not the false hope. Although it didn't break the laws of Fall, forcing your blood upon someone without a witness was viewed as a heinous thing.

Lady Zelkren didn’t lie, but even if there was a witness in the red haze, she wouldn’t have been in the right. That said, power could almost always blur the societal expectations imposed upon people. Power was absolute, in almost every culture, the only difference being in what form that power was derived.

“Vannagrash, keep your ideals to yourself, I like my head where it is.” Qixi commented, not taking an eye off the crimson sword composed of blood that hovered above Lady Zelkren’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to be done about it.”

“For once I agree with you Qixi.” Lady Zelkren commented. “And it irks me more than you could possibly imagine.”

“It gets worse when you realise we’re down here for the same reason.” Qixi commented, staring at Vannis’s unconscious body as the mood surrounding him soured. “He’s not going to wake up soon enough.”

“Soon enough for what?”

“A vow. Another diary will have to suffice for now. Being near you makes me feel ill. Be sure he gets this and knows it’s from me. If it were any other way I wouldn’t let you have him so easily.”

The thing drenched in whitish blonde locks threw a book from his red coat towards the woman which she caught with ease, walking away as quick as he came. Qixi was still interested, probably more so than Lady Zelkren as to how Vannis had cast magic or formed a focal point but pursuing him when he was in the women's clutches already would be far more trouble than it was worth.

Qixi may have been a maniac but he knew how to pick his fights.

For now, Vannis was off-limits.

“Always a treat to deal with.” Lady Zelkren mumbled watching the strange man dip in the arena and towards the exit. “Anyways I’ll be leaving with haste.”

“But the Rite hasn’t ended yet, besides there’s still the case of this… of Vannis,” Vannagrash noted, keen to not let her slip through.

If he could, he would’ve punished her severely for attempting to force someone into her clan but as stated previously, Vannis’s case was different. Not only was she a leader but he was also a stray with no one to claim him and supposedly on the verge of death.

Vampires were not opposed to lying, most notable for their manipulative tricks, yet Vannagrash didn’t get an inkling that Lady Zelkren had falsified Vannis’s state of being once the red haze clouded his observation.

“As the dunce said, he is mine Keldri. No known sire entitles me to his service and him to my clan. I respect your authority, but don’t mistake my show of good faith for tolerance.”

“…His coven will want to see him.”

“In other circumstances, I would but if these spectators catch wind of what’s happening and tell your father or Rez, I doubt going home will be easy. Staying in the Crevice isn’t an option.”

“Then I bid you a good day. Be warned that at my earliest convenience I will oppose what you’ve done today.” Vannagrash said, still aiming to give Vannis the choice he had won. “Our House will not be happy about your actions today.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

“I shall have the Rift Gate prepared for three then if that-“

“No.” Lady Zelkren interrupted with a pensive look. “He shall leave with Zena and the others attending from my clan, by carriage.”

“But I had thought you sought the quickest extraction of Vannis?”

Lady Zelkren had never stopped inspecting his body, not even to reply. As much as Vannagrash had his own questions about what in the name of Fall had Vannis done, he understood where the line was well enough to not cross it. So he found it strange when she requested he leave through the normal route, a carriage drawn by Jorhein. The vampires under her, fledgling or full and the Savrin that may have accompanied would never be allowed the rite of using a Rift gate, mainly because of tradition.

“I would but this falls to a matter of the unknown. Even now he is unstable and I’m certain we can’t do anything to fix that. What I can do instead is prevent him from going through anything that might provoke his condition to become harmful again, like a Rift Gate.”

“Very well.”

Essentially forced to concede Vannagrash left to prepare the next Rite and make preparations for Lady Zelkren’s departure, ignoring the mostly confused and in some manner discontent crowd around them in the massive stadium. While moving under the cover of shadow she gave a moment to think about the preceding events, mumbling for the darkness of the world and herself alone to hear.

“Vannis Zelkren… not half bad.”