Holding his hand up in the light, Sol turned it over to investigate. The smoke rising earlier had become almost imperceptible. A human would be unable to detect the obscure wisps if they stood beside him. His skin had become noticeably paler. It was rapidly turning red in the direct sunlight. Although he could still feel the heat from the sun damaging the surface of his skin, it was reduced to a rate that his enhanced healing could counteract.

If I’m now a thin-blood, why can I stand in the sun? I felt searing heat when I tackled the vampire into the light. But after drinking his blood, it just feels like a normal sunburn. I can even hold the silver sunburst of the Lord with only mild discomfort. The light isn’t as blinding anymore, either. Come to think of it. I was able to keep hold of the sunburst after drinking the dead beggar’s blood. Both tasted like drinking poison, leaving me feeling weaker. It also impacted my senses, so maybe it’s related to my ability to survive in the sun.

Sol kicked the charred remains of the vampire, scattering ash across the floor. He prepared to leave. He was halfway through the window before he recalled the moon-stone held by the beggar inside. He quickly ran back, testing the limit of his speed, arriving beside the corpse in a matter of moments.

I could get used to this.

Sol thought to himself as he reached down to pick up the moon-stone before placing it inside a pocket. He put the silver sunburst in the opposite pocket, wrapped inside the rag he tore from the beggar earlier.

Another thought occurred to him before he left. Sol tore another longer shred of cloth from the beggar’s shirt. He held the strip over his eyes and looped it around his head twice before tying it in place. Sol was able to see through the fabric. It would shade his eyes from the still-bright light outside.

He returned to the shattered window. He stepped onto the frame, bracing his hands against the sides. Glancing over his shoulder, he considered the ash of the vampire with mixed emotions.

I don’t know if I should be grateful for the means to avenge my father. Or furious at being turned into the thing I hate most. No matter, it’s already done. I will take my vengeance upon all the full-blood clans responsible for stomping out the resistance. I now have all the time in the world.

Sol inhaled deeply before hesitantly leaping from the high ledge to the alleyway below. He landed quietly with a slight stumble from stiffening the moment of impact. He looked toward the sky above the alley to gauge the time. But the sky was too bright for him to maintain his gaze. Shielding his eyes from the glare with an arm, Sol turned away to hide in the shadows.

He waited a moment to regain his bearings, straightening his clothes and resuming his walk toward his apartment. He had no idea how much time had passed since turning into a thin-blood, but going home would be the logical next step. If only to wash the blood of him and to change his clothes.

After reaching the end of the alley, Sol arrived at a road filled with pedestrians. He watched a rickety farm cart filled with produce pulled by an old mule drove on the opposite side of the street. He could hear the mule’s tired breathing as it splashed water from a puddle formed between fragmented cobblestones and the driver’s irritated curse.

Passerbys cast curious glances toward Sol after noticing his silhouette in the shadows, hurrying faster and turning their gazes down after seeing the blood soaking his clothing. Chuckling wryly to himself, Sol apprehensively adjusted his shirt before stepping into the main street. People quickly noticed him once he was in plain sight, giving him a wide berth. He could clearly hear the hushed murmurs as they talked about him.

“Did you see that man covered in blood?”

“Yes. He must be a blood thrall belonging to one of the clans.”

“I agree. It’s probably a good idea to avoid him.”

Countless whispered conversations similar in context invaded Sol’s ears as he navigated his way through winding streets until he arrived outside his home. It was a large, multistorey wooden complex stretching five-stories tall. It looked out of place among the neighbouring stone two-floor buildings lining both sides of the street.

The apartment building belonged to a sympathiser of the resistance. The resistance lost their organised leadership during the eradication from the full-blood clans while Sol was a young teenager. Now, even mentioning their existence in public can result in being ostracised. People feared repercussions from full-blood clan death squads. The landlord honoured the memory of the resistance fighters and allowed Sol and a few other orphans to stay free of charge as long as they didn’t cause any trouble.

“Sol, where have you been? It’s been almost a week!” a familiar voice called from behind. Sol heard running footsteps on the street behind him. He turned around to greet the new arrival. A solidly built young man half a head shorter than Sol.

“Alaric, I think that’s the fastest I’ve seen you move,” Sol replied with a chuckle.

“ Ha… Ha… very funny. It’s not like you can see anything with that blindfold on. You’re all covered in blood, are you okay? What happened to you? The landlord thought you were dead and had all of your stuff removed yesterday. He seemed sad but said you must have got involved with something you shouldn’t have and wouldn’t be coming back,” Alaric responded in concern, gripping Sol’s shoulders and inspecting him for wounds.

“I’m fine, Alaric. It’s not my blood,” Sol replied while brushing away Alaric’s hands.

“Then what’s with the blindfold, and whose is it?” Alaric suspiciously asked as he stepped back.

“I have a killer headache. The blindfold helps me deal with the sunlight. The blood's from a scrap,” Sol lied.

“Were you fighting in the underground fight pits? What if one of the full-bloods spectating decides to report you or find your neck inviting? You’d be fucked then. Don’t do it again, Sol. It’s suicide for people like us with no backing,” Alaric reprimanded as he came up with his own conclusions.

“What do you mean? I’ve got you backing me up, don’t I?” Sol replied in amusement.

“There’s a difference between a harmless scrap and the fight pits and you know it. You can stay with me until another room opens up. I kept all of your stuff in case you came back,” Alaric replied with a smirk. His concern faded now that he knew his friend was still alive.

“Thanks, Alaric. I can always count on you,” Sol accepted.

“And don’t you forget it. Let’s go inside. You can be the one to explain to Seda where you’ve been. She’s been worried about you and came to see me after you didn’t come home. She wanted me to go out with her to find you and it was almost sundown. I think she’s in love with you,” Alaric teased.

“She did?” Sol replied with bewilderment.

Seda was the only other resistance orphan staying at the complex, as such she spent a lot of time with Sol and Alaric when growing up. Although, she was a few years younger and was more like a little sister than a love interest.