Back at Gordon's modest home, the air was thick with unspoken tension. The clanging of the blacksmith's tools had ceased, replaced by the uneasy silence that hung over the room. Gordon grumbled under his breath, his eyes constantly flicking toward Kaelen as if expecting the vampire to attack at any moment.
Aelor, determined to keep the peace, led Kaelen up a narrow staircase to a small guest room. It was sparsely furnished, with a simple wooden bed, a chair by the window, and a worn dresser. Without wasting a moment, Aelor rummaged through the dresser and pulled out a set of clothes—a plain linen shirt and trousers, slightly too large but better than nothing.
"Here," Aelor said, thrusting the clothes toward Kaelen. "Put these on. It's... it's better than nothing." His voice was a bit shaky, the adrenaline of the confrontation still coursing through him.
Kaelen arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his crimson eyes as he took the garments. "How generous of you," he murmured, his voice a soft purr that sent an involuntary shiver down Aelor's spine. Without any sign of shame, he began to dress, unbothered by Aelor's presence.
Downstairs, the grumbling continued. Gordon stood by the hearth, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and distrust. He paced back and forth, his iron leg clanking with each step. "You're making a mistake, boy," he growled as Aelor came back down. "Why are you even bothering to treat that bloodsucker with kindness? His kind murdered millions of our ancestors without a second thought. The blood of innocents still stains their hands."
Aelor sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I understand your anger, Gordon," he replied, trying to keep his tone calm. "But right now, he hasn't harmed us. If he wanted to, he could have done it already. Maybe... maybe there's more to him than we think."
Gordon spat on the ground, his face contorted in disgust. "More to him? Don't be a fool, Aelor. Vampires don't change. They're monsters, plain and simple. I've seen what they're capable of. I lost friends—family—to their bloodlust."
Aelor's gaze softened. He knew Gordon's past was scarred by the vampire wars, the stories of loss and bloodshed passed down like haunting legends. But there was something in Kaelen's eyes, something that hinted at a depth beyond mere cruelty. "I don't trust him completely, but I think he knows something about the dark magic that's been spreading. We might need his help."
Gordon snorted, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Help? From a vampire? You're walking on thin ice, boy. You think he'll lift a finger to save us when the time comes? You're playing a dangerous game."
Before Aelor could respond, the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs drew their attention. Kaelen had descended, now dressed in the clothes Aelor had provided, the fabric hanging loosely on his lean frame. He moved with an ethereal grace, his every step silent, like a shadow given form.
Kaelen glanced between the two of them, his expression unreadable. "I couldn't help but overhear," he said with a faint smile, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Rest assured, old man, I have no intention of feasting on your blood tonight. Or ever, for that matter."
Gordon's grip on his gun tightened, but he said nothing, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. Aelor, sensing another clash brewing, quickly stepped between them. "Enough. We're all stuck in this mess together. Whether we like it or not, we need to figure out what's causing the corruption in our lands. Kaelen, you said you knew something, didn't you?"
Kaelen's eyes glimmered with a hint of dark amusement. "Perhaps I do," he replied slowly. "But why should I share my knowledge with you? Trust is a two-way street, and I've seen nothing but hostility since I awoke."
Aelor hesitated, his heart pounding. He knew they were running out of time. The dark magic was spreading faster than anyone had anticipated, and the Council was still unaware of its true nature. "Help us," he said, his voice almost pleading. "And maybe you can prove Gordon wrong. Maybe… you can prove that not all vampires are monsters."
Kaelen's eyes locked onto Aelor's, a strange intensity burning in their depths. For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching thin and taut. Then, finally, he gave a slight nod. "Very well," he said, his voice a whisper like the rustle of leaves in the night. "I will aid you, but remember this: my patience is not infinite. Betray me, and you'll find that monsters come in many forms."
Aelor swallowed hard, hoping he hadn't just made a deal with the devil himself. Gordon simply shook his head, muttering darkly under his breath as he turned back to the fire.
Aelor's curiosity was relentless as he sat by the fire, his sharp eyes gleaming with intrigue. "Gordon," he began, breaking the silence, "why was there a coffin with Kaelen in that church? How did he end up there?"
Gordon, still uneasy with the vampire sitting in his home, scratched his grizzled chin thoughtfully. "I'm just as confused as you are, lad," he replied, his voice gruff. "All I know is that for decades—centuries even—my family was charged with guarding that coffin. We were told to protect it, to never let anyone disturb it, but no one ever told us why. The duty was passed down through generations, like some cursed inheritance."
Aelor leaned forward, his eyes wide with excitement. "But who gave your family that task? There must be records, something that explains why Kaelen was sealed away." His mind raced with the possibilities—perhaps a secret order, ancient magic, or a forgotten prophecy. The thrill of unraveling a mystery sent a rush of adrenaline through him, a welcome distraction from the grim reality of their situation.
As Aelor pressed for more details, he didn't notice the way Kaelen's eyes lingered on him, the vampire's lips curling into a subtle smile. There was something almost endearing in Aelor's eagerness, a spark that Kaelen found himself admiring despite the grim circumstances.
"I don't know who set the task," Gordon admitted, shaking his head. "It's always been shrouded in secrecy. But if you're that determined to dig deeper, the local library might have some old records. There's a section with ancient texts that might hold answers about the dark magic… and maybe even about him." He jerked his thumb in Kaelen's direction, still wary.
Aelor's gaze shifted to Kaelen, his eyes bright with curiosity. "Do you remember anything?" he asked, almost breathless with anticipation. "Anything at all about where you came from, or why you were sealed away?"
Kaelen's expression darkened, the playful glint in his eyes dimming. He looked away, his fingers brushing absently over the fabric of the shirt Aelor had given him. "My memories are… fragmented," he said softly, a hint of bitterness lacing his words. "I recall fragments of a past life—faces, places, battles—but they're like shadows, slipping away when I try to grasp them."
Aelor frowned, trying to make sense of this. "But surely you remember something significant? How you ended up in that coffin, for instance?"
Kaelen turned his crimson gaze back to Aelor, a haunted look flashing across his features. "The last thing I remember clearly is being cursed," he said, his voice low and distant. "Bound by dark magic, forced into servitude. Whoever commands me… holds my will." His eyes met Aelor's, a strange mix of vulnerability and defiance in them. "As it stands, that would be you, Aelor. You freed me from that coffin, and now I'm bound to your command."
Aelor's breath hitched, a wave of disbelief washing over him. "Bound to my command?" he echoed, feeling the weight of those words settle heavily on his shoulders. He hadn't asked for this, hadn't intended to bind anyone to his will. And yet, the implications were clear—Kaelen was now compelled to obey him, whether he wanted to or not.
Gordon let out a low whistle, his eyes widening with disbelief. "Well, that's a bloody mess if I ever heard one," he muttered, crossing his arms. "An elf with a vampire servant. The Council would have your head if they found out."
Kaelen chuckled darkly, his smile returning. "Indeed," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But worry not, Aelor. I won't be your slave in the way you fear. I may be cursed to follow your command, but I still have my own mind. Just be careful with what you ask of me."
Aelor rubbed his temples, feeling the headache of this new complication settling in. "This is… a lot to take in," he admitted, glancing between Gordon and Kaelen. "But we need answers. If the local library has records, that's where we'll go. We have to find out who cursed you, Kaelen, and why the land is dying."
Kaelen gave a slight nod, his expression thoughtful. "Very well," he said. "If there are answers to be found, I'll accompany you. But be warned, Aelor… the truth may not be as simple as you hope."
With that, their uneasy alliance was solidified. Gordon, though still suspicious, grudgingly agreed to help them navigate the village and its secrets. As dawn began to break, casting a pale light through the windows, Aelor felt a spark of hope amidst the chaos.
Gordon's gruff voice broke the lingering silence. "The vampire can sleep outside," he said flatly, his eyes hard as he looked Kaelen up and down with clear disdain. The firelight cast sharp shadows across his lined face, making his mistrust even more evident.
Aelor, taken aback, quickly turned to Gordon. "Surely there's another room he can use," he suggested, his voice tinged with a mix of pleading and frustration. But Gordon merely grunted in response, refusing to meet Aelor's gaze. Without another word, he turned on his iron heel and made his way up the narrow staircase, the heavy clunk of his mechanical leg echoing through the house. The conversation was over, as far as he was concerned.
Aelor sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair, feeling a mix of exhaustion and helplessness. He turned to Kaelen, who was watching him with that familiar, unsettling intensity. Before Aelor could speak, Kaelen moved closer, his movements fluid and almost predatory, like a panther stalking its prey. The distance between them closed in a heartbeat, and Aelor felt his breath hitch as the vampire's presence washed over him, cold and magnetic.
"Kaelen, stop," Aelor said, pressing a hand against the vampire's chest to keep him at bay. The sensation was unnerving—Kaelen's skin was cool to the touch, firm yet yielding beneath Aelor's palm, like a marble statue brought to life.
Kaelen's lips curled into a lazy smirk, his eyes flashing with mischief. "What's the matter, Aelor?" he purred, his voice low and silky. "Afraid of getting too close?" There was a teasing edge to his words, as if he found Aelor's discomfort amusing.
Aelor's resolve hardened, his eyes narrowing as he gathered his courage. "I command you to step back," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the rapid beat of his heart. The words hung in the air, charged with the weight of the curse that bound them.
To Aelor's relief, Kaelen obeyed. He took a slow, deliberate step back, his smirk never faltering. "As you wish, master" he said, the mocking tone making the title sound almost like a jest. But there was something darker in his gaze, a flicker of something ancient and dangerous that reminded Aelor of the power he was toying with.