Chapter 1: A Bloody Escape

–Valerie–

"This is so messed up..." I muttered as the flood of memories crashed into my mind, merging with my own. Or maybe it was more accurate to say I was the new memories, slowly consuming the girl whose head I'd been crammed into. Her personality, her thoughts... all being overshadowed by me.

I felt like a bizarre mix of two totally different people, though it seemed like my past life's personality had won out. Which made sense. The girl whose mind I'd just taken over was only twenty, but mentally? She was still a child. She—no, I—had endured a cruel, depressing life. 

My new name? Valerie Tepes… A direct descendant of a famous historical figure who most people considered fictional.

I'm a borderline supernaturally beautiful girl, with a perfect figure, flawless pale skin, golden blonde hair, and these dazzling ruby-red eyes. 

Oh, and I'm no longer human…

It sounds so edgy, but it's the truth. I'm a creature of the night now—a vampire. A being that feeds on blood to survive. Which, if I'm being honest, is actually kind of kickass!

Well... half-vampire. A little less kickass, but still pretty good! Maybe even better, if those vampire books I devoured in my past life are anything to go by. If I can walk in sunlight, that'll be a huge perk.

So, on paper, that all doesn't sound too bad, right? Well, the bad part is coming.

I'm not just any half-vampire. I'm a slave. A prisoner. I've spent my entire life locked away in the castle dungeons, never seeing sunlight or the world beyond these rusting iron bars. And the worst part? My own family—my full-blooded vampire relatives—are the ones who did this to me.

Apparently, being half-vampire is a crime in this world. Of course, it is. Why would my Isekai life be easy? I wouldn't be the tragic main character if everything was sunshine and roses, right?

Oh, and magic cups. I have those too. But we'll get to that in a minute...

I never thought I'd actually end up in a real-life Isekai. And if I had, I'd have expected it to happen to a better person than me. I wasn't evil in my past life or anything, but I was definitely... kind of a bitch. I had my reasons for that, though. Let's just say my family wasn't much better than Valerie's and leave it at that. Now, I've got two lifetimes' worth of trauma to unpack.

Anyway, back to the magic cups!

In this life, I was born with a special power—something I never would've believed possible in my old, agnostic world. I can summon the Holy Grails.

Yes, Grails. As in plural. 

For some reason, there are three Holy Grails in this world, and they're all soul-bound to me. If I die, the Grails disappear and take forever to find a new host. At least, that's what I've gathered from my memories.

That's the only reason my vampire family didn't kill me at birth, like they always bragged they would have if I wasn't so "special." Valerie may not have learned much in her twenty years as a prisoner, but she learned this: most Dhampirs—half-breeds like me—don't live long. 

The Tepes clan loves forcing themselves on their human thralls, but they despise the results nine months later. Instead of taking responsibility for their own offspring, they simply kill them. If a Dhampir isn't executed at birth, the Tepes sometimes let the kids live a few years—just long enough to let hope blossom—before snuffing it out for their own sick pleasure. Why? Because the Tepes clan is the kind of evil you only hear about in stories, the kind you pray never crosses your path if you're a normal upstanding person.

I'm pretty sure that's what happened to the boy I considered to be my little brother, Gasper. He was a Dhampir too, locked away in the cell across from mine, but one day he just... disappeared. That was over a decade ago. He had cool magic powers, but I guess they weren't special enough for our family to keep him alive.

But me? I was too valuable to kill, thanks to my "special magic cup powers." Better than Gasper's time-stopping abilities, apparently.

So they kept me locked up in this dungeon for the first twenty years of my half-undead life, hoping they'd figure out how to exploit my power. Or better yet, find a way to extract the Grails from me without causing my death and having the legendary cups vanish in the process.

Luckily for me, my lovely vampire relatives hadn't made much progress. In fact, I'm pretty sure they hadn't made any progress over the last twenty years.

Twenty years... of being locked away in this godforsaken dungeon. It's no surprise Valerie had gone a little insane from the isolation and neglect. But if I stayed down here long enough, I'm sure it would catch up to me too. 

That's not the plan, though. I'm going to escape. And I'm going to do it soon. 

The only reason Valerie hadn't gone completely insane was, ironically, the same reason she was kept locked away in the first place—the magic cups.

Each of the three Holy Grails came with its own unique abilities, and I instinctively understood the powers of each one.

The first cup was bright gold, adorned with ruby-like gems that glowed deep red. This cup had the power to fill itself with blood—my blood. Anyone who drank from it would have their physical ailments miraculously cured. I wasn't quite sure of the limits yet. I'd already dubbed it the 'Healing Grail.'

Valerie had only ever used it on herself, drinking from the cup to heal the bruises left after one of her father or brother's frequent "visits" to the dungeon. Visits that consisted mostly of beatings. Why did they beat her? Because they were disgusting assholes, that's why. I wish there was a more complex explanation, but there wasn't.

The second Grail was the same shape as the first but looked vastly different. It was dark green, covered in pitch-black onyx-like gems. Its power was different too. This cup could summon a near unlimited supply of water, but not just any water. Holy Water–maybe the most pure Holy Water in existence. Surprisingly, the Holy Water didn't actually burn me when I touched it. Something in my gut told me that would not be the case for other Vampires. I dubbed this cup the "Blessed Grail."

The third cup was the strangest. Pitch black and covered in glowing white diamond-like gems. The liquid this cup summoned wasn't water or blood. The liquid was silvery and was reflective, like a mirror, except it didn't show my reflection. It showed dead people. People I could talk to and even learn from. I'd dubbed it the 'Resurrection Grail,' and it was the sole reason the previous me hadn't completely lost her mind. Dead people had been talking with me every couple days for most of my life. The cup allowed me to summon the souls of the dead, and in a twisted way, it became my lifeline in this isolated hell. 

"Aloha-mora!" I waved my hand in front of the heavy, locked steel door.

"No, no, no! You're saying the words all wrong, girl! You're not Hawaiian! It's Alohomora, not Aloha! Quit saying 'hello' in Hawaiian and actually try to escape!" a stern woman's voice echoed from the Resurrection Grail, scolding me.

"How do you even know what Hawaii is?" I muttered, exasperated. "You died in Britain over 1000 years ago!" I tried again, concentrating harder this time. 

"The afterlife is a big place, you meet people from all walks of death, girl," Rowena replied nonchalantly. 

"Alohomora! Dammit!" I'd been trying to get this spell working for over an hour at this point to no success. The Resurrection Grail allowed me to speak to the dead through their reflections in the cup. When I'd woken up in this new body and realized I stood no chance of escaping the dungeon on my own, I decided to use it to ask someone for help. So I asked the Grail to summon the soul of someone who could help me escape.

It answered with a dead witch by the name of Rowena Ravenclaw. Witches were also apparently a real thing in this world. Along with Dragons, fairies, Demons, Gods, and pretty much every other horrifying entity I could think of. 

I asked Rowena how a dead witch was supposed to help me pull a prison break? She offered to teach me some actual magic. Of course I immediately accepted. According to Rowena, she'd been one of the founders of a magic school in Britain somewhere around the year 1000 AD. A school that impressively still stood to this day, although it was currently "a pathetic imitation of the once glorious magical institution it had been in its prime!"

Those were her words…

Since the school she founded was now a joke, Rowena had a wealth of knowledge about magic and was more than eager to pass it to someone more worthy. Since she was dead, she couldn't find anyone worthy though "so she decided to settle on me…"

Those were also her words… 

"I said the spell correctly this time. What am I missing?" I asked, leaning closer to the cup's reflective surface. This was supposed to be an easy unlocking spell that was taught to 11 year olds in their first years at Rowena's school. Did I agree that teaching 11 year old children a spell that could unlock pretty much any non-magic lock in existence was a good idea? Not really, but that wasn't my problem. 

Rowena's face appeared in the reflection. For someone from a time period when people bathed only once every few months, Rowena was surprisingly beautiful. Or maybe it was because she was a witch? Or maybe souls just looked better in death than they did in life—I didn't have anyone else to compare her to yet.

Before our souls merged, the old me had never really figured out how the Grails actually worked. It wasn't because she was stupid. She just hadn't been given a chance at a proper education. Obviously, her bastard father and her sadistic brother weren't about to let her get smarter under their watch. 

The last thing they wanted was for her to start thinking up escape plans. Exactly what I was doing...

Rowena's brow furrowed as she considered where I might be going wrong. "It's not that you don't have any magic, otherwise we wouldn't even be talking…" she muttered. "Maybe you're not using the right medium?"

"Medium?" I asked curiously.

Her reflection in the water nodded at me. "All magic requires a proper medium to cast. Some mages use wands or staffs, while others channel magic through their own bodies. I thought you might be able to do the same, but it seems that's not the case. Since you're a Dhampir, you may need a different method to focus your magic," the ancient witch explained. "But it shouldn't be too hard to figure out."

"Blood?" I guessed. "Do I need to cut myself to cast spells properly?"

Rowena nodded thoughtfully. "I suspect so, at least until you get a proper wand filled with your own blood to act as the core..."

I raised my thumb to my lips, ready to bite with my fangs. "No time like the present to find out," I said, but Rowena quickly stopped me.

"Wait! We don't have much time, and you won't be able to summon me again for a few days. Let me teach you some combat spells before our time is up. Remember, as a Dhampir, your magic reserves are likely tied to how much blood you've consumed recently."

I realized I wouldn't be able to cast many spells without quickly exhausting myself. I only received half a cup of pig's blood each week. I focused on properly learning the incantations as she taught me spells on how to conjure fire, summon water, and even cast a spell that caused small explosions. The last one sounded especially exciting—I'd just need to avoid accidentally getting caught in the blasts.

Rowena looked at me with a sad expression. "We're out of time, my strange student. Good luck with your escape. If you survive, summon me again in three days and I'll teach you more." Her image faded from the cup, and the Resurrection Grail dissolved into glowing sparks that flew back into my chest. I could feel that it wouldn't be usable again for a few days.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The vampire thralls wouldn't let me stroll out of the dungeon without a fight, but this was the best shot I'd ever have to escape.

Earlier, I overheard them gossiping. My relatives, along with the strongest members of the Tepes Clan, were out of the castle. They were attending some kind of power show-off meeting with a rival vampire clan that controlled the other half of Romania. It was a rare chance, and I knew I had to take it.

Only the thralls were left as guards. I didn't completely get what a thrall was, but based on what I knew from my last life, they were basically mind-controlled humans—both food and slaves at the same time. A part of me felt bad about what I might have to do to them. I'd probably hurt some of them, maybe even kill. Even if I didn't, my relatives would probably kill them all once they realized I was gone.

I took another deep breath. So be it.

This world had the potential to be incredible, but I also knew how harsh it could be if you weren't strong enough. I bit down on my thumb, wincing as blood started to flow from the puncture wounds. I raised my hand, now slick with blood, toward the steel door. "Alohomora!"

Rowena had been right. Blood was the key. The spell worked this time, and the door swung open with a loud creak. I'd only been outside this dungeon cell a few times in my life, and never because I wanted to. I poked my head out and looked around. The coast seemed clear.

I crept through the dirty dungeon hallways, doing my best to avoid looking into the other cells. I knew no one else was alive down here. The other cells were full of dried-up corpses—either unlucky humans or enemy vampires.

I quickly found the stairs and hurried up, my heart pounding in my chest. The heavy wooden doors at the top were locked, but another unlocking spell made them swing open with a loud creak. I almost stumbled. That second spell felt like it knocked the wind out of me. Rowena had been right—I barely had any magic left. I needed more blood if I wanted to cast another spell without collapsing... and preferably not pig's blood this time.

I had never tasted human blood in this life, but I'd smelled it plenty of times in the dungeon. I hated to admit it, but it smelled amazing.

"Hey! What are you doing out of your cell!?"

My heart stopped. A human thrall had just rounded the corner, his eyes locking onto me. He didn't look like a zombie or anything—there was intelligence behind his eyes—but I knew that didn't mean much. Thralls followed their vampire masters' orders without question.

"You're not escaping! Get back in your cell!" he barked, and before I could react, he started sprinting toward me. 

He was huge—maybe six-foot-five, towering over me by a full foot and probably weighing more than twice as much. There was no way I could fight him, especially since I barely knew how to throw a punch, let alone fight someone that big!

Panic surged through me. I raised my bloody hand as he closed the distance. This was going to suck. "Bombarda!" I shouted, casting the explosive spell Rowena had taught me.

A small missile of silvery magic shot from my palm. I stumbled as the last of my energy drained out of me. I placed my hands on my knees to stop myself from collapsing from exhaustion completely.

BOOM!

The explosion roared through the hall, and then... It started to rain indoors for some reason. 

Wait, no. Not rain. Why was it red?

I looked down at myself. My dirty rags were soaked in crimson. Blood. Human blood. I glanced at the body sprawled on the floor, the one my spell had hit. His chest was a mangled mess, a huge hole where his torso had been, guts spilling out onto the marble. It was a horrific sight, but instead of feeling disgusted... I felt something else. Fascinated. And hungry…

Without thinking, I brought my left hand to my lips and licked the blood off my fingers. My eyes widened, shock coursing through me, and I let out a soft moan of pure, unfiltered delight. My body responded instinctively—thighs clenching together in pleasure as an electric thrill ran through me. 

This was the best thing I'd ever tasted! 

Pig's blood didn't even come close. Even better, with every lick, I felt my strength returning. The exhaustion that had nearly overwhelmed me just moments ago was fading fast. I licked my hand clean, each drop of blood more delicious than the last, and when there was none left, I actually found myself whining. I wanted more…

But there was no time. I was still covered in human blood, but I couldn't just stand here licking myself clean. That explosion had been loud, way too loud. I had to move. 

I dashed around the corner the thrall had come from. He had to have been coming from somewhere—hopefully not the bathroom. I threw open another set of doors, relieved they weren't locked this time. Inside, two more thralls were staring at me in surprise. They were both pretty maids, their outfits ridiculously risqué, leaving little to the imagination.

Unlike the giant I had just blown apart, I figured I could probably take these two on without wasting any magic. My body was still buzzing from the blood I'd just consumed, but I wasn't sure how much more I could push myself without collapsing.

I was mentally preparing to fight when the maid on the left spoke up, her tone eerily calm, "Do you need something, mistress? A bath, perhaps?"

"Mistress...?" I repeated, blinking in confusion. Why was she calling me that?

"Would you prefer a different title, mistress?" she asked politely, as if I wasn't standing there drenched in blood.

And that's when it hit me—these maids didn't know who I was. Not all the thralls worked in the dungeons, and these two definitely weren't part of that crowd. Most of the human servants here probably had no idea I even existed. They just assumed I was a regular vampire member of the Tepes Clan. I forced myself to stay calm, steadying my voice as I answered.

"Actually, I have some important business to attend to. I need to leave the castle immediately." I said convincingly. 

"Of course, mistress," the maid replied, not batting an eye. "We can have a car brought around to the front for you, although it is still the middle of the day. Would you prefer to use the teleportation room to avoid the sun?"

Wait—teleportation room? Vampires could teleport? Of course, they could... 

I wasn't going to question my luck. If there was a way to get out of Romania right now, I'd take it. "Yes, please escort me to the teleportation room," I said, trying to sound as regal as possible.

"Of course, mistress!" the maid smiled warmly. "Please follow me." She led me deeper into the castle. More thrall servants passed us in the halls, none so much as batted an eye at my bloody appearance. My theory was right, only the dungeon thralls would attack me on sight, and at this point we were far away from the dungeons. Hopefully I'd be long gone before they could alert the other thralls.

XXX

Welcome to another new story! I hope you all have a bloody good time reading it! 

*Crickets…*

Meh, they can't all be winners.