The night air bit at Eira's skin as she followed Caius into the dense forest surrounding Ravensmoor Castle. Moonlight filtered weakly through the twisted canopy of branches, leaving their path awash in shadows. Each step crunched against frost-covered leaves, the sound loud in the otherwise oppressive silence.
"Where are we going?" Eira asked, her voice cutting through the chill.
"To a place where distractions won't interfere," Caius said without looking back. His long strides forced her to hurry to keep pace, and she gripped the silver dagger he'd given her tighter, the cold metal almost biting into her skin.
She resisted the urge to press him further. Caius's moods were unreadable at the best of times, but tonight he seemed especially distant, his golden eyes hard as they scanned the forest ahead.
Finally, they emerged into a clearing. The moon cast pale light on the patch of open ground, revealing remnants of ancient ruins—a crumbling stone arch and the faint outline of foundations long overtaken by moss and time.
Caius stopped and turned to face her, his coat swirling with the motion. "Here," he said simply.
Eira's chest tightened. "And what, exactly, are we doing here?"
"You've made progress," Caius said, his tone clinical as he began to circle her. "But progress isn't enough. You're still hesitant. That hesitation will get you killed."
"I'm not—"
"You are," he cut her off sharply. His gaze locked onto hers, unyielding. "You hesitate because you still think of yourself as human, as fragile. But you cannot survive in my world with such weakness. Tonight, we change that."
She bristled at his words but said nothing, her fingers tightening around the hilt of the dagger.
"Show me your stance," Caius ordered.
Eira obeyed, planting her feet as he had taught her and raising the blade defensively.
"No," he said, closing the distance between them in an instant. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and twisting it just enough to make her stumble. "Your grip is wrong. You're leaving your center exposed."
She winced, adjusting as he guided her hand. His touch was cold but steady, his movements calculated.
"Again," he commanded, stepping back.
They practiced for what felt like hours, Caius's voice a constant stream of corrections and reprimands. Sweat prickled at Eira's brow despite the cold, and her arms ached from the strain of holding the dagger at the ready.
"You're still holding back," Caius said at last, his tone edged with frustration. "Is it fear, Eira? Or something else?"
Her temper flared. "I'm not afraid," she snapped.
"Good," Caius said, his lips curving into a faint, humorless smile. "Then prove it."
Before she could ask what he meant, a low, guttural growl rumbled from the shadows, raw and animalistic.
Eira's breath hitched, her body tensing as her gaze snapped toward the sound. The tree line seemed to shudder, the darkened underbrush shifting with movement. Then it emerged—a figure hunched low, its movements jerky and predatory.
The rogue vampire's skin was a deathly pale, almost luminous under the moonlight, stretched taut over sharp bones. Its glowing, feral red eyes locked onto her, filled with a maddened hunger. A snarl curled its lips back, revealing jagged fangs that glinted with the promise of violence.
Eira's stomach turned, bile rising in her throat as the memory hit her like a blade. She had seen eyes like those before—wild and starved, utterly devoid of humanity. The alleyway flashed in her mind's eye, the moment before Caius had sunk his fangs into her neck. Her heart twisted painfully, the phantom sensation of that bite clawing its way back to the surface.
Caius stepped back, his expression calm. "Your lesson begins."
"What?" she hissed, panic creeping into her voice.
"You want to survive in my world, Eira?" Caius said, his tone cold. "Then fight. Kill it, or it will kill you."
Her pulse thundered in her ears. "You're insane! I'm not ready for this!"
"No one is ever ready for their first kill," Caius said. "But hesitation will get you nothing but pain. Defend yourself, Eira. Now."
The rogue vampire lunged.
Eira barely had time to react, stumbling backward as the creature's claws swiped through the air where she had been standing moments before. She raised the dagger instinctively, her grip trembling as she tried to steady her breath.
The rogue snarled, its movements erratic but swift as it stalked closer.
"Keep your stance!" Caius barked from the sidelines.
Eira's legs felt like jelly, but she forced herself to plant her feet. When the rogue charged again, she sidestepped, slashing clumsily with the dagger. The blade grazed its arm, and the creature shrieked, spinning toward her with renewed fury.
The next moments were a blur of movement and sound—snarls, the crunch of leaves, her own ragged breathing. Eira fought to keep up, each swing of the dagger wild and desperate.
The rogue tackled her, driving her to the ground. Its claws tore at her shoulder, ripping through fabric and skin, and she screamed. Pain exploded through her as she cried out. The metallic scent of blood filled the air.
"Eira!" Caius's voice cut through the chaos. "The heart! Aim for the heart!"
Through the haze of pain and fear, Eira gritted her teeth. The rogue's snarling face loomed over her, its breath hot and rancid. With a surge of desperation, she lowered the dagger and drove it upward with all her strength.
The blade sank into the rogue's chest, piercing its heart. The creature froze, its eyes wide with shock, before collapsing on top of her.
Eira gasped for air, her entire body trembling. She shoved at the lifeless weight, the dagger slipping from her blood-slick hands.
She stared at the body, her mind struggling to process what she had just done.
"Well done," Caius said, his voice startlingly close.
Eira looked up to see him standing over her, his golden eyes gleaming with an intensity that made her stomach churn.
"Get up," he said, extending a hand.
She hesitated before taking it, his cool grip steadying her as she rose to her feet.
Her legs wobbled, and her gaze returned to the rogue's body. "I… I killed it," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Yes," Caius said simply.
Blood streamed down her shoulder, warm and sticky against her chilled skin, soaking the torn fabric of her sleeve. Each movement sent fresh spikes of pain shooting through her, and her attempts to steady herself only smeared the crimson further across her arm.
Caius gaze found her shoulder, sharp and assessing. "That looks pretty bad."
"I'm fine," Eira spat, though her voice was thin and breathless. She instinctively tried to retreat, but the rough bark of a tree pressed into her back.
"You're not," he said, his voice carrying an edge of finality as he stepped closer.
Eira swallowed hard, gripping her injured shoulder as though sheer will could stop the bleeding. "Just—just leave it. I'll handle it."
"Don't be foolish." His tone was colder now, and before she could protest further, he closed the distance between them. His tall frame blocked out the moonlight, his presence a wall of shadow and command.
"Stay still," Caius murmured, his fingers already brushing against her arm.
Eira flinched at the contact, but there was nowhere to go. He leaned in, forcing her against the tree. His hand, firm but strangely careful, peeled back the torn fabric of her sleeve, baring the jagged wound beneath.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, panic threading her words.
"I said, be still."
His voice was soft but unyielding, like steel wrapped in velvet. Eira froze as he bent his head, his face close enough that she could feel the coolness of his breath against her skin.
When his tongue swept across the torn flesh, the world seemed to lurch sideways.
The pain was sharp and immediate, like salt pressed into an open wound. She gasped, her body jerking reflexively, but his hand came up to steady her, fingers curling possessively over her uninjured shoulder. She cried out before she could stop herself.
"Stop!" her voice trembling with a mix of outrage and something she couldn't name.
His golden eyes flicked up to hers, a dangerous glint in their depths. "Do you want to bleed out?" he asked, his words clipped. "Let me heal you."
Her breath hitched as he returned to the wound, his mouth moving over the torn skin with a deliberate, almost methodical precision. The sensation was unbearable—a jarring mix of searing pain and something far more intimate. His tongue was cool against her fevered flesh, dragging along the edges of the injury in slow, unrelenting strokes.
It burned. Not like fire, but like ice splitting her veins open, an ache that cut so deeply it stole her breath. She bit her lip to keep from crying out again, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.
But beneath the pain, another sensation unfurled—darker, stranger. Each pass of his tongue sent shivers racing along her spine, her skin prickling as if it were caught between agony and electricity.
"Caius, stop," she whispered, though the words came out as a broken plea.
He ignored her, his grip tightening as he held her in place. His tongue lingered on the wound now, tracing the deepest gash with a care that bordered on reverence. Her pulse thundered in her ears, and her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps.
"Almost done," he murmured against her skin, the vibration of his voice sending a jolt through her body.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to focus on anything but the press of his mouth against her shoulder—the cool drag of his lips, the wet heat of his tongue, the way his breath fanned across her neck. Her heart hammered wildly, and she hated the way her body betrayed her, responding to him despite the pain.
Finally, he pulled back, his tongue sweeping one last time over the now-healed skin. Eira slumped against the tree, her legs trembling as the tension left her body all at once.
"There." Caius said, his voice softer now, but still edged with a quiet authority.
She opened her eyes to find him watching her, his gaze unreadable. A smear of her blood stained the corner of his mouth, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand as if it were nothing.
The pain was gone, but the memory of it lingered, etched into her skin like a phantom scar. Her shoulder felt strangely warm, almost tender, the new flesh smooth and unbroken beneath her fingers.
"That was…" Eira trailed off, struggling to find the words.
"Necessary," Caius finished for her, his voice cool.
She glared at him, her breathing still ragged. "You could have warned me."
He tilted his head, a faint smile curving his lips. "Would you have let me?"
She opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again, her anger warring with the uneasy gratitude that bubbled in her chest.
"You did well tonight," Caius said suddenly, his voice dropping into something quieter, almost gentle.
Eira stiffened, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. "I killed."
"You survived," he corrected, his gaze steady. "And more importantly, you fought. You faced death and chose life. That is not something to dismiss lightly."
There was a weight to his words, something that made her throat tighten. His praise should have felt hollow, but instead, it settled into her like a brand, equal parts unsettling and oddly comforting. Eira looked at him, her eyes wide with a mix of anger and confusion. "Is that all that matters to you? Survival?"
"Survival is everything," Caius said, his tone devoid of sympathy. "You felt that."
She clenched her fists, the blood on her hands sticky and cold. "I didn't want this."
"Want has nothing to do with it," Caius said, stepping closer. His voice softened, but his gaze remained unyielding. "You've taken your first step into my world. You should be proud."
"Proud?" Eira's voice cracked, her fury barely masking her tears. "I just killed someone!"
"A monster," Caius corrected. "A threat to you and everyone around you. Do not confuse necessity with cruelty."
Eira's chest heaved, her breaths shallow and uneven. She hated how calm he seemed, how effortlessly he dismissed the weight of what she had done.
But as her gaze shifted back to the rogue's body, a flicker of something deeper stirred within her—a grim understanding.
Caius was right. She had survived. And in his world, survival was the only thing that mattered.
The realization didn't bring her peace. It brought fear.
Fear of what she was becoming.
Fear of what he was turning her into.
"You're stronger than you think," Caius said, stepping closer. His hand rose to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering just a moment too long. "Stronger than you know."
Eira stared at him, her pulse still racing. "And if I don't want to be strong?"
His lips curved into a faint, almost dangerous smile. "That, little lamb, is no longer an option."
He stepped back, the moonlight catching the sharp planes of his face. "Come. We're done here."
Eira didn't move immediately, her legs still weak and unsteady. She touched her shoulder absently, the ghost of his touch lingering on her skin.
Whatever she had felt during those excruciating moments—pain, fear, anger—it had been burned away, leaving something raw and unfamiliar in its place.
With a shaky breath, she followed him back into the trees, her mind swirling with the realization that she would never feel the same again.