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soluversworld · 2 months ago

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Caught him in 4k! Oh wait, Both of you are...ones! - Solivan Brugmansia x Yan! G.N Reader (Smut)-(Rewriting due to mistakes)

Genre: smut, (I got a heads up. I have added female pronouns some points, I'm really sorry

Summary: —REQUEST COPIED

Reader is the same from the Sol series!

I apologize for this late, I hate this smut. I hate my writing, self doubt era came again..If you're Edgar poe allan's fan You might...enjoy a little.

I HATE THIS, THIS IS SUCH A BAD AND OLD DRAFT PLEASE, DON'T COME AFTER ME. sol is kinda top in this

( Reader is a g.n!)

words : 13k (WHY)

Content & Trigger Warnings (TWs/CWs):

Sexual Content / Heavy Suggestiveness

Sensual Touching / Physical Intimacy

Mutual Exploration / Inexperience

Strong Language / Dirty Talk (implied or actual)

Blushing / Flustered Behavior

Piercing Play (mentioned/suggested)

Power Dynamic Shifts (playful, consensual)

Mentions of Arousal (non-explicit but direct)

Emotional Vulnerability & Clinginess

Faint D/S Tension (soft dom/sub dynamics – non-explicit)

Heavy Romantic Tension / Love Confessions (implied)

Fade to Black or Cut-off Scene (depending on how you end it)

Did not proof read/Rushed.

“Take care of Sol for me, okay?”

And just like that, he walked away.

You slipped into your apartment, shutting the door behind you. The darkness wrapped around you like a second skin. You groaned, fingertips brushing the wall as you searched for the switch.

The silence buzzed in your ears.

You flicked on the lights and were greeted, as always, by the warm, flickering glow of a single bulb that probably hadn’t been changed since the dawn of time. Your apartment—your god-awful apartment—looked just as miserable as you left it.

Peeling wallpaper curled like dead skin off the corners of the ceiling. The floor creaked with every step you took, protesting your presence like the building wanted you out just as badly as your landlord did.

The place. Your apartment.

Handpicked by Mr. Z himself—how generous, right? A second-floor rat hole near the park, not far from your school. A commute on rainy days, a walk on sunny ones, like you lived some idyllic city-life dream.

It didn’t allow pets. Something about "past complaints"—as if the neighbor’s roaches weren’t already squatting rent-free in the walls. The broken window in your room? Still unfixed. And if the landlord caught wind of that, he’d chew your neck like a starving mutt.

But it wasn’t just a crappy apartment. It was yours.

Or... it was supposed to be.

The land.

The land your father entrusted to you. The land Mr. Z came to take, that smug little bastard with his crisp suits and crocodile grin, calling himself a “nice guy” while casually tossing people off metaphorical—and sometimes literal—ledges.

You had no idea why he was so willing to shoulder your rent, your food, your tuition, your entire fucking life. But deep down, you knew the truth. It was never kindness. Never charity.

It was a game.

A trade.

Your land... or your head.

You stood in the middle of your shitty apartment and tried not to shiver. Not from cold—but from how close you were to snapping. You clutched at the thought like a lifeline. That land. That land was everything. It was the one thing still tying you to your past, to your family, to your sense of self. And losing it?

You would break.

Your hands trembled. Your mind spiraled. A sharp twist of pressure built in your chest, scraping against your ribs like rusted wire. You could feel the insanity curl up your spine like vines—

—until you remembered Sol.

The pressure cracked.

You remembered how Sol tilted his head, how his voice curled around your name like a secret. You remembered his laugh. His eyes. How safe and dangerous he made you feel all at once.

And just like that—you started laughing.

You pressed both palms to your cheeks, barely able to hold your face together, tears streaking down in hot, erratic lines. Your mouth opened in a soundless gasp before it broke into messy, shaking laughter.

“FUCK...” You wheezed, half-sobbing. “Fuck, Sol...”

You dropped to your knees, the cracked tile biting into your skin. Your body rocked with hysterical laughter, voice raw.

“Heheheh—ahhh!!” You screamed. “FUCK—HAHAHA—FUCK!!”

You scrambled to your desk like a lunatic possessed, yanking out your sketchpad, markers spilling like blood across the surface. You started to draw him.

Your fingers didn’t stop moving, even as your breath hitched and stuttered, even as you cried harder and harder, smile widening until it hurt.

“Sol,” you whispered between gasps and giggles. “I saw you. I got you. I have you...”

And maybe that was the scariest part.

You weren’t scared anymore.

You were thriving.

You held your thumb, biting down on it like it could muffle the whimpers bubbling up in your throat. One hand clutching the bandages he'd left behind, still faintly smelling like him—like sweat, like warmth, like danger. You crushed them to your chest like a lifeline.

Ah... ahh... It was too much. It wasn’t enough. You wanted more. More of him. More touches. More of that soft, sinful voice that wrapped around you like silk and chains.

Your body rocked forward, a small, broken sigh slipping through clenched teeth as you leaned over your sketchpad. The lines on the paper blurred, not from poor technique—but because your eyes were swimming.

Your hand kept moving. Drawing him. Like your fingers were puppets and his memory was the puppeteer.

"A-ah..." you choked out again, lip trembling but pulled into a wide, cracked smile. Your cheeks ached. Your chest hurt. Your lungs burned. But you didn’t care.

He made you smile. He made you smile.

And that was terrifying. And that was beautiful. And that was real.

You huffed, then giggled—this sharp little exhale that turned into a manic sound that could've been a sob or a laugh or both.

Your face dropped into the crumpled bandages as you whispered,

"Why the fuck do you do this to me..."

And all you could do was draw him again. And again. And again.

You clutched the bandages to your chest, the fabric warm against your trembling skin—soaked with the scent of him, like fire, like ash. There was no relief, no escape from the madness that churned inside your bones, for you had been marked, bound in an invisible thread by a presence both suffocating and sweet.

Your thumb, trembling and pale, bit into your own flesh, the taste of salt and blood a poor attempt to smother the ache rising from within. Each movement was a silent plea, a frantic whisper to make it stop—or to make it drown you completely. Ah… ahh… It was not enough. The hunger within you, the hunger for more—more of him, more of this maddening, intoxicating thing—grew unbearable.

Ah, the drawing! The lines on the paper blurred like forgotten dreams, impossibly distorted through the heat of your fevered mind. You could feel your hand shaking as it moved, guided not by reason, but by a wretched longing to capture something of him that you could not possess. His form, his smile, his scent—how desperately you sought him in this crude reflection.

“Ah…” A sound, a whimper that escaped your lips, twisted between a sob and a laugh, hollow and broken. The act of drawing—was it an attempt at salvation or a cruel ritual that tethered you to your torment? Your chest heaved, and the corners of your lips pulled, stretched into a grin that was not your own. A grin that he had planted deep within you, like a seed of poison that bloomed with every passing thought of him.

The ache in your cheeks, the weariness in your body, could not quench the fevered delight that surged within you. He had made you smile. He had brought you this strange, sickly joy—this thing that cracked your soul wide open and spilled it for the world to see, for the world to consume.

And yet, in the depth of your torment, there was no true horror, no bitter revulsion. Only the strange sweetness that clung to you, like a drug that tasted of ruin. Your heart raced. The laughter spilled from you like a madman's confession, sharp and jagged, the weight of it bearing down on you like a thousand unseen hands. Why? Why did he do this to you?

The question, like all the others, hung in the air, unanswered, abandoned in the void where reason had long ceased to reside.

You wanted to laugh. Ah—ah!!

The sound ripped through your throat like a gasp turned inside out, manic and breathless, dancing the razor-thin line between agony and ecstasy. Your shoulders shook. Your jaw ached. The kind of laugh that bubbles up when you're far too gone to cry. The kind that doesn't ask for permission—it erupts, uninvited, like wildfire through a paper house.

Your fingers twitched, still dragging that pencil over paper like a ritual knife carving holy symbols. His eyes. His mouth. That stupid smirk that made you want to scream and kiss and bleed all at once.

"Ah—ahAHA—!" Your head tipped back. Your knees hit the floor. You clutched your sketchbook like it was a holy relic, like it was the only thing anchoring you to a body you weren’t even sure was yours anymore.

He was there. Not really— But in the lines, the scent, the burn in your lungs as you whispered, “Sol… Sol, you bastard…” A shaky breath. A grin. “What did you do to me?”

You laughed again. You had to.

Because the truth was dripping from your lips like honey-laced venom:

You liked it. You liked this. You liked him.

And that… That was the funniest part of all.

You decided to skip dinner. Again. Your stomach growled like a feral animal, but you ignored it—because food meant risk. Food meant trust. And trust was a noose you weren’t ready to slip around your neck.

You hadn’t even touched the second batch he left you. The first might’ve been drugged. Might’ve been poisoned. Might’ve been laced with something that tasted like care and went down like control.

And Sol... your dear Sol... he’d smile through it all, wouldn’t he? He’d say something sweet with those devil-dipped lips, tilt his head in that soft, curious way, like,

“Don’t you trust me?”

And you’d say yes—even if every fiber of you screamed no. Because the worst part wasn’t the fear. It was the want.

So you didn’t eat. You wrapped yourself in your blankets like armor and pretended to sleep.

Not for rest. Not for peace. But to watch him.

You kept your breathing steady, shallow, perfect. The way your body stilled, the way your lashes fluttered—convincing enough for someone who wanted to believe you were asleep.

You listened. You watched. The way he moved. The way he stood over you, like a god admiring his creation. The way the shadows kissed the curve of his jaw, how he looked down at you with something terrifying and holy in his eyes.

And in that moment, you kissed his bandages. Pressed them to your lips like a prayer, like a confession. They were still faintly warm, carrying the echo of him—his presence, his pain, his claim.

You tucked them away. With your secret stash of photos. The ones you took when he wasn’t looking.

Then, finally, you slid under the covers. Curled up in the dark.

And went to bed.

Still pretending. Still smiling. Still his.

You closed your eyes, but sleep never came. It never could, not with the way your mind thrummed, electric, on edge—waiting. Hoping. Terrified.

And then—the sound.

Clink. The window. Your window. Slight, deliberate. Like the whisper of a knife slipping between ribs.

Your breath caught. Not out of fear—no, that wasn’t it. Not really. It was him.

He’s here.

Your fingers clenched around the pillow like a lifeline, knuckles whitening. You kept your body still, perfectly still, except for the frantic hammering of your heart. Maybe if you focused on pretending, you could convince even your own nerves.

"Hm...? Still broken, huh?" That voice—his voice—low and smug and impossibly soft. It slithered around the room like smoke. "You should be careful, pumpkin..."

You almost bit your tongue holding back the laugh. Fucker. Smug, smug, smug.

You teased him in your heart, biting the inside of your cheek to stay quiet. He thinks you’re asleep. Let him. Let him play his role. He’s more dangerous when he thinks he’s the only actor on the stage. He’s more honest. More him.

You swore you could hear the grin behind that mask of his.

Clad in black from throat to toe, with a mask of matching shade obscuring his face—except those eyes. God, those eyes. Red like a dying sun. Like the first blush of spilled blood. And they were glowing.

Glowing with love. Twisted, possessive, pure.

He moved closer, each step slow, reverent. Like he didn’t want to wake you—like he wanted to devour you whole.

And then—his touch. A single finger, tracing down your cheek.

Gentle. Precise. Claiming.

Your skin tingled. Your breath nearly hitched—but you kept it steady. You had to. Your heart? That traitor was doing backflips in your ribs.

He hovered there, beside you. Watching. Worshiping.

Sol: "Look at my sleepy sweetheart..."

The voice—his voice—slithered through the chamber like a dying hymn, each syllable weighted with a reverence so profound, so profane, it might have been uttered by a mourner at a lover’s grave. His tone was not one of cheer, nor of mirth—it was the tone of a man who beheld divinity in ruin, of a soul cradling its own damnation and whispering sweet nothings to the flame.

You lay still, a corpse feigning sleep, breath shallow, lashes shuttered over trembling pupils. The air hung heavy, cloying, perfumed with rot and roses. You could feel him before you heard him—felt the heat of him as though your body were naught but tinder awaiting the match. And oh, he was fire. A slow, crawling blaze. Not the kind to light a room—but the kind that swallowed it whole.

He stepped closer, and the night moved with him. Clad in black, cloaked in silence, his mask was the color of the abyss, hiding a face carved from longing and lunacy. But his eyes—ah, his eyes—were exposed. Red as a wound. Fever-bright. As if every heartbeat carved poems into his chest, and each stanza bore your name.

Sol: "Makes me wonder who supplies Hyugo those sleeping pills."

He scoffed, low, amused, the sound curling like a grin pressed against your ear. You wanted to scream with laughter—those shitty pills don’t work, Sol, not on me, not when I’m like this. But your mouth was sealed, your jaw locked in some twisted covenant of silence. You could only pretend, could only endure—and ache.

He reached for you. Not as a man reaches for a woman—but as a moth reaches flame. Slow, reverent, inevitable.

The mask fell away.

And then his face—that face—lowered, descending like a ghost of your most debased desires. He leaned in and breathed, breathed, burying his face into the tender hollow of your shoulder. A kiss fell there, light and damning, and the shiver that racked his body was not from cold.

It was need.

He inhaled. A deep, trembling, hungry inhale. And then he shook.

Like a man who had just tasted opium and couldn’t tell whether he was floating or buried alive. You felt it—the quake of his form, the tightening of his fingers, the stuttering hum against your skin. He drew you into his lungs like the scent of rain before the flood. His drug. His madness. His.

Your body burned—your fingers clenching in your pillow, the only tether between you and the scream coiled in your throat. You wanted to moan, to shudder, to call his name with all the madness he inspired in you—but instead, you lay there in martyrdom, in silence, in delirium.

Sol: “Fuck… you smell so good…”

The words were broken glass dipped in honey.

Sol: “Pardon me.”

His lips brushed your cheek, and your soul left your body in a quiet, choking cry that never reached air. Your pulse thundered like cathedral bells during a storm, and still you held on—fingers white-knuckled in fabric, breath held like a secret between two graves.

You were not asleep.

But God, you were dreaming.

And Sol—your blessed, ruined Sol—was the dream that would gut you from the inside out.

Ah—ah! The cry lodged itself inside your throat, thick and trembling, like a hymn unsung, trapped in the cathedral of your body. The ache curled tighter in your chest, wrapping around your ribs like thorns as he leaned closer, ever closer. His shadow loomed over you like a stormcloud starved for lightning. You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t dare.

His hand—warm, calloused, trembling—slipped into yours. So slowly. So gently. A reverent act. A prayer disguised as a touch.

And oh, you wanted to squeeze back. To lace your fingers through his and hold him like he held your very breath in his palms. But you couldn’t—you mustn’t. This charade, this silent theatre of sleep, was your only sanctuary. If he knew—if he knew—the spell would shatter, and you would be lost, devoured whole by the flame you've been kissing in secret.

And then, he kissed your neck.

Soft. Tender. Possessive. The contact stole the breath from your lungs. A lightning bolt made of lips and heat. He lingered there, buried in your skin like a whisper that left bruises. And you—helpless, trembling beneath the weight of his love and your own starvation—nearly broke.

Your face. Oh God, your face. You didn’t know what expression had spilled across it, only that it must have betrayed you. Must have shown too much—too alive, too consumed, too awake. Did he see?

He paused.

Sol (in a murmur, sweet and broken): “Look at you… even in sleep, you ache for me.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to throw your arms around him, to weep into his chest and tell him, yes, yes, I do, I ache, I burn, I’m drowning in you. But your fingers only curled harder into your pillow, bones aching from restraint. He kissed your hand next—tenderly, worshipfully—as if you were porcelain and he was a priest.

Sol: “F-Fuck... you’re so sweet. It’s not fair.”

He laughed then. A low, breathless thing. Not cruel. Not amused. It was the sound of a man who had found heaven in the shape of a sleeping person—and didn’t knowthey were burning alive in their silence.

You could feel your thighs trembling. Your spine was ice and flame. And still you played your part, the sleeping beloved, untouched by the tempest that pressed its lips to your skin and called it mercy.

But in your mind? In your chest? You were already ruined.

And somewhere beneath that blanket, your fingers twitched with the ache to touch, to hold, to moan. But you didn’t.

Not yet.

Sol: “Quite ticklish, aren’t you…”

The words fell from his mouth like sin dipped in honey—gentle, taunting, worshipful. And still, he pressed forward, a man drunk on the sacred altar of your skin.

His mouth returned to that spot—that spot, right where your shoulder met your neck, the very place where your breath hitched like a dying prayer. He kissed, then licked, and kissed again—slowly, deliberately, until the tender flesh bloomed with a feverish red. A mark. A wound. A brand. His.

Sol (low, bitter): “Those filthy scums think they could touch you…”

The softness was gone. In its place—rage, veiled in grief. The sheets beneath his hands crumpled like paper under flame as his fingers curled, trembling. His breathing turned ragged, heavy with possessive anguish.

Sol: “You’re mine. No one else. No one else.”

Each word was a vow.

—each syllable trembled like a blade held to the throat of fate itself.

Sol (a whisper, venom-soft): “You belong to me…”

His voice was not loud. Oh, no. It was a hush—a murmur that crawled beneath your skin and wrapped itself around your spine like a silken garrote. The kind of whisper that could undo kingdoms. The kind that could kill.

His fury did not burn; it smoldered. A low, steady ember in the pit of his chest, threatening to rise, to consume. But not you. Never you. You were the altar at which he knelt—bloodied knees and all.

Sol: “If I ever see those bastards again…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

His hand—gentle now—rose like the tremble of a dreamer in the throes of fever. He brushed a loose strand of hair from your cheek, movements reverent, as if you might shatter under anything less than worship. Then he pressed his lips to your forehead, a kiss so delicate it felt like a prayer.

And then—oh gods, and then—his mouth grazed the corner of your lips. Just there. A ghost of a kiss. A promise. A brand.

A shiver tore through him like a tremor through the bones of the earth. His breath hitched, caught between hunger and reverence.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to tear the sky in half and pull him inside your chest and never let him go.

Your fingers curled deeper into the pillow, the only tether you had left to the lie of sleep.

You wanted to hold him—oh, how you wanted to hold him.

But still you lay there, silent and still, skin alight, nerves screaming, as his breath ghosted over your neck again.

Sol (softer now): “You’re everything…”

He buried his face there again, at the cradle of your throat, where your pulse fluttered like a secret bird beneath your skin.

He kissed it once more. Slow. Possessive.

And you nearly broke.

Your thighs clenched beneath the sheets, your chest ached, and your throat pulsed with the weight of a scream you dared not let out.

Ah—ahhh…

Your heart beat like the wings of a trapped moth—wild, doomed, and so, so in love.

After sometime, he began to put on his mask.

WHAT

NO?

WHY!?

Your body moved before your mind could catch up.

One hand darted out, fingers closing around his wrist. The other pressed against his chest—his heartbeat kicked hard under your palm, like he’d been caught mid-sin.

He froze.

Not like a man caught in the act. Like a ghost realizing it had been seen.

And then—your lips brushed his neck.

Not gentle. Not asking. A brand. A spark struck to dry leaves.

His breath hitched. Sharp. Audible. His whole body trembled above yours like the strings of a violin pulled tight—too tight.

You felt the heat rise off him in waves.

A heartbeat passed. Then another.

He whispered your name like it hurt.

Like a confession, a prayer, a curse.

His eyes—those impossible eyes, red and gold and glassy with disbelief—met yours. Wide. Unmasked. Wounded. Worshipful.

You saw it hit him all at once: you were awake. You had heard him. You had kissed him.

And you weren’t running.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, dragging him down, mouth ghosting his jawline now, hot breath against flushed skin. You wanted to drown in the scent of him, the weight of him, the ache in his touch.

He was shaking.

You’d never seen Sol shake.

He opened his mouth—maybe to speak, maybe to apologize—but all that came out was a choked sound. His hands hovered uselessly at your sides, like he didn’t know whether to hold you or fall apart.

Your forehead pressed to his. Skin to skin. No more lies.

And he whispered, barely a sound:

“…don’t leave me.”

You pulled him closer.

Not a word was spoken after that. There didn’t need to be.

That final thread snapped somewhere behind his eyes, the horror and the hunger crashing together in a kaleidoscope of realization. You didn’t forgive him.

You matched him.

“You’re not scared,” he whispered, almost reverently. “You’re not running.”

You laughed softly, cupping his face again like he was something sacred—fragile porcelain wrapped around dynamite. “Scared? Oh, Sol, I ran toward you.”

And he broke.

Right there. That beautiful, quiet little fracture. The air between you both was trembling now—charged like lightning trapped in a jar. You saw his pupils dilate fully, swallowing the gold in his irises like ink in water. His throat bobbed with a shallow swallow, and then—

“You...” he said again, like if he repeated it, maybe you’d finally flinch.

But you just smiled wider. Like a saint. Or a devil.

“I'm not dumb, Darlin!" you whispered, brushing your thumb over his lower lip. “You didn’t notice, did you? That I was baiting you just as much?”

His breath hitched. “You wanted me to—?”

“I wanted to see how far you’d go,” you cut him off, your voice featherlight, yet sharpened to a blade’s edge. “And darling, you exceeded expectations.”

He stared at you, that smug little mask he always wore peeling away at the corners. For the first time, maybe ever, Sol looked like he didn’t know what came next.

But you did.

“You asked me why I don’t hate you,” you said slowly, your lips ghosting just over his again, barely a breath apart. “The truth is…”

You leaned in, pressing your body just close enough that he could feel your heartbeat crashing against his chest like a war drum.

“Actually fuck that! I just love you! So tell me, Sol,” you purred, your voice dipped in sugar and venom, “What the hell are we gonna do with each other?”

He finally moved—only a twitch—but it was everything. His fingers clenched in your shirt, his mouth opened like he was about to confess or damn himself, but you didn’t give him the chance.

You licked the corner of his mouth, slow and deliberate. Just enough to make him freeze.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you. , brushing hair back for like a lover, like a goddamn maniac. “You thought you were the monster in this story.”

He choked on a breath.

“But I think I just proved,” you whispered, nose brushing his cheek, “that we’re both wearing the same mask, darling.”

Then, you pulled back just slightly—just enough to meet his eyes. Both of you locked there, staring into something so horrifically perfect, it almost felt holy.

“So…” you said, your voice breathless, trembling with affection and madness, “why don’t we seal it?”

He blinked. “With what…?”

You grinned like the end of the world. “A promise. A kiss. Blood whatever! I don’t really care. Just make it hurt a little, Sol—so I know it’s real.”

You couldn’t help it—you were losing your mind for him. The way Sol looked at you with those eyes—soft, adoring, like he didn’t see the frenzy boiling under your skin. Like he didn’t realize you would ruin everything just to keep him close. Just to have him like this.

And yet.

You leaned in slow, your lips brushing the corners of his mouth again and again—taunting, torturing, giving him nothing but scraps. Little kisses like broken promises. You were so cruel.

He shivered each time, chasing after your mouth like he needed it to breathe. His hands wandered desperately over your back, trying to pull you closer, closer, like he didn’t understand that you’d already crawled inside him—mentally, emotionally, obsessively.

“Hah,” you giggled, that sharp little laugh you gave only when your heart was spiraling. Your voice dipped into something unstable. Sweet. Possessive. “Do you even understand how much it hurt when you kissed everywhere but my lips?” Your breath hitched. Your eyes glistened, wide and glassy. “The corners,” you whispered, like the word itself made you tremble. “You kissed the corners, Sol. Did you know what that did to me?”

You thought he’d be scared. You thought he’d flinch. But instead—

He looked beautiful.

So beautiful you wanted to crush him. Preserve him. Pin him open like a butterfly and say “mine.”

And then, finally—finally, your lips crashed against his. No teasing. No space. Just the kind of kiss that says you belong to me and I’ll break you before I ever let go. You held it, mouths locked together like you could pour your love down his throat.

Only when oxygen clawed at your lungs did you break away, panting.

Sol gasped—so pretty when he gasps—then surged back in. His tongue traced your lower lip, trembling, gentle, desperate. It shocked a breathy sound from your throat, high and too sweet. But your body didn’t hesitate—of course it didn’t.

He tugged you down by the back of your head, pulling you deeper, swallowing every sound you made. You were still on top of him, legs bracketing his hips, his mouth warm and wet and starved for you—just like you were for him.

Tongues tangled. Spit shared. You kissed him like you wanted to carve the memory into your bones. Like your heart would stop if you didn’t.

You shifted your weight to one arm, just enough to free your hand—because you needed to touch him. Not wanted. Needed. Craved it like air. Your fingers ghosted down the front of his shirt, the rough weave scratching delicately against your skin like it was daring you to go further.

But the way he wore it—tucked in all proper, all teasingly inaccessible—almost made you laugh. Was he trying to make you work for it? You didn’t mind. You liked peeling him apart.

Pinching the hem, you tugged the fabric free from his waistband, deliberately slow. Watching him. Waiting to see if he’d stop you. He didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

Your hand slid beneath the shirt, palm pressing flat against the heat of his stomach. His skin twitched under your touch. His breath stuttered—oh, he was trying to hold it in. Cute. That only made you push higher.

Sol let out a shuddering gasp and leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath—hot and uneven—brushed against your lips, your cheeks. You drank it in like it was sacred.

Your hand moved higher, fingertips skimming up until they found the firm curve of his pecs. You let your palm settle there, then squeezed—not gently. You wanted to feel him tremble. You wanted him to know it was you who made him weak.

And he did. His fist found your nightwear, fingers curling tight in the fabric, pulling at it like he couldn’t stand the tension building in his chest. His lips parted—but whatever he said was lost in a breathy, strangled sound. Mumbled. Meaningless.

Didn’t matter.

You translated for him. The whimper in his throat. The way his body leaned into your touch, even as it shuddered. You knew exactly what it meant.

He liked it. He liked you.

Your fingers roamed again, tracing every muscle, every dip and ridge like you were memorizing it for the last time. Sometimes you squeezed, just hard enough to watch him flinch—just hard enough to remind him he was yours. Entirely, irrevocably yours.

And he was so good for you. So beautiful, shaking under your touch like that.

God, you loved him.

You’d carve his name into your soul if it meant never losing this feeling.

Sol pulled you in like he couldn’t bear a single molecule of distance. His arms locked tight across your back and waist, holding you as if he was afraid you might vanish, might dissolve in the heat of the moment if he didn’t anchor you.

When his lips met yours, it was anything but gentle. The pressure—his mouth, his arms, his presence—closed around you like a vise. His legs shifted against yours, slotting into place along your sides, and for one brief moment, you thought: He’s letting me drown in him.

And then—without warning—he moved.

Your stomach flipped as Sol rolled you both over in one fluid motion, suddenly slamming you against the mattress with a low thud. You gasped, the breath ripped from your lungs not just by the motion but by the sheer force of him—the way he hovered over you now, the air thick with heat and tension, and something desperate clawing at both your chests.

The kiss had broken—but barely. A thread still tied you together, breath mingling, lips centimeters apart. His eyes remained closed like he was savoring the memory of the kiss… or afraid that if he looked, he’d see regret on your face.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Not when he was above you like this. Not when your body screamed finally, finally, finally.

When he finally let his eyelids flutter open, heavy-lidded and glassy with emotion, he blinked down at you.

And something shifted.

Because that’s when he realized. Realized what he’d done. The position. The weight. The pinning. The overwhelming closeness. And how you weren’t pulling away.

How you were staring up at him like he’d just handed you the entire world.

How your fingers gripped his biceps like they belonged there.

How you wanted more.

“Ehh, Sol,” you muttered, breath still hot and heavy against his lips, “you can actually top.”

He froze. Blinked. You felt the tension ripple through his whole body like a wave crashing—and then retracting.

His face went red.

The kind of blush that climbed from his neck all the way up to his ears, like his body was trying to reboot but the wires got crossed somewhere in his brain. His grip faltered just a bit. His mouth opened—no words.

Oh no.

You ruined it. You ruined the moment.

…Except—you didn’t think so. You thought he was adorable.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, suddenly hit by an overwhelming urge. “You’re so cute I’m gonna die.”

Before he could react, you reached up and squished his cheeks together with both hands, making him pout involuntarily.

“Jesus Christ, look at you! You’re blushing! Over me!”

“Y-Y/N—!”

You giggled. Cackled, actually. Then you leaned up and kissed the tip of his nose like you were branding it, your lips lingering obnoxiously long just to watch his brain implode in real time.

He went stiff. Completely red. Entire systems down. Emotion.exe stopped responding.

Sol.exe has stopped working.

“…You’re not normal,” he mumbled, stunned. But his hands were still on you. And his eyes were soft. And his heart was sprinting.

“And yet you’re still on top of me,” you whispered, eyes gleaming, voice soft but dangerous. “Who’s the real weirdo here, Sol?”

He didn’t answer.

Sol’s breath hitched like he’d just been shot—by you, no less, loaded gun of a smile and that kiss to his forehead still echoing in his bones. He clutched at your sides like you were vanishing fog, blinking too fast, lips trembling around syllables that never made it out alive.

“You.. I… you r-really mean—” kiss Another one. Right to his temple this time. Gentle. Grounding. And ruining him.

His face flushed all the way to his ears, blotchy and blooming like a fever dream. Pupils blown wide, chest rising like he was preparing to confess to something unforgivable—or to worship.

And then your eyes dipped down. Your grin twisted. That deranged little sparkle lit behind your lashes.

“Oh... Sol,” you purred like you’d caught a secret. “You’re really…”

He looked mortified. Not from shame—no, shame couldn’t shake a boy like this—it was desperation. He was trying not to die. Trying not to implode right here in front of you.

Your laugh—God, that laugh—shattered the moment like a mirror.

“You’re hard already?” You cooed. “That forehead kiss really did you in, huh?” His hands were trembling now, clutching fabric like he could anchor himself through sheer will.

“I– I didn’t mean— it’s not— you kissed me and I just—!”

“Shhh,” you cut him off, thumb stroking over his cheek. “Even though I wanna take the lead…” Your voice dipped lower, silk wrapping around a blade. “I wanna see what you can do.”

You felt him twitch.

“I’ll have my turn later,” you whispered, almost reverent, almost cruel. “But tonight? Tonight we’re gonna help ourselves to everything. Slowly.” You leaned in close, nose brushing his too..

He exhaled like he’d been gut-punched by God.

His voice was barely there, breathy and wrecked already, like the mere idea of asking might ruin him:

“Can I… can I kiss you?”

God, as if he had to ask.

You leaned in, voice low and honey-slick, almost cruel with how soft it was: “You don’t have to ask.”

And then your hand—slow, deliberate—dragged up the inside of his thigh. You felt the jolt run through him, like a shiver made flesh, hips twitching the tiniest bit under your touch. His breath caught like he’d been holding it all night just for this moment.

He kissed you.

But not shy. Not sweet.

Starved.

It started slow, lips brushing like he was scared you might vanish mid-breath, but then he melted—tongue tracing yours, cautious at first, then bolder, desperate. His hands found your waist, fingers splayed wide, clutching like he needed you to stay real beneath him. You tasted the heat off him, tasted the tension and want and the way he kept breathing your name in pieces between kisses.

Your fingers gripped tighter on his thigh, and he gasped into your mouth, swallowing it back with another kiss, deeper this time, wetter, messier. His tongue moved with a purpose now—slow licks, teasing flicks, a rhythm he built between stolen gasps and muffled whimpers.

He kissed like he’d been dreaming of it for months. Like you were the only god he’d ever pray to again. Like every second without your mouth was a curse undone only by this.

And when you finally pulled back, breathless and dazed, your lips swollen and his pupils devouring you whole—

You whispered against his mouth, “Sol… you kiss like you’re gonna die without it.”

He just moaned softly, forehead dropping to your shoulder, and shook.

Your hand threaded through that wild mane—black with streaks of radioactive green, warm from the heat pooling between you. His hair was soft despite the chaos, falling like ink between your fingers, that middle bang brushing your nose as you tilted his head just right.

You murmured, "Let me see you," and he did—eyes fluttering open, and fuck, they glowed. That twisted sunburst of color: burnt orange at the core, ringed in blood-red. Like staring into the last seconds before a supernova.

Then, oh… oh, you got greedy.

You kissed the spider bites on his lip first—just a soft nip, enough to make him shiver, then soothe it with your tongue. He whimpered, voice cracking like a prayer slipping into sin. Next? That long upside-down cross earring. You took the chain between your teeth and tugged it. A small sound escaped him—half gasp, half please—as your fingers trailed down his neck to his choker.

You nipped that buckle too. Clink. Your teeth caught the edge, and he twitched beneath you, body tense, breath caught somewhere between a sob and a moan.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice barely hanging on. “You’re—ah—cruel—”

“Oh!!!" you purred, kissing up the line of his jaw, “we’re not even halfway.”

And then came the piercings.

You kissed each of them. Every little stud, hoop, and ring you could get your mouth on. You nipped, licked, and grazed teeth along every piece like they were your own personal playground. You even whispered to each one like they were separate lovers.

Left ear first—lobe stud, then the helix. Your tongue flicked over the metal, and he arched. Right ear next—double helix, slow kisses between them, then one quick bite that made his hips jerk. Then? The necklace—that key. You bit down on it and dragged your mouth up the chain like you were unlocking every inch of him.

And gods, when you finally tugged up his shirt and saw those nipple piercings—

You moaned like you’d found treasure.

“Awh, Sol… these? These are mine now.”

You nipped one with your teeth, and he cried out, thighs clenching, head thrown back so fast it nearly knocked you off-balance.

He was shaking. Writhing. You hadn’t even touched the hard part of him again yet.

And that was the plan.

"You're gonna beg, sweetheart," you whispered, lips brushing the metal again. "One piercing at a time."

You kissed them—slow and savoring. Each nipple ring cool against your lips at first, but that changed fast, your breath warming the metal, your tongue flicking against it just to hear him gasp. The piercings twitched with every flick, every soft suck.

His hands fisted the sheets, hips lifting without permission, a helpless grind into nothing. "Fuck—" he hissed, voice strangled, barely hanging on.

Your tongue circled one of the hoops, slow as sin, before you sucked—deep and filthy, like your mouth had every right to claim it. He whimpered, and the sound was wrecked. Like he was unraveling beneath you.

“Sensitive?” you teased, dragging your teeth along the ring before biting down just enough to make his back arch. “Thought you could handle a little attention.”

You switched sides, letting your mouth trail across his chest, kissing the space between—slow, possessive, like you were mapping him out. When you reached the other piercing, you didn’t wait. You closed your mouth around it and sucked hard, lips tugging until he moaned so pretty for you, like he'd forgotten how to breathe.

One hand stayed on his chest, keeping him steady. The other slid down—slow, slow—to rest just above his waistband. Not touching yet. Not giving—just threatening. Teasing.

"You’re falling apart and I’ve barely even started," you whispered, breath ghosting hot across his chest. "Gonna let me ruin you, Sol?"

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His mouth was open, pupils blown wide, chest heaving under your lips.

So you kissed the ring again—gentler this time, a silent good boy—and smiled against his skin.

"Don’t worry," you murmured, "I’ll take my time."

Your palm hovered just above the heat between you, barely grazing, and still—you felt it. Throbbing. Desperate. So hard it almost ached to look at. Sol’s breath hitched the second your fingers brushed over him, even through the layers. His hips twitched up, chasing the contact like he couldn't help himself anymore.

“I wanna help you,” you breathed, voice thick, trembling. “I wanna make you feel good, Sol…”

His name tasted like devotion and danger on your tongue. Your eyes, glossy and glassy, locked with his—and God, the way he looked back at you, pupils drowned in red and gold, lips parted, flushed and shining from where you'd kissed him raw… He looked like he’d break if you stopped. Like you were the only thing keeping him together.

"Please," he whispered, broken and breathless. “I… I need you…”

You pressed your forehead to his, panting together, your breaths hitching and stuttering in tandem. Two heartbeats pounding in sync, two souls tangled in fever. Your free hand came up to cradle his jaw as your lips ghosted over his—kissing without kissing.

Then you said it. Sweet and deranged, like a promise only you could deliver:

“This night’s for us. We’re gonna do everything, Sol… every slow, messy, perfect thing…”

And your hand slid lower, down, down—ready to show him exactly how much love you had to give.

Your breath hitched—not from the crushing hug (though god, Sol really didn’t know his strength), but from the heat radiating off him. That sound… the unmistakable, slow click of a belt being unbuckled. You froze, blinking up at him as he pulled you even closer, burying his face into your neck, like he was trying to hide the sheer intensity blazing across his flushed skin.

“Y-you don’t have to know everything…” he whispered, voice low, strained, shaky with nerves and want. “I’ll… I’ll teach you. If you’ll let me.”

Then you peeked under the covers—and there it was.

Throbbing.

Your cheeks flushed so fast it felt like a fever. You couldn’t look away. His cock twitched, hard and leaking, resting against the slope of his thigh, flushed so dark it almost looked angry. You swallowed hard, lips parting on a shaky breath as your eyes darted back to his face.

Sol wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t teasing. He looked completely wrecked just from being seen.

“You’re so beautiful like this…” you said before you could even think to be embarrassed.

His arms tightened around you like he was afraid you’d vanish.

Your hand wrapped around him again—this time softer, a trembling curiosity guiding your touch. Sol gasped, his whole body jolting like you'd struck a nerve, forehead pressing hard against yours as he choked back another moan. His lips hovered just above yours, parted, hungry, desperate.

“D-don’t hold so tight,” he whispered, the breath of it fanning across your cheek, voice raw and pleading. “J-just�� yeah. Like that…”

You adjusted instinctively, sliding your palm down the length of him with slow, reverent strokes. The way he reacted—hips twitching, lips falling open with another helpless sound—made your stomach clench with molten need. God, he was beautiful like this. Ruined just by your hands. Yours.

He groaned your name like it was the only word left in his vocabulary, each syllable dripping with devotion. His head tipped back, throat exposed, sweat-slicked skin gleaming in the low light. You couldn’t stop yourself—your lips found the curve of his jaw, then his throat, tasting the salt of his skin as he shuddered under your touch.

Your pace quickened. He was getting louder. So were you.

And when he kissed you again, it wasn’t careful. It was consuming. Teeth, tongue, heat. A clash of need and reverence, of wanting to devour and worship at once. You moaned into his mouth..

He cried out your name like it was a prayer and a curse in one—shattered against your hand, clinging to your body like a lifeline, hips stuttering as he finally, finally let go.

Warmth spilled across your clothes, thick and hot, soaking the front of your nightwear..

Both of you froze.

Sol’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and dazed, then dropped to the ruined fabric between you. His entire face flushed crimson.

“...Oh f-fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, voice still broken from the high. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

You stared at the mess, then back up at him. Your smile was slow and wicked.

“Well, someone owes me laundry,” you murmured, leaning in to steal a kiss from his swollen lips. He melted into it immediately, pliant and eager, still twitching from the aftershocks.

Then you pulled back just enough to whisper, breath hot against his mouth:

“How are you gonna make it up to me, Sol?”

His eyes widened—then darkened. Hands trembling, he cupped your cheeks, like you were something holy. Something he’d ruin again and again just to worship better the next time.

"I'll....!"

His breath hitched as you tilted your head, offering your neck like an invitation, like a challenge. And Sol? He was never one to back down from a dare—especially not when it tasted like your skin and sounded like your voice moaning his name like sin.

“You sure?” he whispered, voice hoarse and reverent. His fingers ghosted down your sides, just shy of where you really wanted them. “You know what happens when you tell me I can start…”

You didn’t answer with words—just arched your hips, smug and wicked, watching his pupils blow wide. That was answer enough.

Sol’s hands moved with a hunger he could barely hide anymore, sliding under your wear to trace the slope of your waist, then curling possessively around your hips like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You tease me like that,” he muttered against your collarbone, lips brushing the heat of your pulse, “and expect me to behave?”

He bit down gently, enough to make you gasp—then soothed the sting with his tongue. Marking you, loving you. He trailed kisses down the side of your neck, slow and messy, until he reached the hollow between your shoulder and throat. He sucked a deep bruise there, then pulled back just to admire his work.

“Mine,” he whispered. “Mine.”

His hands slipped lower—one grounding you by your hip, the other sliding down between your thighs, teasing the waistband like he wanted permission even now. But you’d already handed him the reins. And the rope. And maybe the whole damn chariot.

You gasped when his fingers dipped in—just one at first, slow and gentle, testing. You clenched around him immediately, and his breath caught.

“Oh my god,” he moaned softly, forehead pressing to your shoulder. “You’re already—fuck, you feel so good.”

He didn’t even give you time to catch your breath before the second joined in. His rhythm was deliberate—patient, almost reverent—but the way he curled them? Filthy. Perfect. Designed to make you sing for him.

And sing you did.

Every whimper you gave, every gasp and curse and half-begged Sol, had his cock twitching against your thigh again. But he didn’t rush. Not yet. He was watching you—fixated, obsessed, cataloging every flutter of your lashes, every hitch of your breath, like you were a song he was learning by heart.

“God, you’re so beautiful when you get like this,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw. “All smug and cocky one second, then falling apart for me the next…”

He kissed your cheek, then your temple, then buried his face against your neck, fingers picking up speed as your hips rocked into his hand.

“I wanna ruin you slow,” he murmured. “I want to. Make you cry out so sweet no one’ll ever look at you again without knowing you’re mine.”

You moaned his name—raw, needy—and that was it. His pace faltered, then grew firmer. Deeper. Devoted.

You could feel the heat coiling tighter in your belly, dragging you under with every curl of his fingers, every dark promise against your skin.

His fingers hovered over your chest, tracing the lines of your body with a slow, deliberate touch. It was almost torturous, the way he teased—lingering, never quite touching where you needed it, like he was savoring the way your body reacted to each brush of his fingertips.

"You feel so good," Sol murmured, eyes dark with desire as they dropped to your chest, his breath hot against your skin. His lips followed the trail his fingers had just left, trailing kisses down the curve of your neck and then across your collarbone, moving lower with each slow exhale.

The pressure on your chest was light at first—barely there, like he was testing the waters—but you knew better than to mistake it for innocence. His touch was possessive, controlled, a slow burn that had you gasping, heart racing.

He grazed over the soft fabric of your shirt, fingertips just brushing your skin, making you crave more. "You like this, don’t you?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, like he was enjoying the power he had over you, the way you melted under his touch.

Without waiting for an answer, Sol's hand slid beneath your shirt, cupping your chest with a possessive pressure. The heat from his palm spread through your body like wildfire. He didn’t hold back, kneading and massaging gently, just enough to make you shiver, to make you ache for more.

He loved the way you responded—so responsive, so eager to give him what he wanted. His thumb brushed over your nipple, once, twice—deliberate, circling, drawing out a whimper from your lips. He smiled at that sound, pressing his chest to yours, the weight of his body only adding to the intensity.

"I won't let an- Not him....Especially him....," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His other hand slid to your thigh, squeezing, giving a subtle push to coax you closer to him.

"Y/n.."

You gasped, your chest rising sharply with each breath as his touch became more insistent, more demanding. Each stroke sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel your body responding, tightening, yearning for more of his hands, his touch.

Sol’s mouth found yours again, messy and desperate, and he groaned into your lips as his hands kept working you over, feeling every inch of you like he couldn't get enough. His fingers were all over you now, pulling at your shirt, tugging it off with impatient desperation.

Sol’s hands roamed over your body, the facade you’d been holding onto—your smug control—started to slip, thread by thread. His touch was unrelenting, driving you closer to the edge, pulling out the needy parts of you that you usually kept buried beneath layers of deflection.

Your breath hitched as his fingers slid down to the sensitive spot on your inner thigh, the heat radiating from his touch setting your skin ablaze. You tried to hold it together, tried to keep your usual cool, but it was becoming harder and harder with each passing second. His teasing was pushing you past the point of control.

“Sol...” Your voice came out breathless, softer than you meant it to be, a desperate plea slipping from your lips before you could catch it.

He paused, just for a moment, his fingers hovering on your skin as he looked up at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. The corner of his mouth lifted, but it wasn’t that cocky smirk you were used to—it was softer, almost knowing. Like he could finally see through you, see that all that smugness you’d been holding onto was just a shell.

“Are you finally gonna let go?” he whispered, his voice laced with something far more tender than you expected, despite the hunger in his eyes. “You need me, don’t you?”

You tried to bite back a moan, tried to hold onto the last shreds of your defiance, but it was impossible. The need was there—aching, overwhelming, raw—and you couldn’t hide it anymore. You gave him a look that was no longer playful or mocking. It was pleading, exposed, a silent surrender.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly. “I need you.”

Sol’s breath caught, the realization dawning on him as he saw the shift in you—how you were no longer in control, no longer the one who was teasing and taking what you wanted. Now, you were the one needing, the one falling apart in his hands. His eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw the raw intensity of his desire match yours.

“I need you, too,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with something deeper than lust—something possessive, something real. His hand moved again, more urgently now, as if he couldn’t wait any longer.

The shift in the air was palpable now, the balance of power changing in the space between you. He was no longer just teasing you—he was giving you what you craved, just as you had given him everything he wanted. Your walls were gone, shattered by the intensity of his touch, and now all that was left was the raw need you both shared.

He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear with a sinful sort of gentleness. “I said I was gonna go in,” Sol murmured, voice thick with promise—and before you could even gasp out a “Wait—”

—his fingers pushed in.

The sudden stretch made you jolt, hips instinctively jerking forward into his hand. The gasp that left your throat was half surprise, half moan, and your fingers clenched tight around the fabric of his shirt.

He didn’t stop—no, he curled them slow, deliberate, like he was already memorizing the shape of you, the way you reacted, every twitch and breath and tremble. You bit your lip, but that smug composure you wore so well? Gone. Utterly demolished.

Sol noticed. Oh, he noticed. And he looked so smug about it.

"Thought you were the one teasing me," he whispered, kissing your jaw, his fingers moving with aching patience. "But you're already falling apart on me, Pumpkin."

You tried to glare. You really did. But all that came out was a whimper as he added a second finger, your body tightening around him, breath coming in short, shaky bursts.

“You're...!” he murmured, dragging his lips down your neck, tongue teasing the skin before he bit down just hard enough to leave a mark. “I'm making you feel like this. No one will ever...!”

Your head tipped back against the pillow, overwhelmed—by the heat, the stretch, him. Your legs fell open just a little more without thinking, hips starting to rock in slow, desperate rhythm against his hand.

"You're clenching so tight, Pumpkin." he muttered, mouth brushing your ear again, "Like you don’t wanna let me go. Like your body knows it’s mine.”

You let out something between a curse and a plea, and Sol—bless his sinful heart—just chuckled low in his throat, fingers working deeper, stroking just right.

His cock pressed against your sex, hot and heavy, his other hand still between your thighs—fingers slick with everything you gave him. His breath stuttered, voice low and wrecked as he leaned in, lips ghosting over yours.

“You’re ready, aren’t you?” he murmured. “So damn warm around my fingers… can only imagine how good you’ll feel around this.”

Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, nails leaving faint trails as your body trembled under the weight of him. You barely had a second to respond before—

He pushed in.

Slow, relentless, deep—filling you with every inch, drawing a strangled sound from your throat as your forehead dropped to his shoulder. The stretch had your whole body clenching, trying to breathe through the overwhelming fullness, the way every nerve lit up under his touch.

“F-fuck,” Sol hissed into your neck, voice thick with awe. “You take me so well… like you were made for me.”

That did something to you. Your whole body reacted—pulling him in closer, tighter—and he groaned, caught between control and desperation. One hand slid up your chest, teasing and playing with every sensitive spot he could find, making your hips rock helplessly into his.

He started to move. Slow at first—deliberate, dragging each thrust out to feel every inch of you shudder around him. You couldn’t pretend anymore. The smug mask you wore had shattered, replaced by whimpers and gasps and the way your nails bit into his skin.

And he was drinking it all in. Obsessed. Devoted.

He kissed you again—hot and hungry, his tongue slipping against yours, coaxing more of those beautiful sounds from your lips. He needed them. Needed you.

“Too much—ah! S-Sol…!” you choked out, barely holding onto words as your body arched into him, trembling and raw with every overwhelming sensation.

His rhythm faltered, just for a breath, and his gaze flicked up to meet yours—concern and lust tangled in those deep, dark eyes.

“Wanna be on top this time?” he rasped, voice soft but hoarse with need. “You can set the pace... take what you need.”

You tried to nod, but the moment you moved, your limbs faltered. You were boneless, wrecked, trembling from the aftershocks still rolling through your nerves. “I… I-I—” you tried, but the words melted against your tongue, leaving you breathless and aching.

He kissed you. Slow and reverent. A kiss that tasted like yes.

You shifted, trying to reposition yourself with what little strength you had left—but your body shivered from the stretch, the heat, the sheer intensity of him still buried inside you.

“Hey, hey…” Sol whispered, arms catching you gently. “Let me help you, pumpkin.”

He guided your hips with a care that almost made you cry—like you were something precious, like he could fall apart just watching you fall apart. The moment you finally sank down on him again, your back bowed, a sharp cry slipping from your lips as your hand flew to your mouth—biting into your thumb and nail just to ground yourself.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, watching your reaction like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “You feel incredible... Look at you.”

Your breath stuttered. His hands cradled your waist, steadying you, but you could feel his restraint unraveling with every passing second.

“You’re doing so good,” he breathed. “You’re perfect like this. Want me to move with you? Or… just let you take what you want?”

You swallowed hard, still biting your thumb, unable to answer—so you just rocked your hips experimentally, and shuddered when the sensation ripped through you like lightning.

Your moan came out shattered.

And Sol?

He looked like he’d die happily just to hear that sound again.

Your forehead pressed to the crook of his neck, lips brushing over the sensitive skin there as you tried—tried—to move.

He held you close, arms wrapped tight around your back like he could fuse you to him, breathing heavy and ragged against your shoulder. “You okay?” he murmured, his voice low and trembling.

You nodded against his neck. “Y-Yeah, I just—” You shifted your hips, slow and shaky, but even that made your breath hitch and your legs quiver. The overstimulation hit like a wave, rolling up your spine and curling your toes.

Then again. Just one more push. Just one more move.

Your thighs shook. You bit your lip. Everything felt too good, too much, and it made your muscles jelly.

“Shit,” you hissed, nails digging into his back. “What’s… wrong with me?” You half-laughed, half-whimpered, breath catching in your throat. “Why am I so—why are you so damn deep?”

Sol’s arms tightened around you instantly, and you felt it—the way his breath stuttered, the way his heart slammed in his chest right against yours. That wicked, warm chuckle rumbled through him.

“Guess I just fit you too well,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “Or maybe you’re just that gone for me, huh?”

You whimpered, biting your knuckle again. He tilted your head back gently, nose brushing yours, voice thick with a mix of awe and filth.

“You’re not broken,” he said, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your throat. “You’re just so full of me you don’t know what to do. Let me help.”

And before you could protest—he rolled his hips up into you.

Slow. Smooth. Deep.

“Guess I’ll have to help a little,” Sol murmured against your ear, voice honey-slick and low.

His hands moved to steady your hips, fingers splayed wide as he guided you slowly—gently—down again. Your breath hitched hard, every nerve flaring as you sank into the heat of him. He was already shaking, just from watching you fall apart above him.

“You’re really trembling inside,” he groaned, awe and reverence tangled in his voice. “Pumpkin… I never thought we’d be doing this. Not like this. Not so—” His voice cracked as he looked up at you. “So close.”

You tried to say something back, but all you could do was whimper, your voice lost somewhere between need and disbelief. Your face was burning, your whole body flushed from the inside out.

And Sol saw it—every flicker of emotion, every twitch of your lips, every clench of your fingers in his hair.

His thumb brushed your cheekbone. “Your face right now…” He looked wrecked. Adoring. “I wanna satisfy you more. Make you fall apart again. And again. Until that smug little mask drops for good.”

You leaned down to kiss him, slow and deep, your fingers curling in the sheets. Sol met you halfway, hands still guiding you, breath syncing with yours as the rhythm built between you like a secret language only your bodies could speak.

n Sol’s eyes—something darker, more needy than you’d seen before. His hands were still guiding you, but they were trembling now, almost desperately, as if he was afraid you might slip away from him. His chest rose and fell with each strained breath, and his gaze never left your face, burning with intensity.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, voice rougher than before. “I can feel every inch of you. Your heart, your breath, your body... I can’t get enough of it.”

His lips brushed against your throat, hot and possessive, as if marking you, claiming you with each kiss. It was almost as if he couldn’t stop himself, like he was driven by something more than lust—need. You could feel it in the way his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, urging you deeper. His lips trailed along your jaw, desperate but gentle, like he was savoring every second of this.

“Don’t... don’t pull away,” Sol gasped, his voice low, strained. “I need you... I need you with me. Don’t go anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you tighter against him, the heat of his body radiating like a furnace. He kissed you again, his touch becoming more urgent, more possessive, until you could feel the weight of his emotions crashing into you—raw, unfiltered, as if he were willing to burn everything just to keep you here.

And in that moment, you realized: it wasn’t just his body that he was offering—it was his soul, his vulnerability, his fear of losing you.

His words were barely a whisper against your skin: “You’re mine, right? You’re not going anywhere...”

"Sol... shit, I—" Your voice cracked on the edge of a gasp, spine arching helplessly into his touch. "I’ve never been so—so greedy... I need more..."

Your words were barely coherent, trembling out of you like confessions in the dark. You clung to him, breath hitching with every aching movement. Your whole body felt too hot, too sensitive, too full—like one more touch would shatter you completely.

And Sol, sweet Sol, was smiling down at you with a look so tender it hurt. His fingers were still working you open, slowly, lovingly, obsessively—his other hand cradling your cheek as if you might break. You looked up and—fuck—you were gone.

“Hey, Y/N,” he whispered, voice syrup-sweet, eyes glittering with something deranged and soft all at once. “Look at me.”

You did—and instantly regretted it, because those eyes—those spiraling, impossible eyes—locked you in place. That inner ring of burning orange, surrounded by crimson-red, swallowed you whole. Your breath caught. You couldn't look away if you tried.

“Swear to me,” he murmured, his voice suddenly trembling at the edges. “Swear you’ll stay with me. Always. I need to hear you say it.”

“I—I’ll stay,” you gasped, lips brushing against his. “I’ll stay w-with you, Sol—Sol!! AHHH—!”

Your words broke off in a cry as another wave hit, tearing through your body. His name was the only thing left on your tongue. Your thoughts dissolved completely, leaving behind only raw need and that voice—his voice—telling you how good you were, how much he wanted you, how much he needed you to stay.

Sol kissed your cheek, then your neck, then your lips again, all while whispering like a man possessed: “That’s right. Mine. You’re mine, pumpkin... forever.”

His arms wrapped tighter around you, and you could feel his heartbeat hammering against yours—wild, unhinged, terrified in its own way.

No one had ever held you like that. No one had ever wanted you like that.

Sol started to move—slow at first, like he was savoring the moment, savoring you. Every shift of his hips sent another shock of heat through your already overwhelmed body, and you couldn’t stop the gasps that tumbled from your lips, couldn’t hold back the broken whimpers as the pleasure spiraled way past what you thought you could take.

You were barely conscious of your own voice—just helpless, dazed sounds between half-finished words, desperate declarations tumbling from your mouth like confessions in a fever dream.

“C-can’t... can’t think—ah, Sol—! I wanna stay—I belong to you—!”

Those words snapped something inside him.

He froze for half a second—just one—but his breath hitched, his grip on you tightening as if he was anchoring himself in your heat, your need, your truth

His eyes were wide, glassy with something raw—something shattering. And then he moved again, with more force, more need, like your words had sunk straight into the core of him and detonated.

"Say it again," Sol gasped, voice cracking like his heart was too full, too fragile. "Say you belong to me—"

You couldn’t even speak. Your body was trembling, helpless in his arms, your face pressed to the crook of his neck as he held you like he’d never let go. All you could manage was a choked, breathless whimper of his name, and that was enough. Too much.

He kissed the side of your face like he was praying. Like you were sacred. Like he'd break if he ever lost you.

"You’re mine," he whispered hoarsely, a promise and a plea. “You’re mine and I’m yours and—gods, I don’t care if this world burns, just stay with me.”

You tried to nod—tried to respond—but the waves crashing through your body stole everything. Your breath. Your thoughts. Even your strength. You could only cling, nails digging into the fabric on his back as your body arched into his, as he moved faster, deeper into whatever bond had fused your souls together.

Sol was unraveling. You could feel it—every sound he made, every tremble in his voice, every desperate grind of his hips said the same thing:

"I love you. I need you. I can’t lose you."

And just when it felt like your world would collapse from the inside out—

He buried his face against your neck, gasping raggedly. "Y/N—!!" His voice cracked as he reached his peak, breath hitching, movements slowing into deep, shaking pulses. You felt him fall apart around you, within you, every bit of that obsessive love spilling out in every broken whisper and trembling kiss.

And even in the aftermath—panting, sweaty, and trembling in his arms—you knew:

This wasn’t just need.

It was devotion. It was possession. It was love—sharp-edged, overwhelming, maybe even dangerous.

You didn’t even know when it shifted—when your legs were pushed back, when his weight settled over you like a storm you couldn’t escape, didn’t want to. Sol’s hands gripped under your knees, spreading you open with a reverence that burned. His gaze locked to yours, wild and worshipping, like he could see straight into your marrow and wanted to carve his name into every inch of it.

"Look at me," he panted, voice low and ragged. "I need you to feel how much I want you—how much I need you. Like this. Always like this."

Then he sank back in.

Deep. Full. Unyielding.

You cried out, fingers scrambling at his shoulders, overwhelmed by the sheer stretch, the impossible closeness. His body caged yours, chest pressed flush to yours, his mouth kissing your tears away even as he wrecked you with every thrust—slow at first, almost reverent.

But it didn’t stay slow.

He snapped his hips forward, hard, fast—desperate.

The sound of skin on skin echoed, lewd and dizzying, your broken moans swallowed by his kiss. His arms trembled with restraint, but his pace never stopped, hips grinding in deep with every stroke like he was trying to brand himself into your bones.

“I can feel you,” he gasped against your mouth. “Clenching around me like you were made for me—like you belong to me.”

Your body gave no answer, only a choked sob of pleasure that made his pupils blow wide, made his control unravel at the seams. He hooked your thighs tighter around his waist, angling himself just right until stars exploded behind your eyes.

And when you cried out his name again, broken and raw and holy, Sol lost it.

He slammed into you with a grunt, forehead pressed to yours, hands trembling as he moved faster, harder, chasing something that felt more like a fall than a climax. “That’s it—take it, take all of me—”

You were shaking, overstimulated and breathless, but he wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t. His rhythm turned erratic, deeper, needier, like every thrust was a vow:

Mine. Mine. Mine.

And then he shattered.

With a strangled cry, he drove in to the hilt and came undone—his entire body trembling, hips twitching with every pulse of release, his face buried in your neck as he chanted your name like a lifeline.

“Y/N… Y/N—fuck, I love you—I love you so much I can’t—can’t breathe without you—”

You held him as tightly as you could, every part of you aching, humming, complete. He stayed buried deep inside you, wrapped around you like he couldn’t bear to let go, like pulling out would unravel everything.

And maybe it would.

Because this wasn’t just sex.

This was him giving you everything.

His obsession. His madness. His love.

And in that dazed, dizzied haze, as your body trembled in the aftermath and his heart thundered against yours, one thing was clear:

You were never getting out of this.

And gods help you…

You didn’t want to.

You didn’t even get a moment to breathe.

Sol was still inside you, still trembling from his high, but his mouth was already moving again—soft kisses, scattered like devotion across your jaw, your cheek, your lips. And then, without a word, he rolled his hips.

Slow. Deep. Heavy.

Your body jolted. A strangled sound caught in your throat, half-moan, half-beg, but it never made it past your lips—because he kissed you.

Hard. Messy. Desperate.

Tongue claiming, teeth grazing, swallowing every ruined sound you tried to make. You couldn’t even gasp. You couldn’t breathe. All you could do was feel—his hips grinding into yours again, filling you to the hilt, his body somehow more feverish, more hungry than before.

“You can take it,” he breathed between kisses, voice dark and reverent, wrecked by love and lust and something far too raw to name. “You’re perfect—gods, you feel so perfect like this. So full of me.”

Your nails dragged down his back, helpless, overstimulated, trembling from how much you needed him, even as your body screamed from the intensity. He moved deeper, slower this time but with that same unbearable pressure—like he wanted to melt into you, fuse your bodies until there was no more him or you, just us.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, even as his hips rocked into you again. “I can’t stop. I should—but I can’t. Not when you’re like this. Not when you feel like—like home.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, reverent, lips dragging over yours like he could taste your soul on your tongue. You whimpered against him, tried to speak, to moan—but the pleasure was too much, the fullness too overwhelming. All you could do was sob softly into his mouth as he started to move faster, desperate for another high, another chance to lose himself in you.

“You’re mine,” he breathed against your lips, fucking you through the aftershocks, through the haze, through the surrender. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

“Sh-shit—Sol—wait—!” you choked, but your voice cracked on a sob as his hips pounded into yours again, no room to think, no room to breathe, just the sound of slick, obscene rhythm and your own whimpers catching in your throat.

You tried to push at his chest, not really meaning it, just needing something to hold onto—but he only groaned, low and wrecked, and leaned down to kiss you—soft, almost sweet, completely at odds with the way he was driving into you like a man possessed.

“Just a little more,” he panted into your mouth. “Just a little more,Pumpkin—come on, stay with me.”

You couldn’t. Your back arched, legs trembling, pleasure shattering through you again so fast it knocked the breath from your lungs. You moaned something—his name, maybe? A plea?—but it was swallowed by the way he bit down gently on your neck, groaning against your skin like he was trying not to lose himself too fast.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he gasped, still thrusting, still holding you so sweetly, like you were precious even as he ruined you. “We’re gonna be together, okay? From now on. Just us.”

He licked over the bite he left, kissed your cheek, and kept going—slower, now, but so deep, like he was trying to carve himself inside you permanently.

“We’ll eat good food. We’ll be happy. You won’t need anyone else, Y/N,” he murmured, voice shaking with something more than lust. “You’re mine. I’m yours. No one—no one will love you like I do.”

You stared up at him, dazed, lips parted to respond but all that came out was a soft, broken cry as your body clenched around him again.

He smiled, so soft, eyes wide and in love and unhinged.

“And you won’t love anyone like you love me. Right?” he whispered.

You tried to say yes—tried to breathe it, to nod, anything—but your body betrayed you, trembling and writhing beneath him, lost in the feeling of him pushing in, pulling out, fucking that question into you like he needed the answer etched into your bones.

And he took it as a yes.

He kissed your temple, lips brushing the sweat-slick skin like a promise.

“That’s right,” he whispered. “No one else. Just us.”

His name tore from your lips in a gasp, and with one last, deep thrust, he came—hard, pulsing inside you, shaking as if he'd just been brought to the edge of some abyss.

His body tensed, fingers digging into your skin as he gripped you close, holding you like his very existence depended on you being there—on being his. He buried his face against your neck, leaving soft, ragged kisses as his breath hitched in the aftermath, his body trembling with exhaustion and still needing more.

You could feel him inside you, warm and spent, but there was no relief—not really. You weren’t sure where he ended and you began, the line blurred by the way your bodies intertwined, by the way he held you so tight, so desperate, as if there was nothing left for him to hold onto except you.

He whispered your name, broken and raw, so tender despite everything.

“You... you’re mine. I’ll keep you safe. Keep you close. Never let you go,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and shaky.

Your mind was a haze, thoughts swimming as you struggled to gather yourself, but he kept you there, pressed against him, unable to move, unable to break free from the pull he had on you.

“I love you. I need you,” he said softly, his voice cracking on the last word.

And then, as if the intensity of what had just happened wasn’t enough to bring him to his breaking point, he pulled you even closer, his lips brushing your ear.

Sol’s grin was like a damn sunbeam, glowing with something that was all devotion and satisfaction, his chest still rising and falling quickly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, like he couldn’t get close enough to you. The moment was everything to him—the sweet aftermath, where the world felt soft, and all he could do was hold you and drown in how good you made him feel.

You were too dazed to speak, too lost in the warmth of his body against yours, the softness of his breath on your skin.

His lips were gentle as they pressed against the sensitive spots of your neck, leaving kisses so soft, so loving, it almost felt like worship. He pulled you in closer, not letting you go, even though you couldn’t form a coherent thought at the moment.

“You did so good, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice still thick with need but now touched with tenderness. “So, so good. I’m so proud of you.”

He said it like it was a sacred truth. His words melted into your skin, every word a claim, a reminder that you were his—and he wasn’t letting you forget it.

His arms wrapped around you again, pulling you tighter, his grip firm but with an underlying softness that only spoke to how deeply he cared. He tucked you against his chest, his heart still beating hard against you, as if it couldn’t slow down just yet.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice muffled and full of warmth. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, Y/N. I’ve got you.”

You felt like you might melt into him, his warmth spreading through you, his kisses and soft reassurances so grounding you couldn’t help but sink into the safety of his embrace. There was a sweetness to him now—clingy but in the most affectionate, secure way—as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

He wasn’t letting go. Not now, not ever. And you couldn’t deny how right it felt to be so completely his.

You could barely keep your eyes open, the world spinning and your body so spent from the intensity of everything that had just happened—but something inside you snapped.

The laughter bubbled up, low and deranged, escaping your lips before you could even think twice about it. It was manic, almost delirious, but it was real. You were feeling it—feeling him, feeling that wild, crazy need to take control now, to flip the script just a little.

Sol, his face still buried in the crook of your neck, froze for a moment. His breath hitched as he pulled back slightly, eyes wide and glowing with that possessive hunger, that unshakable devotion.

“What… what are you—?” he started, but you silenced him with your eyes.

You could barely keep yourself together, but there was fire in your chest. You were done being so lost in him, done just lying there while he took the reins. No, this time, you were going to show him.

“I wanna take control too,” you muttered, voice raw, the grin pulling at your lips almost feral. “This isn’t over yet, Sol. Night’s ours. Let’s love each other too much, okay?”

His eyes widened, pupils dilated, the grin curling on his lips as he tilted his head slightly. He was shocked—and yet, the way his hand slid over your side, the way his thumb brushed against your skin, made it clear: he loved it.

“Fuck, Y/N… you think you can handle me?” His voice was low, teasing, but that gleam in his eyes said something else entirely—something darker, something like he was ready for you to burn everything down with him.

His arms were still tight around you, but now, it was almost like he was daring you. Daring you to take the reins and lead him somewhere new, somewhere he was all in for.

You woke up, your body still humming with the aftershocks of last night. But something was... different. You looked around, confusion clouding your mind for a moment—until your gaze fell on the pretty man beside you. The one who had stolen your breath away with his wild, captivating energy.

Sol.

His hair—black with those electric green streaks—looked even more striking in the soft light of morning. It cascaded in a half-up-half-down style, those bangs framing his face in a way that made his eyes even more arresting. His irises—oh, gods—those hues of orange and crimson, like they could see right through you, like they were made to entrap you.

You couldn't look away. Even as he lay there, peaceful, so effortlessly beautiful in his sleep, you found yourself staring, not even caring if it was a little unsettling. He was yours now. You couldn’t stop the way your heart raced at the thought.

You reached out and gently patted his head, your fingers grazing the strands of his hair, feeling the soft texture. It was almost too much, too perfect, too real. And just like that, those vivid eyes blinked open, meeting yours with that sleepy confusion, before they sharpened and narrowed, those mesmerizing eyes locking onto yours.

"Good morning, Sol..." you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips as your pulse quickened. You had to explain. You had to claim him.

"We need to take a bath... Y’know?" Your voice was light, teasing even, but underneath was something darker, a promise of what was to come.

For a moment, Sol stayed silent, his gaze steady, those eyes studying you. There was something about the way he looked at you now—it was almost like he was waiting for you to confirm what this was, what you were. But you didn’t give him the chance.

You held him gently by the face, your fingers brushing against his skin, before pulling him closer, locking eyes with him as if you were both trapped in this moment. This love.

“This isn’t a dream,” you murmured, voice turning darker, more twisted. “We’re together now, Sol. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Forever.”

Your smile, deranged, yandere-like, spread across your face as you whispered it again, your hands gripping his face more firmly now.

“I love you. I love you so much, Sol,” you confessed, the words leaving your lips like a vow. Your voice was almost manic, desperate. "No one else could ever love you like I do. No one can have you but me. You're mine—body, soul, everything. And I'll never let you go."

You could feel the heat of his skin against yours, his breath mingling with yours, and you wanted to savor every second of it. The world outside—irrelevant. All that mattered was that Sol was here with you. And you were never letting him leave.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, your breath shaky, heart thudding in your chest.

"You're mine, Sol. Always. Forever. And there's no way out, is there?"

You managed to hobble to the bathroom with Sol’s help, giggling the whole way like you weren’t on the verge of collapsing. He bathed you both gently, sweetly, as if you were glass he’d cracked with his love last night and was now trying to piece back together. His touches were reverent, every kiss to your shoulder like a whispered apology and a promise.

And then—he said it.

“Let’s skip university today.”

You blinked at him.

"Together?"

He grinned, still wet from the bath, towel hanging low on his hips, eyes sparkling like he’d won the damn lottery. “Yeah. Let’s just... be us. Just for today.”

You could’ve cried. But instead you nodded and muttered something like, “Okay... only if you make curry.”

That made him laugh. A full, warm laugh, like you hadn’t completely shattered him the night before with how much you loved him.

Later, he was at the stove, humming while the smell of spicy, warm curry filled the air. You tried to help. Really, you did. But when you tried to stand—

“Ah—!” you winced, collapsing right back onto the futon, legs still jelly.

“Hey—hey, hey!” Sol rushed over, panic rising. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, grinning way too wide. “Can’t walk because you... you know.”

His face flushed a deep crimson, but he didn’t deny it.

Then, as he was stirring the curry, his voice came soft. Too soft.

"...Did you look after me too?..I mean"

Your grin widened—slow, almost foxlike.

You raised your hand and pointed to the cupboard in the corner. Sol tilted his head in confusion, then padded over.

When he opened it...

Silence.

He stared.

There, in a neat but deeply unhinged box, were dozens of photos of him. Drawings—some accurate, some bordering on manic. His used bandages. Pieces of fabric from his worn clothes. The one with a heart drawn around his face in red marker. Oh. And the other side?

Your notes.

Obsessive, stalker-style notes. Favorite foods, times he left campus, places he sat when he was sad, one particular napkin , Multiple drawings of him "Y/N + Sol 4ever" scrawled beneath.

His hands trembled as he picked up a drawing of himself you did from memory—wildly off-proportion, but filled with adoration. The kind of adoration that could turn a person feral.

You tilted your head and asked sweetly, “Why’re you red, Sol?”

He didn’t answer.

He collapsed.

Like, full-on faceplant.

“SOL?!” You scrambled (as best you could) over to him, panic blooming. “SOL ARE YOU OKAY?! BREATHE, BREATHE—OH GODS I BROKE YOU—”

You pulled him into your lap, frantically patting his cheeks as his body shuddered, somewhere between laughter and a panic attack. His face buried in your chest as you whispered urgently, “You’re mine, Sol. Don’t break. I can’t fix you if you break—!”

But Sol just let out a breathy, dazed laugh.

“I—I was the-” he muttered, staring blankly at your shrine box. “I thought I was the insane one. I thought I was obsessed. But you—you—”

You grinned, cradling his face, nose touching his. “You love me, right?”

He blinked at you, dazed. “Yes—of course—”

“Good.” You kissed his forehead. “Because You loved me first. I’ll love you forever. And if you ever leave me, I’ll carve your name into my skin and haunt you!”

He just stared. Still red. Still broken.

Still so yours.

And somewhere in the kitchen, the curry began to burn. But neither of you cared.

#tkatb #the kid at the back vn #tkatb x reader #the kid at the back sol #tkatb vn #tkatb sol #the kid at the back x reader #solivan brugmanisa x reader #solivan brugmansia #solivan x reader #the kid at the back #sol x reader #sol brugmansia #tkatb smut #solivan brugmansia x reader smut #the kid at the back smut #tkatb sol x reader #tkatb sol smut

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gothwizardchick · 3 months ago

Text

The Wizard and The Eye Draft 1

Finished the first part of my Shitty Romance Novel I'm writing for funsies. Enjoy! I have done no editing so please disregard any spelling or grammar mistakes for now.

Chapter 1: The Cafe

The smell of roast coffee permeated the air of the small cafe. It wasn’t a high end place, but neither was it dingy. A small band played bossa nova in the corner of the smoky, dimly lit common area. Tables were spaced out evenly around what looked like it might have been a dance floor, though perhaps it was still used as one from time to time. I sat at a table nearby the band, watching my favourite musician play the piano. There weren’t many people present. It was late so the only patrons were regulars who came by to smoke and enjoy the night air that was often let in through large windows. I had been coming here since I moved to the area a few months ago and just loved the atmosphere.

I’ve always been a night owl. There is something special about being awake at night. The air feels more still and it’s always cooler. The dim lighting in the cafe was also appreciated as my eyes have always been sensitive to light. It did strike me as odd for a cafe to open in the late afternoon but it wasn’t something I really worried about. There are quite a few twenty-four hour businesses in the area so there are quite a few night workers in the area. This place wasn’t usually packed but I guess they made their money enough to keep the place running. Regardless I appreciated having somewhere to sit and smoke that wasn’t a bar. I liked to drink but there is a certain expectation if you go hang out at a bar. The patrons are rowdy and it’s expected that you order alcohol. The cafe was nice because it fulfilled the same desire to go and hang out someplace that wasn’t home. That, and there was the pianist.

If I’m to be perfectly honest he was the main reason I came here. Attractive doesn’t even begin to describe him. There was an otherworldly quality in the way that he did anything. With snowy hair that cascaded down his back, and complexion to match. He had bright honey coloured eyes that were deepset in his brow and he always wore a long black coat with silver accents with one of those puffy shirts that you usually see on pirates. He looked to be in his late twenties so his hair either went grey early on or he had it dyed. Either way, the effect was excellent. I could, and often did, sit and just watch him play for hours on end, sipping my coffee and smoking my pipe. He was almost always here. Sometimes as a soloist, other times with one or two other people, and occasionally with a full group, but nevertheless, he remained.

I had been trying to work up the courage to talk to him but to be honest I was intimidated by him. Not in a “I’m gonna punch you” kinda way, more just in the general social anxiety kinda way. I can talk to anyone if they are the ones that strike up a conversation, but I don’t really know how to initiate conversation. It’s something I’ve struggled with my whole life. So I got a refill on my coffee, reloaded the tobacco in my pipe, and cracked open a book. It was an old book, with a musty smell and pages that were so soft you feared they might fall apart at any moment. That’s where you find a lot of good things. The info is usually outdated or just wrong, but it’s interesting for me to see what the older generations believed.

I read there for some time, with the music of the band floating gently across the cafe. I occasionally blew a smoke ring or two, my master could do all kinds of crazy things with the smoke from his pipe but I had only gotten the hang of rings for now. There isn’t really much reason to blow smoke rings, but for the fact that it seems to make people smile. It isn’t much, but giving just a little bit of mirth to people brightens my day. I can do lots of little tricks that really only serve to entertain people. Sometimes a little frivolity is a necessity, especially these days. There has been a lot of improvement over the last few decades, people have become more accepting in general of people who are different than themselves, but tensions had been on the rise due to the last general election. I didn’t think much of it then, things had been improving and I was not one to get involved in politics, so what did a small step backwards matter?

I rubbed my eyes, looked back at my book and realised I hadn’t been paying attention to what I was reading and lost my place. It was getting very late, many of the patrons had already left. The music stopped and the band started to pack up their things. As they began to leave I closed my book and decided that it had been long enough. I stood up from the table and walked over to the band.

“Excuse me,” I began, directing my attention at the pianist, “ I don’t mean to intrude but may I speak with you for a moment?”

The pianist looked at his bandmates and said in a silky voice, “I’ll see you guys later.” He looked at me with an eyebrow cocked and waited for me to continue.

“I hate to be a bother,” I paused to clear my throat, “but I have been coming here a while and you are here every time I come in. That is to say not that I’m like, well, what I mean to say is…” I paused for a moment. I sure was bungling this. “At the risk of sounding forward, I was wondering if we could get a drink or something and chat.” He looked at me intently. “It doesn’t have to be tonight,” I added quickly, “Just asking in general?” I nervously ran a hand through my long red hair.

“And what is it we would chat about?” he asked me in a slightly mocking tone.

“Well, lots of things I suppose. I would just like to get to know you.”

“You wouldn’t like me,” he said gently, “I’m not very interesting.”

“Well, wouldn’t that be for me to decide?” I asked, “I don’t mean to be pushy, I just think that you look like a very interesting person and well… but I don’t want to bother you.” I looked down.

He sighed heavily, “very well, do you drink?”

“On occasion,” I said, trying to keep calm, “it’s too expensive for me to do it regularly. I don’t know of any place to get a drink that won’t be closing soon though.”

“That isn’t a problem, I know a place we can go and ‘chat’ over a drink. Collect your things and follow me.” He grabbed his bag and stood waiting at the door. I paid my tab quickly and put all of my things in my own bag and headed towards the door, making every attempt not to look like a lost puppy. “It isn’t far from here,” he said, opening the door.

The weather was nice and cool, with fog gently rolling in. It looked like the sky was threatening rain but hadn’t decided on it yet. The pianist began walking down the city streets which were not busy due to the late hour. He didn’t say much while we were walking, just “this way” as he turned corners. He walked quickly but in a relaxed way, like it was effortless. He had said it wasn’t far, but I was beginning to get winded. Just as I was going to ask for a quick second to catch my breath, he said “we’re here” and turned down an alleyway, pointing out a sign that read, “The Crypt.”

The entrance was blocked by a very large man who looked to be in his mid thirties, usual rough-em-up kinda fellow, dark clothes, close cropped hair, scars and all. As soon as the pianist walked up to him he stepped aside, allowing us both to enter with a slight bow. I guess he’s well known around here, I thought as we headed down a flight of stairs leading underground. From the looks of it, the club used to be either a smuggler’s den or a bomb shelter, maybe both. The club was roughly the same size as the cafe, though it felt a bit smaller owing to the lack of windows. The room was lit using some old fashioned safety lights, bathing the club in a dull red glow. A bar ran from wall to wall on one side. The opposite wall was lined with exquisite booths upholstered in black leather. Slow heavy music played from speakers while a few people danced in the center of the room on a well maintained dance floor.

I followed him to a booth at the far end of the room where we both sat down. A waitress glided up, looking like she had gotten into a fight with a sailor's tackle. She was wearing mostly fishnets, with not much else on, and black makeup in bold fashion. She was holding a bottle which she began uncorking just after we sat down, then poured two glasses, placing them on the table in front of each of us. She also bowed to the pianist as she left without saying anything. I had hoped to order but That didn’t seem likely to happen for a while as she left the bottle with us in a bucket of ice. He took a sip of his wine and gestured for me to drink mine. It was sweet and fruity, not bitter like I was expecting, though still definitely alcoholic.

“This is good! I’m not typically much of a wine drinker but I like this.” I said, having a bit more.

“Well, here we are. You can begin ‘chatting’” he said, sounding slightly exasperated.

I choked on my wine. “I’m sorry, you brought me to this place and I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Rory and I’m new in town. I moved here a few months ago as part of my apprenticeship and I don’t know anyone. You seem to know everyone here, or at least they know you, have you been coming here long?” I asked.

“Long enough, I suppose.” He took a sip of wine before adding, “it’s just a place to go that isn’t home.”

“Is your home life not good?” I asked cautiously.

“It’s not that it’s bad, I just spent a very long time there so I try to get out as much as I can.” another sip.

“Do you still live with your parents? Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“With my father, my mother passed when I was young.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He paused, drank some more wine and said, “It’s fine, it was a long time ago. My father is still pretty bent out of shape about it, but like I said, it was long ago. I’m fine with it.”

I paused for a moment staring into my wine glass. I emptied it and asked, “So what do you do for fun? I know that you play piano, but like, what else do you do?”

He emptied his and poured another glass for us both, “I drink, I paint, and I play piano. Like I said earlier, I’m not very interesting.” He said the last sentence looking at me from under his eyebrows.

I perked up a little, “what do you typically paint?” I drank some more

He drank some more, “I paint landscapes typically. Sometimes I’ll paint a portrait if someone commissions me for one but I don’t do them all that often.”

“I love painting! I dabble a little myself but I’m not very good. I do love watching other people paint though.” more wine.

More wine for him, “I’m not all that great myself. It’s just something to occupy my time.”

I poured our drinks this time, emptying the bottle. Another was out in moments from a different waitress, this one in a black, frilly affair that was quite becoming on her. I tilted my glass towards him and took a sip. “Personally I like to read in my spare time, do you read at all?”

“I read a bit,” he took a sip, “my father has quite the extensive library, though I typically only read to find out the answer to a question. I don’t read for fun.” he took another sip, “Well, that’s not entirely true. I do enjoy reading, I just don’t go out of my way to read, if that makes sense.” He leaned forward resting his elbow on the table with his jaw in his hand. With his other hand he swirled the wine around and drank the rest.

Not wanting to be left behind, I finished my cup. He filled them both then resumed his leaned forward position. “No, I understand. So you don’t read very much fiction then?” I asked.

“No, I don’t. I’m not opposed to it, I just didn’t read it while I was growing up so I never developed a taste for it. What about you, what kinds of things do you read?”

I sat up straight and felt the blood rush to my head, the wine was starting to take effect. No matter, I had some more, “I like to read just about anything. Science, fiction, Romance, Historical fiction, the Occult, whatever, I just like to read.”

He lifted an eyebrow, “The Occult? What do you know about the occult?”

“Oh it’s one of my favourite topics. For one, I study it broadly. Curses, blessings, hexes, all of it. Secondly, I haven’t specialised. I’m intending on becoming a universalist when I’m finished with my apprenticeship. I’m just too interested in everything to choose one thing to focus on.” noticing that there was an ashtray on the table I took out my pipe and began filling it with tobacco.

He looked at me with a bit more interest and said, “so your apprenticeship is to be…?”

“A wizard, yes.” I snapped my fingers and the pipe started smoking with a sizzle, “I'm in the last stage of my apprenticeship before I’m recognized as a wizard officially. I want to know everything that there is to know.”

“That’s quite the goal,” he said, “You know you probably won’t be a very effective universalist until you are old right?”

I took a pull on my pipe and blew out a ring before saying, “Bah, what does it matter if I’m old? I’m not satisfied with only one field so, well, it takes as long as it takes.” I drank some more wine. I was pleasantly buzzing now and I’m sure my cheeks were getting red in sharp contrast to my fair skin. He looked like he was enjoying himself, even if he wasn’t drunk yet. “I think you are very interesting.” I said smugly.

“Oh? And what have I said that interested you.” he asked suspiciously.

I took another pull on my pipe, “It’s not what you’ve said, it's what you’ve avoided saying.”

He narrowed his eyes, “And what might that be?”

I coughed and cleared my throat, “Well, you’re very guarded. In my experience that means that you’ve been hurt in the past or you have some reason not to get attached to people. In your case, I think it’s the latter, with the reason being your father. The way you talked about him was like he was very distant but strict about what you can and can’t do. From the way that you are dressed and from what little you’ve said about growing up, it sounds like you either have money or come from money. Your hobbies are not something that people who have to struggle to get meals are inclined to do. And, if you paint anything like you play piano, then I think that you would have to be an excellent painter as you likely received lessons on both as a child.” I paused to drink some more wine, “I think that you are afraid of letting people get close to you so you present an exterior of impenetrable beauty.

He chuckled, “impenetrable beauty?”

I felt my cheeks redden from more than just the alcohol. “Yes well, you are probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“And if I’m so guarded then why did I agree to come out with you?” he asked

I thought for a moment and said, “Well, it could be that you are aware of this part of yourself and you are working to get past it. It could also be that you are a serial murderer and I’m to be your next victim. Or perhaps you were just bored.” I shrugged and finished my wine, then took another long pull on my pipe.

He grinned, “And what would you do if I was a serial murderer?”

I puffed thoughtfully on my pipe, resting my elbow on the table, “Well, if you were, you’re off to a good start, I’m on the way to being drunk, in a secondary location. I’m new in town and I told you I don’t have any friends here so no one would come looking for me. The wine could also be drugged. All in all I think I would be in a right mess if you were.”

“So am I?” he asked playfully

I laughed, “Well I sure hope not, for both of our sakes.”

“Both of us?”

“Well yeah, I think this could be the start of a great friendship, and I don’t think you have many friends either.” I was definitely drunk now.

“Thanks.” He said. Oops.

“I didn’t-” He held up a hand

“It’s fine, you’re not wrong. Just, to have someone point it out out loud felt fantastic.” He finished his wine and poured more for us both. “Maybe I have been afraid of meeting people. So I’m the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen huh?”

“Well, credit where credit is due? I meant it at the very least, I honestly can’t believe I’m here drinking with you.” I drank deeply, “I am at a loss for words.”

“Oh? Done chatting already? We’ve only finished one bottle.” He said playfully.

“Not that I’m done chatting, just that I don’t want to say something I’ll regret,” I said, looking into my glass for guidance.

“Up to now you haven’t really said anything worth regretting,” he said, taking a drink.

“Well,” I began, my tongue dangerously loose in my mouth, “I’d like to ask if we could continue our conversation somewhere more private.”

“That’s an interesting strategy, tell me I don’t have any friends and then invite me somewhere private. How has that approach worked in the past?” He asked from beneath his eyebrows.

“This would be the first. I don’t have much experience with this kind of thing. Like, it feels like we are on a date, but I don’t know what that is like with a man.”

“We’re on a date are we?”

“Well, I was hoping, but at the very least I’ve enjoyed talking with you.” I began to collect my things, thinking that I had thoroughly fucked everything up, “I’ll pay for one of the bottles.”

“Now hold on a moment, I never said that I was opposed to the idea of this being a date.”

I sat back down, “but I thought-”

“Listen, you haven’t said anything that I took offence to. Aside from that, I expected that this was a date from the beginning. You have been sitting next to the band the whole time you’ve come to the cafe, You aren’t exactly easy to miss with that bright red hair, You usually leave when I leave, and I’ve noticed you staring more than once.” he took a sip, “I wouldn’t have agreed to come out if I wasn’t at least open to the idea.”

“Was it that obvious?” I felt hot.

“It isn’t like you had a sign saying ‘hey let’s bone’ or anything but yes, it was fairly obvious.”

I puffed my pipe for a moment, thinking about how to respond. “So, what you mean to say is you are interested in me too?”

“I thought that that was clear, but I suppose not. From what I’ve seen, you are the studious type which lines up with what you told me about your apprenticeship. You are also beautiful as well, and just so I’m clear, what are your pronouns? Mine are he/him.”

Well that was nice to hear. “I will answer to any and all pronouns but I prefer they/them. I’m not opposed to you calling me your boyfriend though,” I replied with a wink.

“Bit of a shift from being ready to leave?” He asked, taking a sip.

“Well, that was before I knew you were interested in me too. I’m not very good in social situations. I have a hard time, like, feeling out people's intent towards me.”

“You were pretty spot on with what you said about me earlier.” He said. He didn’t move around all that much, he definitely seemed to be more comfortable than I was.

“That’s different,” I replied, “I don’t know why it’s different, but it is. I can feel out emotion and intent pretty well, I just can’t tell where it’s directed at. That and I didn’t want to assume you were into me as that felt like it would be arrogant as I’d never actually spoken to you before today.”

“Well, that’s fine,” he said, “so now that you know that I am into you, how does that change things?

I finished my wine, I was definitely drunk now. “Fuck.”

“Sure,” he said confidently.

“No, no,” I started, “wait, yes, but that isn’t what I meant. I left my motorbike at the cafe and I’m too drunk to drive it home.”

“We can pick it up tomorrow if you’d like to come over for breakfast. I don’t live very far from here.”

“Wouldn’t your father mind?” I asked cautiously.

“He doesn’t track my comings and goings. He used to but it’s been years. We both kind of keep to ourselves at home.” He stood up, finished his glass, and headed to the bartender while I snuffed my pipe and began gathering my belongings. I stood by the table waiting for him to come back.

Even though he probably wasn’t talking to the bartender for very long, it felt like eternity waiting for him at the table. I spent a moment or two listening to the music. It was different from what I was used to. I typically listened to jazz or folk music, something you can dance to. This music was, for one, recorded on inferior equipment. The sound was all grainy and muffled. Second, the themes were heavy, and so was the instrumentation. Third, there were people dancing to it. They waved around slowly winding their bodies up and down. The whole affair was rather enticing though different from what I was used to. Looking around, there was very little colour on the clothing of the patrons or waitstaff; their hair however was dyed in vibrant colours and cut into all kinds of wild styles. I was wearing my road gear which meant I fit in pretty well with my black leathers and boots, even more so since I had forgone the shirt under my jacket. The other patrons were all showing some kind of skin, which was usually covered in tattoos or piercings. At least I don’t stick out too terribly, I thought.

He came back after not much longer and said, “Alright, it’s this way,” then led me into the back room of the bar. Well that explains it, he owns the place, I thought. The backroom consisted of a kitchen that was starkly different to the bar itself, bright with stainless steel everywhere. There was one cook on staff, covered in tattoos and piercings but wearing a chef's jacket. He was relaxing reading a porn mag and waved at the pianist without looking up. Burly fellow barely fit in his chef's coat and he had a rough shaven look that was honestly quite something. The pianist led me past the kitchen into another door that led into a small hallway. The hallway had a door on each side and a staircase leading up to another door at the end of the hallway.

The door was starkly different from the other two. The other doors were plain stainless but this one was made of richly carved, dark wood, and even though I was an apprentice, I could smell the magic coming from it. To me magic smelled like the air after a lightning strike, metallic and sharp. I paused for a moment and said, “Wait, where does that door lead? And, I’m sorry to say but I don’t think I ever caught your name?”

He turned around and said, “it leads to my home, and as for my name, you may call me Alexandru Tepeş. You have likely heard of my father Vladislav, this door leads to his castle in the mountains. We can be alone there.”

Ah, I thought, that’s new. I wasn’t sure how to respond. “I know I said earlier about a secondary location but this is a little more than I expected.”

Alexandru seemed upset at my response, “I understand if you have changed your mind.”

“Aye, that’s not what I said. I’m just a little surprised is all. I thought you were just some goth pianist, not the son of Dracula.” he winced when I used that name.

“He will not interrupt us, he stays pretty well to himself these days. I don’t know what all you’ve heard about him but know that most of it is fabrication.”

“I’m not concerned,” I grabbed his black gloved hand, “I’m all about new things and I have lots of new questions to ask.”

He squeezed my hand, “Well, we have all night, but for now would you like to come inside?”

“Yes, let’s.” I replied, squeezing his hand back. I wonder how long it has been since he’s invited anyone home?

He led me up the stairs and unlocked the door with a large, iron key that looked a bit odd hanging from his normal keyring. I would have assumed it was a keychain itself if this wasn’t the first time I was seeing it. The door swung open and I could smell fir trees and rain.

********

“Alex,” I said,, “Where are we?”

“We are in my chambers, the door leads here so that I can travel freely. It can only be opened with this key,” He said, holding the large iron key, “Without this key the door opens to a broom closet.”

“No, no I mean,” I asked, almost vibrating with excitement, “Is this a pocket dimension?”

“Perhaps you are a wizard after all. Yes, this is a pocket dimension created by my father many years ago. He has studied much and I’m sure you would get along well were you to meet.” He turned around and opened the door we just came through, this time without putting the key in, revealing a closet full of fashionable clothing. He took off his coat and hung it inside. He was wearing a poofy shirt that crossed over itself in the front, leaving the chest exposed, into high waisted dress pants and knee high boots.

He strode back out of the closet and gestured for me to follow him. He led me out of the entrance to his rooms and into a sitting room furnished lavishly with Victorian furniture in deep shades of red and black. “Would you like some tea?” Alexandru asked, gesturing to a silver tea set at the back of the room.

I swayed a little from the alcohol, “Sure, something to help sober me up. I am honestly just kinda in a daze right now. I’m not dreaming am I?”

“Take a seat, I’ll have the tea ready in a moment.” I did as instructed and sat in one of the chairs. They were very comfortable though old and very well taken care of. I sunk into the seat and the room began spinning.

“I’m in Dracula’s Castle, of all places.” I said under my breath, I heard a slight clatter of crockery over by Alexandru. “Alex, oh, may I call you Alex? I’m sorry”

“Call me whatever you like, just so long as you call me,” he said with a wink, “However I must ask that you refrain from using the name Dracula, he prefers Vladislav or Vlad these days. I would hate for you to get off on the wrong foot.”

I nodded, perhaps a tad violently, “Of course, I’ll keep that in mind. I apologise for my blunder.”

He chuckled just a bit, “Don’t worry about it, but I have to ask, what is it that makes you speak that way about him?”

“Well, you see, the thing is, there is a rumour that your father is a vampire who studied at the Scholomance or became a vampire after studying there. Either way, he is rumoured to be a powerful wizard in his own right but disappeared many years ago. He was presumed dead but no one knew where his grave was so it was never actually proven that he died, lending credence to the vampire rumour. There are some circles that believed he had created a travelling castle and lived in that but most people found the idea ridiculous. I personally read the account of Johnathan Harker who was rumoured to have found the castle. I thought most of what he said was probably just an account of someone describing what they couldn’t understand but nevertheless I believed that he had been here. I’m sure you have heard all of this before and I don’t want to seem like some kind of fan boy. This is why I became a wizard, to discover truths! And there’s at least one here. Your father has found some way to prolong his life which means I can do it too. Just to know that it’s possible is something incredible.” Alex put the pot on and sat down in the chair across from me.

“It is… refreshing to hear someone speak about my father kindly, most people fear him.” He crossed a leg over the other and leaned back, brushing some hair out of his face.

Gods he was gorgeous, “Well, people fear what they don’t understand and with the church saying what it does about anyone who doesn’t fit their exact criteria, it’s not surprising that people are afraid of him. Personally I’ve never really agreed with the church on anything anyway so why bother? Like, what good is being afraid of anything. I used to be terrified of spiders, then I learned about them and now I find them incredibly fascinating. All things are only frightening as long as you don’t understand them.”

“Interesting point of view,” he said, “and what if it were true, that he was a vampire. What then? Would you be afraid?”

“Of what? Getting my blood drunk? No, not at all. See, I’ve accepted that I’m going to die. Even if I find some way to prolong my life, I could still be killed. Of course that doesn’t mean I’m going to take unnecessary risks, just that I’m not going to miss out on new experiences simply because I’m afraid of dying. Aside from that, there are very few to no scholarly sources on vampires, as far as I’m concerned all information about their existence is flawed. There have been no verifiable first hand accounts from vampires, only firsthand accounts about vampires. I’ve never doubted that they existed only what information we have on them.”

He propped an elbow on his knee and leaned on his fist, “So then, would you become one if you had the opportunity?”

I felt very sober all of a sudden and narrowed my eyes, “Why?”

“You mentioned a couple of times about prolonging your life. Would you, given the opportunity, become a vampire?” He looked at me with piercing gold eyes.

I hesitated, I didn’t want him to think that I was using him, but that was foolish, he invited me to the castle. He had to know that this would be a topic of conversation. “Well, yeah, I guess so if it’s possible I would. I would have all the time in the world to study and learn. Drinking blood is no different from eating meat, so what’s the big deal if that blood comes from humans, especially if I don’t have to kill them. There are a lot of people who are into bloodplay so I don’t see the point in hunting people. Wait.”

“Yes?” He asked somewhat playfully.

“Goth club, you knew that already.”

“Of course, it’s very easy to blend in.” The teapot whistled and Alexandru stood up to deal with it. I struggled with the information I had just been provided.

“Alex, I have an idea but… how old are you?”

He bustled about getting the tea into the nice pot and put everything on a platter to set on the coffee table between the two chairs. He poured a cup for us both. He drank his neat and I added some sugar and milk to mine. “I’ve been around,” was all he said.

“And that key is the only way to leave the castle.” I said plainly.

“As you say.” He said calmly

“I see.” I drank some tea. I pondered my situation. Son of Dracula, Secondary location, I was drunk, he didn’t seem to be. “Are you going to kill me?”

He laughed quite heartily, disturbing the silence of the night and falling rain. “No, I’m not going to kill you, though as you’ve said, hunting isn’t really necessary. They tend to come to us. Perfectly legal between consenting adults. I don’t have a habit of inviting my food home for dinner though. You are the first to be welcomed into my chambers.”

“So then why did you invite me here?” I asked, now confused.

He placed his teacup down and stood up, coming over to my chair. I tensed up when he moved my hair from my neck and gently kissed it. I let out a small breath. He kissed my neck again but more forcefully and licked from my clavicle to my ear. I could feel my pulse quickening, I was no spring fawn but the idea of my situation made everything more enticing. I wrapped my arms around him as he continued kissing my neck, moving up to my jawline before eventually finding my lips. His lips were soft and cold and his body strong and taught beneath his clothes. His tongue expertly slid into my mouth and I responded back in kind, grasping his hair. He smelled amazing though I’m not sure how to describe the scent. It was floral but with something else. He unzipped my jacket, exposing my bare chest and slid his hand around my back, lifting me out of the chair with unnatural strength.

Within moments he had me pressed up against the wall. He kissed me a bit longer then turned me around and thrusted against my jeans. “Wait,” I said breathlessly, “do you have any gel?” he shook his head. “I have some in my satchel. Let me get it.”

“Prepared for anything today are we,” he said in a mocking tone.

“I keep lots of things on me, never know when they will come in handy.” He took the bottle of gel from my hand and started kissing me again, dragging me to the bedroom. He slammed me into the door which opened with a thump and then threw me onto the bed. Alex then got on top of me, grinding against me as we made out. I felt hands at my belt and in moments my jeans and leathers were down around my knees. My pants were not completely off before I was forcefully flipped over to lay on my stomach. I could feel him spread my cheeks followed by a cold, wet sensation as he got me prepped. He slid in a finger and worked around til he could get a second in, then continued until he could fit a third. I squirmed underneath him and let out a small moan as the third finger slid in. He was definitely experienced, I’ll give him that. Finally he pulled his fingers out and I could hear him unfastening his pants. He pressed himself against me and slid up and down outside the entrance, teasing me gently, then shoved in all the way to the hilt. I let out a moan and pressed back up against him. He felt good, to say the least. He stood at the edge of the bed, drilling me into the silk duvet. The fabric was smooth and felt cool, and the bed was a sturdy four poster with the curtain drawn back. I grasped the sheets as he thrusted, doing my best not to cry out. He grabbed my hips and thrusted hard, pausing for a moment before pulling out and flipping me over to face him. I was not nearly strong enough to refuse.

He pulled my jeans off and got between my legs, rubbed against me and slid in, wrapping his fingers around me and stroking. I put my hand up to my mouth and bit down on my index finger, moans breaking through no matter how hard I tried to suppress them. He seemed to react to the noises I was making, slamming into me rougher and faster than before, making it even harder to keep quiet. I gave up fighting and just let myself enjoy it. I reached up and pulled Alex down into an embrace, kissing him deeply as he continued to thrust. I was getting close. I could feel the tension building like a boiler under pressure. “Alex, I’m gonna come,” I said breathlessly.

He said nothing and sped up until finally I could feel him explode inside of me, the warm wet filling me up. It was too much for me and I burst, spilling out onto my stomach and chest. He wiped his forehead then leaned down and kissed me again, “let me get you something to clean up with.” He slowly pulled out and I moaned again, still sensitive from coming.

“Alex,” I said as he walked off fastening his pants, “can this not be a one night stand?”

“If I intended this to be a one night stand I wouldn’t have brought you here,” he said, very matter of factly.

“Oh, well, that makes sense,” I said, still laying on the bed. My jeans and chaps were around my ankles and my jacket was flung open. I felt more naked than if I wasn’t wearing anything. Alex came back from another room and handed me a towel. I cleaned myself up and got dressed, then sat back on the bed. He sat down next to me and I leaned against him.

He stroked my hair with gentleness in stark contrast with his behaviour just moments ago. “Would you like something to sleep in?” he asked, “I have a night shirt you could borrow if you like.”

I sighed, “that would be great. Do you know what time it is?”

“Why? Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Not as such, just curious is all. I’m renting the attic of a bakery outside the city while I finish my apprenticeship, and I occasionally help out the Baker from time to time. I’m usually home late so they won’t be waiting up or anything, more just that they will notice when I don’t come down for breakfast.”

“Not in the habit of staying over places?” he asked, moving to stand up.

I sat up, allowing him to stand easier, before saying, “Not often no. I go out and stay out late but I’m typically home in the morning. Haven’t had anyone I wanted to stay with after.”

“Bit of a slut are we?” he laughed as he pulled a night shirt from a dresser.

I stood up and began undressing, “Oh for sure, I don’t understand romantic attraction. Or rather, I should say I don’t know that I experience it. I don’t get crushes or fall in love. No idea what that’s like.” I folded my clothes and leathers and put on the night shirt Alexandru gave me. It was big on me, with ruffles at the collar, cuffs, and the bottom hem. “My brain sorts people into two categories; friends I am allowed to have sex with and friends I am not allowed to have sex with. I don’t understand the concept of monogamy, like why can I only have one best friend? No thank you.”

“Earlier you said you wouldn’t mind being called my boyfriend though. How does that work with the no attraction situation?” He began undressing as well, and put on a silk night shirt very much like the one I had on.

“Well, other people experience romantic attraction right? And like they use words that mean that to them. To me a partner is a best friend, like your absolute most bestest friend. Or at least someone you fuck consistantly. Hopefully both.”

He sat down on the bed and motioned for me to sit next to him, then said, “and so you saying that you would be okay being called my boyfriend means what exactly?”

I sat down next to him and replied, “Well that we get to be good friends and fuck consistantly, just that. Like I said, I don’t do monogamy so I hope that’s not a deal breaker.”

“I happen to be quite the slut myself. Aside from seducing virgins and turning faithful husbands astray, you yourself mentioned that bloodplay is much more common than people think. It's a useful skill to have and use. That and it’s fun.” he added.

“Are you joking?” I asked

“About seducing virgins? Only a little. I don’t necessarily try to find them, it just happens from time to time.” he said with a laugh

“OKay, for a second I just wasn’t sure. I don’t understand a lot of social interaction so I have to check when someone makes a joke. A lot of things are funny that aren’t intended to be and I’ve laughed at many things that were intended to be serious so I just check now.”

“Oh, are you autistic?” he asked nicely

“I’m not sure, I’ve never been diagnosed but it is a possibility. In general I’ve just had to figure out how my brain functions and work around it. Either way it doesn’t change anything about who I am so I don’t really see a point.” I said, very matter of fact.

“Wouldn’t a diagnosis make it easier for you though? You could get accommodations.”

“Eh, doesn’t really matter to me. For the most part I just explain how I will respond to stuff when I meet someone new. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve had this conversation.” I said with a laugh. “Actually it may have helped me to learn to use magic. I think a lot of people don’t realise that magic and science are essentially the same thing. Science is just magic that is well understood by the general populace. Speaking of, do you have a cell phone?”

“I do, but I don’t use it all that much. I don’t get cell service here and like you said earlier, I don’t have many friends.” He said not really seeming bothered by it.

“May I see it for a moment?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” He stood up and got his phone from the pocket of his coat. It was an old fashioned flip phone. He handed it to me and I got up to grab my bag from the sitting room.

When I came back into the bedroom I pulled my own phone from the bag, a smartphone that was essentially a slab of glass and stainless steel. I put my number into his phone then took a piece of chalk out of the bag. “Do you mind if I write on the floor? I’ll clean it up afterwards.” I asked politely.

“Sure, but what are you doing?” he asked with a funny look on his face.

“Well, magic and science are essentially the same thing and they work together remarkably well when you know what to do.” I got on my knees and began drawing a circle on the floor. “Take for instance this cell phone,” I said, holding his flip phone, “this works by using the same principle behind remote communication. It has limits of course but the use of devices allows those who are not trained in the way of magic to use it. However, if you combine the spell with the device you can create a direct link between phones.” I finished drawing the sigils and placed both phones within. “Your phone is much more simple than mine is but this will still work. Essentially what happens when you make a phone call is you are activating the spell to contact another device, which is why they have to be charged. Now, I could contact you without the use of a phone, since we are acquainted, but you wouldn’t be able to respond. There is a spell that allows you to respond but I haven’t gotten the hang of that one yet. Thankfully, since the phones work on the same principle I can establish a direct connection that will allow you to contact me no matter where you are, including demiplanes like the castle that we are currently in. Since this demiplane is connected to the physical plane, we will be able to contact eachother even here.”

I finished my preparations and reached once more into my bag, this time pulling out my staff. “I take it the bag is magic.” he said with a wiggle of his fingers.

“The bag is similar to your castle. When I reach into the bag, it leads to a small pocket dimension where I keep all my things. If someone else reaches into the bag, they will find it to be empty unless I have allowed them access to my personal inventory. What self respecting wizard doesn’t have a magic bag?” I asked, not really to him but to the air.

“I suppose that makes sense, although I must say I find it rather interesting.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Well, wizards are supposed to be queer. And you seem to fit that idea entirely.” he remarked

“Well, I am gay and strange, therefore queer is an excellent descriptor i suppose.” I laughed.

With staff in hand I began the incantation to connect the two devices. The ritual didn’t take very long and in moments the phones were connected.

“There,” I said, when handing him back his phone, “now there is a direct link between the two. Go ahead and test it out. You’ll find me under your contacts.”

He took the phone and flipped it open, beeping through menus until he asked, “I take it you are ‘wizard babe heart heart’?”

“That’s the one!”

“Well then, let's give this a go.” He hit send and put the phone up to his ear. My phone began buzzing from where it still lay in the circle.

I clapped my hands together and said, “Excellent! It worked!” He hung up and looked at me funny. “Well, this is the first time I’ve tried this. I knew how they worked but it was just a theory of mine that I could actually establish the connection.”

“What would have happened if it didn’t work?” he asked suspiciously.

“Best case scenario it would have just failed and I wouldn’t be able to call you in the castle,” I said with my finger on my chin, “Worst case scenario the spell backfires and I get singed. Not the first time I’ve tried something new but it is nice to have things work out like you expect them to.”

“Please don’t use my things for experiments in the future.” he said, rather devoid of emotion.

“Alright, I promise that I will let you know if I’ve done something prior to involving you. Will that work?” I asked, as I began cleaning up the chalk from the stone floor.

“Good enough I suppose. Why don’t you leave that til we get up? Come and lay down.” he said, setting his phone on the nightstand.

I continued cleaning, “I couldn’t do that, I’ve made a mess. Taking care of it immediately means you won’t have to worry about stepping in it in the morning and getting chalk all over your feet.”

“It’s already morning.”

“You know what I meant. Besides I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that it was here, and it’s just chalk.” I said, wiping down the stone. “There, all done.” I flopped onto the bed and crawled up to the head, snuggling up to Alexandru. I sighed and fell asleep almost instantly. The bed was the most comfortable thing I had ever been on.

******

“Good evening,” came a voice as smooth as silk, “did you sleep well?”

I stretched and took stock of my surroundings. I was laying in a lavish bed with silk sheets, in a room with stone walls and small windows. There were tapestries and paintings on the walls with a rich rug underneath the bed on top of the stone floor. “I slept alright,” I said, replying to the voice, “so that wasn’t a dream then?”

“What wasn’t a dream?” came the voice again beside me in bed.

“Oh, you know, all of it?” I said with a bit of disbelief. Even to wizards vampires were a bit of an unknown as to whether they existed or not and to be sleeping with one, well, that was another matter entirely. I mean, not that it was necessarily taboo, at least anymore than sleeping with random strangers was taboo, but to sleep next to what many would consider to be a monster should be… I should feel something about it right? Here was a creature that subsisted on the blood of humans and I was just, sharing his bed. What does that say about me? I’m sure it said something but whatever that was I don’t know that I cared. He was a good lover and seemed to be a decent enough sort, what did it matter?

He chuckled and pulled me into an embrace, “Does this feel real?”

I thought for a moment, then said, “Real enough, I suppose. Can we stay like this a little longer?” I wasn’t ready to go back to life yet.

“What about your motorbike?” he asked.

“I’m not worried about it, I made some modifications to it, so I’m the only one who can start it. No key required!” I exclaimed. “Woe betide the fool who tries to steal my bike.”

We stayed like that for some time, just laying in each other's arms. “The sun has gone down, are you ready to go?” He asked softly.

“Oh I suppose,” I replied, “I gotta ask, do vampires burn in the sun?”

He looked down at me and said, “yes, however I do not because I am a dhampir.”

“Is that so? So your mother was human?” I asked

“She was. She died in childbirth.” he said flatly

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Why didn’t she, you know, transition?” I asked as politely as possible

“She didn’t want to. My father respected her wishes. It was many years ago. Humans die,” he said the last bit devoid of any emotion, “but do keep in mind that this was several hundred years ago and it was not as easy for vampires to fit in like it is in modern life. There were no goth clubs in the fourteen-hundreds.”

“So you’re what, seven-hundred years old?”

“Give or take a decade or two.”

“Wouldn’t that make you a cradle robber in the extreme for dating me?” I said with a laugh

“How old are you?” he asked in return.

“Twenty-seven, a rounding error compared to your age.”

“Eh, you’re an adult and can make your own decisions. Besides, you approached me.”

“That’s fair.” I stretched and crawled out of bed, gathered my clothes into a pile and placed the night shirt I was wearing in it as well.

“What are you doing?” Alexandru asked.

“A little magic. I hate wearing dirty clothes.” I waved my hand over the clothes and the smell of lavender filled the room. “There, all better.” I said as I began dressing. “Fastest dry cleaning service around.”

“That’s handy,” he said, watching me dress, “How’d you learn that?”

“My master hated doing laundry so he made me do all the laundry. I got sick of doing the laundry so I decided to find a way to not do laundry. This was the result of weeks of research.” I said.

“Do you think that was the goal?” Alexandru posited.

I paused for a moment to think, then replied, “That would make sense, but you don’t know my master.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?” He asked sarcastically.

“Oh lots, there’s tons of stuff I can’t do. I am only an apprentice after all.”

“I was joking.” he said.

“Oh, sorry.” I said a bit sheepishly

“You warned me about that. It’s my bad.”

“You know,” I began, now fully dressed, “You don’t talk like you are seven centuries old.”

“Should I wax poetic?” he laughed, “It would make it hard to blend in. Aside from that, English isn’t my first language. I had to learn it. I do tend to default to an older dialect of Romanian when I speak that though.”

“You do realise you have white hair?” I asked with suspicion.

“Goths are a thing. I get a funny look every now and then but you’d be surprised how much people tolerate if they just think you are weird. People tend to write off those that are different from them as just being ‘that way’ and don’t tend to look much further. Even when it comes to drinking blood people don’t immediately assume ‘vampire,’ they just assume that it’s a kink thing.” He leaned on his elbow, bare chest showing above the covers.

“I mean,” I paused, “That is to say, do you only drink blood or can you eat like, people food?”

“I’m not people?” he asked with a slight smile.

I rolled my eyes, “like human food?”

“I can eat human food. I can drink and eat as much as I wish, though I still need to drink blood every so often to keep up my youthful appearance.”

“Would you die if you didn’t drink it?” I asked.

He narrowed his eyes, “Why?”

I held up my hands in supplication then said, “I’m not judging, I ask out of curiosity. You are the first dhampir I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve met regular vampires then?” he asked with a chuckle.

I thought for a moment, then said, “well, now that I think about it I must have run into a couple in the past but I didn’t know at the time so I couldn’t ask questions like this.”

“I was kidding.” he said gently

“Ah, right, of course. So would you die?” I asked expectantly.

“I suppose it’s a possibility if I went long enough without drinking any.” He sat up in the bed with the covers over his lower half. “However I’ve not had the desire to put it to the test. A regular vampire wouldn’t die, they would just become horribly aged and eventually go catatonic until someone fed them. My kind are rare and few of us have the desire to test out whether or not we will die without blood.”

“That makes sense,” I replied. I realised that I was standing there naked with my clothes on the floor. I began pulling on my pants, “So, like, when can I see you next?”

He stretched and stood up, “I’m not doing anything this weekend. I’m going to be playing at the cafe most of this week so if you want to see me before that you can come there. You spend a great deal of time there anyway so I’m sure we’ll see each other before too long.” He walked over to his wardrobe and began dressing in similar fashion to how he had been the day before. “Of course I’m going there now and we need to pick up your bike. My father owns the cafe as well so I have a key to get there from here.”

I finished dressing and sat down on the bed to lace up my boots, “How many businesses does he own?”

He finished dressing and pulled on a coat, this one with gold accents, “a few, most of them are covers so he can reach different parts of the world with ease. He has a few businesses in each city he likes to visit so he can come and go without people being too aware of his presence. Speaking of,” He paused and looked at me with seriousness, “I figure this goes without saying but just be sure, you are to tell no one of his existence. He has spent many centuries anonymously and would prefer to stay that way.”

“Oh, of course,” I responded, “I never kiss and tell, I understand discretion. I’m not a gossip.”

He looked at me with his golden eyes and I could feel them searching for something. “Right, wizard. You’ve had training against mind reading have you?”

“That I have, and just as you asked me not to tell, I would ask that you leave my brain alone. You won’t find anything but I’ll gladly tell you if you have a question. I don’t lie.” I said, slightly annoyed.

“I apologise for my rudeness, it’s a habit of mine. I was trying to see if you were being honest but I breached trust.”

I waved away the apology, “You don’t need to apologise, there was no harm done and to be fair we only properly met yesterday. I understand your reasoning. I won’t try to do it to you if you don’t try to do it to me. Fair?” I offered my hand to shake on it.

“Fair,” he said as he took my hand. He held my hand a moment as we looked into each other's eyes. “Shall we be off?” He asked softly.

“I suppose so,” I answered, I bit my lip and looked at my shoes. I wanted a kiss.

Answering my unspoken request Alex drew me in and kissed me deeply, I could feel him stirring as he said, “we’d better stop or we’ll never leave.”

“Would that be so terrible?” I asked breathlessly.

“Well,” he said, “no I suppose not but don’t you have to get back to the bakery?”

I leaned back in his embrace, “Ooh, the bakery. I mean, well, I’m just renting out the attic.” I paused and thought for a moment then sighed and said, “You’re right, I said I would help out and I’m sure they are wondering where I am.”

He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Then I suppose we’d better be getting you back then.”

We kissed again, this time more forcefully, and just as I was getting into it he pulled away. “You’re killing me with that,” I said exasperated.

He let out a small laugh and pulled away completely. He led me back out the way we came and moved to the big iron bound wood door. Alex took out the large iron key ring and picked through them til he got the key he was after and inserted it into the lock. There was a heavy ‘clunk’ as the tumbler inside the lock moved, then light spilled out into the hallway as he opened the door. The smell of roasted coffee permeated the air.

*****

Chapter 2: The Customer

We stepped through the door to find ourselves in the cafe’s backroom. A barista sat at a long white table in a metal folding chair and waved at Alex as if this were a common occurrence. She lifted her eyebrow at me but didn’t say anything. She had the attitude of, “I’m on break, I don’t give a shit.” She was pretty with dark brown hair and green eyes, covered from head to toe in tattoos. I almost said something to her but Alex led me out through the swinging door by the hand into the common area of the coffee shoppe. Street lamps shed their light into the dimly lit cafe where patrons sipped coffee. It had much the same atmosphere as it had the night before barring the lack of live music. Many people read books or had laptops open and busily clacked away at the keyboard. Alexandru walked me to the door and said goodbye then headed to the grand piano on the small stage. I cast a glance back at him and stepped out into the light rain.

My motorbike was right where I left it and slightly damp. I pulled a soft towel out of my satchel and wiped down the seat, replaced the towel and flung my leg over the side of the bike. The motorbike was a dark emerald green with a metallic finish, in the american cruiser style. It had cost me a pretty penny but I loved it and it was definitely worth the money. I waved a hand over the console and the bike roared to life. I revved the engine and pulled out into the road.

I passed through the city streets of the port town of Galway, taking in my surroundings with newfound appreciation. I had made a friend in this town and that was worth celebrating I suppose. The town was near to the ocean and this region got quite a lot of rain. Of course, I loved the rain but being on a motorbike it could be a bit wet. I was working on a spell to deal with that but it wasn’t completed yet and I’d not gotten the hang of concentrating on a spell while driving so for now I stayed wet a good portion of the time. I still couldn’t believe that the last night had passed as it had. I wasn’t really an outgoing person so the idea of what had transpired felt like a dream.

As I was lost in thought the scenery around me changed from city streets to rural lands as I drew near the Bakery that I was living at presently. The bakery was in a gaeltacht, which had been difficult for me at first but I was beginning to pick up the language and the baker and his wife were very patient with me as I learned.

It was about eight o’ clock by the time I reached the bakery. It was an old building, built some three hundred years ago and had been in the family that whole time. The baker’s name was Séamus. He was a right large man with a big beard and closely cropped blonde hair. He also had quite the gut which was usually covered with a white shirt and an apron, dusted with flour. As I pulled into the carpark I could see that the lights were on in the first floor where Séamus and his wife, Órla, lived. This Autumn had been unseasonably warm but I was still chilled from driving in the rain. The building was two stories with the ground floor being the bakery, then the living area above that and the attic, where I resided. Attached to the building was a breezeway and a garage. I parked my motorbike under the breezeway and the engine shuddered as it shut off. I stood there a moment after dismounting and thought about the tonguelashing I would receive if I came in wet. I concentrated for a moment and a gust of warm wind blew up through my leathers and wet hair that fell halfway down my back. In moments I was dry enough not to drip so I made my way inside.

The bakery was warm and it looked like most of the bread for the day had been sold. The shoppe area had a few tables where people could sit and eat if they bought something like a meat pie or other such food, with a long counter and shelves behind where the bread for the day rested. My boots made more noise than I was comfortable with as I made my way up the stairs into the living area. “Rory? Is that you?” came a gruff voice up the stairs in Irish.

“It is,” I replied as I rounded the top of the stairs, “I’m back.”

Órla gave me a disapproving look and said, “now I know that you aren’t one of our children but you could have called to say you wouldn’t be coming home last night. Séamus and I were worried sick, you know.”

Séamus chimed in, “and you didn’t come back during the day either. For all we knew you wrecked and were lying helpless in a ditch somewhere.”

I winced and said, “I’m sorry, I know I should have called, it just slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your mind, did it?” Séamus said, “Well I’ll have you know that we were quite busy today and I could have used a hand with the shoppe. You know the kids have moved out and part of you staying as cheap as you are is because you are supposed to work in the bakery. Shirking your responsibilities is not the way to garner favour, you know.”

I looked at my boots for answers but could find none. “Well-” I began but Séamus cut me off.

“You’re an adult and while you may be young for your trade you still should act your age. If you’re going to be out all hours just let us know so that we don’t worry.” He had his burly arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at me from his high vantage point. He was about six-foot-five and twenty-two stone. An imposing fellow, to be sure, compared to my five-foot-six and ten stone.

“I promise that I’ll let you know if I won’t be home from now on, but I didn’t even know I was going to be gone this long.” I said sheepishly.

“Even still,” came Órla, “if you think you’re going to be out very late, just let us know. We aren’t angry with you, we were just worried.” Órla was in her mid forties with red hair streaked through with grey and tied up in a bun. She’d had four children and they had taken their toll on her. She was matronly looking, not homely by any means and you could tell she had been quite the sight to see in her youth. “You haven’t been here very long, only since the start of summer, but we’ve grown to care about you.”

“And another thing,” said Séamus, “You had a customer come by while you were out gallivanting around with who knows who.”

I perked up at this. “A customer?” I asked, “what did they need?”

“He didn’t say, just that he had a problem he thought you might be able to help with.” Séamus shuddered a bit as he spoke, “I didn’t like the look of him, he came in with a hood, but you know what they say about wizards and the kind they keep with.”

Órla said, “Séamus, don’t be like that. He seemed respectable enough, just a bit touched, you understand. I told him you would be back tomorrow so go upstairs and get some rest. I’m sure you need it after your night out. Oh,” She added, “There’s some black pudding for you in the kitchen, have some before you turn in for the night.”

“I’ll have some now. Thank you,” I said. I went into the kitchen, got a plate of the blood sausage and headed up into the attic. The attic was fairly spacious though I had to duck my head in a few places to keep from hitting the beams. I had a few bookcases, a desk, a table that had been covered by alchemical devices, and a single bed covered in a quilt Órla had made years before. The ceiling was sloped at the sides and it got pretty chilly at night. I sat at the desk and tucked into my food before going to one of the bookcases to pull a musty old tome from the shelf. I waved a hand and a small orb of light appeared above my head. I filled my pipe and began to read. The tome was a treatise on evocation, typically unused these days due to the general safety of the modern age but it was still good to know for self defence. Aside from that, as I had told Alexandru, I aspired to be a universalist.

Wizards were typically split into categories based on their area of study. Evokers were those who specialised in the generation of elements like fire and lightning, they typically found careers with militaries as their battle magic was typically very powerful. Conjurers specialised in the calling of things and spirits or creatures. Diviners used divination magic to see the future, the past, or the present. Astrologens looked to the stars. Abjurers specialised in defence magic or the banishment of entities. Enchanters focused on the mind and the manipulation of it, sometimes referred to as psychics. Illusionists focused on illusions, some of which were real enough to cause harm to the body or mind. Transmuters learned how to manipulate matter and many became alchemists of great renown. Necromancers studied life and death and the energies of them, they tended to have a sinister reputation but there are many who become excellent doctors and healers. Although, there were those who deserved the reputation being that they would raise the dead to serve as their minions. Finally, there were the Universalists, those that forego specialisation to study the universe and all it entails. Universalists were typically not considered to be masters of their craft until they were very old with the apprenticeship being lengthy as well.

I began my apprenticeship at the age of fourteen to an old man named Alden. I felt in my youth that he was just lazy but as I got older I saw him with newfound respect. He had me perform many mundane tasks endlessly until I got sick of them and learned magic to make them easier or faster, hence the spell to clean my clothes. He had a saying, “Many people say necessity is the mother of invention, but truly the mother of invention is laziness.” He would say, “The secret of innovation is wanting to do less work and figuring out a way to make that possible. Tempered laziness is the way to get things done efficiently. Take for example the woodcutter. A hardworking woodcutter carries an armful of wood with every trip, to get his work done in good time. The lazy woodcutter carries one log at a time, doing far more work than the hardworking woodcutter. But! The lazy woodworker who is clever realises that he can use a cart to carry the wood in, doing the least work of all! Working hard is well and good, but hard work for the sake of hard work is folly.”

Because of him I learned to create my own spells early on, rather than wait to be told how to do it. Of course, many of them backfired but he never scolded me for trying. It took a long time for me to realise that that was what he wanted me to do. Now don’t get me wrong, Alden still made me learn to do things the mundane way. While magic is useful, it takes a toll on the body when used too much, so it is better to save your spells for when you need them, rather than using them for every little thing. Didn’t stop me from using magic as much as I could though.

For a wizard, magic is like a muscle. Unlike priests who rely on the gods for their magic, a wizard relies on themself. The only way to build a muscle is to use it, but just like a muscle, using too much magic, or attempting something that is beyond your power can result in your death. For this reason many wizards learn cantrips or minor magical tricks. This is why I light my pipe with magic and other small things, to keep the muscle warm, so to speak.

I read for a while and checked my watch. Three in the morning. Séamus and Órla would be getting up about now to start baking for the day. I rubbed my eyes and closed the book. I walked over to the corner of the room where I had a full length mirror and examined myself. My emerald eyes were red with lack of sleep and I had bags under them. I wasn’t as young as I used to be and staying up at all hours was beginning to take a toll. I changed out of my road gear and put on a grey robe I had sewed myself and a large, battered grey hat with a floppy brim and pointy top that drooped. I had to look the part, after all my customer would be coming back today. I cinched a wide black belt around my waist with a leather pouch on it to hold my phone and such, then grabbed my canvas satchel and headed downstairs.

Órla was in the kitchen cooking breakfast and waved to me. “Good morning, Rory. Did you sleep at all last night?” she asked kindly.

“No,” I responded, “I slept most of the day and I wanted to get some reading done. I’ll be fine though, I’ll go to bed after I meet with this customer you told me about.” I pulled my pipe out of my satchel and began loading it with tobacco. I sat down at the table and lit the pipe with a snap of my fingers.

“You should take a nap, I’m sure Séamus won’t mind.” she said over the sound of frying bacon.

I puffed for a moment then said, “I need to help him this morning. Like he said yesterday, I’m supposed to help out with the shoppe as part of my rent.”

Órla cracked an egg into the pan, “Regardless, you need to take care of yourself. You look tired.”

“Oh, I am, but I have stuff to do. I’ll sleep later, promise.” I said, crossing my heart.

She glared at me with a look that could curdle milk but said, “Very well, have some breakfast. There’s tea in the pot. Just finished brewing.”

I stood and walked over to the cupboard and got a mug looking very much like a locomotive as smoke trailed behind me. “Is there any coffee? I’ll be needing something a bit stronger I think.”

“Aye,” she said, “I’ve got some but you’ll have to wait for it. I’ve not made any this morning. Have some tea and breakfast in the meantime.”I got a plate down and handed it to her. She put some bacon and eggs on it and handed it back. I poured myself some tea, thanked her, and sat down to eat.

After it was done, I got some coffee then headed downstairs to the bakery. Séamus was kneading some dough in the back so I grabbed an apron and began helping. I liked baking. It was simple but required a lot of very precise measurements to turn out properly. Anyone can bake, but the hands of an experienced baker turn out some of the best bread and treats you’ll ever have. I’d only been helping out a few months, but I had picked up the knack fairly quickly. I tend to learn things pretty quickly, usually the first time I’m told. That isn’t to say I’m good at everything, mind you, just that I was a quick study.

We worked in silence for the most part, with an occasional word here and there. Séamus wasn’t much for conversation and rather than annoy him with idle chatter I simply kept quiet and worked. Before too long we had loaves and pasties coming out of the oven and I went to unlock the front door.

Before long, the bell on the door rang and we had our first customer of the day. It continued at a steady pace for most of the morning, and as it went the sun came up and the day began properly. People came and went, and the morning passed quickly.

Around noontime, as I was sitting down for tea and a smoke upstairs, the bell rang. After a moment, the old baker called for me to come downstairs. I grumbled a bit as I stood up and put on my hat, then headed downstairs to see what the fuss was about.

“I’m coming,” I called down around the pipe in my mouth, “What do you need?”

“Your customer is here,” Séamus said as I came into view on the stairs. Standing across the counter was a tall slender fellow wearing a hooded jacket with the hood up. From what I could see he looked young, I only hoped that he wasn’t some lovestruck teenager after a love potion or some such.

“Hello,” came a lilting voice in accented Irish. He looked me up and down and said, “I take it you’re the wizard then?”

“Aye, that I am.” I said as I came to stand behind the counter. “What can I help you with?”

“Well, good sir, I need some assistance.” he said, “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?” He seemed antsy and nervous. I could understand why Séamus hadn’t liked the look of him.

“I suppose so.” I looked at the baker and asked, “can we use the sitting room upstairs?”

“Just put it back the way you found it,” he said, looking crooked at the hooded stranger.

“Right then,” I said, gesturing up the stairs, “follow me, if you will.”

We headed up the stairs and I guided him to the sitting room. There were two soft chairs with a coffee table between them. The walls had pictures hanging on them that varied greatly; some were very old pictographs, others were more modern prints. A fireplace sat in one wall with some logs nearby. I threw some logs on the fire grate, waved a hand over it and a fire sprung to life. I gestured to one of the chairs and said, “Well then, have a seat and tell me what brings you to me today.”

“It’s good to see that you can do magic,” he said sitting down, “I was concerned that it was just a rumour of some charlatan.”

I sat down in the chair beside him and said, “well, I’m no charlatan but technically I’m still an apprentice. I’ve eight more months til I’m considered to be a fully fledged wizard.”

He asked, “may I ask what your specialisation is?”

“Universalist, which is why I’m not through with my apprenticeship. In all respects I am more than capable in most areas, It’s just a formality thing. So down to business what did you need?”

“Well,” he said, lowering his hood, revealing hair like moonlight and long pointed ears, “I need an item located and recovered.”

Chapter 3: The Eye

“What is it?” I asked with newfound interest. Elves were very uncommon and though they were known to exist, they rarely mixed with humans. What could this one need with me?

“You are not surprised I am an elf?” he asked with suspicion.

“I knew of the elves’ existence. I am a touch surprised that you would seek me out. As far as I’m aware, elves have their own magicians. Why do you need me?” I asked, puffing on my pipe.

He looked at me with piercing silver eyes, “Our council does not know I am here.”

Well that was interesting. “I may require hazard pay if that’s the case.” I said with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Money is no issue,” he said dismissively, “You will be rewarded handsomely for your assistance. I also don’t intend for you to go alone. I will be coming along and you may bring someone with you, though I require discretion in this matter.”

“Very well,” I thought for a moment, “You still haven’t told me what you are after though.” I said pointedly.

“I seek the Eye of Balor.” He stated flatly.

Now this was definitely interesting. “That’s a myth. The Eye of Balor doesn’t exist, and aside from that, the Fomoire haven’t been seen in thousands of years. What could you possibly want with something like that?” I asked, leaning forward in my chair.

He leaned forward as well, “I can assure you it does exist, and I am not the only one seeking it. Supposedly it has resurfaced and I need to find it before it can fall into hands that would use it for ill.”

I puffed my pipe for a moment in thought, then said, “Why not go to your council about it? Surely if such a thing is real and there are nefarious folk after it then they should be interested in its safekeeping.”

“I can’t go to the council because they are one of the ones after it.”

“And that’s a bad thing because…?” I asked.

“The council seeks to use The Eye to retaliate against humans for relegating us to the shadows. We are a long lived race, as I’m sure you know, and we have been mistreated for centuries. The hurts from hundreds of years ago are still remembered by much of our people. Surely you can understand, being Irish yourself.” he said, almost an accusation.

“The elf hunts were a dark time, but why now? Why wait until all the perpetrators are dead to retaliate?” I asked sharply.

He held his hands up in supplication and said, “I made the same point. But there have been growing tensions lately. They fear that with the new Taoiseach that a new round of elf hunts will begin. They want to strike before such a thing happens. I was outvoted.”

“But the Irish weren’t even the ones who perpetrated the elf hunts! It was the English.” I said, almost pleading.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, it was humans who hunted us indiscriminately. What brand of humans matters very little when so many of us are dead. At least to them. I am young for my people, ‘you weren’t there,’ they said. ‘What could you possibly know about what we went through?’ The Celts have always been respectful of us, as they are of all Fae creatures, but we lost so many during those times.”

I pulled my pipe from my mouth and leaned back in my chair. This was bad news. If the Eye of Balor was real, it posed a very real threat. I took off my hat and scratched my head, then placed my hat back and puffed my pipe. “Look,” I began, “What you are asking is beyond my ability. Just finding the Eye first won’t stop what’s coming. You are asking me to help prevent war. Why did you not seek a more experienced wizard for this if money is no object?”

“I heard that you were tolerant of those who are different from yourself.” he said gently, “There were many wizards who fought against us in the hunts. Most of which have now passed on, but wizards tend to be longer lived than standard humans. Your kind are rare now too, if my knowledge of humans is correct.”

It was true that wizards were few and far between now. With the creation of many modern advancements wizards were becoming redundant. There simply wasn’t a need for them like there was in the old days before modern technology.

“Alright, I will help,” I said, “I don’t know how much help I will be but I will try, at the very least.” I tapped out the ash from my pipe and pulled hard to get the cherry going again. A large cloud of blue smoke was my reward. “Listen, in order to locate the eyes I need something of Balor’s. Do you have such an item?”

He pulled a small leather bag out of his coat pocket and handed it to me. Inside was what looked like a large fishscale. “That,” he said, “is one of Balor’s fingernails. It was hard to get a hold of.”

I looked from the fingernail to the elf and said, “I won’t ask where you got this. It’s probably better that I don’t know.”

He nodded and said, “I thank you for your discretion in this matter.”

I stood up and walked over to the fireplace which was still burning happily and waved a hand over the flames. The fire died with a hiss and smoke rose from the now extinguished logs. “Come with me,” I said, still holding the fingernail, “We will go to my quarters and locate this abomination.” The elf stood and followed me out of the room to the staircase that led to the attic. “By the by, what is your name?” I asked.

“You may call me Ainsel.” He said as he followed me up the stairs.

“Very well, Ainsel, if you don’t want to give your name you don’t have to.” I said, fully aware of the meaning.

“I would be quite the fool to give my name to a human wizard, don’t you think?” He said playfully.

“Fair enough,” I said, opening the door to the attic, “This way.”

We entered the attic and I led Ainsel over to my desk. I went over to one of the bookcases and pulled a map of Ireland down from on top, then took it to the desk and laid it out flat. I dug in my satchel for a pendulum and took a brass bowl from the table. I placed the fingernail in the bowl and lit a candle on the desk. I swung the pendulum above the map and after a few moments it stopped in place, above the northern tip of Lough Arrow.

“Well,” I said, “It would appear as though the eye is in County Sligo, which I suppose makes sense considering that is where the second battle of Moytura was supposed to have happened.

“Are you sure the Eye is there?” He asked suspiciously.

“Well, that is where Balor’s remains are at least. If I had to guess, I would say the Eye is somewhere around Heapstown Cairn. I think it is unlikely that the Eye is in the cairn itself since according to legend it was pushed through the head of Balor into the plains where the Fomoire troops were gathered. At the very least we have a place to start.”

“Excellent, when can we depart?” Ainsel asked with a clap of his hands.

“I need to sleep, and then I need to get in touch with someone who might be able to help. He understands discretion so I think he would be a good choice. Do you have a way for me to contact you? Are you staying nearby?” I asked.

“I’ll be back when the moon has risen. Be ready by then.” he said. I then walked him out of the bakery and went to sleep

Chapter 4:

I slept dreamlessly for a few hours and awoke to the sound of Órla cooking dinner. A quick glance out the window told me that the sun was beginning to set. I hopped from bed and threw on my road gear, this time with a warm shirt underneath, and went downstairs. I said hello to Órla, grabbed a loaf of bread and some hard cheese, placed them inside my satchel, and headed down the stairs. The baker was about to lock the door for the evening and had just flipped the sign around to say that we were closed. I told him that I was headed out and that I didn’t know when I would be back and not to wait up.

It was a foggy evening and with the sun setting visibility was poor. I hopped on my bike and with a wave of my hand the engine roared to life. I had perhaps two hours til the moon rose and Ainsel returned, which hopefully would be just enough to get where I needed to go and back again. There was almost no one on the road into town. I started at every shadow on the way, which was unusual for me. I suppose my conversation with Ainsel had put me on edge.

Before too long I was back at the cafe. I parked my bike and went inside. Alex wasn’t here, but seeing as the sun had just set it was possible he hadn’t left the castle yet. I pulled my phone out and dialled his number. It rang for a moment and then I was greeted with a sleepy, “Hello?”

“Hey, Alex? It’s Rory.” I said into the device.

“Calling so soon? You must have had a really good time,” he laughed.

“Well, yes, but that’s not why I called. Can you come to the cafe? I have something to talk to you about.” I wasn’t used to talking on the phone and I wanted this conversation to go as fast as possible.

“Sure, just a second while I get dressed.” He said, followed by the sound of his phone snapping shut.

I didn’t have to wait for very long before Alexandru came striding out of the backroom of the cafe. “Hello there, so what did you want to talk to me about?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Let’s step outside,” I said quickly, “I don’t want to talk where people can hear.”

“Sure, sure,” he said and followed me out of the cafe.

There was no one on the street and the fog made everything feel very close. I looked at him and was awestruck by his beauty, as if seeing him for the first time. “So, I have a question for you.” I began.

“Shoot,” he responded.

“Okay, I’m not sure how to ask this so I’m just going to say it. Do you have any experience fighting or well, um, do you have any experience with war?” I asked nervously.

“I am an accomplished swordsman and have seen my fair share of bloodshed. That’s a rather sudden question, why do you ask?”

I began to relay the story of my encounter with Ainsel to him and I watched his expression change from mild curiosity to outright shock. “Rory, why are you telling me this?”

I sighed, “Well, I hoped you would come with me. This is a tad outside the scope of what I normally deal with and as I’m sure you know, wizards are not all that great in close combat. While I don’t foresee anything happening necessarily, there is a good possibility that there will be fighting.” I paused, pulled out my pipe and began smoking, then continued, “You don’t have any obligation to come, I just, I have no one else I can ask.”

“Do you think this Ainsel can be trusted?” He asked pointedly.

“It’s true what he said about tensions mounting with the recent change in government, and while I don’t think that it will lead to new elf hunts, I do think that there is trouble brewing. I’ve felt so since the transition. He also said that the elvish council aren’t the only ones after the Eye.”

“Okay, suppose he can be trusted, what is the Eye of Balor anyway?” He asked.

“Right,” I said, “you aren’t from Ireland so you probably wouldn’t know. Balor was one of the Fomoire and it’s said that his eye was changed when he peeked at a potion his father’s druids were brewing. The Eye came to have the power to petrify people and he used it in battle to destroy hosts of soldiers. It’s said that he also used it in the destruction of a few Islands which remain haunted to this day. Balor was believed to be a myth but if his Eye still has that power it could be a huge problem if the elves use it to start a war. I know that this isn’t your fight, but…” I stopped and looked at my boots. This really wasn’t Alexandru’s fight. I had no right to ask him to help out. For all I knew he would be in favour of a war between the elves and humans.

“Well, do we know where this Eye is?” He asked, sounding like he was onboard.

I perked up a bit at his tone, “We have a starting place. County Sligo, near Lough Arrow. I was able to divine the resting place of Balor. While the Eye may not be there, it’s the best chance we have so far.”

“Give me a moment,” he said, “I’ll be right back.”

Alex walked back into the cafe, then vanished into the backroom. Few minutes later he came back out with an estoc strapped to his waist. “Okay, I’m ready, when do we leave?”

“Right now,” I said, “Do you have a car?”

“I was planning to ride on the back of your motorbike if that’s alright with you?” he asked.

I blushed, “No that’s perfect! I mean,” I cleared my throat, “If that’s alright with you then it’s alright with me.” I sat down on the bike and Alex got on behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and I couldn’t help but get a bit excited.

I started the bike and off we went, back to the bakery. It was dark out and the fog still hadn’t lifted. The ride back to the bakery lasted not nearly long enough, in my opinion. I would have loved to keep riding with Alex holding me like that, but the road was only so long. As the bakery pulled into view I could see a hooded figure sitting outside under the breezeway.

“Ho there,” Ainsel called in heavily accented English, “I was wondering when you would be back.”

I stopped the bike and got off, closely followed by Alex. “Sorry, I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” I said, “This is Alexandru. He’ll be coming with us.”

Alex gave a courtier's bow and said, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Ainsel looked him up and down and said, “We are not going dancing, Are you sure you know how to use that sword?”

Alex rose from his bow and said, “What of yourself? I see no weapon on you. Are you sure you are prepared?”

I stepped between them saying, “Good to see that you are getting along. Ainsel, do you have a mode of transportation?”

“I do not.” he said, “I was planning to walk.”

“It’s a three day walk to Lough Arrow from here. Two days if you have a fast pace. Is speed not our priority?” I asked.

“Regardless, I do not have another way to travel.” He said flatly.

I walked over to the garage and opened the door. “I happen to have a sidecar. I didn’t feel I needed one but the salesman was really pushy. I’m glad I decided to get it now, though.” I spent a few minutes attaching the sidecar to the bike. “Alex, you can ride on the back with me, Ainsel you’ll be in the sidecar.

“That works for me,” Alex said, “How long is the ride to Lough Arrow?”

“Should be about two hours,” I said, pulling out my phone to check the route, “It says with current traffic it’ll be a little less but the weather isn’t favourable so if I had to guess I’d say we’ll be there about midnight. Does that work for you, Ainsel?”

“That is faster than if we were to walk so I do not mind.” He walked over and looked at the sidecar. “Is this safe?”

I shrugged and said, “It’s technically safer than the bike without one, you are less likely to tip over this way but it can make turning more difficult because I can’t lean into the curve. I have a helmet if you would like. I usually don’t wear it so I don’t mind letting you wear it.”

“I will take it.” he responded, looking a little relieved.

“Well then, let’s be off.” I said. We all got on the bike, I retied my hair, and away we went. The night was cold and wet, which would have made for an unpleasant ride, but I had gotten my wish for to have Alex clinging to me as we rode. Before long my hair hung damp with fog, adding to the chill. There was no traffic. There were no cars at all on the road, which normally I would have thought nothing of but due to our mission I couldn’t help but to feel uneasy. Maybe it was the weather. I couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes upon me. I pulled over.

“Is something wrong?” Alex asked as I looked around.

“I’m sure it’s nothing but…” I paused, then looked at Ainsel and said, “Ainsel, did anyone know you were coming to me?”

“I told no one of my plans.” he said curtly.

I rummaged in my satchel and pulled out a small shattered pocket mirror held by a leather thong. “Put this on, I have a feeling that you are being followed with magic.” He put the necklace on and I felt something akin to the shattering of glass. “We should proceed with the idea that all of our plans are known by someone. Likely the elvish council. Possibly someone else. I have no idea how long they were watching you but we should assume that they know the remains of Balor are in Sligo.” I shivered, and not from the chill autumn air. Now that I knew we had been being watched I was certain of our need for haste. “We’d better be going,” I said, getting back on the bike.

The remainder of our journey passed without incident. We made it to Heapstown cairn and began our search. I searched through my satchel for a pair of L shaped copper rods.

“What are those?” Ainsel asked.

I held them parallel to the ground and began slowly walking, “These are dowsing rods. Most people use them to find water but if you know the trick to them you can use them to find pretty much anything you are searching for if it’s been buried.” I walked over the area slowly for a while and got no response from the rods.

“Are they broken?” Alex asked, in a slightly mocking tone.

I looked at the rods then back at Alexandru, “No, it just seems that the eye isn’t near the cairn.” Alex gave me a long look and I said, “right, joking, got it.” I continued walking over the area, moving more in the direction of Lough Arrow. Eventually the rods crossed over themselves and I said, “Here, the Eye is here.”

I placed the rods back in my bag and Ainsel said, “you do not happen to have a shovel in there do you?”

I smirked and reached into the bag again, this time pulling out a steel spade. “You never know what you might need. I keep a lot of things handy.”

Ainsel looked at me for a long moment, then looked at Alex who said, “The bag is magic.”

I started digging but before long I was working up an awful sweat even in the chill air. I took off my leather jacket and went back to digging with both of them just watching. After a bit Ainsel asked Alexandru, “So how do you know the wizard? Are you a customer of his?”

Alex thought for a moment and said, “They come into the shop where I play piano a lot.”

Ainsel gave him a searching look and said, “That doesn’t explain very much. Why did you come on this errand if you just know him in passing?”

“Them,” he corrected, “and I didn’t have anything better to do.”

Ainsel got a confused look on his face. “Did they tell you what we are doing here?”

“Of course,” Alex said, “I know that we are trying to prevent a war.”

“And you came because you had nothing better to do?” Ainsel asked.

“Yup,” was the response.

“That does not make sense. This is not something to do because you were bored. There must be more to it than that,” Ainsel pushed.

“If you don’t mind, could one of you take a turn digging?” I asked between panting breaths, “I’m not much for this kind of work and it seems to be deeper than I thought it would be.”

“Sure,” Alex said as he walked over and took the spade from me, then set about to digging.

Ainsel asked, “how deep do you think it is?”

“Well,” I began, “If it’s been buried for thousands of years it must be pretty deep.”

“Why don’t you just magic the dirt out?” he asked.

“You can’t just ‘magic’ things. Aside from that, say I were to remove all the dirt. It has to go somewhere. And then, hypothetically speaking, I would have the risk of sending the Eye away with the dirt.” I explained.

“What about your dowsing rods, don’t they tell you how deep it is?” He asked.

I shook my head, “Only the general location.”

“What if they are wrong? We would just be wasting our time here.” he said, slightly irritated.

“You are the one who came to me,” I pointed out, “You could have gotten a more experienced magic user to do this.”

Ainsel pointed at me and said, “So you admit you could be wrong! We do not have time to waste.”

“I found something,” Alex said, breaking the tension. I looked over at where he had been digging to find that in the short span I had been talking to Ainsel he had made significant progress. The hole was thirteen feet deep and about seven feet in diameter.

“How did you dig that so fast?” I asked, looking down into the hole astonished.

Alex shrugged and only said, “I am strong.” He wiped his hands on a kerchief and held up what looked like a large sphere of quartz.

Ainsel looked down and said, “We are looking for an eye, not a pretty stone.”

“No wait,” I said, “I can feel something from it. Can you get out of that hole?”

Alex jumped, clearing the hole, and landed near to where Ainsel and I were standing. Ainsel reeled back and said, “You are something else! You are not a human!”

Alex merely shrugged and said, “I am very strong. Also, neither are you. Why are you so surprised?”

Ainsel thought about this and said, “I suppose it is true what they say about wizards and strange bedfellows.”

I coughed and held a hand out to Alexandru, “let me see the stone.”

Alex handed me the crystal ball and I looked at it closely. I couldn’t make much out in the darkness so I waved a hand and a small orb of light appeared over my head. Taking another look, the sphere was about six centimetres in diameter and made of cloudy, white crystal, and on one side was what looked like a black iris. I could feel a strong malevolent force coming from it and I greatly desired to look deeply into the Eye, but remembering the tales about it I restrained myself.

“This is it. I’m sure of it,” I said, feeling rather excited. This was an historic find! This meant so many things. First of all, the myths of Ireland weren't myths at all! Second, we may be able to prevent war with the elves after all. Or so I thought. The next thing I knew I had a knife pressed against my throat, with Ainsel standing behind me holding it. I heard Alex shout and then everything went dark.

*****

The sheets were soft and smooth. They felt like silk. I stirred in bed but found I didn’t have the strength to move. I began to panic as my memories began to flood back. My throat had been cut! I must be in the hospital, I thought. Although, I didn’t know of any hospitals that had silk sheets. Gods my throat was so dry. I needed something to drink.

“Here,” came a voice with a heavy Romanian accent, “drink from this, you will find your strength return to you.”

I felt something cold touch my lips and they parted slightly, allowing liquid to flow into my mouth. It tasted like iron. And I liked it. A lot. I drank deeply of the strange liquid and could feel strength begin to seep into my limbs. I opened my eyes and saw a large four poster bed with silk curtains of dark red. I tried to sit up but someone said, “Lie still, you have only just gone through the change.”

I turned to look at the owner of the voice and saw an older gentleman with white hair. He had a deep widow's peak and a moustache, with sharp, angular features that I had seen before in paintings. “I know you,” I croaked.

“That is not surprising,” he said, “from what my son tells me you are well studied. But allow me to introduce myself anyway. I am Vladislav Tepes the third.”

Chapter 5: Vampire

“I have prepared a room for you to stay in,” Vlad said, “Please, make yourself at home. You will be staying here now. I have sent someone to collect your things from the bakery you were staying in.”

“How did I get here?” I asked hoarsely.

“My son brought you here covered in your own blood. You would have died had it not been for him.” he said genially. “I was told that you had no problem with becoming one of my own so I took the liberty of saving your life.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, still foggy from my ordeal.

“It would seem that you are not yet fully recovered from your transition. I will come back later with more for you to drink. Rest.”

I did as I was bid and closed my eyes, too tired to fight the exhaustion in my body.

*****

I awoke to the feeling of something cold against my lips. I did as before and drank the liquid, feeling more of my strength returning. This time I felt much better than before and was able to sit up in bed quite easily.

“I see you are doing much better,” Vlad said to me, “That is good. But how are you feeling?”

“Thirsty,” I said quickly, ‘What did you give me to drink?”

“It was my blood, you should now be strong enough to stand. Would you like to try?” he asked.

“I think so,” I said. I looked down to notice that I was wearing a long silk nightshirt. I scooted over to the edge of the bed and gingerly placed my feet upon the tiled floor. I stood shakily but could feel more strength with every passing moment.

“Good,” Vlad said, “You will need to drink more for the transition to become complete, but my blood will not do. You need human blood. I take it you would not be opposed to going out with Alexandru?”

“So it’s true then?” I asked.

“You are a child of the night now, yes it is true; but if you do not drink human blood the transition will not be complete and you will die. Though, I suppose technically, you have already died.”

“I thought I would feel less myself. I mean, Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?” I asked.

“If you were turned by lesser blood, perhaps, but mine is potent and you are of the highest class of vampire. As you grow into your abilities you will see what I mean.” The way he spoke was mild and gentle, as though speaking to a child that had fallen and hurt itself. “For now we must find my son, he will take you to find something to drink. He is likely in his chambers as I told him I would fetch him when you awoke. He was quite worried about you, which is unlike him. Come.”

Vlad took me through the castle corridors, passing by elaborate works of art in the form of statues and paintings. It took me a while to notice that there were no lights but I could see just fine. There were no lights because we didn’t need them.

Before long we had reached Alex’s chambers. Vlad knocked on the door and let himself in. Alex was pacing across the sitting room floor with his hands behind his back. He turned when he saw us enter and came over. “Rory! How are you feeling?”

I stepped through the threshold and stretched a bit. “I feel good,” I said, “far better than I think I would had you not brought me here. Thanks for that.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him. He got away.” Alex said with a downcast expression.

“Don’t worry about it,” I began, “It’s my fault for trusting him. I should have known better. And, I don’t have any way to figure out where he went. I don’t have any of his possessions, I don’t know his real name-”

“Ainsel wasn’t his name?” Alex asked.

“No, Ainsel is old english. It essentially means ‘myself.’ It’s from an old faerie tale. He said he knew better than to give his real name to a wizard. I figured that it was because he was an elf, not because he intended to kill me after getting The Eye of Balor.” I kicked the ground with my bare feet. “I should have known. I’ve always trusted people too easily. Do you happen to know where my bike is?” I asked.

Alex looked away then said, “It’s still in County Sligo. I was more concerned with getting you here before you passed on.”

I shrugged, “Oh well, it’s not like anyone can steal it. I’ll get it later. Do you have my bag?”

Alex snapped his fingers and said, “I do, let me grab it.” He disappeared through the door to his bedchamber and came back in a moment with a familiar brown satchel. He walked over and handed it to me.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the bag. I reached into it and pulled out a compact. I opened and looked into the mirror and inspected my reflection. I had no sign of the cut on my throat. My eyes had also changed from bright green to deep scarlet, matching my hair. “Hm,” I said, “I thought vampires didn’t show up in mirrors.”

Vlad said, “we do not show up in mirrors backed with silver. Most of the modern mirrors don’t use it. Speaking of, you will find that silver now burns to the touch. If you had any silver jewellery I would suggest that you do not wear it.”

I reached up to my ears and felt the earrings I had in. “Good thing these are made of surgical steel, I guess.”

“If you are finished with pleasantries,” Vlad said, “Then I suggest Alex take you out hunting. You do not have very long before you start to feel very out of sorts.”

“Right,” Alex said, “follow me.”

“I will leave you two now, and be back before the sun comes up. I would hate to have my efforts wasted.” Vlad said pointedly.

“Right,” I said, “of course. Daylight. At least I was never awake during the daytime very much anyway.” I said with a small chuckle.

Vladislav left the sitting room to go back into the castle and Alex came over to me. He embraced me and kissed me deeply, holding the back of my neck, then said, “I hope you are not too bent out of shape about my father turning you. If you are angry please be angry at me. I was the one who told him you wouldn’t mind.”

I laughed and said, “Are you kidding? Wizards may tend to live longer than regular humans but they still don’t live longer than vampires! I had considered lichdom before but this is better. Afterall, now I don’t have to worry about my body rotting away. I don’t have to worry about my body rotting away, do I?” I asked very seriously.

This time it was Alexandru’s turn to laugh, “No, you don’t have to worry about that. But we had better find you someone to drink soon or it will become something to worry about. Let us be off.”

I nodded and Alex led us out to the door he had previously used to take us to the cafe. He pulled out his keyring and inserted a large black iron ring into the keyhole and light appeared around the doorway. He opened the door and led us through.

*****

We were standing at the top of a staircase that led down into a room lit with red lights. I could hear slow heavy music and the sound of people moaning with pleasure.

“Alex, where are we?” I asked, slightly confused.

“We are at another of my father’s businesses. This one is a sex club where the patrons are into bloodplay. I figured this would be a safe place to go as most governments frown on the hunting of pedestrians typically.”

“Do I have to kill anyone?” I asked cautiously.

Alex shook his head, “No, you don’t but if you are not careful you can. But that’s part of the reason I’m with you, so that if you start to lose control I can pull you back. Let’s head downstairs.” Alex grabbed me by the hand and led me down into the club.

The room we came into had lots of couches with people fucking on them. A bar was at one end of the room and the air was smoky. Almost no one in the club was fully clothed, with those who were wearing clothes, if you could even call it that, were wearing so little that there was precious little left to the imagination. Along one of the wall were several door that led to rooms with a large window in the wall. Some of these rooms had the curtains drawn while others were left open for people to look in if that was their thing. And I could smell blood. As Alex had said, there were quite a few people who were drinking blood from their partners. I suddenly realised that I had never gotten dressed and was still wearing the silk nightshirt. The both of us looked slightly out of place since we were almost the only people who were wearing anything that covered anything.

“Alex,” I asked, “Is it alright for us to wear clothes here?”

He laughed and said, “It isn’t forbidden, and at the top of the stairs through the door we came through is a changing room where people can get dressed and undressed with lockers and such to put their things. Follow me.”

Alex led me up to the bar to a pretty woman wearing a lot of garters and lace. She spoke to Alex in Dutch and he responded in kind. They looked to exchange pleasantries and then Alexandru gestured to me and asked a question. She laughed and came from around the bar and led us to one of the rooms on the wall with the curtains drawn. She unlocked the door and opened it then waved us inside. The room was comfortably furnished and lit with the same red lights as the main floor of the club. She left us as I looked around the room.

“Are we in Germany?” I asked.

“Amsterdam,” he corrected, “The laws are more, shall we say, lenient of our kind here.”

“I don’t speak Dutch.” I said quickly.

“You don’t need to,” he responded, “most people here speak English and a few other languages. Aside from that I don’t think we will be talking much.”

We sat down on the couch and Alex put his legs up on the ottoman. After a moment or two, a muscular blond man wearing a lacy jockstrap came in with a tray with drinks. They were in martini glasses and looked to be multicoloured layers. He handed the drinks to us and then walked away. I couldn’t help but to stare at his ass as he walked out. Alex noticed and asked, “Have you ever been to a club like this?”

“Been to one? Gods no, but I’ve heard of them. It’s a different experience than I’m used to.” I said, looking at Alexandru. He seemed right at home here, but then again, I had really only been with him to places that he owned so it made sense for him to be this way.

“Well,” he began, “you’ll get used to them in time. These kinds of places are the best place to get a drink. People come to us, we don’t even have to hunt anymore.” He picked up one of the drinks and took a sip.

I picked up the other drink and tasted it. It was sweet, fruity, and tasted very strongly of alcohol.

“Alex, can I still eat food? Or do I just drink blood now?” I asked between sips.

“You can still eat, though you’ll find you won’t get hungry. What good is living forever if you can’t enjoy all that life has to offer?” he asked, finishing off his drink.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly, “I never actually thought I would get the chance to live forever.”

“Well, you should get used to the idea. Your new life begins tonight.”

I nursed my drink, sitting there in my nightshirt and waited. Before too long a beautiful woman came in wearing nothing but high heels. She didn’t say anything, she just looked between the two of us sitting on the couch and got down on her knees in front of us. She ran her hands up our legs, mine bare, and Alex’s clothed. She fondled Alex over his pants and reached up into my nightshirt. It was at that moment that I realised I wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. She took hold of me with expert hands and began stroking. I looked at Alex but he had his eyes closed and was just letting it happen. She undid his pants with one hand and pulled him out into the open air and gave him similar treatment to me.

While the curtains were closed, the door was open and I couldn’t help but feel a tad shy. Alexandru had told me that this was a sex club but I didn’t really think about the fact that I would be having sex with a stranger. I wasn’t unused to one night stands but I had always at least talked to the person I was going to be having sex with before performing the act. This was definitely a new experience for me.

Since Alex was just letting it happen I figured it would be rude to say anything. She worked up and down with her hands for a minute or two and then pushed my nightshirt up to reveal my pelvis. While still stroking Alex she took me into her mouth and began sucking. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, just revelling in the sensation. She was very good at this. I was getting heated and ran my hand through her thick brown hair. Her response was to start going faster. Just before I was ready to blow she stopped and began licking my pelvis. I pulled off my nightshirt revealing a body that was more muscular than I remembered it being. She worked her way up, kissing and licking as she went until she was sitting in my lap. She smelled good. I kissed her lips and she responded by sticking her tongue into my mouth, all the while still giving attention to Alex who was now looking at the both of us. It was more exciting than I had thought it would be.

We made out for a bit then she started kissing my neck while grinding against me and I could feel her wetness against my cock. It was more than I could take and I reached down and began fingering her while she kissed me. She moaned into my mouth and started grinding harder. I kissed her face, then her jaw and got to her neck. I could feel her pulse with my tongue and my mouth got very dry. I needed to drink. My teeth started to itch and I could feel my canines elongate. She reached down, put my cock inside her, and started humping. I bit her neck and felt my teeth break the skin. Warm liquid flowed into my mouth as she started grinding harder and moaning in both pain and ecstasy. I drank the warm liquid and could feel tension building in my groyne. I came inside her and she moaned.

I drank for another second or two and remembered myself. Thankfully, one of the things I was taught in my training was self control. It is impossible to perform magic without self control. I pulled away and looked at the woman. She was pale in the face and looked a little dizzy. Her neck was not bleeding as much as I would have thought based on where I had bitten her. I could feel my canines shrink back to their normal, albeit somewhat longer than before, size.

“Alex,” I asked, “do you have a bandage on you?”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a large bandage which he applied to the lady��s neck after buttoning his pants. She took off her heels and left the room with a slight wobble.

“Is she going to be alright?” I asked him, putting my nightshirt back on.

“Remember, this place caters to our kind. They keep a doctor on staff who makes sure that anyone who engages in bloodplay is safe. I am impressed though, I expected to have to pull you away.”

I felt new strength building in me, something inside me was changing. “Just as I was trained to resist mind control, I was also trained to have a lot of self control.” I said, matter of fact, proud that I had impressed him.

“That’s good, normally a newborn would not have any self control at all. Anyway, let’s get back to the castle. I was going to suggest that we go for a walk in the night air but you aren’t exactly dressed for it.” He said, standing up.

I followed suit and adjusted my nightshirt as I stood. “Do we need to pay anything or is it on a tab?”

“I’ll pay the bartender on the way out. Come.” He said, exiting the small room.

I followed Alexandru out. We walked up to the bar and he spoke to the bartender then handed her some money. We walked back up the stairs and Alex pulled out the key that led to the castle. He inserted the key into the lock and opened the door.

We stepped through the door to find ourselves in Alex’s chambers. He walked forward but I paused in the hallway.

“Alex, why did you save me?” I asked, “We barely know each other. You could have let me die.”

He turned around and looked at me for a long time. “If you must know,” he said, “I saved you because, well, I think I might love you. I’ve never felt this way about someone before. I don’t know what it is, if it’s love or something else, but when I saw him cut your throat, I couldn’t breathe. My chest got tight when I thought of the fact that I wouldn’t be able to see you again. I know it sounds ridiculous, but that’s why.” he came up to me and took my hands. “You were the first person to talk to me like you wanted to know who I was. The people I play with in the band at the cafe, I just know them in passing. I’ve never brought them here and they don’t know the truth of my lineage. I’m sure you are aware, but vampires, even dhampirs, are, well, monsters. We drink the blood of the living to sustain ourselves, and while that has become more feasible in recent years, I have lived for hundreds of years in the shadows with no one beside me. My father has always been there for me, and I am grateful for that, but to love and be loved is something I have never known. I knew that I would live forever and I didn’t want to risk the hurt that my father experienced when my mother died. I have never had friends.”

“Couldn’t you have made friends with another vampire?” I asked delicately.

“My father and I are different from most vampires. For most, they don’t have emotions. They kill without thought, they lose all traces of humanity when they turn. My father was not turned by another vampire. He is the first of his bloodline, which makes you second generation blood, the same as me. Dhampir are incredibly uncommon, and most die within a few years of being born. The only reason that I survived is because of the way my father was turned. He was turned by a ritual. When he was young, he followed the christian god. But something happened that he would not tell me about and he turned away from that deity. When whatever it was happened, he vowed that he would become an enemy to the christian god for all time. You aren’t christian are you?”

I laughed and said, “No, I follow the gods of my ancestors, the Tuatha Dé Danann.”

“That’s good,” he said, “My father still hates the sight of anything to do with christianity so I was going to ask that you keep any rosaries or such things hidden but it seems that won’t be a problem. A lot of people said that my father was weakened by such things but that’s just superstitious nonsense, he just hates the christian god. In any case,” Alex continued, “lesser vampires are much more common. For one, they are not eternal. Second, as I said before, they lack the emotions necessary for companionship, they care only about feeding. True vampires, such as you and my father are typically solitary. My father caters to them with some businesses, as you have seen, but rarely do they intermingle. I have only met true vampires a few times in the hundreds of years I have been around. A lot of the people who engage in bloodplay are simply humans that have an iron deficiency or people who are turned on by having their blood consumed. This is convenient for us because it takes suspicion off of us, but it doesn’t make for companions.”

“I think I understand.” I said, “I care about you as well. If I’m going to spend an eternity alive, I’m glad that it’s with you.” I embraced Alex and we stood there like that for a moment. He gave me a gentle kiss and we walked back into his chambers.

Chapter 6:

We spent the next few nights in deep conversation, getting to know eachother better. Between our conversations I spent time with Vladislav learning the ins and outs of my new existence. He explained to me that many of the things vampires were known for only applied to lesser vampires or were simply fiction. He told me of our history and what it meant to be a true vampire. I was a quick study due to my training as a wizard and found that many of my new abilities came naturally for me. I was able to learn to transform into a cloud of mist, as well as a bat, and a wolf and began getting used to my newfound strength. Vlad explained that one of the things he and Alexandru did was to hunt lesser vampires. “They are a blight,” he had said, “and they make it far more difficult for us to exist in peace with the humans.” While Vlad did not necessarily care about the humans safety, he did desire to keep from being hunted, which was the main reason he had created a demiplane to live in to begin with. He also gave me a large ring with three iron keys on it. One led to the goth club in Galway where I had met with Alexandru on our first night together. Another led to Alexandru’s chambers, which were now also mine at Alex’s request. The last key led to the sex club in Amsterdam where I could go to get a drink as I needed.

I already knew how to defend myself with magic, so rather than teach me how to use a sword, Vlad taught me how to use my magic in combination with my newfound abilities. Lesser vampires were weak to fire so he taught me a spell that took advantage of that weakness. He also taught me how to turn the light cantrip I knew into a blinding flash that I could use to disorient them. I got the hang of the new spells in a couple of nights and again Vlad was pleased with my quick progress.

After a week or so Vlad said that I was ready to go out into the world. My belongings had been brought from the bakery and moved into our chambers, so I had everything that I would need to go out hunting. Alex had initially wanted to go after Ainsel, but I explained that in addition to the reasons I had mentioned before, I had also given him an amulet that protects from magic detection. So in order to fill the time while we waited for him to show himself we were going to go out hunting for lesser vampires. He grabbed his sword and got dressed in his long coat with silver accents and I wore my grey robe and hat, grabbing my staff. We went to the cafe as I had no service in the castle and after searching on my phone I found mention of an attack that sounded promising. There was a man in Dublin who had been killed with no blood found at the scene of the murder. He had been found in an alleyway with a bite mark two days ago. The murder had been attributed to a stray animal.

We headed back to the castle and Alex opened a door to Dublin in an old pub. When we came through a broom closet in the backroom, a teenager sweeping the floor jumped with a start.

“What are you doing here?” He asked quickly.

Alex said nonchalantly, “you must be new, I am the owner of this pub. I come and go every once in a while.”

The teen looked at him, then at me in my robes and hat and said, “wizards.” then went back to sweeping.

We left the pub and headed to the coroner to get a look at the body to see if the cause of death was truly a vampire. The night was chill and a light drizzle fell from the sky. As we made our way through the sparsely populated streets I asked Alex, “So, how are we supposed to get in to look at the body? I would understand if we were wearing disguises but you dressed in your usual clothes and I’m in this robe. People also don’t tend to wear swords in town unless they are part of the garda.”

Alex looked at me as he walked and said, “we are private investigators who look into attacks like this one. You would be surprised how easy it is to get in.”

Before long we were at the hospital. The sliding doors opened as we walked up to them and we headed to the front desk. There was an older gentleman manning the desk who nodded at our approach. “Good evening, gentleman, are you here to see a patient? I’ll have you know visiting hours are over.”

Alex shook his head and said, “I hear you have the body of the victim of an animal attack in your morgue, we are here to examine the body.”

The older fellow narrowed his eyes at us and said, “Why would I allow that?”

Alex looked deeply into his eyes and said, “We are private investigators looking into attacks like this one. It would be most appreciated if you cooperated with us in this matter.”

He seemed to relax and said, “Of course, sir, the morgue is down the hallway on the left. Follow the signs.”

Alexandru turned and his coat fluttered behind him. I followed him down the hallway and asked, “What did you do to him?”

“I compelled him. You can do the same thing, can you not?” Alex asked.

“Vlad hasn’t taught me that,” I said, “and I did not study the school of enchantment heavily before meeting you.” I didn’t know how I felt about mind control but it seemed like I was going to need to learn it at some point and confront that thought.

We followed the signs in the hallway and reached the morgue. There was a young woman sitting at a desk outside the room who greeted us kindly. She was reading a magazine which she placed on the desk and said, “Evening, gents, what business brings you here at this hour?”

Alex looked deeply into her eyes and said, “we are private investigators looking into a case of an animal attack. Would you be so kind as to show us the body?”

She stood and said, “Of course, sir, follow me please.” She led us into the morgue and went to one of the freezers lining the wall. She opened the door of the freezer and rolled out the body. There was a black bag with a zipper on it over the body which she unzipped, revealing a man who looked to be in his early thirties. He had dark hair and fair skin which was far more pale than normal, even for a corpse. Alex took some nitrile examination gloves from a box hanging on the wall and began examining the body. The victim had a large chunk missing out of his neck that looked to be about the size of a human mouth.

Alex looked into her eyes and said, “what can you tell me about where he was found?”

The morgue attendant began relaying information to Alexandru about where he was found and what time. Before long we had all the information we needed and we bid her goodnight and left the morgue.

As we were walking out the sliding doors of the hospital I asked Alex, “That didn’t look like a vampire bite. Could it have been a human that killed him?”

“No,” Alex said, “Lesser vampires don’t have two fangs like true vampires, they have a mouthful of sharp teeth. They typically rip a chunk out of their victims like the one we saw to get as much blood as quickly as possible. Something else, lesser vampires usually have up to ten other vampires living in a nest with them. This could be a single one and if it is, we need to take it out as quickly as possible so it doesn’t make more.”

“Quick question,” I said.

“Shoot,” Alex said as we turned to walk down the street.

“In the few months I’d been in Galway I saw you playing piano in that cafe most nights. Were you just taking a break from hunting lesser vampires?”

“Ah,” he said, “that’s about right. I don’t spend all my time hunting them, and to be fair, you weren’t there every night.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” I said.

“Aside from that, I can only hunt them when they show themselves. It’s not like I have a sixth sense about when they are made. That and there are other vampire hunters.” he said.

“Have you ever worked with a vampire hunter?” I asked as we rounded a corner.

“Once,” he began, “I worked with a family of vampire hunters to take down an infestation during the 1600s in France. I don’t know if they are still around but generally speaking I don’t tend to hang out with vampire hunters, seeing as I am a dhampir myself.”

“What is France like?” I asked.

“Back then or now?” he responded.

“Both I guess. I haven’t been to France.” I said.

“Well,” he said, “Back then there was a lot of inequality. A lot of media likes to portray everyone as wearing fancy clothes and lounging about, and while that was true for the bourgeois, the common people suffered. It was a breeding ground for lesser vampires and the populace lived in constant fear. Today it is much different.”

“How are lesser vampires even made?” I asked.

Alex held up two fingers and said, “there are two ways in which a lesser vampire comes about. First is that a human is bitten by a lesser and survives. They turn in about 3 days. The second is that a human drinks blood from a true vampire but doesn’t complete the transition. One that is turned in this way becomes a thrall to the vampire who turned them. They don’t make very good servants though as they only care about drinking blood. They are mindless beasts and it is a mercy to put them down. Their lifespan is also fairly short. They only live about ten years from turning.”

“If they don’t make good servants then why would a vampire create them?” I asked, confused.

“To sow discord. If there are a lot of lesser vampires around it takes the heat off of true vampires. A true vampire can kill as they want and it will be blamed on lesser vampires. This was what happened in France. There was a group of true vampires who were turning people into lessers to weaken the French government. These vampires were loyal to England and were trying to allow England to take over France by causing as much commotion as possible. I stopped them with the help of the Chasseur clan.”

We turned another corner to arrive at the alleyway where the victim had been found. It was quiet in the alley. We began our search for any signs of where the lesser had gone. Before too long I said, “Alex, come look at this.” Alex walked over and held up a small chunk of flesh.

“This was definitely a lesser,” he said, “they rip a chunk out like that and drink from the wound.”

I inspected the chunk of flesh and found a long, narrow tooth. “Is this the tooth of our culprit?” I asked.

“More than likely, yes,” he said, “they lose their teeth like sharks and grow them back very quickly.”

“Excellent,” I said, “I can locate our unwanted guest using this.” I rummaged through my bag and brought out a map of Dublin and the pendulum I had used to locate the remains of Balor as well as a copper bowl. I unfolded the map and placed it on the ground, put the tooth in the bowl and swung the pendulum over the map.

Alex asked, “Do you have maps of every major city in Ireland?”

“The major cities, yeah,” I said as the pendulum swung back and forth. After a moment the pendulum stopped over an old church on the outskirts of town. Before I stopped holding it though, the pendulum started moving again, headed into town. “Looks like our culprit is on the move,” I said.

Alex looked at the map and said, “we may be able to intercept it if we fly. You have gotten the hang of transformations, yes?”

I nodded and said, “I have, let’s move before it gets too far.” I placed the tools in my bag and we both vanished into a cloud of mist, replaced with two large bats.

We flew out of the alleyway and climbed into the sky, getting a solid view of the city below. We flew in the direction indicated by the pendulum and before too long the old church came into view. From there we headed towards where the lesser was headed. Ahead of us we could see something large flying over the city. As we drew nearer what looked like a cross between a bat and a man came into view. Taking this as our quarry, I shot a bolt of fire which streaked through the sky and smacked into the creature with a burst of flame. The creature faltered in the sky and fell. We gave chase down to the streets and reappeared in our human forms as the creature smacked into the side of a building and hit the street. It howled in pain and looked for its assailant.

The creature sighted us and roared. It had large bat-like ears and a scrunched face with a wide mouth full of sharp teeth. It spread its singed wings and rushed us. Alexandru sidestepped drawing his sword and I readied my staff. As it rushed by Alex swung, clipping the beast’s shoulder. It howled in pain as the cut began to sizzle and smoke. I spoke an incantation and the air around Alex and I shimmered then multiple copies of us both were surrounding the creature. It looked around frantically, trying to decide where to attack as the Alex clones all brought their swords up and lunged. The beast dodged an illusory sword but was hit by the real one. The wound sizzled and smoked as dark blood poured from the wound.

I brandished my staff and a blast of blinding light came forth. The vampire reeled back, clutching it’s eyes in agony as Alex drove his sword home through the creature’s heart. It howled in pain and toppled over dead. After a second the body began to smoke and it crumbled into dust, leaving behind a gem about the size of a fist. I walked over and picked up the gem, looking it over carefully. It was purple and glowing slightly from within. “Alex,” I asked, “What is this?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “That’s the first time I’ve seen something like that inside of one of these. Better bring it with us. My father may have some clue as to what it is.” He paused for a moment and said, “In the meantime we should check out the church it came from. We should make sure there aren’t more of them.”

We both turned back into bats and flew to the old church the lesser had come from. As we flew I took note of the Dublin skyline. Many of the buildings were centuries old but there were some newer ones. The weather had cleared and since this was essentially my first time flying I relished the feeling of the wind rushing beneath my wings.

After a few minutes we arrived at the rundown church on the edge of town. It looked fairly recently abandoned, within the last few years or so. The walls were still intact and the stained glass windows were mostly still there, with a few broken panes here and there from children throwing rocks at the abandoned building, as children are wont to do. We returned to our human forms and stood for a moment outside the large front door. The dark oak was decorated with fine carvings of knotwork, and I couldn’t help but to appreciate the craftsmanship. Alex checked the handle to find the door to be unlocked.

The door opened with a heavy creak and revealed a sanctuary that had seen better days. Some of the pews were still where they were meant to be, but many of them had been moved to random spots or were overturned. We walked down the aisle to examine the pulpit, which seemed to have something out of place. As we got closer I could see an open book on the altar, but this was no bible.

I felt something coming from the book, similar to what I felt when I held the Eye of Balor. There was an unchecked malevolence coming from it. This thing seeped evil out into the world. I looked at the pages and found that the book was written in a script I had never seen before.

“What is that?” Alex asked, looking over my shoulder at the book.

I picked up the book and mumblend an incantation. The letters shifted and swirled and after a moment the page was in English. I read a passage, not realising that Alex had something, so engrossed was I in this book.

“Alex,” I asked, still reading, “What do you know of necromancy?”

“Well,” he said, “I know that the word translates as something like ‘death divination’ or something to that effect. It is generally the practice of speaking to the spirits of those who have passed on.”

“That much is true,” I said, “but there is more to it than that. Necromancy, as wizards understand it, is the study of life and death. The idea that life and death have powerful energies that may be able to be harnessed. A lot of people think that it is the creation of the undead, and while that is one aspect of it, it isn’t the whole story. But from what I can tell, this passage describes a way to collect the energy that is released upon death. In the form of a jewel.”

“Which you think could be the answer to what that gem we found is.” Alex surmised.

“Exactly,” I said, closing the book and placing it in my bag, “I need to study this further. I’m not sure what this means but we should check out the undercroft for anything else. From what I can tell, I think someone was trying to use that lesser to collect negative energy, but to what end?”

“I’m not sure. I still think we should go to my father about this. I think he may be able to shed some light on the subject,” Alex said.

We headed into the church’s undercroft to see what we could find but all we found were old bones and tombs. We found no sign of whoever had been here. Lacking any other option, Alex opened a door to the castle and we stepped through.

Chapter 7: The Book

We came into the castle through our chambers and went in search of Alexandru’s father. Eventually we found him in the castle’s immense library. It was a series of rooms with tall ceilings, lined wall to wall with bookcases. There was a large bronze ladder on rails that was used to reach the higher books, as the bookcases went up to the vaulted ceiling. We found Vlad sitting in a high-backed chair in front of a fireplace that was crackling happily. He was reading a large volume bound in red leather and looked at us as we approached.

“How did your hunt go?” he asked as Alexandru sat down on a large sofa opposite Vladislav.

“We killed a lesser vampire in Dublin but found something interesting,” Alex said as I sat down next to him.

Vlad closed his book and set it down on the coffee table between us. “Interesting?” he asked, “How so?”

I dug through my bag and pulled out the purple jewel, setting it on the coffee table, then pulled out the book we had found in the abandoned church. The book was old and bound in black leather with parchment pages. There was no title written anywhere on it and had no other distinguishing features other than the strange text it was written in. “We found this in the church that the lesser seemed to have been sheltering in. And the jewel we found inside the creature.”

Vlad picked up the jewel and examined it thoughtfully, then he set it down on the coffee table and I handed him the book. He opened the book and flipped through the pages before he settled on one and began reading.

“Do you recognise the script?” I asked.

“I do, it is the same as what is used in the Scholomance where I studied in my youth. It is not used outside of the school so I’m certain this came from there, or was written by someone who studied there.” He read a bit more and flipped the page. “However, I do not know why such a thing would be in Ireland. Did you find any sign of the person who was using it? It is unlikely that the lesser was the one as they are mindless creatures.”

“Nothing,” Alex said, crossing his legs, “perhaps they were out.”

I leaned forward and asked, “Do you know what this jewel is? I think it’s a jewel of negative energy.”

“That would make sense,” Vlad said, closing the book and placing it in his lap, “I can feel negative energy coming from it, from this book as well. From what I can tell, this book is a treatise on necromancy. This is incredibly advanced and was written by no mere dabbler. They will likely be wanting it back, though, I must say, I would love to add it to my collection.”

“Can I study it?” I asked hungrily.

“I don’t see why not,” Vlad said handing the book back to me, “You would not be the first vampire to make a study of necromancy but what are you hoping to accomplish with it?”

“I want to know everything,” I said, running my fingers over the aged cover, “I am a universalist, one that will now live for an incredibly long time. I want to know everything, even the things that are considered to be taboo.”

Vlad laughed and said, “We are already taboo, my child. You may make use of my library as well.”

I looked up from the book and said, “Can I? That would be most excellent! I wanted to ask but was afraid you might say no.”

“You can, and I trust you won’t damage any of them as you understand the value of knowledge. Just put any books you take back when you are done with them. Now, what are we to do with this jewel?” Vlad asked, picking up the jewel.

“What do you suggest?” Alex asked.

“I think Rory should have it. As a sort of trophy of his first successful hunt. That’s what those Chasseurs did, I believe.” Vlad said with a wave of his clawed hand. “You may want to use it when you are studying the spells in that book. Some will draw on your life force but if you are holding the jewel they will instead draw power from the jewel. Of course, when we drink blood we take life force from them so you could always go out for a drink to replenish your vitality. It looks to be that this particular jewel has been charged fairly well so you shouldn’t need to worry about depleting it for a while. But be aware, the jewel needs to be charged by death. If you are worried about having to kill someone I would be sparing with it. If you have no problems killing people then be aware that you need not hold the jewel to charge it. It will absorb the energy released from deaths nearby. However, if your magic bag works like I think it does, it won’t absorb any deaths seeing as it wouldn’t be in the same plane as them.” vlad pointed a long fingernail at the jewel as I picked it up and said, “Try not to lose it, those are rare”

I bowed my head in thanks and said, “Thank you, sir. I will guard them fiercely.”

Vlad leaned back in his chair and said, “Please, call me Vlad. You are family now.” he picked his volume up and began reading as Alex and I left him in the sitting area.

After we got back to our chambers Alex asked, “Do you really want that book? Or rather, what do you want with it?”

I sat down on the bed and said, “Just what I told your father. I want to know everything and that includes the nature of life and death. Even more so now that I am a vampire. And I have all of eternity to learn everything! Isn’t that great?”

Alex sat down next to me and just said, “yeah.”

I looked at him and said, “Why do you ask?”

He sighed and said, “I just don’t want you to change who you are. I keep expecting some kind of change in you since you turned and I like you the way you are.”

I put a hand on his shoulder and asked, “Do people normally change?”

“I don’t know. My father hasn’t turned anyone I knew beforehand. How do you feel? In general, I mean.” He asked.

“I looked at my hands and said, “I don’t feel much different. Stronger, for sure. And thirsty. I definitely feel the thirst. But I don’t feel like I’ve lost control of myself. I still feel like me, I guess.” I pulled Alex in for a hug, “Listen, I have always felt somewhat morally grey. I don’t know how it would be if I was different, but I’ve never had any qualms about killing people, with justification of course. I’m not a serial murderer or anything, but I have had to defend myself in the past. I wasn’t around for the Troubles, that was before my time, but there are still those who don’t like those who are different from themselves. I have been attacked for being who I am. Not for being a wizard, but not being straight. They beat me pretty badly and I…” I paused. “That was when I discovered that I had the Talent. I wished so badly for them to die. And I turned them all to ash.”

Alex looked into my eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”

I shook my head and said, “Don’t be. I was fourteen and in the trial it was deemed to be self defence. But my punishment, if you can call it that, was to be apprenticed to Alden. At first I was upset about it, I mean, I didn’t choose that path, it was chosen for me. But Alden was a patient man. He trained me in how to control my magic and never looked at me like I was strange. ‘You have a gift,’ he had said, ‘never be sorry for who you are.’” I nuzzled Alexandru’s neck and said, “Just as you said I was the first to want to know you for who you are, you were the first, after Alden, to treat me like I was a normal person. I’m used to being an other. Someone who was different. Even before being a wizard I was odd. I don’t understand a lot of social situations. I think differently than most people. I can’t understand how it feels to be normal. I never was.”

“But now,” I said, “I have you. And your father has welcomed me better than my own parents. They tried, of course, and they weren’t necessarily bad parents, they didn’t understand why I couldn’t just be normal. That and when I showed ability as a wizard, they stopped talking to me. They were christian and believed that magic was a curse from Satan. I shunned the Christian god after that. Why would I want to follow someone who said that I was wrong just for being me?” I began to cry, “I lost a lot of friends. People were scared of me after the incident. Even my grandmother, who I was very close to, looked at me like I was a demon. She told me that she still loved me, but that she was afraid to be around me and my dark gift.”

Alex hugged me and stroked my head, “You’ve been through a lot. But you are here now, and you need not feel different. I understand what it is like to be an other. Even among vampires I am different. I am half human and as I told you before, most dhampir don’t live to see adulthood. I grew up without friends, with only my father around for comfort. While he is different now, when I was younger he was distant. He took the loss of my mother very hard. For a very long time he would just lock himself away in his tower and weep. It took probably a hundred years or so for him to be okay with her death. So for the first century of my life, I was very alone. After that things got better.”

We sat in each other's embrace for a long time. He stroked my hair and let me cry, with a gentleness I had never known prior. “Alex,” I said, “I may not experience love the way other people do, but I think I love you in my own way. You are important to me, and I don’t ever want to leave. I don’t know if that’s love, but that’s how I feel.”

“I love you too,” Alex said. “And it doesn’t matter to me if you can’t love me like I love you. Whatever you can give, I will accept. As long as you want to stay with me, you can stay. I won’t force you if you ever decide you need to leave.”

I laughed and sniffed, wiping away a tear, “I don’t know that I will ever want to leave, other than to travel. But if I go, I want you to come with me. I have been alone for a long time and I don’t want to be alone anymore now that I’ve found you. I know it hasn’t been very long since we met, but in that time I have come to realise that I was missing something. And now I think I know what it was I was missing. A companion, a partner. Someone who could be there for me when I was down and someone to be there when I am happy. I promise to you now, I will not let anything change me. No book or artefact will change who I am.” I stood and said, “I’m going to have a smoke in the sitting room. Would you care to join me?”

“Sure,” he said, standing, “At least now you don’t have to worry about getting cancer.”

I fished in my bag for my pipe and laughed, “That’s true, I hadn’t thought about that.” I sat in one of the soft chairs and filled my pipe, lighting it with a snap of my fingers. I inhaled and blew a large smoke ring, then said, “So what do you think about our mysterious mage?”

Alex sat on the sofa nearby and said, “I don’t know, but they probably won’t be happy to have their things taken.”

I puffed and responded, “That’s true, I could probably use the book to locate the author, but I don’t know that the author is the one who had the book.”

“Do we even want to find who had it?” Alex asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said, “based on what you told me about the formation of lesser vampires it is likely that a true vampire is the one who owned this stuff. But we don’t hunt true vampires, right?”

“Right,” Alex said, “we don’t want to stir up trouble in our community. True vampires are much harder to kill and even with my magic sword and your spells if this vampire is very old we would be at a disadvantage.”

“What if it wasn’t a vampire though?” I asked, blowing another smoke ring.

Alex leaned back in his chair, “If it wasn’t a vampire… Why do you ask?”

“Well, why would a vampire use a lesser to collect deaths? Why not just kill people themselves?” I asked.

“They could be trying to keep heat off of themselves. We have worked very hard to keep the existence of vampires as a myth. At least, well, hmm.” He paused.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I think you should study that book and see what you can find. I doubt that it is the case, but what if there were a spell to create lesser vampires?” He said.

“Well, you did say that there is a ritual to create true vampires, so it would stand to reason that lessers would also be able to be created by magic. Do you know the ritual to create true vampires?” I asked.

“I don’t, but my father performed it on himself. He would know.”

“I don’t want to disturb him anymore tonight. I’ll look through the book and see what I can find.” I pulled the book out of my bag and opened it to the first page. I spoke an incantation and the letters swirled and were replaced with English.

We sat there in silence for a long time, me reading and Alex just sitting there with his eyes closed. After a while I sat up and said, “Alex.”

“Hm?” he said, sitting up and opening his eyes.

“So, the spell that I’m using to read this just gives me a literal translation of whatever is written, it doesn’t give me insight to context or anything else, and there is a word here that isn’t translating.”

“What is the word?” he asked.

“Strigoi.” I said.

“Strigoi is used to refer to vampires or ghosts in Romanian. They are the same thing as a lesser vampire,” he said.

“Then I think I found the answer to our question. This is a curse to create one upon death,” I said.

Alex leaned forward in his seat and said, “So do we think this is where our lesser came from?”

“From what I can tell, yeah, the spell requires consecrated ground which is probably why that lesser was in the church,” I said.

“Why would someone leave this book out and unprotected? I can understand the jewel as it was inside the lesser and it would be hard for a normal human to get their hands on it, but the book was just sitting out.” Alex pointed out.

“What if,” I asked, “the person casting the spell thought it would transform them into a true vampire? What if they were using the same spell as me to read this and came across the word, looked it up and thought that they had found the spell your father used?”

“I suppose that is a possibility, but it doesn’t explain the jewel. It was inside the lesser,” he said.

“No,” I began, “but it would explain the book being out and unprotected. Hold on,” I stood up and went to my bookcase running my fingers across the spines until I found what I was looking for. “I don’t know why I didn't think to do this,” I said, opening the book. “Here it is, a spell to reveal the history of an item. It should work to show me who was using the book.” I placed the black bound book on the ground and drew a magic circle in chalk. After my work was done I placed candles around the perimeter and lit them all with a snap of my fingers. I sat down cross-legged and concentrated. The room around me changed and I was looking at the ceiling. I could see myself drawing the circle in reverse. I concentrated harder and things sped up around me as if I were rewinding a tape. I followed back until I was in the chapel again, looking up from the altar. I slowed down and could see the lesser vampire skulking about. I went back further still and could see the vampire twist and crunch and grow smaller before it had turned back into a shrivelled old man, bent with age and missing an eye. He was bent over in pain and had an awful lump in his throat. Then he removed the jewel from his mouth and held it in his hand, flipping a page in the book, presumably to the page I had discovered the book open on. He read the book and took some reagents out of a bronze bowl. I had seen enough so I drew out of the trance and found myself still cross-legged on the floor with Alex staring at me intently.

“What did you see?” he asked expectantly.

“Well,” I said, “I don’t think we need to worry about the owner of the book or the jewel. We killed him. I saw the beast turn into a shrivelled old man who had eaten the jewel, dying in the process of swallowing it, thereby completing the curse to turn himself into a vampire.”

“Interesting,” he said, “so magic exists to turn people into lesser vampires as well. I can only imagine his surprise at turning into a lesser rather than a true vampire.”

“That’s the problem with reading a book in a language you don’t understand, some things just don’t translate like you expect them to. I’m going to learn from his mistake and see if I can get your father to teach me to read this.” I said holding up the book. “But first,” I said crawling to sit on my knees in front of Alex, “I think I’ve had enough of studying for tonight.” I placed my hands on the dhampir’s knees, “What do you think, hmm? Care to give me something to put in my mouth?”

“Are you sure?” He asked softly. I moved my hands higher up on his thighs and began massaging Alexandru’s quads.

“Mm, pretty sure,” I crooned, moving my hands higher still. I adjusted my position so I could better reach, placing myself between the pianist’s legs and undoing his pants. I was rewarded with a flop as Alex’s cock hit my face. “Oh, it’s a lot bigger than I thought it was.” I said as I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, stroking gently.

“You've seen it before,” he breathed as he leaned back in the chair.

“Yeah but it’s in my face now and I’m just noticing. Have you measured?” I asked before kissing his tip.

“I don’t see a reason too,” he said before grabbing my head and forcing his cock into my mouth. I bobbed up and down as he held my head, preventing me from replying. I wrapped my arms around his thighs and took him as deeply as I could, almost being able to kiss the base. Alex moaned softly and let go of my head.

I slowly raised my head with his cock leaving my mouth with a pop and said, “Yeah but, wouldn’t you like to know?”

He grabbed my head with both hands this time before saying, “Nope,” and shoving his cock back into my mouth. He was more forceful this time and after a bit he began breathing heavier. I could feel his cock pulse in my mouth as precum started drooling. A few more moments later Alex shoved my head all the way down to the base and came down my throat. I did my best to swallow it all but nevertheless some spilled out onto my chin. He shuddered and throbbed then leaned back and let go of my head. I raised up when he placed a hand on my jaw and wiped his come into my mouth with his thumb. “There you are, all done.” he purred.

I swallowed, moved up and kissed him before sitting next to him on the sofa and redoing the line of buttons on his pants. I snuggled up into the crook of his arm and asked, “Do you think it’s going to be war with the elves?”

Alexed sighed, then only said, “Yes.”

*****

Weeks went by as I studied under Vlad. He trained me in the dialect of Romanian they used within the Scholomance. The language gave me a fair amount of difficulty. While I knew a few languages, I mostly translated things using magic. I got out of practice doing some things the hard way.

In order to assist me Alexandru started speaking to me in the Wallachian dialect, his native language. Having full immersion in Romanian did make it a bit easier, but it was still difficult. I began to get the language down after a month or so where I could read the book without the spell, at least partially. During this time I tried to speak with Vlad about how he had spent the last seven centuries or so, but he was extremely guarded and would answer no questions unrelated to the current topic of study. Where Alden had been lazy and caring, Vlad was stern and extremely well disciplined. Every moment was intentional, no unneeded words.

That is not to say that he was cold to me. He welcomed me in as if I had been there all along, but not as a son. No, not as a son. The relationship was not unlike what I knew with Alden. I didn’t see Vlad as a moral guide, but as a mentor within my profession. I could ask him almost anything and he would have an answer, almost always a correct one. He tended not to keep up with current events beyond heading out of the castle to check some research journals. Vlad’s Castle was extraordinary, I’d yet to venture out into the demi-plane proper but from what I could see from the Castle windows, it was expansive. Alex had told me that there was a village or two that lived in the pocket dimension, supplying most of the goods used within the castle, such as wines and teas, as well as the occasional feast for when Vladislav was in the mood. All forms of night creatures (excluding vampires, this was Vlad’s domain, afterall) in addition to some humans lived within the villages in peace, safe from the human world.The sun did not reach the demi-plane, either by intent or accident. The sky was full of swirling clouds of blue and violet hue. On very rare occasions a portion of an endless night sky could be seen when the clouds were thinnest.

Within the Castle walls there were very rarely candles lit. Almost the only time candles were lit within the interior coincided with one of the three vampire inhabitants reading schedules. I spent the winter in the Castle, witnessing servants, human and otherwise, roam the halls in darkness, cleaning and maintaining the interior, while waiting on The Lord Vladislav. Afterall, Vlad was a noble. He held himself with a straight back, looking down at everyone from his imposing height. For he was tall, far taller than me, and at least a head taller than Alexandru. He knew he was powerful and so did everyone around him. You could feel his strength in the soundless way he moved through the Castle, moving doors on his own that would take at least three men to open, as if he were no more impeded than opening the door to a summer home. He earned the respect he was given.

Chapter 8: War

The evening being let in through the cafe in Galway was exquisite. The air was cool for late spring, but I enjoyed the cold. I puffed on my pipe, now reading the necromancy tome with no assistance while Alex played piano on the small stage with three other musicians. They played a bossa nova, slow and easy.

The next thing I remember was my ears were ringing and my ribs hurt. I couldn’t see anymore. I got up from my position on the ground where I had been thrown by the explosion. Slowly, my vision returned and I could see the wreckage. There was gunfire outside.

Alex lay bleeding on the ground beside the shards of the grand piano he had been playing only moments before. Rushing over to him, I pulled the orb of negative energy from my bag. When my fingers wrapped around the gem, I could feel strength return to my limbs as the pain in my ribs subsided. “Alex,” I touched his shoulder with my free hand, “You told me not to experiment on you without permission so if you can hear me tell me whether or not you want me to try to heal you. If you say nothing I will take it as you are okay with me attempting to heal you.”

No response.

I pulled power from the gem, guided it through my body, and poured it into Alexandru. After a moment his eyes snapped open. “What happened?” He asked blearily.

“I’m not sure, but I think we are under attack. It would seem there’s been an explosion.” I kept my hand on Alex as I poured more negative energy into him.

“Did you know that would heal me?”

“It healed me so I surmised that it would heal you seeing as you also heal when you drink blood.” I shrugged, “I did ask first. Anyway, should we see if we can help or should we just get out of here?”

Alex Frowned, “I’m none too pleased about this shop being destroyed, that piano was an antique.”

I raised an eyebrow as I stopped pouring energy into him, “Do you care about being exposed?”

“There are bigger concerns at the moment,” Was all he said.

“I’ll see if there is anyone still alive in here. Get your sword or whatever weapon you need and I’ll meet you when I sort through this mess.” As I turned to begin Alex disappeared into a cloud of mist. I began shaking the people who had not been turned into a mess of gore. There were not many. Those that had not been hit by the initial explosion had been hit by the large shrapnel the windows had made. The cafe reeked of Blood. It made it hard to think clearly. I wanted to help, but the smell drew a pink fog over everything. I had experienced the fog before, but never when I was trying to do anything but feed and fuck. To say it was an inconvenience would be an understatement. Nevertheless, I pushed through and found a few who had not yet died.

Those who were still alive, I gathered into the back room. After applying first aid I spoke to the small group of patrons and employees. “All of you stay here,” I began, “I think I know what is going on and it isn’t safe in the streets. I doubt anyone will be coming to look in the kitchen of a cafe but to be safe I am going to Lock the door behind me. I am going to survey the damage. I will return to let you out of the kitchen but for now, do not attempt to leave.”

Everyone really seemed too stunned by the situation to really care. I exited the Backroom and waved my hand across the lock. An audible THUNK could be heard and the door shimmered slightly as the portal was sealed.

The cafe was a wreck. Tables were thrown everywhere and there were a few patrons who had not gone into the backroom being killed by the blast. I pulled the Jewel from my bag and went to one of the cadavers. I held the Jewel above one of the patrons and a green energy flowed through the smoky air to be absorbed by the Jewel of Negative Energy. I could feel some of the power replenished so I went to the rest of the former patrons and did the same procedure.

Maybe this is wrong, but I need to keep this Jewel replenished in case of an Emergency. I thought. It still feels like an excuse. I think I really just wanted to know if I needed to kill people personally or if it mattered. I guess it doesn’t matter.

*****

Stepping out into the street was surreal. Gunfire sounded both near and far, with loud explosions echoing across the landscape. The street was strewn with corpses, and I had been studying necromancy, hadn’t I?

Well, it would be a waste then, wouldn’t it?

*****

Walking up to the first corpse was very strange. She was scattered around a bit. I picked up her missing limbs and brought them to her torso. I could feel something about, watching almost. I spoke the words I had found and held my hand above her chest. A green swirling mist, radiant in its passing, flowed from my hand to her mangled form. The limbs reattached with sinuous vines pulling them into place, her whole body rising from the ground as I came to stand from where I leaned over her.

She was beautiful before the attack, I’m sure. It was different now. As the mist absorbed into her, I could see her more clearly. She had been healed effectively completely. The major damage left light scarring, but you wouldn’t know that the wounds were from only moments before unless you had seen my actions. She opened her eyes and turned to look at me. There was an intelligence present. Her eyes were as polished onyx. Her skin had taken on a teal hue and when she spoke I could see her teeth were all sharp.

“What have you done to me?” She questioned. She didn’t sound angry, and her voice came partially from the inside of your head. She stood tall, unafraid. Her stance was not aggressive but it wasn’t showing deference either.

“I have raised you from the dead. If you would prefer to pass on you may.” I did my best to hide my excitement. This was surely very strange for her. I had a tough enough time as it was for my own resurrection.

She squinted and asked, “What do you want in exchange for bringing me back?”

“Soldiers.” I said flatly. “I believe I know who did this and I intend to go and get back the things that were taken from me. I think you will find you are quite strong now.”

“I…,” I could feel her thoughts. She had been going to the store, getting groceries. She’d had a decent life so far. College, workforce, dates here and there. Average through and through. “I could be a soldier…”

“Then stand watch, I am going to collect more soldiers.” I turned to the street, “Ah, How do you prefer to be called?”

“Starla…” She breathed as she relaxed. “I… am Hungry.”

I turned to face her, once again, rolling up my sleeve. “Drink, you’ll feel better.” She did not hesitate. Feeling her teeth tear into my forearm, what a strange sensation! I could feel power flow from my core to her. Her skin changed from teal to pearlescent white, with her teeth drawing back to only the canines being sharp, which elongated to sabertooth length. All the colour left her. Her entire form was shifted to a gleaming pearl with the exception of her eyes. Her eyes remained as Onyx with no visible pupil.

*****

No others raised as she did. Performing the same ritual on all of the corpses in the area yielded functional, but completely empty, zombies. Something had interfered. I wasn’t really upset about that.

The zombies didn’t need spoken commands. They felt almost as if they were fingers or toes, doing what they were supposed to as a matter of instinct. I had found twenty corpses I could raise as zombies.

I glanced over at Starla while pulling my necromancy tome out. My, but she certainly was beautiful. I flipped to a page I had seen, to summon a fog for my servants. Holding the jewel aloft in one hand and the old book in the other I spoke the commands and a dark fog came down and swallowed all of the raised zombies. Starla was not taken by the fog.

Alexandru came out into the street about this time, wearing plate armour that radiated power, carrying his familiar Estoc. Rather than a helmet, he had a circlet of bright metal that held his hair back.

I had a small moment, but regained my senses and said, “This is Starla. I raised her.”

“The Wizard does not lie. I was dead. I am no longer.” She spoke, echoing through our minds.

“Starla,” I commanded, “Speak using your mouth. I’m going to have you follow me around as a second. Does this sound good to you?” I could feel a problem with the statement as it left my mouth. Her face soured.

“Master,” She spoke aloud, “You should not ask for my preference. I am yours to command. A hesitation could mean our death.” She bowed low formally, “I am yours to command, Master.”

I paused to consider my actions. All of these people, my zombies now, had lives once. “Very Well then, Starla, I am going to cast a glamour over you. This will give you the appearance of an albino.”

She nodded and closed her eyes. I reached into my satchel to pull out a sachet of rainbow coloured metal powder. I removed a pinch and blew the powder over Starla producing a showering swirl of colour. When the shimmering mist subsided, there stood a beautiful Albino, with Glossy black Irises.

Alexandru spoke when all the glitter had fallen saying, “I didn’t know Women in White could have physical forms.”He crossed his arms over his chest, “Is she the only one you raised?”

“I raised twenty zombies, not including her. It seemed like a waste to just leave them there.” I felt sheepish saying it. Something about the whole thing was bothering me.

“We’ll talk about it later. Starla, Can you fly?”Alex asked.

Rather than reply, she simply floated into the air, her clothes billowing in an unfelt breeze. She looked beyond Graceful. The way she moved was effortless. Flowing through the air, rather than gliding or flapping like a bird. As if the world simply had no power over her ability to move. Alexandru and myself turned into a swarm of bats asa we all moved into the air.

We flew over the city which now burned in many places. This was a well coordinated effort. Alex, Can you hear me? I could feel his recognition but he seemed unable to respond to the telepathic prod. I’m going to fly to the courthouse, I’ve got a feeling about something. I felt a what could only be described as a mental headnod as we shifted directions.

I kept feeling a sense of dread. I’m not fully sure how to describe it. I get the feeling when there’s an End. Doesn’t matter what it is, I know when the End is coming up. Previous relationships, pet deaths, Ends.

I felt it now.

This was the End of an Era. Humans had reached their climax, and now, they had to give way to the new. They did it to themselves. They were cruel, they were greedy, but above all, they were violent to those different from them. Despite all of the infighting among the Humans, their treatment of anyone who wasn’t human, wasn’t worth considering. “Why should we help them?” They would say.

As we got to the large government building, I saw a crowd of Statues, Humans, holding signs that could no longer be read.

The swarm of Bats Coalesced into myself and Alexandru with Starela coming down to stand between us as we reformed. “I will stand here.” She said with a hint of possessiveness.

Alex rolled his eyes and looked around before saying, “Rory, what did that eye do?”

“When it was in the head of its owner, it petrified people with its gaze. It would appear to still have that effect.” I sighed very heavily. “Alex, I brought it to them. This is my fault.” I began to sob as tears welled up in my eyes.

“What do you want to do, Master?” Starla asked.

I coughed and blew my nose on a red handkerchief. I don’t know. There’s nop one to even fight. It’s over.” I pulled myself together and said, “let’s head back to the castle, I want Vlad’s advice.”

Alex walked to the front door of the government building and inserted the Iron key to Dracula’s Castle in the lock. He opened the door and stepped through looking back and offering his hand for me to hold. I took it and walked through the door, to return home with Starla in tow. A lot was about to change. IF it was for the better, only time will tell.

#wizard #Short Story #original fiction #Modern Fantasy #Smut

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