“Hey!” Tristan yelled as he shook the metal bars. “You there! I can see you!”

The guard whose attention he was trying to get was standing a few empty cells down the hall, staring blankly at the wall. If Tristan wasn’t able to see the rise and fall of his chest, he’d doubt the man, a soldier seemingly from his uniform, was alive at all.

“I’m starving!”

“You were fed an hour ago,” the guard grumbled.

“I’m a growing boy!”

Silence.

“I have to use the bathroom!”

“You went fifteen minutes ago.”

Tristan shuffled from one foot to another. “But I still have to go! You can’t deprive me of my rights!”

“So much talk about rights today,” a voice fluttered in.

He looked down the other end of the hall to see the same soldier that had questioned him earlier. “You again.”

The soldier strolled up to the bars. He had a small, fresh cut on his jaw. “How are you feeling?”

“Spectacular.”

“That’s great to hear.”

“When are you going to let me out?”

The soldier grazed his chin with his fingers and glanced at the ceiling above. “Hmmm, that is a good question.”

Tristan rattled the bars so he’d look back at him. “You promised you’d let me go after I told you everything I knew.”

“I did?”

“You did.”

“Odd, I don’t seem to recall that.”

Bastard.

“What more do you want to know?!”

The soldier shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind the truth.”

“I already told you the truth.”

“Ah, see, I don’t think you did.” He pressed his face against the bars until he was eye to eye with Tristan. “So there’s no reason for me to release you anyhow.”

Tristan reached out to grab the soldier, but he had ducked away too quickly.

“Quite a violent streak you have.”

As he shot him a death stare, the soldier added, “Oh, and your sister’s awake.”

“How is she?” Tristan demanded, almost falling with relief.

“Hm, not too bad all things considering.”

“Does that mean you’ll let us go now?”

“Perhaps,” the soldier said, leaving the way he came.

What felt like several hours passed when he returned with two other soldiers, the guard in the hall having allowed him to relieve himself in the meantime. The toilet was comprised of a small seat with a circular hole in the center and it was just as small and dirty as he remembered, but Tristan had nearly tripped over a rock in the doorway as he rushed into the stall.

One of the soldiers held a metal hoop from which dangled what looked like hundreds of keys, and the other had a pair of shackles.

“Cheer up, kid. Today’s your lucky day.”

Tristan rushed to the bars from the spot on the floor he’d decided was the least uncomfortable to lay on. “You’re letting us out?”

“Both you and your sister,” the soldier said, taking the keys from another and unlocking the door. “The military has reviewed your statements and we’ve decided that neither of you are a threat to the kingdom.”

The door made a loud creak as it flung open. The shackles were placed and locked on Tristan’s wrists, cold metal digging into his skin. Then, with one last look at the silent guard still staring at the wall, he was led down the hall and up a dark spiral of stairs.

Atop the stairs was an even taller hall of stone, but the light streaming in through the windows told Tristan that they were above ground. An equally large door was on the other side.

“Where are we?” He asked, looking around for anything that could clue him into what this place was.

“One of the fortresses owned by the military,” the soldier who’d questioned him, seemingly the leader, answered. “Built hundreds of years ago to keep out the enemies of the kingdom. It seems that times have changed, but our situation has not.”

Tristan glared at the back of his head. “Are you referring to me?”

“Are you referring to yourself as our enemy?”

“I thought you were letting me go.”

They reached the door and the leader held it open for Tristan. “That I am.”

Tristan found himself stepping into the outside world, empty of nothing but snowy grasslands as far as his eye could see- that and the wall.

He’d never seen it before, and the massive wall of snow and ice was still far off in the distance, but it was all he’d imagined it to be- silent and looming.

According to what his sister had told him, the wall was built hundreds of years ago during the great war to keep out wild tribes, splitting up the continent between the kingdom and the shadowlands.

Tristan stared out at the horizon, yearning to see what was beyond.

He began to panic as they approached a carriage. “Where are you taking me?”

“Relax,” the leader said, leading them towards it. “We’re dropping you off at Frostwood, it’s only a few miles away.”

When they reached the small, wooden carriage, Tristan saw from a better angle that two brown horses were attached to it, another soldier holding their reins atop his seat. He stared at them in awe, only having seen horses from a distance before- whenever he stared out at the village square from his garden or window.

He’d dream that he was the one riding them off into distant lands, a dream now corrupted by that abhorrent vampire. If not for him, Tristan would have set off for Azeris and likely began his military training by now.

But now he was as free as these horses forced to pull the carriage.

No, he told himself. You’re being released. You can finally join the army and live the life you’ve always wanted.

The cramped interior consisted of two cushioned wooden benches facing each other. Tristan found himself squeezed between the two soldiers who hadn’t spoken a word this entire time, the leader taking a seat across from him.

“Go on, then,” he called out a small window carved into the door. A crack could be heard as the soldier seated outside flicked his reins and the carriage began to move.

“Why am I still shackled if I'm being released?” Tristan asked as the fortress he’d been locked up in began to fade away into the distance. He had no idea that was where he’d been held, but he supposed it made sense. The fortress was large, but Tristan knew that the ones in Azeris were even larger.

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The leader was reclined back on the bench with a sort of lazy hubris, his short chestnut-brown hair sprawled against the wall, staring out the window with his chin in his palm. His blue eyes slid to Tristan’s. “Procedure.”

“When will we arrive at Frostwood?”

“About half an hour.”

“Where is my sister?”

“What is it with you and questions?”

“I have a right to know where she is.”

The leader raised a brow. “I don’t remember reading that in the code of laws.”

“I have a…a moral right!”

“Ah, one of those.”

“She’ll be there, right? At the village?” He pleaded, leaning forward.

“Yes, your sister will be there.” Tristan sighed in relief. “Perhaps she can teach you a thing or two about your rights.”

Tristan didn’t know what he meant but decided to stay quiet for the rest of the trip, not wanting get himself killed by irritating the soldier.

It may have only been half an hour, but the trip felt like an eternity. He couldn’t help grinning to himself like an idiot as the village finally came into view, the campfire still burning bright in the square- filled with more people than he’d ever seen there, let alone in his entire life.

The holidays, he remembered. They spanned a week long and celebrated Zohar for giving humans their two most important assets for survival: fire and the sun itself. Without them, they’d be just like those uncivilized tribes of old, having to scrounge around just to survive the winter.

But that was the extent of Tristan’s knowledge.

The horses stopped before a stable on the outskirts and Tristan was helped out of the carriage, the wind carrying whiffs of spices and an assortment of noises over the air. Cheering, laughter, music- he looked towards the square but could only see a hint of embers and an overflowing crowd of people. Something delicious filled his lungs and it took every ounce of self control Tristan had to not make a run for it.

Yet even here, hordes gathered as they made their way to the stables, figs and strawberries in hand.

“Why are there so many people here?” Tristan asked, watching as the soldier who had driven them fed his horses. The holiday always did bring a crowd, but this was something else. There was no way all these people lived in Frostwood.

The leader replied, “This year is a special one, many have come from villages nearby for the celebration.”

“Celebration?” Tristan racked his brain for a celebration that occurred during the holiday, but came up empty. All he knew was that people drunk themselves silly and danced until the sun set.

“You’ll see.”

The leader led him deeper into the village (meanwhile the other two flanked him), past various soldiers that stood guard as they watched the festival, past children dragging their parents from shop to shop, past stray dogs and cats as they scurried after one another, past drunken old men who made a bed of the pavement. It was warm for a winter day.

Tristan had always thought that Frostwood looked so alive from his bedroom window, but being here now, he realized that he really had no clue.

Not one as to how alive it could get- how alive he could feel in the thick of it.

A few people stared with curiosity at his shackles and the soldiers but most paid them no mind, too busy enjoying the festival. He decided he’d stay and join them once he met up with his sister, maybe even explore the village with their mother if she was back by then. But first, he figured they deserved an explanation.

She had to have known, about his blood. All the times she made a fuss over him bleeding or getting sick- it had to all have been a lie.

Tristan gritted his teeth. He couldn’t believe that his and Mari’s freedom had been restricted all these years because of a lie. He couldn’t believe he’d been punished for someone else’s fears.

He didn’t know if he could forgive his mother for that.

In fact, he didn’t know if he could stop hating her.

They arrived at the edge of the square and Tristan followed the leading soldier as he guided them through a thick, enormous crowd, ordering the festival-goers in front of him to get out of his way

His stomach grumbled as he took in the sight of all the people holding bread, corn, tarts, and fruit, things he would never be able to taste in his wildest dreams. “Do you think we can stop for something to eat?”

“A bit later, perhaps.”

But his mouth only continued to water at the lingering scent as people they passed barely regarded them, gazing up at whatever it was they all gathered around. Some were wide-eyed as they looked towards the center of the village, some shouting vulgar insults and others looking on in fear.

Tristan tried to see what they were looking at, but the tall soldier in front of him blocked his view as he continued making his way through the horde, it being far too cramped to get around him. He could merely see the smoke of the fire as it wafted up towards the afternoon sun, blazing at its highest peak of the day.

They reached the clearing at the front of the crowd and Tristan finally side-stepped the soldier before him to see what was causing all the commotion.

A wave of nausea rolled over him when he saw his sister, her limp body hanging from the chains that tied her hands to the metal railing that encircled the great fire.

Beside her was a small wooden platform with stairs attached. Four guards stood nearby.

Tristan could do nothing but stare at his sister. The only sign of an injury was her bandaged wrist, her golden hair and dirty clothes slightly damp.

But she looked lifeless- her eyes shut tight against the crackling of the flames behind her. Tristan would’ve thought she was dead if not for the rise and fall of her chest.

“W-what did you do to her?” He whispered, the words barely audible beneath all the noise.

The leader made no reply as he watched him over his shoulder.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!”

The people around them finally turned to look at Tristan, their gaze landing on the shackles locked around his wrists, then sliding to his hair, his face, his eyes…

“It’s him!” One of them yelled out. “The kid was there with the girl last night!”

Tristan lifted his head to see who the voice belonged to- recognizing the man as one of the villagers that found him yesterday.

Found him beside a pile of ashes with blood on his clothes.

“Detainee,” one of the soldiers behind him finally spoke, pushing Tristan further into the clearing. “You are hereby under arrest for the crimes of heresy and murder.”

He was speechless.

Mari opened her bloodshot eyes and looked up at her brother, tears welling in them.

“No!” He screamed as the two soldiers at his back grabbed him. “You’ve got it all wrong! We killed a vampire!”

A wave of gasps and whispers trickled through the crowd. “He’s a liar!” A woman shouted out, but some appeared to not be so sure.

“Silence!” The soldier who had led him here commanded.

And command he did- the entire square fell silent and watched as he ascended the small wooden platform, towering over the crowd. The music abruptly stopped and even the breeze seemed to pause.

“The two detainees you have before you now were found in this very square after dusk- claiming a vampire disguised as a soldier had attacked them.”

A few more murmurs echoed throughout the square.

“Their identities could not be verified, nor could any part of their story. Through our interrogations, the military has uncovered the truth: they are outsiders who aim to spread panic within the kingdom. The trespassers burned a man alive and lied about him being a vampire- the existence of which the kingdom has officially disproven…”

At this, a cry of outrage was levied at Tristan, still frozen in the grasp of the two soldiers. “Last chance, kid,” one of them said. “Tell us the truth- who you are and why you have golden blood. Tell us and we’ll let the two of you go.”

“I’ve told you everything,” he insisted. “I swear.”

The soldier sighed. “Fine, have it your way.”

“…Therefore, they have been sentenced to death by fire.”

No, he thought as the crowd began to cheer. This couldn’t be happening.

They were about to die and he was helpless to stop it.

He’d finally had a taste of freedom only to have it snatched from his grasp.

“Burn the heathens, commander!” Someone shrieked. So that’s what he was. Fitting.

One of the guards beside his sister pulled out a barren torch from it’s stand on the wall of a nearby shop. The commander bent down to take it before using the campfire behind him to light the torch- holding it above Mari’s head.

“Please,” Tristan bawled as she silently watched him with a hollow look in her eye, as though she was resigned to her fate.

This was all his fault, he realized. He was the one who dragged her into this, into leaving their house.

If nothing else, he wished he could at least tell her he was sorry. Tease her about her books one last time.

Tristan thrashed in the arms of the soldiers with every ounce of strength inside him. But he had little.

That was what he was: weak.

If only he hadn’t been too weak to run away before his birthday.

His birthday, he remembered with fury. It was still technically today, at least until the sun would set. He hadn’t yet made his wish. But what the hell was the point in having a birthday, of making a wish year after year, if you were going to die before you saw the world?

What the hell was the point in his imminent death if he’d never had a chance to live?

Please, he said to the world, to the fire- just as he did every year before blowing out his candle. Let her live. Even if I have to die, just let her live.

“Any last words?” The commander said to Mari, the torch slowly slipping from his fingers. The ground itself seemed to shake the slightest bit from the crowd jumping up and down in a frenzy, roaring at his sister.

I’ll do anything it takes.

The fire danced with madness.

It’s embers flared and the ground beneath suddenly shook, as through a terrible quake plagued the stones below.

Tristan widened his eyes, but the crowd didn’t notice.

Not until it spread throughout the entire square and the very buildings trembled- shops and houses crumbling into one another, windows shattering beneath their weight.

Then the village erupted in chaos.

The people that had been watching the execution dispersed in a throng of screams. Tristan looked to the commander, his expression just as frightened as theirs, but the torch did not fall from his hand.

Tristan tried to break his arms free, but the soldiers held firm. “What the hell is going on?!”

The sky bled in answer.

In a flash, it had turned from a bright blue to a deep crimson, speckled with yellows and oranges. And the sun was no longer at its peak.

It was falling.

Tristan felt as though he was watching a sunset, only it was accelerated. The shining ball of golden light faded as it sank westward in a perfectly curved path.

The people of Frostwood stared up at the sky and could do nothing but watch as it burned.

Not as the reds, yellows, and oranges gave way to a dark blue.

Not as the sun sunk lower and lower beneath the clouds.

And not as it finally disappeared beyond the horizon and the village was plunged in darkness.