She plunges the knife deep into her chest, the blade piercing down to the hilt. Blood bursts through the edges, slowly running down her chest, spreading its sweet aroma through the night’s air.

My hands shiver though I try to keep still. The deep frost within me shudders, spreading countless fractures through the flesh inside of me. Organs that no longer function, split apart as if divided by a thousand invisible blades.

“Belle,” I whisper, reaching her side and seizing her shoulder. She remains frozen in place, rich red blood trickles down her exposed cleavage.

Her dress is far more revealing than is proper. She is beautiful, but there is no reason to show so much of it to the world.

The cool night’s air burns at my throat as I attempt to swallow.

“The immortal truth,” Belle whispers, her voice ringing true and clear, without even a hint of pain. “This world is full of lies and deceptions. Sometimes the only way to see through them is to test them.”

She draws the dagger from her breast, a slip of blood marking the spot. It has such a sweet taste, saccharine to such a point that it burns in the air between us. I reach out for her, running my fingers over the wound.

An injury that ought to be lethal, but it isn’t. It does not bleed near as much as it should.

“Are you okay?” I can barely find the strength to whisper the words, though I should be shouting them.

“I’m fine,” Belle says, her chest sinking in a deep sigh, and her voice clear even though she should be coughing up blood. “I wasn’t sure that was going to work.”

“Work?” I ask, reaching for the dagger. My hand trembles against my will. The blood that flows across the steel runs in rivulets guided by æther channels forged into the steel.

“It’s a healing enchantment,” Belle explains, her voice stronger than it ought to be. “I knew that it was, but it was still… difficult to test it.”

“The path to truth is filled with uncertainty and to walk it takes bravery,” Merry says, the hideous priest appearing as if from nowhere. If I weren’t so distracted, I’d have noticed him far sooner. I should have noticed him regardless.

“Most seekers aren’t quite so reckless as yourself,” Merry whispers, leading a group of robed followers out after him. “I would ask that you not make such a dangerous show the next time, my own heart is still trying to beat out of my chest.”

“I had to do something,” Belle addresses the priest, looking over her dagger which still drips with her blood. “This felt right. This was my truth.”

“Belle, what’s happening, why is Merry here?”

“Young Belle asked for my assistance,” the priest says, bowing his head toward me. “She pursues her own truth in this world, and it seems that we might walk awhile down the same path.”

I level a glare at the monstrous man, barely restraining a hiss.

“I’m not speaking of any intimate relationship,” Merry shakes his head and waves his hands before him. “I simply say that we might work together to correct the lies and deceptions that have corrupted this world.”

“Vigilantes,” Belle whispers.

“Who are you people?” Lysis whispers, fire still swirling about his hands. A hint of fear rolls from his voice. “You think that you can stop me?”

“The truth,” Merry marches toward Lysis followed by others. They are remarkable in that they are ordinary. Large thuggish men stand among them, but do not represent them. A child as young as ten walks beside an elderly woman, leaning heavily on her cane.

They wear simple robes, white as might be expected from the slums, but certainly not representative of any divine. Not by appearances at least. They come cloaked in a faith that is lesser only in comparison to Merry’s own overwhelming presence.

“The truth is a powerful thing, young prince. It is healthy for all of us to face it with honesty and humility. One can only float on lies for so long before the oceans consume them.” Merry stands between us and the princeling, unafraid.

“Out of my way, you freak.”

Lysis tosses the flames at Merry, but with a small wave of his robed hand, the priest dispels the magic as if it had never been.

“What did you do?” Lysis asks, summoning more fire and throwing it at the other robed figures surrounding him. Just like with Merry, the flames dissipate as if into nothingness.

“What sort of magic is this?” I ask, gripping Belle tight to stop her from throwing herself into more danger.

“I… it’s difficult to explain,” Belle whispers, “It’s not normal magic, I think it’s something like your vampiric magics. It’s… it’s divine magic.”

“Divine?”

Faith radiates from the robed figures, heavy enough that it’s suffocating me even of a night. A moment before the flames strike them, their faith burns bright, concentrating before them and warding away the grasping magics.

Yet, the power behind their faith is lesser for each use. There is a limit that they will reach, just as there is with my cruel powers. Perhaps they’ve found a way to attach their faith to the æther running through their veins, or something equally as insane. Their power will not last forever.

Lysis, breathing heavy, glares at the priest and his followers, his flames dying down while he prepares something more powerful.

“They’ll be worn down,” I whisper, tasting the offensive flames in the air. “They can’t hold him back forever. I must help them.”

“Tina,” Belle pulls at my hand, offering me the dagger that she’s just recently pulled from her heart. I can’t take it from her. “Do not let yourself become a monster, if you need blood, then I will freely give you mine.”

“I only take from those deserving,” I say, pursing my lips. “Would you consider this man undeserving of such punishments?”

“The killing is destroying you,” Belle shakes her head, pinching her eyes closed.

“I will be careful,” I say, slipping from her grip.

My power here is limited, the faith of the priest enough to overwhelm the strength gained by the darkness. I expect that it will not last much longer. A blanket soon to be burnt away by the prince’s flames.

Lysis is glaring at them, lost in panic, and summoning powerful magic like nothing I’ve seen him use thus far tonight. It is the sort of magic that should never be used in a city surrounded by the homes of commoners, yet he does not hesitate.

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The fires crawl along his arms down to the cobblestone at his feet, instantly the stone charrs deep black. The magic rises as a wave, washing out to the priest and his followers.

Their faith intensifies, glowing as a physical shield to catch the burning fires. For a few seconds the two magics war in the middle of the street, the flames rising higher as if to crawl over the shield, and the divine magic pressing inward to deny the flames their origin.

Faith beats fire.

A short snap cracks through the air, and the fire is gone. The humans blink away the ghosts of the flames burned into their eyes, granting me a short instant where I’m unseen.

Flushed with corrupted æther, I slip through the space without taking a step. I fall from above, silent as a whisper.

I lead with my dagger, slashing at his neck. Lysis hasn’t the chance to guard himself, but my strike still misses, slashing the side of his neck and missing everything of importance.

My new nature has gifted me strength and cruelty, but it has not granted me expertise.

I land hard, and lash out again, thrusting for his inner thigh, but he steps back from me.

He shouts in pain and fright, his own fear overwhelming the spent faith of the priests surrounding him. Feeding on his pains, I summon illusory mists around us. So thick that we cannot see through them, but I cannot stretch them farther than a few metres across.

Lysis screams, waving out his arms and washing clean my illusions with bright lights. My mists fade into the nothingness from which they were born, and the young man spins fast to catch my dagger with a reinforced hand.

“Always put some time and attention into strengthening magic,” he smirks, tossing me back.

While his lips are still turned in a smile, a sword bursts out from his belly, and his eyes shine with the pain that he buries with only a short grunt. Belle cuts her sword free and steps in for another attack but Lysis retreats faster.

“I’m still not sure about the truth of honourable battle,” Belle says, circling the man. “All I can say with confidence is that you do not deserve victory here, Lysis. You’re not going to win this. I won’t let you.”

“You have harmed many people,” Merry says, stepping up to her side. “You already know that you walk the wrong path, let us speak for a time. I will help guide you to a kinder world, a world that we can build together.”

“You’re insane old man,” Lysis sneers, reigning in his fear as the rest of the robed figures retreat from us.

“The truth is I’m not that old, I’m merely ugly,” Merry says, his lips tilting upward as he raises his hands against the man as if this were a brawl. The priests returning power only withers my own limited strength.

Lysis does not seem to notice it, else I’m sure that he’d be pressuring me already.

It is time to retreat, or it should be.

Belle stands ready to face the villain, the priest at her side supporting her.

I cannot abandon them. I cannot let Belle be further injured, and Merry doesn’t deserve to die here.

I am unsuited to this battle, I had a small opportunity to strike before, but I do not see such a chance coming again.

“You know what will happen to you if you win this fight, don’t you?” Lysis stares between us. “You’ll be executed. All of you. There’s no way for you to win this.”

“I do not often fight,” Merry says. “I intended to leave this matter alone at first, but the more that I’ve heard of you, the more I have come to realize that I cannot turn my back on you. Worry not for our sake, nor your own. This will end exactly as it should.”

“Can we really do this?” Belle asks the priest.

“We can,” Merry nods, his terrible face twisted further into a smile. “Be cautious, but live true to yourself and we will stand victorious.”

Lysis, having had enough conversation, summons more magic. He’s given up on his flames, perhaps his dedicated flame veins have been exhausted, or perhaps he’s saving his final flames for me.

The air shimmers as moisture crystalises in the space between us, the only indication of his attack. Belle and Merry shiver as it washes through them, a momentary weakness.

Lysis dives in, drawing a dagger and thrusting at the priest.

His own injury barely slows him, healing over even as I watch. How much has this man trained himself, that he can use healing magic, strengthening, fire, and frost? Most will dedicate themselves to a single magic, rather than spreading themselves thin.

“You will not,” I thrust myself into his side. He’s fast, deflecting my blade and catching me with his other hand. Fire bursts from his hand.

It hurts.

I scream, unable to bury the terrible pains spreading through me. The very æther in my veins bursts into flames, spreading through me until something knocks me to the ground.

I grip the cobblestones beneath me, crawling back as I recover my face.

Merry steps in, snatching Lysis’ wrist and twisting it around as if to break it. The priest must have saved me.

Lysis forgets me where I lay, lashing out at the ugly priest, each slice of his dagger leaving behind a spreading frost. Merry stumbles, the wounds are not nearly so deep to inspire such a reaction.

Invasive frost, I’ve trained to eventually use my magic in the same way, but I haven’t reached a point where I’m confident in using it.

“Tina?” Belle calls to me.

I’m a monster. Why should I sit here as an audience to this fight?

I struggle to my feet and circle behind Lysis, seeking an opportunity to get to him, Belle isn’t so patient. She moves without hesitation, slicing up and across the villain’s shoulder, forcing him back.

He swiftly turns to address the new threat, catching her sword in his hand, but with a flash of faith, she cuts clean through his palm, nearly taking off his hand.

While he stumbles, she follows up with another strike. An opening.

I leap at him from his wounded side, dagger at the ready.

Belle and I strike together, and he guards only against her. I dig my dagger into the wound in his neck, but his flesh is thrice as hard as the last time.

It doesn’t matter.

This time, I don’t miss.

I cut through his throat, spraying blood wide across the street. Before he has a chance to heal using magic, I slip in and bite down on the wound, drawing the blood from him.

The boiling blood is heavy, tasting both bitter and sweet, and burning faintly like chilli as he resists me. He stabs at my face and hardens his skin, but I do not let him go. Flames flicker along his dagger, but I refuse to let him escape.

“Enough,” Belle pulls the blade from his hands and flicks at my forehead.

It stings, not nearly as painful as Lysis’ dagger, nor the flames that he tries to summon against me.

I withdraw when she pushes me off of my meal, my itching fangs desperate for more blood.

“Why?” I whisper, tasting at the sweet blood filling the air.

Belle does not reply, thrusting her own dagger into his throat.

Perhaps she needed to see it through herself, he has been her villain for longer than he has been mine. I cannot begrudge her that, but for some reason, when she pulls the dagger free, the man’s bleeding slows.

His complexion is deathly pale, but his heart still beats. The enchanted dagger glows in her hand, as she stands to meet my eyes.

“He doesn’t have to be a villain and neither do we,” Belle shuffles her feet, looking away for a moment before forcing her eyes to meet my own. She adjusts her grip on both her shortsword and dagger.

“You want to save him?” I ask. “He will continue to chase you. He will trouble you until his ultimate end.”

“Maybe,” Belle nods, biting her lip. “I don’t want to be a villain, Tina. I want to make a better world, and I can’t do that as a villain. I didn’t understand that when I met you, I didn’t understand what you were trying to tell me.”

“You understand now,” I stare down at our prey, left alive, and tended to by the strange priest.

“Tina, you can be a good person.”

“You think that I’m not?” I ask.

“Not when you hunt,” Belle shakes her head so slowly that I can barely even see it. “Just because you hunt evil people, it doesn’t mean that you should let that same evil into your own heart.”

“I… may have overindulged myself in my new nature,” I admit, calming my breath even though the temptation of blood still hangs over me. The other nobles have committed awful acts all for the sake of fulfilling their own selfish desires, and I do not want to follow in their lead.

“I still think that it is reckless to let him live,” I say.

“I know,” Belle nods slowly, gripping her weapons tighter. “I have to try, even if it all goes wrong.”

“If that is what you want, then I won’t fight you,” I say, cleaning my dagger on a handkerchief.

“I… I didn’t mean… I’m not trying to pick a fight,” Belle says, shaking her head. “I’m just worked up from the fight. Sorry. I meant what I said, but now isn’t the time for that conversation.”

“I understand,” I say. “Just please be careful with your own life. It is decidedly unpleasant to see you thrust a dagger into your own heart. It would only be worse to see that prince have his way.”

“Right, sorry. When I stabbed myself I was trying to surprise him and get a feel for the new magic. I needed to have faith,” her knees fall from under her and I rush in to catch her before she hits the ground.

“I have you,” I say, standing her up. “I have you.”

Merry tends to his injuries and those of our defeated villain, his followers returning to assist. I do not know where they are taking the young royal, and I do not want to know.

“Thank you,” Belle whispers, finding her feet. “Thank you for standing by my side today.”

“It’s been my honour to stand beside you, my betrothed,” I reply, my fangs still itching with a desperate wanting. She offered me her blood, and I would quite like to take her up on the offer when we have a moment away from the others.