The mercenaries soon lose interest in me as I finish sharing what little information I have for them, and even Syr rushes away with one of her mercenary friends before I can set her aside to discuss her behaviour. While it’s certainly been entertaining to have her affections born so plain, I’m not in a position to be able to respond in kind. It would be cruel to press her as I have done to Belle. It is another form of corruption, that I cannot let spread.

Leaving my guests to their own business, I rush away a book settling itself into my hands before I rest in my favourite corner of this house. I must think and consider what it is that I need from the necromancer, to ask too much from her would be unkind.

So far very little of this meeting has gone as expected and it can be entirely attributed to Syr.

She is a strange one, but I can’t say that I’m not interested in her. How could someone not look upon her and see that something burning brighter than a fire inside of her? The way she can so confidently stand up against a knight in battle and deny all basic social principles by approaching me when I showed her my violent intentions.

I don’t know what to think about her necromancy. After having my own will stolen away from me I should be frightened of her, and deal with her only as I must. I should be cautious. Instead, it is all I can do to keep from listening to every footstep to figure out which is hers.

A temptation that I should not allow to grow any stronger. When I act out these false emotions, following a life path as if to satisfy the dead girl now gone, it only ends badly for all involved. I must be above emotions, as a noble and as a monster.

I flick through the old pages of a familiar story. A story of a princess adventuring through the lands in disguise. It’s an unusual tale, but it shows just how important the princess is to the kingdom, how much everyone misses her, and how the people struggle when she is gone.

It is a lie, but it is a beautiful lie.

I don’t know what to feel about these pages anymore. I haven’t touched them in what seems like an age. These pages are the same as they were, but I am not.

Instead, I find the skillbook nearby and study the changes in my condition. It is a cold thing, a tale that records the strength I’ve gained from cruel murders, though it has been some time since I last fed. My fangs itch, and the hunger inside is deepening into something… unwelcome, but perhaps it would do me well to know what it means to suffer.

Vampiric æther vein quality: D+ Rank

~Improve quality by drinking blood from powerful intelligent beings

Magic:

Vampire’s Recovery: D- Rank

-Heal your own wounds or the wounds which you drink from.

-Enhanced speed of your healing.

Vampire’s Gaze: E+ Rank

-Intimidate and limitedly mind control a target.

Vampire’s Strength: D- Rank

-Express significantly greater physical strength.

-You temporarily gain the physical strength of your victim.

Manifest Shadows: F Rank

-Give shape to the shadows, and physically manifest them.

Illusion Magic: E Rank

-Make lies appear as if true.

-More complex and lasting magic is possible.

Unseen Transposition: F Rank

-When unobserved, trade places with another unseen space.

New magics available at vein rank C

Æther Vein Grading: D

Common veins: 36

Frost: C-

Dedicated veins: 62

-Summon the powers of frost, which slowly draws the heat from something in touch with you

-Invasive frost: Press compressed frost into a target within touching distance. It will linger for a time.

-New magics available at rank B

Fire: D

Dedicated veins: 32

-Summon flames and fire at your will

-Control the concentration and intensity of your flames

-New magics available at Rank C

Telekinesis: E+

Dedicated veins: 22

-Lift and push things at a distance.

-New magics available at Rank C

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Light: E+

Dedicated veins: 17

-Summon a clear white light.

-New magics available at Rank D

Little has changed since the last time I looked, I trained properly whenever the chance has permitted, but it is not so simple to grow into something more.

“Young lady, are you in here?” Riese asks, stepping into the room before I can reply. The older lady shuffles along without even a reflection of the grace that I expect of my maids. She walks as if she owns the place, carrying an attitude that should not have survived through the decades of long suffering she was forced to endure under my family.

“I am here,” I reply, setting down the book. “Is there something that you need? If there is anything I can do, I would gladly help.”

“I’m checking in on you,” Riese says, crossing her arms as she approaches me. Her gaze is harsh and unforgiving. She’s been kind to me this entire time, but never has she hesitated to scold her own, and now she’s looking at me with the same weight though says nothing just yet.

I don’t know what I’ve done to inspire that sort of reaction, but I’m sure that it would somehow be my fault. I’m ignorant where I ought to be wise, where noble, or any leader, must be wise. I wait for her to say something, turning to face the curtains that protect me from the lethal glare of the sun.

Rather than harsh words, it’s a heavy sigh that erupts from her.

“What do you think of me?” She asks, walking up to the side of my chair and resting a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve watched and listened, I know you have so don’t pretend that you don’t know enough about me.”

“You are kind and a good leader. The others trust you, and you have much wisdom to share,” I say, watching her closely. Her heavy steps have become timid in but a moment and her crossed arms seem to convey something entirely different as her posture bends down in a slouch. What was a confident older woman turns into someone fragile and frightened.

“A lie,” she says, wiping a hand down her face. The skin changes and shifts underneath, a strange magic that I’ve only seen from her in brief glimpses, her wrinkles smooth out as she takes on a much more youthful appearance. She’s still older than me, perhaps in her late thirties, but there is no longer anything remaining of the wise older woman that stood before me only a second ago.

She is just another frightened person, unsure of what to do.

“Why are you showing me this?” I ask, toying with my own magics. My own set of lies.

“A good leader is a good liar,” she chuckles, pulling up a chair to sit near to me. “We have to be confident, even when we’re not. We have to have the answers, even when we’re clueless. We need to be whatever they need us to be.”

I nod slowly, what she’s saying isn’t wrong. Much of a noble’s obligations, especially those centred around our behaviour and poise, are about imprisoning our true feelings and wants in order to be, in form and function, everything we are needed to be. It should always be for the sake of those who rely upon us that we struggle.

Riese, needed to be wise and confident, so she’s taken the form and function of someone who is wise and confident.

“It wasn’t always like this for me,” she chuckles, “before you gave us hope I wore this face hoping the whipmaster would be a little more merciful. Or some days, I daydreamed that they would have enough of me and have me killed.”

The injustice she describes were happening right outside my door. If I’d just looked. Every whipping that occurred, I would always simply assume that it was deserved. I trusted that father knew best, that he would not do something so cruel without a good reason for it.

“In a minute, I need to wear my wrinkles again and kick some of those young nippers into shape. I’ll need to lie again, but there’s one person that I don’t ever lie to,” Riese leans forward.

“Me?” I ask, and she erupts into laughter.

“Oh, goodness no. I’ve lied to you plenty, girl. You should know better than that.”

“Then, who?”

She lifts her hand, pointing a thumb at her own chest.

“Me,” Riese smirks at me. “I don’t ever lie to myself.”

She stands again, shuffling around as she finds the wrinkles that she’s lost, and the confident stance that she relaxed for but a moment. She strides back to the door, hesitating as she gets there.

“That’s what has the rest of us so scared of you,” she says. “You lie to yourself about who you are, and who can trust a person like that?”

She leaves me alone, closing the door quietly behind her.

I don’t know what to make of her words. Even assuming that she’s right, how would she know the lies that I speak to myself? How would she know anything about me at all, except for what I’ve willingly shown her? She’s not nearly as close to me as others, Piper was intentionally pulling me close and Belle certainly knows me better still.

And even if I am lying to myself, how does that affect everyone else?

Rubbing my fingers along the textured cover of the old storybook, I stand, leaving it behind. There are guests and it would be improper to leave them for too long without my company.

Vael is waiting for me at the door, this time with the ears and tail that make her seem more akin to a fox than the demon she truly is. Her eyes are sharp, and her lips curled upwards but she sobers her expression before speaking.

“Talk with Semi, I’ve set a meeting for you tonight.”

“I thought I’d already agreed,” I say, looking up at her in suspicion. “What has you so determined to force this?”

“Yes, well. You should speak to her tonight. What you learn could help you understand what you need that little necromancer for, other than the lascivious things on your mind, of course,” Vael continues.

“You are trying to distract from the topic at hand,” I accuse her, “I would say that you speak in riddles, but it isn’t anything so clever. Why do you insistent on this? Can’t you tell me yourself?”

She skips a step ahead, refusing to say anything even as she turns a corner away from me.

“Speak with Semi!” She calls back the minute she’s gone from sight.

I can only shake my head at her antics as I head back toward the mercenary group, who are gathered together again but for Syr. I can’t find her anywhere in the mansion for some reason, and I hasten my step to reach the mercenaries to find out why.

“I apologise for being a poor host,” I say, looking between them. They seem glad that Syr is not with them though I cannot imagine why.

“There was something we were wanting to discuss,” Theo says. Adeleya, their mage nods eagerly in agreement while the swordsman and the other elf are both more muted in their reactions. It seems that they are not all of the same mind about this, whatever it is.

“Speak freely,” I say, settling across from them. “I will consider what you have to say seriously.”

“Good,” Theo says. “It’s about Syr’s necromancy. You’re interested in using her magics for yourself, and you’ve explained why well enough, but it’s not good for her.”

“Can you explain?” I ask.

“What should happen to a necromancer?” He asks. “What should happen to us, after we’ve met with a necromancer?”

The most hated of magics, though it’s hardly a concern for me in my condition, I suppose it would trouble them greatly. People would want to see them dead, vampires are only one small faction of the army that would gather to hunt them down.

“I have already promised my silence,” I reply. “I do not wish to put her at unnecessary risk.”

“She’s not like you,” Theo says, leaning closer as he stares me down. There’s weight behind his words. “You’re undead already, but she’s a mage and a mage can give up their magic. She can still live a normal life.”

“Is that what she wants?” I ask.

Nadia, the other elf in their party, lowers her head with a frown.

“She’s still a kid,” Adeleya says, leaning on her staff. “She doesn’t know what’s good for her, but we’re trying to teach her. She just… she never listens. When I try to tell her to give up the magic she thinks I’m trying to get her to be more clever with how she uses it, or…” she grits her teeth and sits back down again.

Their swordsman, Lothar leans over the chair, massaging her shoulders and Adeleya relaxes back, quietly thanking him.

“All I ask is that you don’t pressure her to keep developing her magic,” Theo says. “She’s better off without it.”

They are fond of her, and they want to protect her. It is sensible, but it still grates at me. It is her choice and not theirs.

The fact that her magic puts them at risk as well does blunt that concern, but even so, they should be saying this directly to her instead of me.

“I have heard your concerns,” I reply. “If you want to keep her from her magic, then I suggest that you address her directly in the future.”

“It’s just…” Nadia tries to speak but stops herself to think it through a little longer. “It’s harmless, isn’t it? She’s not hurting anyone, so why..,?”

“Because they’ll hurt her,” Theo replies with a heavy sigh. “Thank you, Lady Greystone. We will prepare for the training you described if you have nothing else you wish to bring up.”

“As you see fit,” I allow, nodding to them.

I spend the rest of the day in training, strengthening the magics that are not born from my dry veins. The magics that I had as a human. Even when I put my mind to the task it is a challenging experience, pushing myself right to the edge of wearing down to nothing before moving on to the next magic.

Time moves strangely in a world without sleep, but the coming of night pushes a surge of energy through me and I cannot but sigh in relief as I step out under a sky that welcomes me.

Syr and her mercenary friends have come with me to the yard and I slowly taste the air around them. There is a fear within them, and inside of the necromancer herself. Even knowing as much they cannot stop me from feeding on that power and pulling the shadows around us into new shapes.

“I will ask that for now, you limit your use of fire and light magics,” I say. “I am still weak, and I am quite sure that you could easily defeat me given those advantages. Are you willing to start?”

Syr lifts her long sword onto her shoulder, smiling brightly as she meets my eyes. She nods, moving her feet into position and readying to dive at me.