The stench of rotting corpses filled the air, each one malformed and grotesque, permeating the foggy surroundings. Dew clung to the grass, and the pestilence spread across the land as far as the eye could see. "What... What happened here?" a young squire asked.

"A tear in the veil, boy," Knight Sergeant Cornelius replied, sadness etched on his face. Cornelius looked at the village, imagining the children playing, laughing, and running through the streets.

"Sir," one of the soldiers called out as he ran up to Sergeant Cornelius. "There are horse tracks," he said, relief evident on his face. Cornelius's weariness, anticipation, and hope were reflected on his face.

"Alright, men," Cornelius said, "let's find these survivors. And let us pray that we make it in time before the beast—or God knows what." The men mounted their horses and rode off, hoping to grasp at any chance of salvation.

The sun's rays pierced through the tree leaves, as if condemning John and Camila. Distant sounds were muffled behind the shrubbery and the legion of trees merging with the horizon. Regardless of their direction, they knew they would be facing time itself.

Sitting by a campfire while John cooked, Camila and John shared a tense moment. "Camila, finding food won't be an issue. We need to find a river quickly, otherwise—" John broke into tears. "They are all dead." He tried to regain his composure, but his restraint began to crack. "Mother—Father," he whimpered. Camila paused and attempted to console him with a hug, but he pushed her away. John's sobbing subsided abruptly as he buried his emotions deep within his heart.

"Camila, let us hope it doesn't rain. If the fief's central authority does not hear from this village, they will come. They would already be on their way; however, if it rains and they don't see the horse tracks, we will die of dehydration, which we are already beginning to suffer from."

John and Camila woke to the sound of horse hooves, their eyes lighting up with relief. "John, we're saved!" Camila exclaimed. John smiled warmly. "It's been five weeks. Thank God."

The sound of horses and shouts grew louder until a unit of men emerged from the horizon. John and Camila stood up as a man wearing chain mail and gambeson, with the crest of the Watcher's Eye embroidered on his cloth, approached them.

"My God, how—" He looked at Camila and then at John. "Boy, how old are you?"

"Fifteen," John replied.

"Fifteen, you say? Well, you're built like an ox, I tell you. And you took care of this young lady?"

"My sister," John said.

"Yes, I see. Well, anyway, we'll get you two back to civilization, mark my words. But the magistrate of the fief will most likely have some questions for you." With that, they walked towards the vast plains, unsure of the dangers that awaited them.

The embers danced towards the heavens, illuminating but also casting shadows on Cornelius's face. John returned from hunting, each kill a token of appreciation for his own survival. Cornelius looked at John.

"Why do you call that creature your sister, boy?" he asked, glancing at Camila, who was sound asleep.

"She's not a creature," John replied dryly.

Cornelius looked at John with concern. "If you knew even half of the truth, you wouldn't be so close to her. That's like a wolf playing house with a bunny."

John leaned in. "What are you talking about?" he asked defensively.

"Easy there, boy," Cornelius said, emphasizing "boy." "Listen to my story, and I'll give you your options regarding the lass."

Realizing the gravity of his situation, John conceded. "Very well then."

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Cornelius smiled warmly. "Your sister is what we call a vampire—a blood drinker. Some folks who are a bit paranoid call them 'the terrors of the moonlight.'" Cornelius chuckled at the term.

"If you read any historical text, you'd find they were said to be descended from the cosmos, from a distant world, and were barbaric. But I believe all that to be nonsense. I mean, look at her. I don't think she'd hurt a fly. But others won't be so open-minded. After all, humans are tribal, and as far as we're concerned, her kind is rare."

John realized that Camila had never been outside the village, and perhaps that was for the better. Cornelius's face softened. "The second thing is, what is that contraption moving water up from the well, and who made it?"

John pointed to Camila. "She did."

Cornelius stated, "Well, with this, she might be able to bargain for her life. But I can't say the same for her freedom." After their conversation, John went to sleep while Cornelius stood guard.

The town was erected with gothic architecture, as if men were trying to claim the heavens for themselves—an evocation of beauty itself which gazed upon the ugliness of their souls. thus the town spoke: "This is the will of the human heart. In the face of its own hideousness, it strives to create heaven on earth, so it may love itself through its own designs."

Camila and John's jaws dropped at the sight of such beauty. They looked at Cornelius, who chuckled. "I was expecting a more dramatic reaction from country bumpkins," he said.

John and Camila stared at him, speechless. Their moment of awe was interrupted by guards surrounding Camila. Cornelius addressed them. "At ease, men. This young lady is with us. We have been instructed to escort the survivors of Yambleg Village to the magistrate, and these are the survivors. Understood?"

The men stepped aside. They were greeted by an arbiter as they approached the town administration building.

"Hello, my name is Saoirse," she said enthusiastically. "I am the administrator from the clergy assigned to this fief." John and Camila looked at Saoirse, puzzled. "What's a clergy? What's an administrator?" Their confusion was evident. John and Camila exchanged looks with Saoirse, then back to each other. The townsfolk began to stare at Camila. Saoirse noticed this development.

balled his fist against his chest and nodded before dismissing himself and his men.

Saoirse directed the children into the building. "Are you going to ask us about what happened?" Saoirse shuddered. "I am not inclined to make children relive their nightmares; just know that, for the time being, you are under my protection." John and Camila stared at Saoirse, confused.

"So you're adopting us?" Camila asked.

"Well, I can't in good conscience let a creature of the night roam the streets unaccompanied," Saoirse teased Camila. Camila scrunched up her face. "What do you mean by 'creature of the night'?" she asked, emphasizing the words.

The bell tolled with each strike, resonating throughout the town from a tower that seemed to scrape the cosmos, reminding man of their mortality and igniting a spark from which all thoughts and feelings emanated.

John couldn't resist laughing. "Sister, I'm sure that's not what she means. She's probably referring to your origins," he shouted over the bell.

Saoirse nodded. "I believe that conversation is long overdue, but a bath is the more pressing matter," Saoirse said as they entered the building.

After their baths, John and Camila were greeted with plump chicken, the aroma of which stirred their most primal instincts. They tore into the meal, and if Saoirse didn't know any better, she might have mistaken them for a pack of ravenous hounds. When they finished, they sat unabashed by their gluttony, for what is a heart's worth if it does not want?

Saoirse smiled warmly, and John and Camila felt her radiance. Suddenly, they blushed, becoming aware of their own sincerity.

"Now that you're all fed and content," Saoirse said, "I'm going to have a meal of my own." Her tone shifted to seriousness. "Camila, I believe it's time we addressed what you are."

Camila wiped the blood from her mouth and smiled innocently. Saoirse looked at her. "I'll be blunt—unbecoming of myself, but necessary for the situation. The original vampire was a parasite that had washed up on the shores to the west some time ago. It possessed its host, merged with it, and then assumed control.

Camila, this process happened to you when you were a fetus. Everything about you is completely ethereal. Vampires are smarter, stronger, and can achieve resonance far easier than the average human due to their seemingly closer ties to the 12 pillars of reality. But because of their nature, they cannot reproduce their own blood." She paused. "And thus the nature of the conflict between humans and vampires. Naturally, humans won in the end, being more self-sacrificing due to their larger numbers and empathy. We made advancements and eventually hunted your kind to near extinction."

"Any questions?" Saoirse asked, returning to her usual warm smile.

Camila, her resolve set, addressed Saoirse. "I've come to the conclusion, after the last five weeks, that I am a vampire and not a human, and I am content with that." Camila felt a sense of closure, knowing that whatever she once was was now a part of a greater whole.

Saoirse smiled with understanding. "Very well, but for your own good, I must ask you to wear a veil . The less you are seen, the better." Camila nodded in agreement.