Europhia exploded on my tongue, indescribable in its taste, other than pure bliss. Shouts fell upon deaf ears, the man going limp in the arms I wrapped around him, gently lowering us to the ground.

His torso lay across my folded legs, weak but surprisingly willing. He must’ve felt the pleasure too, for I could’ve sworn he leaned into me, his head tilting more to give access to me.

Blood poured freely into my greedy mouth, swallowing it as fast as I could manage. I felt crazed at this moment, a wild creature that would fight over her prey.

There was a commotion around me, but nothing besides this man’s blood mattered. The darkest side of me, a new part of me, urged and screamed for more.

Isaac’s heart was a flurry in his chest, strong and echoing in my ear. I could feel it within my own chest, as if I was part of him now, or him me. He was unmoving, completely at my disposal.

The aching need within me was beginning to dull, slowly being satiated. His heart began to slow in time with my eroding desire, struggling to keep beating.

There was a flash of silver from the corner of my vision, brandished by a man in all black. “Please,” Isaac said weakly, the first noise to break through the barrier that had formed in my mind.

He was fighting me now; he knew death came for him.

I could feel the desperation in that weak rasp of a word, the absolute terror he felt. Part of me took pleasure in that feeling- enjoyed being the cause, relishing in the rich sensation.

I fought against myself, attempting to let go, to free the man while he could still live. Yet, that part of me wasn’t willing to let go, and it was stronger.

It held on until Isaac wasn’t breathing anymore, even his heart giving up. Someone was yelling, screaming at me, but I couldn’t hear them over the pounding bliss in my ears.

A moment later, something struck my chest, piercing through my flesh like butter. It actually hurt, burning like flames. It was enough for me to push away from Isaac, to bring my focus back on myself.

Isaac’s body slid from my lap, empty of life. The pain snapped me back into my body, fully in control once more. I stared down at my chest, where the handle of a small dagger protruded from my chest.

“Claudia!” A man’s voice was shouting at me, extremely angry.

Blood poured from the wound in my chest as I grabbed the handle and pulled it free of my chest. I figured that if I could be healed from my leg injury, this would heal the same.

“You threw a dagger at me?” My own voice had returned to me, the painful tightness in my throat gone.

“You had to pick the fucking sell-swords? The men that kill for a living? Are you truly this dense, Claudia?” Galan was stomping towards me, one hand loosely holding a bloodied, shining silver sword.

Glancing behind him, I noticed the other two men were gone now. No- they weren’t gone, they were laid off to the side of the road, deeply wounded, and unmoving.

“How was I to know what they are?” I could feel the deep crease my narrowed brows made along my forehead, a scowl pulling at my lips.

“The swords!” He was yelling again, and from what I could see, the base of his neck was beginning to turn red. “This,” he said while waving his sword. “Is not some stupid piece of fashion women wear.”

“Okay, but you threw a dagger at me for not knowing their profession?”

“I threw a dagger at you for drinking from a dead man! You survive on the living, not the dead.” Galan continued as he came to a stop, mere feet away from Isaac’s body. He only glanced at it, meaningless to him, his eyes scrunching as he looked at me.

The pain had dulled, then disappeared. Blood no longer drained from the wound, seemingly stopped.

“I couldn’t fight it,” I murmured, meaning it. And it was true; that urge had taken over me and there wasn’t a thing I could’ve done about it. It had its desires, and whether or not they would be met wasn’t a question it afforded me.

“I don’t-” he began saying before cutting himself off, looking away from me. His nostrils flared as he drew in a long breath, his jaw working as if he were chewing on something. “You’re right,” he said while squinting, almost like he was wincing at the words he spoke.

Galan wasn’t a man worth fighting.

I took one more look at him before rising to my feet. Isaac’s lifeless body lay between us like a drawn line. I felt a pang of guilt, rocking through my soul, shocking humanity back into me.

“They weren’t good men,” Galan said quietly, brows furrowed as he stared at me.

“Does it matter now?” I asked, swallowed in that small flame of guilt.

“It matters to you,” he almost whispered to me, all the anger gone from his tone. “I can see it on your face, and I can hear it in your chest. Your heart beats again,” he said in fascination.

My heart was still repeating the rhythm it’d stolen from Isaac, pounding as if it still had a use. “How?” I asked him.

Galan shook his head at me. Of course he wouldn’t know, I was the first of. . . this. “Is this urge,” I gestured down to the body. "Is this normal?”

“Yes,” he replied on a gentle sigh. “That’s the normal part, but your heart beating definitely isn’t.”

“Well why in the world is it beating now, Galan?” I was fighting my frustration, but truly I was somewhat scared; to change and have no guide or reason why.

“It’s too quick to try and come up with any answers on what I do know. We should wait and see what happens.” He took a single step away from me, despite holding two weapons and I none.

I bit down on my lip and instantly regretted it. Pain pierced through my lip and face, sharp and hot. I tasted my own blood a moment later, spitting it out onto the dirt.

Galan watched me with intense interest, staring directly at my mouth. “What?” I asked him, hearing the anger in my tone.

He didn’t answer me, instead looking down at Isaac. He squatted beside the man’s head, using the tip of his dagger to push back the shirt collar that had ridden up Isaac’s neck.

“Even more unusual,” he mumbled, more to himself, but I still heard him. I was still scowling, angry with myself for biting my lip so harshly. It stung, but fortunately, it began to fade like the rest of my injuries.

His lack of answers, and vagueness when he did have one, infuriated me. I might as well figure things out on my own.

I took a step towards him, looming over the body between us. Staring down at Isaac’s neck, nothing stood out to me other than the gore. Four puncture wounds, twin sets of two holes, scored his neck, which had partially ripped that chunk of flesh from his throat.

“What’s unusual?” I asked him, prodding for some type of answer. I thought he’d said this was the normal part, or was I trying to appease my guilt?

“We’ll discuss this later, Claudia,” he said, looking shaken. “Now that this has been settled, we can get to Silbath.”

That scowl found its way back to my face. What was so important about Silbath?

“Silbath is the only town you’ll make it in as a fledgling,” he answered my question, though I hadn’t voiced it. “Too far from the wall for Mirin to care about. It’s mostly criminals anyways, if you’re going to continue to have a heart.”

Mirin. I’d heard that name before. I opened my mouth to ask Galan, but the look on his face told me he was done giving answers.

“Wait here,” he mumbled gruffly, evidently agitated again. He turned his back to me a second later, swiftly returning to the corpses he’d left behind.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Amazingly, the horses hadn’t moved an inch despite their riders’ deaths. They were definitely accustomed to death and its violence.

Galan reached for the reins of one and began to lead it over to me, before rethinking and grabbing another. He didn’t appear to be enjoying our situation at all, his jaw still working and his face set into subtle aggression.

He mounted one, a mare with a rich, deep brown coat. Galan leaned in his saddle, reaching for the other’s reins, belonging to a white steed, speckled with black.

The motion lifted his shirt, exposing a golden brown, muscled side. It was gone in a flash, though I’d seen enough to be struck. My memories before Ascelin were distant, but I knew my husband didn’t look anything like that.

Could I still call William my husband?

No, he certainly wasn’t anymore. I’d died, and was partially still dead according to Galan. My ring was gone when I glanced to check, thankfully.

Galan’s horse stopped a short distance away, letting go of the other. He held up his hand before reaching into a bag that had been strapped to the horse’s sides. He rustled in the bag for a moment before pulling out a pair of cotton white trousers, throwing them at me.

I eyed him as I pulled them on discreetly, hidden in the long cloak he’d given me. “You’ll thank me later for that.”

“Do you need help getting up?” He asked me when I didn’t move, eyeing the horse. He had a hint of mockery in his voice, and I could’ve sworn the corner of his lip twitched.

“No,” I answered defensively. Truthfully, I probably did need his help. I just didn’t want to say yes to him.

He remained silent after that, waiting and watching with exaggerated interest.

I approached cautiously, eyeing the beast that stood by for me. It grew uncomfortable as I approached it, his head lifting quickly, rear legs turning his body to give me his side.

Avoiding looking at Galan was hard with him literally looming over me. I could feel his burning gaze as he observed me.

I knew little about animals.

Of course I knew what they were, but I’d never been around them. Animals were for the favored, crops for the rest; this was something I remembered without much effort.

Reaching a hand out, I allowed the horse to sniff at my hand, his nostrils flaring wide as he did. Oddly slanted pupils whirled before staring directly at me, and a moment later he relaxed.

Or so I thought.

Planting a bare foot in the foot hold, I started to put my weight onto it like I’d seen Galan do before. Then the horse started turning, rearing up on his legs, scared by me again.

I could hear Galan dramatically sigh before he was using his own horse to push back mine, reaching for the reins again to steady the beast. “Swing your leg over.”

Doing as he said, the horse didn’t shift again underneath me as I seated myself in its worn down saddle. “Why are we taking their horses? Is Silbath far away?”

“They didn’t belong to them,” Galan responded a moment later after making sure I’d sat down properly. My other foot found the other handle meant for a boot, bare skin brushing against the leather. “They belong to Silbath. We’re taking them back.”

I wanted to question why he would know such things, but I felt I had asked plenty of questions already. Galan’s job was to drop me off, he wasn’t my teacher, nor was it his responsibility to inform me of anything.

Truly, he could’ve just taken me, without any explanation, or even a name of where we were going.

It was his choice that he’d answered what he did, and didn’t. “Silbath isn’t far,” he said, surprising me.

Before I knew it, he was directing his horse back toward that tunnel of trees, giving me his back. It struck me then that my knowledge of horses ended exactly here.

“Galan,” I said quietly. He glanced behind, already dozens of feet away, and immediately smiled. The smile was gone in a flash, but I had seen its existence.

“Yes, Claudia?” He asked, pretending to not know. He wanted me to say it.

“I need help,” I mumbled. “I don’t know how to ride a horse.” I’d always been prideful in my ways, I knew that. I loathed needing or wanting help.

Galan grunted and returned to my side, taking hold of the reins that fell loosely in front of the horse’s neck.

“You take these,” he said, holding the strands where I could see. “Cross them over and hold them together like that.” Galan’s voice was smooth, hiding any signs of humor. “To go, you need to squeeze your legs over the horse’s hips. Not hard,” he said quickly, before I could try.

Following his directions, I took over the reins he held for me, holding them as he had. My horse shifted underneath me before he began a slow walk forward, head low to the ground, after I gently pressed on its sides.

“Just like that,” Galan said, appraising me with a nod. “Good.”

Holding back a retort, I said nothing, following quietly behind him. I figured out pretty quickly that I was not meant to sit still, but instead I was to move with the horse.

Watching Galan from behind gave me confirmation that this was the correct method. His lower half swayed left to right with his mare’s movements, while the rest of him remained straight.

Instantly, I questioned how this could be comfortable for men, as it definitely was not for me. It ached between my legs, even my inner thighs found some torment.

We entered that tunnel of trees and I found it didn’t end anywhere near. It stretched on, eventually the sparse trees I’d seen becoming a denser, almost forest down in the valley.

Shifting in my seat, I leaned forward, attempting to not move the reins at all, giving myself little reprieve. How could I hurt so much if I healed the wounds I endured?

It also occurred to me that my feelings weren’t as strong, at least not my prior ones. I felt new emotions now, and I was still figuring them out. It felt almost wrong to try and feel how I had before.

“Are you alright?” Galan asked, voice echoing in the tight road. Why? Came my immediate thought, suspicious that he asked or cared.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled. “Thinking. Why do you ask?”

“You’re not asking me anything.” His head had turned to look back at me, and it felt like I was only now seeing him. The garter that protected his face had been pulled down to his chin, revealing full lips that naturally had a downward pull to them.

Recently shaved stubble dotted the sides of his face and chin, trailing up above his lip. It matched the darkness in his eyes, the unmistakable mark of experience and regret.

“You didn’t seem to enjoy answering,” I responded quietly, somewhat startled by the sight of him. It wasn’t fear that gathered within me- fear felt wrong and beneath me now. Was it possibly attraction?

“That’s true in a sense.” Thankfully, he turned back forward, saving me from getting lost staring at him. “You only ask the difficult questions.”

“I’m afraid to tell you that I only have difficult questions.” This actually sparked a laugh from him, short and barely heard.

“Ask then,” he said. “Your silence is unsettling.”

“Who is Mirin?” I asked him immediately. It’d been sitting with me since I’d heard that name again.

Galan sucked in a breath, almost disappointed yet seemingly expectant of this question. “Mirin,” he repeated the name. “King of Men and of the Vindara Dynasty, ruler of Lonest.”

King of Men? I’d heard the word King before, but in reference to Ascelin. Was Ascelin a different King, then? I wanted to ask, but thought better of it. Galan had proclaimed himself a servant of Ascelin, of Death.

“Are there others?” I asked instead, then clarified. “Other Kings?”

He hesitated before saying, “There are,” reluctantly.

“Are you going to elaborate on that, or will I be left to discover it?”

“There are two more,” he answered. “Three, I suppose. Be grateful you will meet none of them. If you’re unlucky, you will meet Mirin, but it’s a far better outcome than the others.”

“What would I do to meet Mirin?” Saying that felt oddly alike to how I’d felt speaking of Ascelin, before I’d met him. I wasn’t sure if I had actually seen Ascelin, though.

He’d only shown himself to me through familiar faces.

“Kill someone of importance, which you shouldn’t find in Silbath. Or reveal what you are.” Though he’d offered to answer, he still didn’t seem happy to, as if he were deeply regretting this situation.

He must’ve heard me wind up for the next question that his answer created. “I’m not sure what you are. I know what the favored become, but you are only somewhat related to that,” Galan said before I could speak. “Vampyr, is what they’re called, those who live on the blood of men.”

“And I’m not a vampyr?” My voice came out delicately, testing for his reply.

“You are in a way, I believe. You killed a man, Claudia, just as I’ve seen the favored do.” He let out a big exhale before he continued on. “But your heart began again when you drank his blood, and I don’t know what that makes you.”

Was that better or worse? I wanted to feel disgusted with myself, that I’d killed a man, feasted on his blood, and walked away without a shred of remorse.

Maybe it was my stubborn heart, still beating within my chest, that made me feel this way. Galan was shocked by the guilt I did show, did that mean I wasn’t supposed to feel it at all?

Deciding to drop the topic, I shifted to something else. “Silbath is part of Lonest, ruled by Mirin?”

“It’s beyond the wall, but yes, Mirin rules over Silbath. I wouldn’t call it part of Lonest, but due to the majority of the population, it is by rights Mirin’s.” His head turned to the side, showing me a cheek and a strong jawline. “You won’t be meeting him.”

He spoke with too much confidence. He’d said before, if I were unlucky I’d meet Mirin. Why had he changed his mind?

I didn’t get the chance to ask him, my horse suddenly taking a right turn, along with his. I hadn’t seen it before, distracted by our conversation, but I certainly did now.

If I had to judge from the peeking signs of civilization through dense trees, Silbath, I assumed, wasn’t much to look at. Yet it still had the effect- surprise shocked me, and it simultaneously felt wrong to feel surprise.

As if something reeled and hissed at the human emotion, not what caused it.

There truly was life beyond Reddon.

“We’re here,” Galan said, my confirmation that we’d entered Silbath.