Chapter Twenty-Three

Of Gods And Vampires

Manuel took Alyssa’s limp form to the Healer’s Quarter where Nyla attended to her wounds. Alyssa had lost a lot of blood, and there was damage to multiple ribs, her skull, and each of her limbs. When Manuel first brought Alyssa to the Healer’s, the Matron was in the bed opposite. He’d been too distracted when, four hours later, she was escorted out at full health once more.

Manuel refused to leave Alyssa’s side until he received assurances she would make a full recovery. These took a while to come, so he sat for hours while the healers worked their magic. When they did come, he returned to the Mansion to deal with Baobhan Sith.

Manuel entered the meeting room, noting that the Matron had placed herself at the head of the table, the Sithe sitting in pairs on either side of her. All five wore the satisfied expressions of people who’d finished a large meal and were now in need of a nap.

Kiara, Malik and Tristan sat at the other end of the table. Kiara watched the Sithe with her arms tight to her chest. Malik stared off into gods knew where. Tristan ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes glued on the young blond Sithe. She shifted in her chair and looked away, while the Matron glared at Tristan.

This didn’t stop him staring.

Manuel sat between the two groups. Only then did Tristan look away from the unfortunate girl.

‘Care to explain this, Manuel?’ Tristan said, his tone bouncing. ‘Not that I am complaining. I always appreciate it when such fine, ravishing people are brought into our midst. Nevertheless, I am wondering why they are here, where they do not belong. Were they a gift, just for me? They won’t speak to us, so I was hoping that you would.’

Manuel ignored him and spoke to the Matron. ‘Have you been fully treated? You’re fully healed?’

She gave him a smile which, while cold, she made a concerted attempt to inject warmth into. ‘Indeed. Your healers repaired the damage that couldn’t be done so by feeding. For your understanding, all the feed did was give me a significant adrenaline boost which allowed our escape. Once that faded, I was back into my initial condition. Not that this was a problem for your healers, of course. I thank you, and them, for your aid. Incredibly skilled and… interesting individuals you have at your disposal.’

‘Yes. Well, that’s good. Now, we’ve been through a lot together, and introductions are long overdue, I believe. I am Manuel. I am part of The Seven. We rule the universe. The three to my left,’ he waved a hand in their direction. ‘Are Kiara, Tristan, and Malik. They are similarly members of my order. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, although, given myself and Alyssa saved your lives, that’s rather a moot point.’

The Matron gave another cold smile. ‘It is our pleasure, my dear man. My sole name is Matron. To my immediate left,’ she gestured at the older blond, who nodded at him. ‘Is Rhea. She is the head of my Sithe. The twins are Sofia and Ximena.’ They didn’t regard him as they were busy looking at Tristan like they wanted to devour him for lunch. ‘And this young beauty,’ she looked to the youngest Sithe. ‘Is Novalea.’

Manuel started. So that was the one who saved Jennah. She carried a unique demeanour to that of her sisters. Indeed, rather than nod, she asked him in a delicate tone, ‘how is Alyssa?’

His features sharpened. ‘She sustained significant injuries. Considering she charged down a large army, this isn’t surprising - she’s fortunate to have survived. Not many could have taken on such concentrated numbers and live to speak of it. So you are aware, whether it concerns you or otherwise, she executed Nhelqas for his crimes.’

The Matron chimed in. ‘Excellent. That treacherous brute… he deserved nothing less. We had a deal…’ She shook her head. ‘Not that it matters. Now, Manuel, I have matters that I wish to discuss with you. And Alyssa, when she has recovered, of course. But, more pressingly, I need to return home. We need to return home. So, if you wouldn’t mind?’

Manuel rose. ‘Of course.’ The vampires followed him up, and he instructed them to join hands.

‘Hold on, hold on, hold onnnn,’ Tristan said, leaning forward. ‘We still require an explanation - what exactly are you and Alyssa involved in? These women are meant to be dead. Again, I’m not complaining, but...’

Manuel turned back to him and gave him an ‘I want to punch you into next year’ look. ‘I will explain when I return, Tristan, and not before. I am not answerable to you, nor anyone else, and if I am to answer it shall be out of respect, not duty, on my own terms.’

Tristan snorted. ‘Lauren will be furious. She expressly cautioned against your involvement in these matters.’ He licked his lips.

‘Lauren has no business questioning my actions. They got out of hand somewhat, but had I not travelled to Kaerqa, then these fine women that you can’t seem to keep your eyes off would no longer be with us.’

‘I can imagine little that would match that in tragedy,’ Tristan winked at Novalea.

Manuel waved him off and strolled over to the vampires.

‘Which is more convenient for you? Sanhain, Nomiasaka, or Nomiminor? They’re the only places to which I can travel.’

‘Sanhain shall suffice,’ the Matron said, pulling her cloak on. ‘Our home lies deep in the forest behind the town and is quite the journey, ‘tis true, but Sanhain shall do. If any Kaerqans stand in our way… well,’ she bared her teeth. ‘They shall become dinner.’

Manuel held his finger up. ‘No, they won’t. Stick to the accord. That way, the Rever-Kaer don’t have anything to hold over you. They have no grounds to kill you. I understand the desire for vengeance, but keep it in check. Do not give them a reason to wipe you out.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘It was said in jest.’ She shrugged and grinned. ‘Somewhat.’

Manuel placed his hand in hers and, with a final, collective glare at Tristan, they teleported, and they were outside Sanhain. Night had fallen, and it was brisk and frosty; something the vampires didn’t appear to feel, while Manuel lurched against the chill of the wind.

‘Are you accompanying us, my dear fellow?’ the Matron said. There was a light shining in her eye that made him wary, but he agreed to journey with them nonetheless.

They walked unhindered through the silent, deserted town. The stillness was eerie - the town appeared to have heard of the catastrophe in Nomiasaka, despite being squashed deep in the countryside hundreds of miles away, and was in the throes of despair.

Half an hour later, the group reached the border of the forest. Manuel was struggling against the cold now; his arms were littered with goosebumps and he found shivering tough to resist. Curse his clothing choices.

Novalea, with whom he walked side-by-side behind the other three, side-eyed him. ‘Why don’t you head back and change? We can wait for you here. You might get some other supplies, too. The journey will take all night and most of tomorrow. We can survive through that in comfort, but I’m certain you will not.’

Part of Manuel wanted to resist and muddle through, but the rest of him saw no purpose in that. Where was the good in suffering? ‘You wouldn’t mind waiting? I shall merely be ten minutes.’

Novalea shrugged. ‘Matron?! Can we wait here a while? Just so Manuel can return home and gather supplies.’

The Matron stopped and her body seized up. She turned around with a forced smile, her joints locked, and her arms pinned to her sides. ‘Fine. I forgot we were with a mortal. Though, I’d expect one such as you to possess a modicum of foresight.’

Manuel grinned at her. ‘I’m no mortal, but I have all the flaws of one. Back in a bit.’

He vanished.

*

Twenty minutes later, Manuel reappeared, dressed now in a fur-lined overcoat, a thick white shirt, and heavy, black combat trousers. Around his neck a weighty, black cloak was tied by ornate silver clasps. He’d kept his boots, which were bulky and leather with iron tips, but beneath he’d changed into fluffy socks. Not the most masculine, but masculinity was irrelevant if his feet froze. In his pack, he brought three large bottles of water, a few sandwiches, a flask brimming with the finest Vaellan wine, and a hefty sleeping bag warmer than his bed.

The vampires were huddled together on the grass, their heads pressed conspiratorially, their voices low. This sight made Manuel realise his cautions against revenge would not be heeded. He couldn’t blame them – they were all sentenced to death. Having been in similar situations, he could attest that the flame of revenge was an impossible one to quell.

Novalea lifted her head and smiled at him. The other four took longer to notice, but when they did, Rhea appraised him with a raised eyebrow. The Matron and the twins showed no form of greeting; they rose with the grace of vapour, turned, and headed into the forest. Novalea rolled her eyes and beckoned for Manuel to follow. The pair fell into step and strolled into the forest a few paces behind the four others, watching as their cloaks billowed behind them in the wind.

Inside, the forest floor was cluttered with black branches and tree stumps. The trees - black wood which oozed a strange, tar-like substance - were densely packed, coming in close on both sides, causing Manuel’s heart rate to accelerate. Winter was approaching, and the branches had long since shed their leaves. These covered the floor and crunched beneath their feet. This shedding meant the sky above was visible despite the tree density – at least in this section of the forest – and the two moons, full and shining, propelled great beams of light everywhere they looked. Another dark shape, ten times the size of the large moon, loomed above like a vast hole in the stars.

As they stepped over broken branches and undergrowth (the vampires with elegance, Manuel like a hapless giant), the sounds of the whispering quartet before him and Novalea were audible above the wind and creaking trees, but were low enough that he was unable to make out their contents.

‘What’s the topic of discussion?’ he muttered to Novalea.

She dodged a branch in such an imperceptible fashion she appeared to go through it. ‘They’re plotting, that’s all. Take no notice. All they do is plot and scheme. All we do, in reality, is feed now and then.’

‘Your Matron wants more than that?’

Novalea guffawed, then hung her head when she realised she’d drawn the attention of the others. She waited until their heads were directed forward once more. ‘She wants everything. She will never be satisfied until this whole continent is in her palm. Or, at the very least, she has influence over it all. But even then, she’ll still want more.’

‘Ah. Delusions of grandeur. I’ve come across those many times in my life.’

‘Exactly. The problem she has is we do not have influence; we do not even command respect. We’re loathed. There’s no way she can use anyone to elevate us.’

‘Ah, you don’t seem that bad,’ Manuel grinned.

‘Ha. You’re only saying that because we can’t eat you. If you were a mortal, you’d be so mortified we wouldn’t be having this conversation. One of us would try to kill the other.’

‘I know that’s not true. I spoke to Jennah when Alyssa and I first came here. He... told me what you did for him that night,’ he looked at her, watching her features soften. Then he stumbled over a root. He strolled on, as though nothing had happened, but Novalea snorted - he wasn’t getting away with it.

‘Very elegant, you drunken oaf. Jennah was… different. He was the first mortal who’s ever taken the time to get to know me. Even when I wasn’t a member of the Baobhans… no one paid me anywhere near the amount of attention he did. And he wasn’t like the others we’ve preyed upon. He didn’t try anything. He demonstrated fidelity to his fiancé. Most of the time, males forget they have one when we appear.’

‘I see.’

‘In addition, he didn’t invoke the declaration of desire - the words someone has to speak for us to be able to kill them anyway. It wouldn’t have been right, even if he wasn’t such a… Kaerqan of integrity.’

Manuel looked at her again, eyebrows lowered. ‘Had he invoked the declaration, would you have killed him?’

Novalea hung her head again. ‘I don’t think I could have. People like him are rare, you understand. I doubt I’d have been able to bring myself to it. Their blood… that purity… it’s like nectar of the gods, it’s delicious. But… no. I wouldn’t have killed him.’

The group continued through the woods. The scene changed little – they came across a river to their left once that cut through the woodland like an azure snake, winding and curving towards its destination. Beyond that, it was all trees and undergrowth.

After five hours of walking, they found a clearing, empty save for a few logs strewn on the ground, where they agreed to settle down. The plan became to sleep through the day - that was yet to dawn - and begin their journey again in the evening.

The Matron settled herself on one of the logs, Rhea beside her. Novalea left Manuel’s side and lay on the ground, falling into the sky. Her mouth was ajar and curled up in a small, content smile. Her eyelids were drawn back to their furthest extent like she was afraid she’d miss some detail if she relaxed them. She drew her cloak around her body, wrapping herself in it like a blanket. She wriggled, and went still, her blond hair spread out on the ground. There was significant beauty in that girl, Manuel realised with a start.

Shame she was a vampire.

The twins sat on another log at the far end of the clearing. The darkness from the shadows of the trees shrouded them. Neither made any noise, save for a short while later when their heavy breathing indicated they had slipped into sleep.

Manuel laid his pack against a log and sat on the ground, leaning against it. He, too, pulled out his sleeping bag, tugged off his boots, and slid inside the bag. He wasn’t cold, but neither was he warm, and the bag could have fooled him into believing that he was lying a comfortable distance away from a blazing fire. He was willing to drift off there and then. Stretching his legs out below Novalea’s feet (or hooves disguised in boots), he gave a satisfied groan and, tipping his head back, watched the stars.

He felt the stares of Rhea and the Matron burrowing into him. They, conversely, weren’t ready to rest. This was fine with him - after all, he had many questions for them. So, he pushed himself up and pulled out his flask. He took a deep draught, then offered the flask to Rhea. She took it from him and drank as deep. The Matron’s lip curled when he presented her with it, and she shook her head. He’d have offered it to Novalea, but she looked peaceful; he had no intention of being the one to break that trance.

Rhea passed him the flask back. ‘So… does the daylight hurt you, then?’ Manuel asked.

Rhea laughed and the Matron scowled. ‘Of course not. ‘Tis true, we are creatures of the night and we prefer the night, but that’s because the daylight leaves us with irritating pains in our skulls, and hinders our sight. From the brightness, you understand. Just like other nocturnal beings, while the sun does not sap us of our strength, we prefer, and become accustomed to, the night.’

‘Of all you could have asked, that’s your first question?’ Rhea said, taking the flask back from him.

Manuel shrugged. ‘It was the first one that came to mind. I was informed you have no real standing in this world - you’re regarded as little more than animals in the view of the Kaerqan hierarchy. Is this true?’

The Matron snarled. She spat on the ground to her right. ‘Animals?! Pah. We’re far more than those winged infidels could ever hope to be! One day, we shall take our rightful place. You will see. The day itself draws ever closer.’

‘That’s your ultimate goal, then? Power?’

Rhea interjected. ‘No. Our ultimate goal, as with any race or creature, is survival. Power is our route to that goal. You saw what Nhelqas was willing to do to us. His attitude is a common one. They refer to us as vermin when the same could describe them. What do they bring to this land, except slave labour and lethargy?’

‘Slave labour?’ Manul swigged the flask to mask his genuine surprise.

‘Indeed. The Kaerqans – mostly – have never worked a day in their lives.’

‘Ah. I had made that observation. I had not hypothesised it was due to slavery, however.’

‘They prefer to read, or drink, or walk, or hunt, or race jenra. Nothing that would exert them heavily.’

‘Jenra?’

‘Horses would be your translation,’ the Matron clarified.

‘Yes, horses,’ Rhea continued. She stared above and to the right of Manuel, gazing at a corner of stars outside of his field of vision. ‘Thousands of years ago, when Kaerqans first came into being – after our ancestors – things were different. War was rife, starvation and disease common. Even the Kaerqans were not immune to the latter two, and they were the cause of the former.

But, as time drew on, they grew in intelligence and rallied around a leader. Sanhiel. Together, with his wife Domi and brother Nomidel, they ‘united’ this land. With each civilisation they destroyed, their power and influence grew. Any prisoners were taken and used as slaves. This the legends neglect to mention - they claim the gods saved all from a great threat.

Eventually, the trio conquered the entirety of Taxasis – this continent - eviscerating the pre-Kaerqan race from the planet, along with all memory of them. From there, they ascended to godhood, along with others, and left the rule to Titans. Not before instituting the Rever-Kaer’s decrees, to which the Kaerqans still swear fealty to, though.

Any who violated the sacred decrees of the Rever-Kaer were exiled to the neighbouring planet Xyos. Yes, their power swelled such that they could colonise fellow planets in the system. Don’t you realise how strong you make these gods when you install them?’

Manuel, who’d gaped at this statement, stammered. ‘We-we-well, n-no, you see, I’ve never really been part of that process. Such systems of governance were installed long before my time.’

Rhea grunted. ‘Well, this is how things went after their ascension. They exiled criminals to Xyos, where they mined the vast quantities of metal stored beneath its crust, with little regard for the toxicity of the atmosphere - this, in effect, was both a death sentence and slow torture combined. These materials were used to construct the walls around the settlements and used as the basis for the architecture of the other provinces.

Things were complicated somewhat around 10,000 years ago, though the exact date is lost to us - Sanhiel covered up the events. There was a revolution, led by Nomidel, who’d grown agitated and envious of his brother’s power and reign. He incited a great portion of Kaerqans – predominantly slaves – to rise up and destroy the system of Titans dictating which families would be slaves and which would be in royalty, who’d live in poverty and who’d live in wealth.

This revolution was… partially successful. Nomidel and his troops managed to abolish the slavery system here on Rhitarr and each family was credited with the noble status, meaning they could live in peace and luxury. Money fell out of use.

‘However, as Nomidel eventually lost the war, there was the pressing issue of the slave families who had served him in the rebellion to attend to. These slave families, who had done nothing more than fight for a cause close to their hearts, weren’t massacred, you understand. They were sentenced to far worse.’

Rhea pointed up at the sky and Manuel twisted his head. Above them was a planet, visible in the sky, inhabiting the space of the massive dark spot in the heavens. Illuminated now, it loomed over Rhitarr like a wrecking ball ready to launch. On one side, the ground was scarlet. On the other, slightly darkened side, the planet was blue, green, and rusty orange in equal measure.

‘That is Bedos, another neighbouring planet. On the habitable side – the green and blue area – is where the slave families were sent. There, they would farm, mine, forge, craft… whatever was needed. They were also sworn to secrecy in regards to passing on the knowledge of their true heritage to their descendants.’

Manuel took a deep breath. ‘So you mean to tell me that there’s a whole slave race up there,’ he nodded at the planet. ‘With no idea they’re slaves?’

Rhea’s lips tightened. ‘None whatsoever. We call them the Teelia. They have Overseers to whom they hand over the goods. These Overseers then transport the materials away and the Rever-Kaer collect them. The Teelia believe these Overseers are the masters of their suffering. They have no idea that their true enemy is basking in luxury, wealth, and profit, all gained from their millennia of mindless toil.’

‘Holy shit…’ He took a swig and handed the flask back to Rhea, who mirrored the action. ‘I had no inclination things here were so bleak. The impression Nomiasaka gave was one of opulence, not slavery.’

The Matron took over. ‘It has that effect on those who aren’t aware. Most Kaerqans have no knowledge of this themselves – not that you hear them complaining about their situation, mark you. Nonetheless… those soldiers you fought when you rescued us?’

‘Yes. Alyssa said Nhelqas had enrolled the Kaerqans in military training some time ago and now has a small army.’

The Matron’s cold smile spread onto her features. ‘Incorrect. Did you see any wings protruding from their armour?’

He thought back, his face screwed up in concentration. He had, though only in half of the troops.

‘Precisely,’ the Matron said. ‘The majority of the force Nhelqas possesses - possessed - is Teelian, the remainder supplemented by Nomkaerqans - Kaerqans inhabiting the southern land. Some Teelia are conscripted whenever they are needed for service. True, those slaves brought here to serve experience an existence far less harsh than that of their compatriots, but… slaves they are. Some know the truth of their plight, others never ask questions. None see their families again. Once their military duty is served, they are used as construction slaves.’

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Manuel looked up at Bedos. He couldn’t imagine that up there was a race of thousands, maybe millions, toiling away even as he watched. Never knowing the truth of their situation. Never knowing what bounties this brought those who enslaved them. Never knowing that their history was more convoluted and savage. A tear crept into his eye. His comfort was that at least, with the lack of knowledge, the Teelia had no idea what they were missing out on, nor the true severity of their maltreatment.

For sins they themselves had never committed.

‘Gods be damned,’ he muttered, shaking his head.

‘Quite.’ The Matron rose from her log. ‘I must rest now. This night’s walk has sapped my energy. Good night, Manuel, Rhea.’

‘Hold on,’ Rhea said with a grunt. She stood, passed Manuel the flask, and followed the Matron into the darkness where the twins lay. The sounds of them settling their cloaks on the ground as makeshift beds filled the area.

They slipped into silence. Manuel lay awake, sipping from his flask. His gaze made its way often to Bedos, each time with a pang in his chest when he realised there was nothing he could do to fix it. He rotated his sleeping bag to keep it in sight.

Novalea hissed in a sharp breath and sat up, rubbing her arms. She looked around for signs of life. When she saw Manuel, she rolled onto her side and held him in her gaze. She shivered. Squirming, she passed it off as trying to get more comfortable.

‘I heard you and the others talking, even if I was a million miles from here.’

‘Oh? And what are your thoughts?’

She shrugged and picked at the grass. ‘I think it’s abhorrent they can treat their own kind like that. We Baobhans may have quarrels, but we’d never exile one of our own, not to mention enslave them, no matter what their crime.’

‘The more I learn, the more I think Alyssa was right about you and your fellows. Perhaps you aren’t the savages I’ve been led to believe.’

Novalea laughed - a soft, tinkly sort of laugh. ‘Just because the Kaerqans tend to brand anything that doesn’t share their virtues or way of life with derogatory terms does not necessarily mean those terms define those they describe.’

‘Evidently, things are not what they seem.’ Silence fell over them until Novalea shivered again. This one she didn’t pass off.

‘I thought you vampires didn’t get cold?’

She looked at the ground. ‘It’s not that we don’t, it’s that we can handle ourselves better and have better control over our bodies. I… haven’t mastered that art yet.’

Manuel felt a rush of sympathy towards her. No matter how long ago it had been, he remembered those early days when he’d joined The Seven and they’d do all sorts of things, many of which he hadn’t been comfortable with. The process had taken a significant amount of physical, mental, and moral adjustments he wouldn’t soon forget.

‘Would you like to join me? There’s plenty of space in here for two, and I still have half a flask of wine that will warm your blood.’

Novalea looked back at him. Her eyes darted away. She did this twice more before responding. ‘Are you sure? You wouldn’t be averse to it?’

‘There’s no sense in being cold when there’s a perfectly viable alternative.’

Novalea considered the offer. Then, she made her way over like a shy animal approaching a stranger. She slipped into the sleeping bag, cloak and all, and pushed herself right against the edge.

The pair sat against the log in comfort and warmth and watched the sky, passing the flask between one another. Manuel stole a glance at her here and there; her face was no slack and her shivering had ceased. She appeared to be as relaxed as she had been when lost in the stars.

‘It’s delightful, isn’t it? All those worlds beyond our own… there is nothing more stunning.’

‘Indeed. All those wonders yet to be explored…’

After a while, Manuel’s head echoed a pressing question.

‘How did you come to be a Baobhan? Were you Kaerqan before you were turned?’

Novalea frowned. ‘‘Turned’? What do you mean, ‘turned’?’

‘You know, bitten by another vampire and turned into one.’

She snorted. ‘How ridiculous! Our bites kill, they don’t make more of us! You idiot. No, Baobhans are born, not made. It passes down our families through the female line. Sometimes it skips a generation, even two. We’re all descended from the same ancestors.’

‘Ah, I see. In some legends, in other places, the vampire’s bite is what causes one to become a vampire.’

‘That’s absurd. We bite to feed, which results in a kill. Any natural toxins we possess are used to kill or paralyse, not procreate.’

‘So, where did you come from? Was your mother a Baobhan, too?’

The wonder slipped from Novalea’s eyes. They hardened. ‘No... she was Kaerqan. My grandmother and great-aunt were both Baobhans, but it skipped my mother’s generation.’ She spoke with finality.

‘You don’t have to elaborate if you don’t wish to.’

She shook her head and persevered, a muscle pulsing in her jaw. ‘My mother hated what we were. She knew from birth what her mother and aunt were, and despised them for it. She saw their Baobhanism as a plague, a disease, something she was desperate not to catch. I imagine it was a great source of relief for her when she sprouted her wings.’

She choked out a harsh laugh. ‘She never wanted children; she did not desire to inflict future generations with the ‘plague’ and believed the line should end with her. Naturally, my grandmother resisted this, but it was not her choice, and my mother knew that.

My mother fell pregnant. She tried her hardest to get rid of the baby, seeking disreputable practitioners who claimed they could provide this service. Each failed, and I entered the universe in opposition to her best efforts.

My mother’s vendetta against our ancestry was... obsessive. She tried to suffocate me more than once as an infant, such was her desperation. My father stopped her on each occasion. After the last, he’d had enough. He entrusted me to the care of my grandmother, who brought me with her to the Baobhan Sith when I was two years of age. He vanished. He’d grown tired of my mother and me. Sometimes…’ She hesitated. Her tears leaked as soon as her speech resumed. ‘Sometimes I wonder, in my darkest moments, whether it would have been better if the practitioners had succeeded in their mission and my birth had been prevented. It would have saved a major amount of pain.’

Manuel grabbed her hand. ‘Don’t ever believe that. Your mother caused the pain, not you. Your father, understandable though his actions may seem, had a duty he neglected. He should have stayed no matter what. That was his flaw, not yours. Your life and everything you have ahead of you should be accredited to you, not the pain that others caused on behalf of your existence.’

Novalea looked away and at the stars once more, but didn’t remove her hand. ‘What of your parents? Where did you come from?’

With a wistful sigh, Manuel initiated his own retelling. ‘I was born almost five centuries ago. My mother... she died at my birth. For the longest time, I struggled like you, simply in a different way - I blamed myself for her death, rather than my birth. Although, for the better part of a century, despite the best efforts of my father, I held the same wish that you do - that I had never been born.

My father shared no such desire, and made my journey through childhood and adolescence easier. He never blamed me, never treated me any differently in light of my mother’s passing, despite his adoration for her. He’d tell me countless stories of the times they shared, how happy they were together. He missed her a great deal, of course. But, he always said ‘son, I miss your mother, but she is impossible to forget or miss fully. I have you, as a permanent gift from her to me. There is so much of her in you that I could never fully let her go. That is a comfort to me, and I love both of you more dearly than anything. Of all I could have asked for in life, you and she are the greatest blessings.’’

A shiver ran up his spine as he recalled the memory. Novalea was watching him again. Still, she cried, but a smile supplemented the tears. ‘That’s beautiful. You’re fortunate to have had that.’

‘Indeed I am,’ Manuel squeezed her hand. ‘So I echo that sentiment with you. No matter what happened to your parents, no matter what they did, your presence and life is the most wonderful gift you could ask for. Our parents make up an infinitesimal part of us. The rest is you and under your control. You can let them dominate you, you can let your childhood experiences at their hands dominate you even in their absence, or you can accept them, move forward and dominate yourself with you.’

Novalea spoke no more. She moved across the divide she’d created and rested her head on Manuel’s chest. He let her lie there, her body heaving, his arms wrapped around her, and there they remained until her sobs became the deep breaths of sleep. Unnoticed by Novalea, Manuel shed a few tears.

*

Manuel woke in the evening. The sky was illuminated by hues of deep orange, pink, and blue illuminated against the sparse wisps of cloud cover in a delightful sunset. The moons rose to his right as the sun sank further. He made no effort to move, seeing the others continuing to sleep in their corner of the clearing, and watched the sunset progress. He looked down at Novalea and saw she too was awake and watching the beautiful spectacle before them. Neither spoke a word.

An hour later, night had fallen, and a chill gripped the forest. Rhea, Sofia, Ximena, and the Matron woke within five minutes of one another and were ready to go. Ximena, who had woken first, looked over at Manuel and Novalea, raised her eyebrow, but said nothing. Manuel and Novalea rose at the same time she had. While packing his things, Manuel wolfed down a sandwich and necked a bottle of water while Novalea talked with the other Sithe.

Once Manuel was sorted out, he moved over to the huddle of vampires. ‘So, how long have we got left on our journey?’

‘Not long, my dear,’ the Matron said. ‘A few more hours to the north. We will make it well before dawn, I expect.’

Sofia groaned. ‘Really? I always think it’s closer than it is. Why do we have to be so far removed from civilisation? It’s such a trek, I can’t feel my knees!’

Considering it was the first time he’d heard her speak (within his earshot, anyway) this journey, this enlightened him - he wasn’t missing out. At least Novalea didn’t whine.

The Matron snapped her head around and glared at Sofia. ‘If you’re going to moan for the rest of this journey, you can stay here and catch up when you can feel your knees. Whether you fall prey to one of the many carnivorous creatures more powerful than yourself in that time, however, is your problem.’

Sofia scowled and stomped off, well in the lead. Ximena raised an eyebrow, Rhea laughed, and the Matron scowled. Manuel and Novalea shared a covert smile. Then, Rhea called out, ‘you’re going the wrong way, Sof! It’s the path to the left!’

Sofia, out of view down the right path, stomped back down with her arms crossed and stormed up the left path while Rhea and Ximena howled. Even the Matron wore a half-smile.

The path was well-kept in comparison to the main path through the forest. There were fallen trees, large branches, undergrowth, and tree stumps on both sides, but the path was clear, save for the fallen leaves that crunched beneath their feet like deep snow. The trees were sparser here, too, so they had a good view of the night sky at all times. The stars, the two moons, and Bedos hung dazzling above them, illuminating their way forward.

Manuel picked up on the lack of nocturnal wildlife the forest had to offer. There was the odd call of a bird, but beyond that, all was dead and silent; aside from the racket he made, thumping along the forest floor - making more noise than his five companions combined.

In the same manner as the previous night, the Sithe and the Matron (with the exception of Sofia) conversed in hushed tones. Manuel and Novalea took the hint and walked a small way behind them.

‘They always like this?’ Manuel asked.

Novalea tilted her head to the side. ‘Exclusionary? Yes. They have a problem with me. So, they find it prudent to exclude me from their discussions most of the time. Not that it bothers me, of course. Most of that which they whisper about doesn’t interest me.’

‘What problem could anyone have with you?’

She blushed. ‘It’s simple. I present an issue for them because I’m less violent, and take no pleasure in violence. Yes, we’re all driven by survival to a certain extent, but… I do not enjoy the lengths we have to go to in order to achieve it. And I protest the act of enjoying the feed. The effects are good, but so are the effects of devouring a loaf of bread to a starving youngling. Except, the youngling doesn’t have to kill the bread.’

‘Ah, I see what you mean. Maybe you’d be a better Matron than the current one.’

‘Shh!’ Novalea said, smacking Manuel on the arm. Her eyes flitted from him to the Matron. ‘Don’t say such things, particularly not around her!’

‘Why?’ he whispered. ‘It was an innocuous comment.’

She glared at him. ‘Because she already feels threatened by me,’ she hissed. ‘My grandmother wasn’t just a Baobhan, she was the Matron before this one. She replaced my grandmother.

I was a child when it happened, but my grandmother always resented her for it. Claimed she ‘usurped’ her. This Matron has kept me close ever since, without allowing me to join her private conversations. Why, I don’t know, but we never mention my grandmother, so a statement like the one you’ve just made? It’s sacrilege.’

Manuel held up his hands. ‘My apologies. I was not aware.’

Novalea placed a hand on her belly and exhaled, long and slow. ‘No, I… I know you didn’t. I just panicked. Let’s… let’s keep moving.’

They weren’t moving for long. The group came to another clearing with a squat wooden hut in the centre which couldn’t be larger than one open-plan room. There was a single door and a single window. The path led right up to the hut, but around it, in a perfect, unbroken circle, was a ring of purple flowers. No smoke billowed from the chimney and no light emanated from the window.

‘This is it?’ Manuel said. ‘You all live here? In this tiny hut?’

The Matron looked over her shoulder at him. ‘Yes, and no, my dear.’

‘What’s this for?’ he pointed at the ring of flowers.

‘Preventing unwanted outsiders from entering our facility.’

‘Ah.’

They moved to the hut. When they reached the ring, Manuel tiptoed over it, careful not to make contact with any one of the flowers. He didn’t breathe until he was safe on the other side. He looked up and saw Ximena laughing at him.

‘You fool! You’ve no need to be so cautious! We invited you here, ergo, the ring will not harm you!’ she tutted like this was the most obvious fact in the universe.

The Matron led the way into the hut. Inside were very meagre furnishings; two skeletal wooden chairs stood before a small fireplace on an ancient, worn rug; at the other end of the room was a tiny bed - so tiny it was difficult to imagine a person fitting on it.

In the centre of the room was a steel hatch whose cleanliness and good condition stood out like a genuine, well-meaning smile on the Matron's face in comparison to the rest of the room. A cloud of confusion lifted in Manuel’s mind. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Your home is underground.’

Ximena gawped at him. ‘Obviously.’

The Matron opened the hatch. A steel ladder descended into the darkness of a compact shaft. She swung onto the ladder and disappeared from sight. Rhea followed. Sofia and Ximena squabbled over who should go first between them. During this, Novalea slipped down the shaft and Manuel went down after her.

After five steps, the darkness enveloped him. He couldn’t see anything in any direction, aside from the shrinking square of light that was the entrance. He could feel no walls, save for the one the ladder hung on. No base was visible. There was only shadow and the steady breathing of Novalea below him.

A slam made him jump with such ferocity he fumbled the rung he held. He looked up and the patch of light had disappeared. Surmising the twins had entered the shaft and slammed the hatch shut behind them, he steadied his breath and continued the descent.

After ten minutes, he heard the Matron’s ‘oof’ as she reached the bottom. He looked down and saw the flicker of flaming torches in brackets on the wall, illuminating the silhouettes of the Matron and Rhea, as well as the form of Novalea a few rungs below him.

A minute later, he landed on cold, solid ground. He took a moment to get his bearings, shielding himself from the torchlight juxtaposing the blackness of the shaft. He stumbled away from the ladder and felt Novalea place her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. ‘Easy, easy.’

Manuel’s eyes adjusted to the light. They were in a stretching tunnel fortified with steel walls and a steel floor, lit by torches scattered along the walls every few metres.

He smiled his thanks to Novalea and they waited for the twins. Ximena slid down the last few rungs, whooping as she went. Sofia climbed down with more caution and when she landed she gave Ximena the dirtiest look.

The Matron led them down the corridor, the twins by her side. Rhea walked on Manuel’s left, surprising him by joining himself and Novalea.

‘How on earth did you build this place?’ Manuel said, marvelling at the structure. ‘How did you get all this metal through that tiny hatch?’

‘No one knows,’ Rhea said. ‘No record of its construction exists, no living memory, no tales passed down through generations… it’s just here. It’s arguably the most secure place on Rhitarr. None outside of the Baobhan Sith know its whereabouts, much less how to infiltrate it. That’s both a pleasure and a shame. Means our food never comes to us, we have to go to it. Still... the hunt is the best part,’ she finished with a white-toothed grin.

‘It’s an impressive structure, I’ll give you that.’

She chuckled. ‘Wait until you see our home.’

After a twenty-minute walk, a towering pair of blast doors of solid steel came into view, guarded by two vampires wearing flowing scarlet robes and tiaras that glimmered as though they had been forged from moonlight. They curtsied at the Matron.

‘Forgive me for questioning you, my holy Matron,’ the left guard, who had flaming red hair and bright blue eyes which burned in Manuel’s direction. ‘Why are you bringing one of them inside our home?’

The Matron’s mouth became a flat line. ‘Because I see it as sagacious. What I do, Manathia, is no concern of yours.’

The redhead flushed, her skin growing in colour to the point it matched her hair, and shrunk back.

‘Don’t like The Seven, do they? How do they even know who we are?’ Manuel mumbled, tilting his head to Novalea. Before she could answer, Rhea cut in.

‘They don’t. They haven’t the faintest idea of your station. That knowledge is merely the privilege of the Sithe and the Matron. No, she despises your presence because you’re a male.’

‘Oh,’ he mumbled. ‘Because that’s much more acceptable.’ He heard Novalea giggle behind him and a warmth spread in his chest.

The door mechanism whirred and the steel doors heaved open. They walked through, and Manuel glimpsed the thickness of the doors – 20 inches. No wonder this place had never been invaded. Any attempt to do so would be futile.

The walls inside the base changed from metal to wood, lending the place a more homely feel. Torches hung in brackets inside, too, but in between them were tapestries. Some depicted single vampires, others depicted different angles of the same battle.

‘What’s this?’ he asked Rhea, pointing at one of these tapestries.

She looked over her shoulder then turned away. ‘Some battle our ancestors fought that’s fallen out of history, passed into legend, and then fallen out of that, too. It just is, that’s all I can tell you. A great deal of our history was lost three hundred years ago, during the Matriarchal Purge. The Matron of the time tried to burn the order down, along with all our records and history. She succeeded in the latter but was killed before she could bring about the former. All we have left of our history are those tapestries.’

‘That’s… really depressing, actually.’

Rhea shrugged. ‘Hm… you get over it.’

The hallway continued like an airport runway, sprouting rooms like a tree sprouts branches. The first room on the left was a church room, with an elaborate, white, marble altar at the forefront watching over rows of pews, none of which were occupied. A shrine stood behind the altar, with various amulets, rings, necklaces, articles of clothing and daggers attached to thin ropes, most dripping blood.

On the right, they walked past a room with three slabs of rock as furniture. On one slab lay a Kaerqan; on the other two lay a pair of animals that appeared to be eagles with four legs instead of wings. Whether the trio was alive or dead, Manuel had no desire to know. They had white tubes plugged into their jugulars, draining their blood into glass canisters. His stomach turned and he moved away from this room before the vomit, which was journeying to the top of his gullet, exploded out.

They passed a wide hall home to harsh, wooden backed chairs arranged in rows, looking up onto a dais where five black thrones loomed over the room with menace. The centre throne had a skull at the top of the back. Real or designed, he once again felt he was better off oblivious.

There was a laboratory with a variety of complex machinery and plants scattered around. Another room contained suits of deep, midnight blue and red steel armour and racks of swords, spears, lances, and shields. Each was good as new and unscratched; he had no doubt these vampires would prove more than able to utilise them should the need arise.

The final room on this floor (with its door open, at least) was stocked with cages. These held hyenas, larger than tigers, with glowing red eyes watching him with predatory intent, seemingly sensing he didn’t belong here. Every vampire they passed glared at him with the same intent.

They came to the end of the corridor and followed the staircase down. The stairs themselves were wooden, but the walls were reinforced steel again. They bypassed the second floor – Rhea stated this was where the Baobhans’ rooms were – and went straight to the third, where they stopped.

‘Girls, go on. Rest up,’ The Matron commanded. ‘You’ve travelled far the past two nights. You’ve earned some sleep, and perhaps a feed. I shall have animal blood sent to your rooms. Off with you, now.’

Rhea, Sofia, and Ximena curtsied before the Matron and moved off without further hesitation. Novalea glanced at Manuel but curtsied too.

‘Will we see you again?’ She avoided his gaze.

He smiled. He swayed past the Matron and hugged Novalea. She was warm and rested her head against his chest. For some reason, he’d expected her to be cold, even though they’d slept like this the night before. ‘I wouldn’t dream of not returning.’

Novalea broke the hug off and walked away. He watched her until she disappeared.

The Matron inclined her head towards the stairs and they headed downwards once more.

‘She’s grown to care for you, I see,’ the Matron said, her eyes locked forward.

‘So it would seem.’

‘I presume you have no intentions of pursuing that particular interest. We have no place for males among us. Much less one of your… calibre. Besides, it is not permissible for my initiates to have lovers while based in this facility. When out in the world, that is different. But, under my instruction, there is no place for that, either.’

‘Warning me off her? It’s bold of you to assume that I have an interest in the first place.’ Frostiness slipped into his tone and each word was barbed. Not only was she trying to tell him what he could and couldn’t do, but she was also dictating the way those below her lived their lives. That didn’t seem fair to him, as a fellow leader.

She spread her arms wide, the side of her mouth curling upwards. ‘You can fool yourself, Manuel. But you cannot fool me. I observed your interactions - I forbid you to pursue Novalea. That is the end of that.’

‘Who are you to dictate the lives of these women?’

The Matron’s nostrils flared and she stopped at the bottom of the stairs before another steel blast door. She whipped around. ‘I am their protector! I guard them against outside threats and prepare them to take those threats on themselves! And,’ her voice grew cold and quiet. ‘There is nothing more threatening than an amorous male.’

‘Now,’ she said, her tone light. ‘We must talk further, but let us speak no more of this.’

They had come to a second set of blast doors. The Matron jutted her head at the vampire guards and the doors opened. Inside was a single room; large, but bare. There was a creaking table in the centre, a few frayed books piled atop it, a kitchen of sorts with an assortment of drinks and glasses, and a wooden rack nestled in the far corner.

The doors clanged shut behind them and the Matron gestured at the table. He took a seat, slowly and with reluctance.

‘Will you take refreshment? We have wine, which I noticed you are partial to.’

He jerked his head forward in acquiescence, his lips pursed.

The Matron busied herself with the drinks. ‘Come now, Manuel. Let’s not act like a youngling. What could possibly come of this relationship? You,’ she handed him a silver goblet and sunk into the chair at the head of the table. ‘Are five hundred years her senior, and she is mortal - you are not. I am merely saving you both the future pain of losing one another.’

Manuel glared at her. Keeping his tone level, he said, ‘so, you’re instructing all these girls in such a manner that they’ll become lonely, miserable, vicious, isolated old women like yourself?’

The Matron bristled. ‘Do not risk raising my ire, Manuel. You are my guest here. It is not proper for guests to insult their hosts so brazenly.’ She breathed in and continued speaking with a tight smile. ‘Now, we have other matters we must discuss.’

‘Why do the gods want you all dead? Purely because you’re an irritant to them?’

‘Essentially, yes.’

‘And your plan is… what, precisely? You realise they’ll be hunting you and will never cease until you’re extinct? So, are you just going to live in this hovel until you all die out anyway, granting the gods their desired result, dying as rats in a hole?’ He took a deep drink and watched her face change into something he didn’t expect – a grin.

‘No, my dear. I have a plan. You see… the Kaerqan system stands on the precipice of a significant overhaul. Everything, from its societal organisation to its political institutions and celestial hierarchy is on the verge of an irreversible, cataclysmic – for some – shift. And we stand to gain heavily from that.’

‘What do you mean? This can’t be achieved from the death of Nhelqas alone.’

The Matron shook her head, cackling as she did so. ‘My dear, of course his death isn’t what this hinges on. That would be foolish. The old rebellions Rhea spoke of?’

Manuel racked his brains, focusing on a spot on the ceiling. His mind was clouded – the wine must have been stronger than he’d anticipated. ‘Yes. Nomidel tried to overthrow Sanhiel.’

The Matron raised an eyebrow. ‘Well… one day soon, a rebellion shall rise again, and we shall be at the forefront. Indeed, the first hands have already been dealt. Not that Sanhiel has noticed, of course. He is far too self-absorbed.’

Manuel tapped his forefinger against the tabletop. ‘A rebellion? I caution against this. The Rever-Kaer will eradicate you and your order.’

The Matron sucked her teeth. ‘I would not be so certain of that. There are pieces in play beyond your comprehension. If you knew the true extent of what is occurring beneath Sanhiel’s nose - and indeed, your own - even one as powerful as you would lose sleep at day.’

His heart slowed. Ice filled his veins. He was going to respond, but his vision darkened. His thoughts came in half-formed. He looked at the Matron. Her head was tilted, and she was smiling.

‘What did you put in the wine?’

‘A poison of the highest potency. It will strip you of your consciousness for a time and has already removed your ability to teleport. While it may not be within my power to kill you, it is within my power to ensure that you never leave this place. I have little doubt he will make the trip here and rid us of you - when the time comes. Sleep well, Manuel. Become… accustomed to it. For soon, you shall sleep forever.’

The room vanished. So did his consciousness.