Several hours later, the three descended from two horses. The blonde-haired man sat in front of Alek. He called it riding bitch. Alek didn’t understand the term. Yet he figured it was an insult, but shrugged it off.

What was before him was of greater interest. They had moved through a dense forest, coming upon a mountain range. Embedded into the mountain is a modestly sized fortress. The castle seemed to be carved right out of the mountain. However, it was done. Alek did not know. It seemed an act of the spirits, perhaps one of the spirit lords.

Approaching the fortress, Alek noted a trench surrounding the castle. On the other side was a raised drawbridge, with battlements just above. Alek saw two figures standing guard, and as they approached, the figures turned to alert someone.

Alek had been keeping his hood up for much of the journey. Now he no longer needed to worry about the deadly rays. The cloud cover and massive mountain range provided excellent protection. Lowering his hood, he cracked his neck, a strange impulse he just had. Soon after, someone lowered the drawbridge, and they ushered him inside.

“Welcome home Thomas. Do we have a treat for you?” The blonde man spoke excitedly.

Once he entered the fortification, the interior courtyard came into view. It was a rather large space, with a decrepit, yet intricate fountain in the centre. The statue of a naked woman pouring water was clearly old and worn. It would have been a beautiful sight if not for the drunk man humping it while his associates egged him on. The majestic location seemed to be stained by these men. They are gruff looking. Many hadn't shaved, yet they all wore decent armour.

Moving past the group of around fifteen armed and armoured humans. Alek was quickly dragged along into the depths of the castle. Going through a wooden door and down some stairs, they moved deeper into the bowels. It soon became clear the destination; Alek may have a few memories. The sight of a dungeon was unmistakable.

Many things assaulted his senses. Rancid smells and whimpering voices. Travelling down the hallway, we made a right turn, reaching for a collection of cells. Seven each of them have thick wooden doors with barred windows. Sensing five women each in their own cell. The truth of the situation became clear.

“We had a good haul lately. I don’t think we had this many prisoners in recent memory.” The blonde said.

“Very true Peldar, fortune favours us.” The brown-haired man said, finally mentioning the name of the other.

“We got a special welcome home present for you.” Peldar explained, licking his lips and gesturing towards the first cell.

Withdrawing an iron key, he unlocked the cell door. Turned around and handed the key to Alek. The vampire looked down at the hunk of metal. Soon after, someone gestured him inside, and he entered, shutting the door behind him.

Within was what he had expected a dirty prison cell to look like. His limited memories had a few memories of being dropped in a cell by city constables. Looking down, he noticed the sole occupant. It was a woman, clothed in rags and huddled in the corner. Her face was downcast, her features not clearly seen. Taking a step forward, she seemed to grow alert at his presence. The cold and hard gaze of a familiar woman matched with his. That face was recognisable, and a flood of memories came back to him.

That same memory of slaying a man and a woman returned with a vengeance. Only this time, the young brunette girl was no longer hazy, but clear as day. Her accusatory gaze, the tear-filled eyes and the expression of unrestrained wrath. He knew in that moment who she was, even if her name escaped him. She was his victim, not in death, but in life.

Killing this girl's mother and father had been his sin. What was worse, he recalled feeling very little guilt over the act. In fact, he relished the death and enjoyed its deliverance. Except now, things had changed. He was dead now and he couldn't feel many of those sensations anymore.

Before, he would have looked upon the female form with lust. Now it barely registered. His physical impulses had changed, and some were gone completely. The thrill of the kill, of course, remained, but shifted focus. Instead of the power he once felt whenever he had taken a life. The thrill now was the feasting of blood and indulgent of a base, predatory nature. Perhaps this perspective is no different, but he felt it was not the same as before.

Lost in his thoughts, he did not register her words.

“Get on with it, kill me, rape me. But know this, I won't make it pleasant.” The girl spoke, a fierceness in her voice.

She was defiant. Despite all she likely endured, she had remained unbroken. Alek recalled many faces of broken men and women. Slaves, prisoners, even working girls in brothels. They were all broken either by life or at the hands of another.

Instead, this one had yet to show that face. Examining her with all five senses, he could see the damage inflicted. Cuts, bruises and malnutrition. She was not appetising as a meal and he felt little interest, anyway. He also discovered other things about her. He realised that someone had assaulted her. The life that had lived within her, the remnants of it, was apparent. He could sense the building blocks of life. If left unchecked, it will grow. Yet another sense told him of the danger. There was another life within, a destructive one, spreading throughout her body. In that moment, he knew she would die soon.

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“You're dying.” He stated without preamble.

For a second, she felt shocked by the unexpected blunt statement.

“No shit, asshole.” She replied contemptuously.

Something rendered him speechless and immobile. His thoughts churned, memory flashes accompanied by familiar emotions. The mental assault was deafening, the world around him blurred. Shaking his head, he tried to banish these thoughts.

“What’s wrong with you, drank too much?” She asked, raising her bound hands.

Someone tied her arms, connecting them to a chain embedded in the wall. None of that mattered now. Alek needed to leave. Quickly, he made his escape. Any thoughts of closing the cell door were a distant memory.

“What in the spirits?” She exclaimed, watching as the man that murdered her parents fled in a blur of motion.

Alek moved with blinding speed out of the cell and down the corridor. Locating a door, he entered and shut it behind him. Finally, winding down from his abrupt exit, he barely acknowledged his surroundings. He stuck still and the centre of what appeared to be guards' quarters. Several beds were strewn about, along with table and chairs. Someone had oddly attached a full-length mirror to a nearby wall.

He stood there, stunned, his eyes fluttering about. The entire world was blending together with reality and memory. One moment he was standing in the room, the next he was looking up at a familiar woman. She was his mother; those cruel eyes gave it away. The way they looked at him, a child she never wanted, conceived through force.

Her name was Melinda, and she was a castle maid, taken by one of the castle guards. Of course, she protested, but the guards scorned and banished her. Left with the growing life in her belly and barely any money to live on. She found wealth in the brothels of the city and rarely cared for her son. These memories quickly faded and new ones came to life. Bloodshed, atrocities, and burning villages. Wars he had fought in, times he killed for coin and all the manner of depravities he committed.

In that single quiet moment, the only sound was the screams of the women and the laughter of the men. Yet another sound made its way to his ears. A voice, both familiar and yet a stranger. It was coming from behind and sounded incredibly condescending.

“What a rush, that whole flashback of mum.” The voice said.

His fangs descended as he turned to meet his foe. Instead of an enemy, he saw himself reflected in the mirror. Yet there was something different. The image was moving while he remained still. A smile plastered across his face.

“Your adorable. I've got those too.” The reflection mocked his own fangs descending.

“So, are we going to kill anyone? I know we fed yesterday, but I think a little snack sounds good.”

Alek tried to ignore the phantom's suggestions, instead focusing inwards. His mind was spiralling, the thought became indistinct and jumbled. Despite everything in a jar, the phantom continued to articulate.

"You can't just ignore me, besides we really should do something about that racket. The guys were always drunk when they harassed the girls."

These words caught in my mind, a faint tether allowing me to latch onto. He could hear the grunts and moans of two distinct men. Accompanied by faint whimpering and squeals of agony. The two men were in a frenzy and seemed to thrill, while the third knew only pain and fear.

Sensing this, Alek felt the tethers of his mind fall away. He could barely hang on and, in truth, he didn’t want to. Too much thought and not enough instinct. Letting himself go, he let the beast take over. In that moment, all he could see was his reflection grinning.

Speeding away, through the door, down the hallway and finally reaching the cell. The sounds coming from it became louder and more acute. Barely registering it, he pushed his way in and took in the sight. Two men had pinned a woman down between them. Despite their efforts, she continued to struggle as the men pounced upon her.

The one known as Peldar had his pants around his ankles. He looked up in confusion, likely wondering why his friend was interrupting. Horror soon replaced the wonder as he took in the warped visage of his old friend.

The man he once knew, drunk with, fought with, and engaged in many sordid acts. That man was no longer there. He was now a new predator. One could akin his visage to a monster, but he knew deep down they were all monsters. Here, his old friend was on the outside, what they were, within.

In a flash, someone grabbed him by the throat and, without a word, slammed him into the wall. Dazed and in pain, the world around him blurred. Before he can even react, Alek sank fangs into his neck. Life drained quickly. His head felt light. Then the pain came, and he screamed at the top of his lungs. Pulling away, Alek wretched.

“Have you ever heard of a bath, you disgusting wretch?” Alek wailed, blood gushing from his mouth.

In anger, he slammed the man's head into the wall three times in quick succession. Releasing the limp body, he brought the man back to reality with a mild pressure on his back. Looking down, he could see the end of a short sword sticking out of his sternum. Someone had stabbed him, ineffectually, of course.

Turning around, his eyes met the triumphant form of a naked man. Quickly, the air of victory faded away. The man soon realised his foe did not fall. Thinking quickly, he withdrew his blade with a soft squelch and readied for another strike. He wasn’t able to do so. Alek knocked his sword to the side.

Weaponless, he could only devolve into a begging fit. Alek ignored him, gripped him by the neck, and slammed him into the wall.

“Perhaps you will taste better.” He suggested.

Jerking the man's neck to the side, Alek descended upon the exposed flesh. Taking a gulp of his blood, he withdrew in disgust.

“Why does no one bath here? There are baths upstairs, you pathetic insect.” He ranted, bashing the man's skull into the wall.

He dropped him, limp and likely dead. This left Alek unsatisfied and incredibly gross. He tried to think back to other times he fed on humans. The first time was hazy, so those memories were useless. He recalled some robed man waking him up from slumber. That fellow did, in fact, bath and was relatively healthy. He wished more humans like that were the norm. It would make feeding a lot easier.