She could feel the warmth and weight of her tears. Llsa Glory rarely cried, always so proud and confident, but now, she couldn't hold back.

Sir Thrinn dragged Bun into the bushes to hide him, then dug into the soil with his dagger, burying the blood-soaked earth beneath. Once the task was done, he sat down casually, wiping the blade with a rag. A glance upwards, and his eyes met Llsa's.

"Ah, so you're awake." He flashed a wicked grin, the previous tears and snot gone as if by magic. The knight propped himself up by the knees, slapping the blade against his palm as he strode toward the vampire. "Waking up without a greeting? That's a bit rude, don't you think?" Sir Thrinn leaned his shoulder against the wooden cage, casting a lewd gaze at Llsa. "Ah, I almost forgot—you can't speak."

The female vampire stared fiercely at Sir Thrinn with burning eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, or I might not be able to hold myself back, girl." His lecherous smile reeked of decay. "Listen here, I don't know when you woke up or how much you saw, but it'd be best for everyone if you stayed quiet and enjoyed this trip. Got it?" He began cleaning his fingernails with the dagger, speaking lazily. "As long as you cooperate, our little journey will be much easier. I get my money, and you get to die peacefully. We'll make quite the pair. Who knows, I might even bribe the baron to spare your life and keep you as my pet. After all, executing such a beautiful girl would be a waste..." He raised an eyebrow. "What do you think? Think the baron would agree? I bet he would, since I'm the one who caught you. You're mine, and mine alone... I'll parade you through Eaststone, make sure everyone sees you're my prisoner before your trial. No one would question it then." He leaned in, nose against the cage bars, inhaling deeply. "Mmm, sweet."

Llsa's gaze shifted, losing some of its earlier defiance, replaced by a hint of fear. "Oh, what are you so scared of?" Sir Thrinn frowned. "Life with me beats burning at the stake, doesn't it? Or is it something else you're worried about?" His words hit the mark, Llsa's eyes flicking toward the distant shadows. "Ah! You're worried about that boy!" He rapped his dagger against the cage. "Did I let something slip? Damn it, how did I not notice?" Sir Thrinn smirked. "That's right, this is our two-person journey. There's no place for Tom—never was. Were you awake when I gave him the drink? He thought it was just strong wine. That's because I laced it—with mandrake and other things, enough to paralyze the limbs but keep him awake. You can find anything at the Eaststone market!" He boasted proudly. "That bottle was meant for Bun, but who knew Tom would dig up a vampire in these woods? Tom's tougher than Bun, so I had to give him the spoiled jerky and hurry him into drinking... Even if the mold didn't make him puke his guts out, the drug will soon take effect..." Sir Thrinn held his dagger up to the firelight, the gleam reflecting on his face. "He's clever, that one. The marks on his neck are a dead giveaway—you're a vampire. But he forgot one thing, corpses tell no tales. When he lies down, I'll slice his throat. He was supposed to be executed as a murderer anyway. At least I'll give him a swift death. After that..." He kissed the blade gently. "It'll just be the two of us... There aren't many young girls like you in Eaststone—or anywhere, for that matter. I won't waste such a prize."

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His lecherous eyes roved over Llsa, from her tightly bound chest to her curled thighs. If not for the gaping wound on Tom's neck, Sir Thrinn might have already laid hands on her body, exploring her warmth. "Tell me," he pointed the dagger at her abdomen, "a vampire's body—it's the same as a human woman's, right?"

Llsa didn't answer, her attention caught by the rustling in the bushes. "Ah, Tom." Sir Thrinn casually sheathed his dagger. "Stomach still bothering you?"

Tom clutched his stomach, face pale. "Can't say I'm fine, but I'm not dead yet..." He shook his head. "Almost threw up my guts. What about her?"

"Nothing. She's awake now. I was just checking the cage and her bindings."

"Uh, best not get too close to her. Who knows what else vampires are capable of?" Tom forced a weak smile. "By the way, where's Bun?"

Sir Thrinn gestured to the bushes on the other side of the campfire. "Same as you, he's got the runs."

"Alright," Tom groaned as he tried to stand. "I might need to sleep. For some reason, my limbs are all numb, can't muster any strength. Maybe I puked too much?"

"That's probably it, Tom." Sir Thrinn nodded seriously, "I'll have Bun go through the provisions tomorrow, toss anything bad. Get some rest," he urged. "We'll wake you early. If we move fast, we'll be out of the forest by dusk."

Tom stumbled to the pile of gear and pulled out a tattered canvas bag, the only equipment Sir Thrinn had given him. Inside were basic camping supplies. Thrinn had already settled down by the fire. Tom pulled out a thin sleeping mat, spread it on the ground, and lay down beside the bag, his stomach still aching. The Blood-Mist Forest was eerily quiet tonight.

Tom lay with his back to the fire and Sir Thrinn.

After about fifteen minutes, Sir Thrinn moved. He rose silently, his steps graceful and light like a panther stalking prey, inching closer to the unsuspecting boy. The firelight caught the gleam of his dagger, stinging Llsa's eyes. She wanted to scream, to break free, but she could do nothing, only watch as Sir Thrinn crouched behind Tom. The dagger was raised, and Sir Thrinn turned to Llsa, a cruel smile curling his lips.

Llsa Glory gasped.

The blade plunged.

But Sir Thrinn couldn't understand what had happened. He hadn't yet stabbed Tom, and already he was interrupted—a small knife had pierced his neck. It was a tiny fruit knife, the one he had given Tom for self-defense. "Ugh—" Sir Thrinn's breath came in ragged gasps, watching as Tom's hand released the knife, while the other gripped his wrist tightly, the dagger trembling. "Why—"

This is a dream. A cruel joke from the gods.

If not for Tom holding onto his armor, Sir Thrinn would have collapsed. "Why?" Tom rose, glaring down at the knight. "Because I recognized the taste of that drug. I knew exactly what you were planning, you bastard." Blood filled Sir Thrinn's mouth, uncontrollably trickling down the corners like two freshly trimmed mustaches. "After Bun, it'd be my turn." Tom smirked coldly. "Your mind can't think of anything but money and women."

Sir Thrinn decided to make the most of his final moments, to claim what he wanted most—revenge. He could go to heaven alone, but not to hell. His dagger had already fallen away, but Sir Thrinn stretched out his hands, clawing at Tom's face, hoping to strangle him. Yet, in his dimming vision, Tom's firelit eyes transformed into two golden coins—heavier and far more valuable than nitt. Changing his aim, Sir Thrinn reached for the coins instead. After all, in his forty-six years of life, he had never touched much gold. His bloody hands flailed in front of Tom's nose, desperate to gouge out the boy's eyes. Tom let go.

Even as he fell straight to the ground, Sir Thrinn stretched out a hand toward the night sky, mistaking the moon for a silver coin, futilely trying to grasp it until his final breath.

As his eyelids closed, the silver coin vanished from sight.

Sir Thrinn was dead.