Crumbling buildings surrounded the dirt road they trod upon just minutes past dusk. The slum streets - or rather a mockery of the term - were empty as the duo proceeded at a fast pace. It was not just the local rats knowing to keep out of the way of their betters, rather, after years people had learned what happened to the brave and braggarts after sundown. How often they did not return come dawn.

And it wasn’t just vampires. Their cousins - or perhaps half brothers - ghouls, shared the same lethal vulnerability to sunlight and were arguably far more dangerous to the slum dwellers despite their lower numbers in Drezin and surrounding areas - just because they were far less picky about the inherent quality of their meals. While vampirekind was born from the Hungerer’s blood, ghouls emerged from the same carcass’ flesh which obviously lead to… similarities.

Not many people knew that ghouls, just like vampires, also could not enter homes uninvited nor did they have reflections. The former was because hearth was the domain of Sun-Resplendent, the same source as many of his kinds’ weaknesses though the latter Reginald had never quite understood. Either way, many lines could be drawn even by the layman.

Not that there were no major differences. Vampires possessed charm and knack for bending the mind; meanwhile ghouls were hideous hulks of flesh - and experts in manipulating the body - that would devour corpses in minutes and then retch out the blood they could not digest. Just the blood. Bones were as nourishing as flesh to them. But that was mythology. Symbolisms and histories held logic and common sense in the same regard as Reginald the slum bottom feeders.

“Over there, this is the next dot on the array,” Artorius pointed towards a… warehouse if one was generous. “I have already scouted the area during the day and made sure the only mirror is inside a locked room. Thankfully the neighborhood has no glass windows. It will be right where we want it.”

“That is excellent news,” Reginald nodded. “Have you planned how to capture it?”

“Fellow magisters had discovered that its kind can move from reflection to reflection at a distance,” Artorius nodded. “However, if the reflection it inhabits is broken… Well, it will be violently ejected and forced to physically approach a new reflection before it can hide again. That is when it can be captured.”

“And you have contained the only mirror in the area into a room with a single exit,” Reginald realized and grinned. “Now you just need me to go in there and smash it while you can prepare a trap right outside the only exit as it flees from me.”

“That is the plan,” Artorius was smiling as well. “With any luck, this will turn out to be a two day job.”

“How wondrous that would be,” Reginald mused. That meant he needed to prepare to flee tomorrow. No sense in taking any risks, even when fed. Since the Order knew about Urgolath they would also know how much his Sister would be willing to pay for a chance to eat him alive. And Reginald was not yet ready for that encounter; if he would ever be.

Other than his musings, things were looking up at least. The magister quickly guided them toward the location. There were no mortals here to disturb them as Artorius sat down to create the snare. It was a relatively quick and efficient work given the sheer complexity, though it still took an hour. And it was strange. Sunbathed spring water, the chisel used shaped like a stake, symbolisms of the heart and hearth… those were not methods used for demons. Reginald would have suspected it was made for a vampire or a ghoul. Yet the Order knew who he was beneath the persona he had built, therefore it was too weak to possibly be meant for him.

“May the Luck-Intercalate bless us,” Artorius mumbled under his breath as he was done, touching his face at five points with his fingers - symbolising the five leaves of an Intercalate clover. “May everything go as we hope.”

“And here I thought you were likeable,” Reginald frowned. Religion was unfathomable to him. Why would you worship that which is long dead? Exercise in stupid futility mortals indulged to maintain their fragile egos. His opinion of the Magister plummeted. “Don’t waste your breath on the dead things. They wouldn’t have shared even if their carrion could hear the words.”

“Cannot hurt, can it,” Artorius shrugged. “And one cannot know which have died and which merely hid or fled. Either way, it is ready. You should go in.”

To that, Reginald suppressed a mocking laugh. He felt no obligation to correct the self-delusion; not like he might have a few moment ago. How quickly his mood had soured. And the evening had been so pleasant. Perhaps he would drown it in vermillion when they were done. No reason to follow the Marquis’ commandments anymore if he was going to leave anyway and well… Reginald’s nature was to indulge.

Upon entering the room, Reginald obviously closed the door behind himself and then started looking for the mirror. The magister had planned it well, alright: The thing was obviously leaning against a wooden pillar right in the middle of the chamber, however, it also faced away from the door. Reginald played at mortality as he approached; slowly, without perfectly symmetrical steps and even feigning breaths. Perhaps it wasn’t necessary but he did it anyway.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

And then he smashed the mirror with enough force to rend steel. He had done it from above, lest he broke the pillar and shook the foundations enough to bring the roof on his head; it would be inconvenient. The metal frame was compressed into a slab of tortured iron and the glass mostly to fine dust. A few small shards scattered away but that would not be enough for his quarry.

Less than a second later, the ‘demon’ was forced to manifest, with a scream it scarped its way out of the crumbled reflection. It was an ugly little thing, barely physical. Its three red eyes shone on a face with no mouth or features, the whole form more of a cumulation of shadows than flesh; almost like it wasn’t real. Yet Reginald could hear the blood coursing beneath and knew it to be no illusion. He could almost taste the creature's terror as he sprang towards it.

To his surprise, it dodged. It jumped back and then tried to run around the pillar to avoid him with supernatural speed. Ridiculously fast, in fact, for a creature supposedly not mainly living in this layer of reality. But Reginald was faster. He attacked again and this time predicted how it would move. It was fast but clearly inexperienced in actual combat and Reginald claws extended to rip into its flank, scoring a gash. He could have torn it shreds right there, easily, however, the Order wanted it alive so he allowed it to extricate itself and intentionally let it dodge his next two swipes as it ran past him and burst through the door.

Hilariously, its mind somehow managed to project some of the purest panicked terror Reginald has ever felt as the trap’s jaws snapped around it. Ah, the purity of a magical mind. They could experience emotions that mortals couldn’t fathom. Amused, Reginald licked the blood off of his claws… and halted

It was impossibly pure. It was hunger and devouring given a will; incarnate desire mastering itself until it gained coherence. But not for others. Not to belong. Just so that it could eventually have more. Insatiable. Never full. So inclined to indulge.

Reginald knew that taste. He had felt it exactly once before. Had a tantalizing flavour; yet not nearly as much as he had hoped. When he betrayed everything and everyone who had ever trusted him for a chance, only for his sister to thwart him at the last moment; stealing almost all of his price away. It spoke of the very root cause of his hiding.

So perhaps it would also offer him a way to freedom and vengeance.

The creature writhed in the trap. The incision he had inflicted did not bleed, at least as far as he could see, though there was the slightest sweet smell of it in the air. Below the threshold of what mortal or animal could sense but oh, it was so very APPETIZING. He could indulge. No, he MUST. DamN the maGister and THe OrdeR. What tHEY offeRED couLD NOT CoMPARE TO THE MORsEL RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM.

One more second and he would have lunged. He would have shed the guise of pathetic weakness and feasted like he hadn’t in centuries. Enough to make even his thirst quieten for a while. That is what every instinct screamed at him. Unfortunately, the creature felt it. Felt that bloodlust and sheer ravenous DESIRE to drink it dry… and it stopped pretending first.

Red glow exploded from the three eyes as every bit of its fear drained out of the creature; replaced by a cold calculative clarity. The trap it had seemingly struggled with just a moment prior shattered into dust. Mortal magic erased for daring to attempt binding its betters. Reginald lunged for it but it was already gone, even nimbler than before.

“What?!” Artorius cried out in alarm but Reginald paid him barely any mind. He wanted his PREY. Desired it with every fiber of his being. Nothing should exist between him and his food…

And yet he suppressed it. Forced his very nature to obey and retract. Back into the shell. He had been taken in the moment and it had allowed his PREY to run away. The morsel was fast and smart. He could not hunt in blind lust. He required that same calculated coldness. A plan sprouted in his head.

“No time to waste,” he turned to Artorius who still seemed to be reeling. “Go to the last point. Run. Sprint! We need to cut it off. I will pursue it and delay as long as I can, if possible I can try to usurp it's mind. Even if I fail, don’t let it finish its spell.”

Then he was running himself, faster than a mortal could. So fast he had to supplement magic lest the pavement cracks beneath him with each step and the buildings groan under the pressure of sound itself buckling. And still he was not sure it would be enough. It took him seconds to reach the next dot on the map, a few streets away, yet when he arrived there already was a comatose half-dead woman on the ground, lying next to a bucket of water

Infuriated, Reginald moved even faster. Faster than he had in a long long time. He shed the deceit that had kept him safe for all these years as he sprinted without restraint. If any vampire saw him he ran the risk of being exposed but that was secondary. Everything was secondary. He NEEDED to satiate the craving. But he had to be smart, so he skipped the next spot, instead deciding to cut off his opponent at the one after that. If he could just get close enough to it again… if he truly let loose it would not escape.

No hesitation could be found in him as he stormed into the area. It was a flea market of sorts at the edge of the slums. At night it was abandoned; not a soul in sight. Completely still. Reginald did not stop and immediately looked for mirrors. It took him just a moment to spot one only a couple dozen steps away, put on display. In it he saw the three red Eyes, staring, anticipating. And just below them - impossibly - his own reflection. That which vampires simply did not possess in the first place.

“Got to admit, I did not expect that,” Reginald muttered before he was forcefully whisked into a battle over his very soul.