Footsteps filled the cave’s atmosphere.

“Well, well, would you look at that, Sage? We got two for the price of one.”

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Jamie. Look at her cloak. Looks like we caught a pretty big fish.”

“… Night Guard. Persistent roaches.”

Cornella instinctively readied herself. These men were clearly hostile-and powerful. Ada continued speaking.

“Don’t be scared, Your Highness. It’s unbefitting of royalty.” Jamie continued to jest. Amarok was impressed by his nerve. If his nose was telling the truth, this woman was comparable to elders of the Thorne clan- possibly stronger.

“Scared?” Ada scoffed.

“Even if sheep gain the bravery to fight the wolf, why would the wolf feel fear?”

Sage drew his sword. He signaled to his men to prepare to attack. Ada focused her gaze on Jamie.

“Let’s see if you still jest when I have slain the sheep standing behind you.”

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“Are you sure this is the place?”

Luna used a dark blanket to shield her from the shining sun. The grass was overgrown and far-reaching. This was an underdeveloped area with almost no civilization.

“Yes. His house is up ahead.”

Luna fixated her vision on the log-cabin ahead. In the front yard, dozens of logs had been chopped. A beefy man continued to chop. His garments were removed- all except for a pair of blue shorts. Sweat wicked off of his hairy body every time he swung the axe. Welles waited for the man to finish his next swing before interrupting him. Luna covered her eyes to avoid the sight of the half-naked man, but was clearly peeking through her fingers.

“Kai.”

The beefy man ignored the voice. Welles raised his voice after a moment.

“Kai!”

Kai placed another log on the stump and readied his swing. Welles walked into the man’s vision. Despite clearly being aware of his presence, the muscular man continued to swing.

“You know why I’m here.”

Kai’s axe splintered another log.

“It’s time. We are ready. After you join us, all we will need to get is-!”

“You are not ready, Welles.”

Welles narrowed his eyes at the deduction.

“I am. I’ve become strong.”

“Your father was strong, too. How did that turn out for him?”

Luna looked at Welles. The man had rarely talked about his past. Apparently, Kai had known Welles since he was a boy.

“My father was conceited.”

Kai looked at Welles. Kai’s long hair, which was tied behind his back, waved in the wind.

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“It would seem that the only thing you’ve inherited from your father is that oversized sword.”

Welles listened. Kai was his father’s most trusted comrade, and he had helped raise the boy when his father was killed. He removed the heavy blade from his back, holding it up with both hands.

“I’m still not proficient with it, even after all these years.”

Kai leaned on his axe and looked up to the clouds.

“Indeed, it is difficult task to master such a blade. After all, most men couldn’t even pick it up.”

“Kai, I need you. Help me avenge him.”

“I’m but an old man, and you’re not ready.”

“Even a shadow of Kai is still a powerful Thorne huntsman. I am ready- I will rely on my comrades for assistance.”

“Indeed, you’ve inherited your father’s glib tongue. I do wish to avenge him, but I will not allow his son to march to his death. I first must confirm if you are capable of facing them.”

Luna sighed with impatience.

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The sounds of breaking glass came from the other side of the door. Muffled, struggling screams filled the small inn. The innkeeper, a middle-aged woman, knocked on the worn, wooden door.

“S-Sir, are you sure you’re alright? I- I can go find the village’s medicine doctor…”

“No… I apologize… Just leave me be….”

The woman began to walk back down the stairs. Another yell of pain caught her off guard, and she hurriedly walked back to the front. Draven laid in the fetal position on the cold, hard floorboards. He grasped his head as the wave was subsiding. He thought aloud.

“To think… the mental agony would be this severe…”

‘No… it could have been worse.’ Draven reminded himself that this was merely the price to pay for the caliber of Chaos Sorcery that he had cast. Draven rolled onto his back, his exhausted, purple-red eyes staring at the moldy ceiling. He reflected on his choice that had caused him his current grief.

“Why are you so hungry that you’re shaking right now?”

The question brought Draven back to reality. Cornella had been killed moments ago. He couldn’t help but feel that humans are hopelessly fragile creatures.

“Wait…”

Draven cut his hand as blood poured out. With the blood, he drew an ancient, chaotic pattern on the floor around them. Lagniappe’s voice rung through his ears.

“You… I see. That path is acceptable for your role, although I would advise against it, as the Director.”

“Roles, actors, heroes, and villains… I’m tired of it all. I’ll save Cornella-here and now.”

Draven frantically finished the pattern. The spell must be activated within 666 seconds of the moment of death. He continued writing the intricate details of the symbol. The pattern was ingrained in his mind, so he knew that he was not making any mistakes.

“I shouldn’t even have to tell you how painful this’ll be in the long term.”

Draven paused his blood-painting for a moment.

“What? Did you think that sorcery of this magnitude wouldn’t have massive drawbacks?”

Draven stared into Cornella’s lifeless eyes.

“If you go through with this, not only will the mental assaults of your Chaos drastically amplify, but your sanity will deplete much quicker. By the end of the year, you’d be an animal that only knows hunger. And that’s if you somehow manage to endure the waves of agony.”

Draven looked at his work. He put the finishing touch and retrieved Cornella’s body and head. Lagniappe continued rattling off his thoughts on Draven’s plan.

“Do you hope that she will thank you? She won’t even remember your name! She won’t remember anyone or anything. The poor, poor girl. All she will know is that it was you, Sir Draven Night, that turned her into a Vampire. Robbed her of her humanity, and plunged her into the darkness of the night. Imprinted on her brain will be you, as the man that both killed her and brought her back into the hell of the life that is being a Vampire.”

Draven propped her head onto of her body and sat her up.

“Do you perhaps think you can explain things to her, Sir Draven? Show her how to live the life of a vampire? And all will be forgiven? Not only will you be incapable of overseeing her due to your increased fits of insanity, but she won’t listen to you! She’ll be an amnesiac, with an incredible level of bloodthirst, as well as an innate, irremovable disdain for you. It would be for the best to st-!”

“Enough.” Draven sat with Cornella in his arms, surrounded by the pattern written in blood. He opened her mouth and sliced his wrist.

“I will save her, no matter what… How could I be a human otherwise?”

Lagniappe observed as a slight smile came over his face.

“Even if you must become a villain to do so?”

“Yes.”

“Even if she will hate you for eternity?”

“Even if she hates me until the day that I die.”

“I can guarantee that there will come a day that you regret this, Sir Draven.”

“Even so, I will save her.”

Draven held the gushing blood from his wrist into Cornella’s mouth. The blood trickled through her head and into her belly.

“Oborior.”Draven spoke the words. The pattern hummed as fire roared from the blood. Cornella’s eyes shot out a deep, black light. The walls creaked as the paintings on the wall fell.

Lagniappe grinned as his voice faded away while adding one last sentence.

“Not bad, Sir Draven. A tragedy captivates an audience like nothing else.”

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