Ray wasn’t sure how long he knelt there, unmoving. Eventually, he noticed the presence of other people behind him at a distance. Laboriously, he stood up and turned towards them. There were three important-looking women in elaborate, blood red clothes. Behind them, half a dozen simple-looking ones with heads held low, not lifting their eyes from the ground. Servants, Ray assumed.

While Ray was considering them, they approached. It occurred to him that he was still naked. He hoped what the servant-looking women were holding were clothes for him. His hopes were luckily fulfilled, a slight move of the hand from one of the red clothed women, and the servants leaped to obey.

Ray was unaccustomed to being dressed up, but he tried his best. It didn’t help that the women were shaking. He could smell the fear on them. The thirst that fled in terror before crept back on him. He could hear their frantic heartbeats, yet they never faltered and Ray found himself dressed in rich clothing.

Looking down at himself, his clothes were a deep maroon and felt pleasant to the touch. He wasn’t sure what to call these kinds of clothes. The almost knee-high boots were nice and soft, the pants tight but stretchy. He had a long, thick shirt—it probably wasn’t called a shirt, but he was always ignorant about clothing—richly embroidered with wide, swooping sleeves. He didn’t appreciate that, they’d get in the way.

When he looked back up, the servants were already back behind the other women, kneeling, heads deeply bowed. He moved his eyes away from them, and instead, he observed the three women. There were no fear in them, only a heated fervor in their eyes. Ray didn’t know what to make of that.

Suddenly, they knelt and the middle one held up a flask, as if an offering.

Ray didn’t move, just looked at them quietly, wondering what they wanted. He wanted to see what they would do if he didn’t react.

He didn’t have to wait long. The woman offering the flask lowered it to uncork it, then offered it up again. As soon as the flask was opened Ray’s thoughts froze.

An all-consuming thirst rared its head and burned in him.

Ray endured and resisted the urge to throw himself at it. He didn’t want to lose himself in it again.

Instead, he slowly moved, approaching the women. He needed all his willpower to keep himself under control. He took the flask, and drank it. It was like the water of life on parched, dead land. Sweet blood. It didn’t taste how he remembered blood to taste. It was rich and flavorful. It quenched his thirst as he emptied the flask, yet he felt unsatisfied, as if this was not how he was supposed to eat. It felt lacking.

He looked at the women. They all smelled appetizing, but not equally so. There was something more about the three women, something tantalizing in their blood.

The still kneeling woman who offered the flask spoke with reverence while gesturing behind her, “The Patriarch commanded us to give the Bloodnight Tyrant slaves to feed on if he pleases.”

Then the fervor in her eyes intensified as she quickly added, “Or if they are appalling, please take from us as the Bloodnight Tyrant wishes.”

A cold shiver ran through Ray’s spine as that man was brought up. He lost his appetite. And that title was cumbersome. Not to mention a tyrant was the last thing he felt like after meeting that man. Instead of Bloodnight Tyrant, more like, Lil’ Bitch of the Patriarch…

Annoyed for mentioning that man and being called by that title, he snapped at them, “Get up. Who are you?”

They hastily stood up, and answered without seemingly minding his attitude, “We are Priestesses of the Scarlet Temple. While we are aware of some of your traits, unfortunately, we are lacking. Please command us as you wish.”

As he wishes? His eyes lingered on that neck, he knew there was an artery beneath that thin skin. He could almost see it pulse with life. But the blood reminded him of that man and he snapped out of it. He looked away, they smelled alluring. He wanted to get out of here. Without a word to the women, he left towards the small entrance.

The priestesses hurried after him with worry, “Please wait! It’s already dawn outside.”

Ray didn’t care, he wanted to get away from them, “Don’t follow me.”

They froze and Ray finally left that cursed cavern. He found himself standing on an inactive ritual circle. He didn’t know what it was for, but just the sight disgusted him to his core. He quickly passed it, and leaving the room, found himself in a dark corridor. It turned and twisted. There were a few other paths. He didn’t know how, but he just knew which way the outside was. He didn’t meet anyone. Maybe they emptied this area out because of him.

Eventually, Ray saw light in the distance that made him feel uncomfortable. He didn’t stop, and it grew brighter. Then he had no choice, but to stop. The uncomfortable feeling turned into pain as thin wisps of smoke were drifting off his slowly smoldering skin. He stood there for a bit, hoping to get used to it. It only got worse.

Ray turned and hurried back to the dark corridors. The pain slowly faded, but it was no relief.

A dull thump sounded and pain shot through his foot as he kicked the wall in frustration. Cursing, he cradled it in his hands. His boot was undamaged. Even his boots seemed to be sturdier than him. How did that even make sense? What kind of scuffed vampire was he? He needed answers.

Say Vorm, the Sun wasn’t even directly hitting me, why did I start smoking?

“Sunlight is still Sunlight, even if it is indirect.”

Aren’t the strong vampires, like Vampire Origins supposed to be immune to Sunlight?

“Not immune, but resistant.”

But I’m extra sensitive?

“Yes.”

How does that make sense then?

“I don’t see the issue.”

Ray: ……

“I told you, you are a broken one.”

Ray had enough. And whose fault is that? You are fucking useless. Nothing, but a parasite hiding—

He couldn’t continue as Vorm cut him off, “Alright, it’s nap time for little grumpy Rayie.”

Vorm just knocked the fool unconscious, he was losing it, and it was getting annoying. Honestly, Vorm did him a favor.

*

When Ray woke up, he felt refreshed and clear-headed. It seemed he really needed that sleep.

Then, he remembered. He wanted to hide. It was one of those times when you get piss drunk the day before, and as the vague impressions of what you had done slowly sink in, your stomach falls as you just don’t know how to face the others who witnessed it all. It’s the worst case, when you didn’t drink enough to forget it all, but drank enough to just become a different person. One that knows no bounds. And all you have left with is regret, asking your past self, “Just why?”

He scratched the back of his neck, eyes shifting around. Um…

He wasn’t sure where to start. His face felt like burning, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. Maybe he was just hungry… yes, definitely… It was just that jerk Vorm, it deserved it anyway, he could he just pretend nothing happened…

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Vorm? I’m so—

“Oh, spare me. Do you think I have a fragile human ego?”

Ray would’ve liked to say yes, but he thought better of it. No, but can’t I be sorry? I was a jerk.

“If it was someone else who got put through that kind of ritual, then tormented by an insignificant mortal like that, pestered by some weaklings, and lastly felt trapped by the Sun itself which at last made them snap, what would you think of them?”

Well, I wouldn’t blame them, but that doesn’t change I’d think them rude… You helped me and I was—

Vorm cut him off yet again, “Bla-bla-bla… Do you think dragons ever deny their nature to care about the feelings of others?”

So you are basically saying to be myself and follow my nature, yet you are telling me to be more like a dragon? Isn’t that contradictory?

Instead of answering, Vorm asked something else, “Do you think it’s just a coincidence that you’ve always admired dragons the most?”

I guess not, if you ask me like that…

“Why do you think you feel superior and above others? Certain that you are truly amazing?”

I don’t—

“Yes, yes, whenever you think that, then you feel utterly shitty, and you become convinced you are the most worthless, pathetic trash, a waste of air who should not exist, and you are just waiting for your existence to finally end.”

That really hit Ray where it hurt. He had no words to answer with. He wished he hadn’t tried to apologize and just pretended nothing happened.

Luckily, he didn’t have to say anything as Vorm continued, “You would’ve thrived in a world of magic. Unfortunately for you, your old world had not a speck of it.”

That gave Ray some hope. Are you saying at my core I already have a dragon’s nature?

“Pfft, good joke!” Vorm snorted. “No. At the very beginning yes, but life after life in a magicless world twisted and perverted your Soul Core. You are as far from the nature of dragons as one could possibly get. Two or three more lives and you would’ve died a True Death.

Ray tried to remember if Vorm had mentioned that before, but he didn’t think so. He tentatively asked, True Death?

“The death of the Soul Core. Soul Cores themselves can die, otherwise eventually there would be nothing, but legendary creatures in the world.”

I guess that makes sense… So you think I can be fixed? Otherwise you wouldn’t bother. Why do you care?

“I obviously have an interest in your Soul Core becoming as strong as possible for my own reasons, have you forgot already? As it is now it would just splinter, and you’d die a True Death. How could it grow while being corrupted with self-hatred?”

Ray hated this conversation, constantly getting smacked in his sore spots. Whatever. I’m not sorry then. Also, fuck that so called Patriarch. What an asshole, he reminds me of my mum’s ex. He shuddered. Luckily, that guy didn’t have magic.

“You make it sound like as if he wasn’t your father, but just a random guy your mother got together with.”

Ray was going to retort, then realized his rage was rekindling just by remembering that man. He forced himself to stop thinking of that, and look at the bright side for a change.

I’ll probably be dead soon enough anyway, and be rid of that Patriarch. I don’t seem to live long these days. Ray chuckled to himself. The bright side was death. Wasn’t that hilarious? His chuckle turned into mad laughter. Everything was just so ridiculously messed up.

Eventually, he somewhat calmed down.

Why was he so upset before? Now it all seemed stupid. Worst case he could always just die. It briefly crossed his mind that this attitude probably wasn’t a healthy mindset, but he ignored that.

He willfully refused to think about what had happened before Vorm knocked him unconscious, and also threw that conversation since he woke up into a dark corner of his mind to be forgotten. Actually, he was surprised no one had bothered him while he slept, and he was still alone. He wondered if it was Night yet, and for some reason he felt like it was.

He carefully crept towards the outside. He didn’t want to run into anyone. He needed a place he could feel safe, and be sure he wouldn’t be bothered. He needed to get a handle on his powers, and see how things worked here.

There were many tunnels in this place, but he could feel which way the outside was. Now that he thought about it, it didn’t really make sense to him that he had to go downwards, but he was sure that was the way that led outside.

His thoughts wandered. He felt his blood boil. He was obviously just a slave to that man, but those so called priestesses treated Ray with respect and reverence. He also got that cringy title… Bloodnight Tyrant… okay, he didn’t want to admit it, but it sounded pretty cool… maybe he had 8th grade syndrome. Still, he hated it because of that man who bestowed it.

At last, he found himself outside, under the Night sky, but he had no time to admire it. He wanted a place to rest. As he looked around, his eyes landed behind him. His sight rose higher and higher. It was a sheer cliff wall.

It didn’t matter it looked impossible to traverse, he started climbing it. When he couldn’t find any handholds, he made them, not even noticing the faint traces of power helping him along. He climbed and climbed, only thinking of getting away from people. Apparently, this part was still considered within the city limits because he didn’t feel he was going against his orders.

There was still no end in sight, but when he felt he was high enough up above, he noticed a protrusion not far to the side. He climbed that way and it was big enough to comfortably sit on.

He sat there, leaning on the cliff wall behind him, one leg dangling above emptiness, the other pulled up, his arms carelessly draped over it. Resting his head on the hard rock, he looked up at the Night sky.

The Moon shone with a comforting light. It felt familiar, yet different. He liked the Moon and the Moon liked him. The Stars twinkled at him in recognition, he belonged with them. The cold Night warmly embraced him like a mother, empowering him like a father he never had. Under the Stars and the Moon, in the deep Night, he finally felt safe.

Or, at least, safer than before. Only now had he had the time to look around and organize his thoughts. But it wasn’t the city he found most interesting. No, it was the mountain behind him. There was something about it that whispered to him. He felt pulled towards it. He glanced down and saw a faintly shimmering majestic gate barring another entrance into the mountain. Not the one he came out of, but another that pulled at him.

He decided to stay far away from it. If he felt something pull him, he probably should go the other way.

Deciding to forget about the mountain for now, at last, he looked below at the city.

His breath caught, the sight was beautiful. The well-lit city was both small and huge. His eyes were drawn to an imposing building that reached for the sky. It was gigantic. He had never seen anything like it before. Yet, it was like a speck of dust compared to the mountain behind him.

His thoughts drawn back to the mountain, he turned his head and looked up, up and up, yet not seeing the end of it. In the shadow of the mountain he felt small, his struggles insignificant.

He wondered how high it was, he could not compare it to anything he had ever seen before. He hadn’t even seen a skyscraper in person. His old country had no imposing mountains either. He could not compare this sheer cliff and mighty mountain with anything he had ever seen.

For the first time, uninvited, a trace of delight crawled into his heart. Despite his situation, he felt glad to be here. Under this mountain, all his pain and rage fell away. They seemed irrelevant, minuscule, just pointless. He wanted to be more. Much more.

And this was just a mountain. What other unbelievable sights waited for him to see? Who cared about his hardships or that jerk? They couldn’t imprison him ever again. He’d just move on to his next life and then the next, become more and more. Even this mountain itself would have to look up at him in awe. A trace of a smile played on his lips as he looked at the world with new eyes.

*

There was a desolate, dead land inside Ray where nothing but poisoned earth and ashes remained. Hopes and Dreams, Ambition and Determination used to live here, young, vibrant life thrived before. But the landscape was ravaged time after time, life lost, broken. Ray watched them die and be born anew time after time, each time slightly less vibrant, slightly more fragile, more twisted. He couldn’t watch it anymore. He burned it all down.

But from the ashes Hope birthed new life. He watched as clouds of Dreams made them grow. He let it.

But that which should have nourished the land, poisoned it instead, seeping deep into the ground. It twisted the life born from the land into unholy abominations, suffocated Ambition, and broke Determination.

Ray ignorant and unaware of the insidious damage it wrought since the dawn of the land itself. By the time he realized its “nourishment” was deadly poison, it was already too late. Even though he cut off the source of corruption, the damage was already done, the land changed and twisted, perverted beyond recognition. There was no help, but a decaying, twisted, festering, foul land.

But life always finds a way, Hope cannot remain buried. New life grew and then died. Nothing ever changed. The storms of life ravaged the land over and over, the life grown from the corrupted, horrid land too weak to resist. Ray burnt it all.

If he burnt it, no one could hurt this land anymore, no one could take from him the twisted, fragile life. He burnt it, and when new life was born from the ashes, he trampled on them, tore them out, killed them with his own hands. He wept, but the rotten and vile land could not nurture strong life, could not sustain Ambition and Determination, could not be saved. So he burned it over and over, wishing for death to come.

At last, no new life emerged, and nothing but a dead land remained.

Until now, when a fragile budding was born of Hope. Unnoticed, its roots spread under the desolate land, guided by frail Ambition, nourished by brittle Dreams, protected by feeble Determination.