I didn’t want to see such a scene. Not because it irked my heart, but because my heart slowed, and my breath deepened.

#

Seven suns and eight moons passed, yet the bystanders I had brought into the basement had only started to thaw. I walked over to the table in the corner of the basement. Atop the dust covered plank of pale brown wood, a stack of parchment paper rested next to a feather and some ink poured in a hollowed stone.

I sat on a stool, took a piece of parchment off the pile and started to write:

* Young male, around the age of 20. Eight days after freezing.

I looked back. A steady flow of blood leaked from a nailed sized hole on his arm.

* The ice, now approximately half a centimetre deep can be pierced with a nail enchanted with my mana. His blood is not frozen, and according to my vampiric senses his heart still pumps.

Still sitting on my stool, I ordered his wound to close. Skin quickly covered up the wound.

* My magic or mana can heal his wounds without issue.

I ordered my purple mist to melt the ice. The clout of violet encircled the man, however, try as it might, it did nothing but hover around the grey ice. I stopped the order and the mana dissipated into the air and sweat rolled down my forehead. I noted this down as well and continued onto the next test I planned.

#

My stomach growled. My eyes turned red. I walked to the frozen figure in the centre of the room. In my hand, a nail rested. I took in a large breath of air and exhaled mana. In this, the nail slept till enough mana had clung to it for it to be able to break the ice. With a small hammer, I made a hole in the man’s neck. Blood squirted out and came to hover in the air. A ball of blood had formed thanks to my magic. And when a blood blob the size of my head formed, I closed his wound, sat on the wooden stool, and poured some of the drink into a wooden cup. The first sip was always the sweetest. It tickled my tongue, ran down my throat, and cooled my oesophagus and stomach. I soon finished the drink. I took a second one and a third. And soon there was none.

I passed my finger on my lips and licked the blood from my thumb. My heart throbbed; I could not wait for the next meal. I turned back to the statue and punched another hole in the lady’s neck. I opened my mouth; however, the warm taste of blood did not paint my mouth nor did its strong meaty taste register on my tongue. “No.” I looked into the statue’s eyes. They did not shine or inspire hope. They were dried of desires.

I looked around the room, however, only bits and pieces of half-frozen flesh and organs were strung about the room alongside piles of scribbles and parchment. Ink splatters painted the ground, my hands, and clothes black.

I formed a fist and punched the frozen woman. Sharp chunks of frozen skin hit the wall behind her. I exhaled all the mist in my lungs. It filled the room and with a strong voice I ordered, “Bring me blood.” A small ball, no bigger than my fist came forth from the woman’s remains. It filled my cup, and I accidentally chugged it down. Now I had really done it. I had nothing left.

I sat on the ground; however, frozen skin flakes stabbed my ass and legs. I stood back up, pushed aside the stacks of paper and laid down on the table, my head resting on my forearms.

Magic was, well, I didn’t even know. How could I create a general formula or theory of a new element or system alone? I had only a biomedical degree and worked in research. What did I know? What made me think that I could start a scientific revolution all on my own? What made me think I had suddenly become a genius because I had become the one with the most scientific knowledge?

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“Aghhhhh!” I cried out and pushed myself off the table and dragged my feet to the stairs which led out the basement. Light crept through the wooden slates, and dust floated down onto the cracked wooden stairs. I pushed the trap door open. A cloud of dust and a wave of humidity accompanied with the smell of mould filled my lungs.

I coughed two to three times. Dust danced about my face, and I fanned it away with my hand. However, it did little to nothing and I continued to cough for a few more seconds. When my lungs had given up clearing my airway, I managed to find my way to the door. I pushed it open, and the sun greeted me. With my hands high in the air, I tried to limit its reach to my cornea. However, it did little and my vision went white.

When I had come to, I looked about town. I had taken residence in an old shop's basement whose owners had been killed by the incident. However, that incident probably occurred a few weeks ago. But currently nothing but crickets roamed the streets. Had they all starved? Or perhaps they deemed this area to be cursed. That wouldn’t be too out of the question. I looked around once more. Grey ice still covered the ends of some buildings. It wouldn’t be weird for them to deem this area off limits.

I flew up into the sky and looked at the grounds below. My heart which beat fast set once I spotted a few shadows talking in the city garden. That was good enough for now, so I set my sight on the palace.

#

I landed near the glass torch. There, next to the flame two cribs rocked back and forth. “How are they doing?” I asked.

Sara condensed into visible mist. I had yet to try and teach her how to materialize. “They’ve been sleeping for the past two weeks.”

I looked down onto the wraith. In all honesty she looked all the same to Amara say for her translucent body and the lack of a heart beat. All babies looked alike. “Do ghosts need to sleep this long?”

“No, but neither do they need to be awake.”

I approached her crib and touched her head with my finger. I had taken her in my arms back then, however, I still had a hard time understanding how she had a physical form. Would she gain the ability to traverse through walls later? After all her ruler could. I touched her hair and twirled it about. Her curls tickled my finger. She was indeed a physical being. “So when does she wake up?” I asked stepping back.

“When Amara does. They’re inseparable. I wanted to show her about the city when Amara had just gone to sleep; however, she wailed, nearly freezing the entire palace.”

My heart skipped a beat, I walked to Amara’s crib. “She wasn’t hurt?” I asked. “How did she survive the ice?”

“The ice did not reach her. It seems Sara controlled her mana to avoid her.”

Such control, I didn’t know it was possible. No, after all, mana did as I ordered it. If I told it to draw the blood of all but those whom I wished to spare, it would no doubt do so. I haven’t been doing much in that cellar. In all honesty the last few weeks were hazy at best. “When’s the last time Amara woke up?”

“About a week ago.”

That’s when I processed Sara’s recent words. I turned to face the space in between both cribs. “Wait! Amara stays awake after drinking blood?”

“Every time she wakes up, she stays awake for a little while longer.”

Sweat poured down my forehead and into my eyes. Burning them with the furry of a thousand dust curses and insults. I had been negligent. I wiped away my brow. “Wait, how many times has she woken up?”

“Seven times.”

Seven months. No doubt. What did I expect? Why did I think that only a few weeks had passed when I was locked in with seven months worth of food and left when I had finished it? “I have to leave,” I blurted out. “Now. I’m sorry. You’ve done a great job caring for Amara, I’ll be back I promise. But I need to find somewhere to place my torch.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind if you did so here. After all I don’t know how Sara or Amara could live without each other.” The fog dissipated and became nearly invisible to the eyes.

“I would if I could. I’m being honest. But I’m afraid vampires would find it hard to live here. Now we’re just two, however, if we were a hundred we would need at least a hundred humans a month to sustain ourselves. This place won’t do. And, if my instincts serve me well, the ones born later may find it hard to live under such bright sunlight. I must go. Again, I thank you. When I return, please ask of me anything and I shall oblige.”

Sara did not speak; however, the mist did not condense or waver in anger and resentment. It simply stayed still. As such I flew off into the sky in search of more habitable grounds. I set off towards Constantinople.