The moment her eyes blinked open, she knew something was wrong.
It was too quiet.
No cold night air. No rustling trees. No human heartbeat beneath her skin—just her own stolen pulse, thudding like a warning drum.
The girl's body still moved with her will, but something had changed.
She sat up, fast—too fast—and smacked against something invisible. Sparks flared.
Her body convulsed as if she'd touched lightning. She dropped back with a choked scream, pain lacing through every inch.
> "What the hell?" she gasped, clutching the girl's chest.
The room was stone. Old. No windows, only faint candlelight flickering in high sconces.
The walls glowed faintly with silver symbols—runes etched deep into the surface. A barrier pulsed around her, unseen until touched, and now humming like a heartbeat.
She was caged.
> "Let me out!" she screamed, rising to her knees.
She flung her hand outward, but her power sparked and fizzled uselessly against the barrier.
> "Let me out!"
Her voice echoed—sharp, furious.
A low voice answered from the shadows.
> "You're awake."
She froze.
He stepped forward. No rush in his pace. Just that quiet confidence she hated—cold and unreadable. His eyes glowed red for a moment, but dulled back to black as he studied her.
> "You brought this on yourself," he said.
> "You kidnapped me," she hissed.
> "You possessed someone."
> "She's alive, isn't she?"
> "For now."
His voice didn't rise, but it cut like a blade.
She rushed at the barrier again. It sparked, harder this time—like a whip across the skin. She fell back with a gasp.
He didn't even blink.
> "This place was built for worse than you," he said. "And it's held them."
She glared up from the ground, hair tangled over her borrowed face.
> "What do you want? To punish me?"
> "No," he said. "To stop you."
> "From what?"
> "Hurting people."
She laughed bitterly, leaning against the wall.
> "You think you're some noble guardian?"
> "I'm just tired of watching monsters turn into more monsters," he said. "You were human once."
That shut her up for a second.
Then, quietly—
> "So were you."
The silence between them twisted.
He took a step closer to the barrier.
> "I don't want to keep you here," he said. "But I will."
> "You think I'll give up my revenge for a chance to play nice?"
> "No. I think you'll keep screaming until your vessel breaks."
Her jaw clenched. The girl's body was already weakening—she could feel it in the bones, in the way the lungs strained with every breath.
> "I can't rest," she said. "Not until they suffer like I did."
> "Then this is where you'll stay," he replied, turning away.
> "You think you've trapped me?" she called after him. "You think I'll just sit here and rot?"
> "You're not rotting," he said, pausing at the door. "You're being reminded of who you were."
He left without another word.
The barrier sealed behind him. She stared at it for a long time, breathing hard.
Then she screamed.
But no one came.
She sat in silence after the scream faded, chest rising and falling with borrowed breath.
The body she wore trembled—too human, too fragile. Her power pulsed beneath the skin like a caged beast, furious and starved.
Hours passed. Maybe more. Time didn't behave in this place.
Then came footsteps.
She didn't look up. Not right away.
The gate opened—quietly, methodically. He stepped through, holding a silver tray. A bowl of stew.
Steam curled into the air. Bread. Water. It smelled... comforting.
> "Eat," he said, setting it down just outside the barrier.
> "I'm not your pet," she muttered.
> "You're still in a human body. It needs food."
She lifted her chin, eyes cold.
> "I need more than food."
He didn't flinch.
> "You mean someone else's body. Someone else's life."
> "Power," she corrected, voice low and sharp. "The more I take, the closer I get to my revenge."
> "And how many more will you ruin to get there?"
> "As many as it takes."
He studied her. Not with fear—never that. Just something like quiet sadness.
> "Then you're worse than the ones who betrayed you."
That struck a nerve.
She stood slowly, her hands curling at her sides.
> "You don't know what they did to me."
> "I don't need to," he said. "I know what you're doing now."
The room swelled with silence again. The stew's scent thickened the air.
> "Why do you care?" she snapped. "You're a vampire. You drink blood. You kill."
> "Not anymore," he said calmly. "I made my choices. And I've spent five centuries paying for them."
She scoffed, backing into the far wall.
> "Spare me your sob story, old man."
He almost smiled.
> "Eat. Or don't. It's your body breaking down, not mine."
She sank to the floor again as he left, the barrier humming shut behind him. The scent of the stew stayed.
She looked at the tray.
She wouldn't eat it. Couldn't. Not when every fiber of her power demanded more.
More life.
More vengeance.
But the body trembled again.
She stared.
And the girl inside, somewhere buried deep... whimpered.