"Tristan's POV"
The smell of burning flesh never leaves you. It clings to your memory like ash to skin, settles deep in your lungs until every breath tastes of smoke and death.
I was twenty-three when I learned that lesson. Twenty-three when I watched my village burn, when I heard my mother's screams cut short, when I saw my father's head roll across the dirt like a discarded stone.
They came at dawn. The Vakari tribe, painted in white clay and wielding iron blades that caught the early light. We never stood a chance.
I remember hiding in the grain storage, my younger sister Mira pressed against my chest, her heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst.
I covered her mouth with my hand and whispered prayers to gods I barely believed in.
Through the wooden slats, I watched them drag my father into the village center. He didn't beg.
He met their eyes as they raised their weapons, and I hated him for his pride in that moment.
Hated that he wouldn't plead, wouldn't try to bargain for his life, for ours.
The blade fell. Mira's scream died in my palm.
They found us an hour later. I fought. Used my fists, my teeth, anything. A blade caught my ribs, another my shoulder.
I went down hard, tasting copper and dirt. The warrior standing over me had kind eyes, which somehow made it worse. He raised his sword.
Then the storage house collapsed. Flames had finally reached the old wood, and the roof caved in with a roar that shook the earth.
In the chaos, in the smoke and screaming, I ran. Left Mira's body in the grain. Left everything I'd ever known.
Coward. The word followed me for years.
I made it to the forest with a hole in my side and nothing else. No food, no water, no family.
Just breathe in my lungs and the will to keep it there. Survival has a way of stripping everything else away. Morality becomes a luxury you can't afford.
In the first town I reached, I stole bread from a baker who reminded me of my uncle.
The second town, I picked the pocket of a merchant too drunk to notice.
By the third town, I'd stopped feeling guilty about it. Guilt requires the energy to care, and I had none to spare.
Four years passed like that. Four years of sleeping in alleys, of running from town guards, of doing whatever it took to see another sunrise.
I got good at it. Reading people, finding their weaknesses, slipping through crowds like smoke.
I made friends with others like me. Outcasts. Survivors. We formed our own tribe of sorts.
That's how I met Jax and Petyr. Jax was built like an ox, with hands that could crush skulls but a laugh that could light up the darkest tavern.
Petyr was quick and clever and always had a plan that was just stupid enough to work.
We became brothers in the way you do when blood family is ash and memory.
We should have known better than to steal from Lord Castellan.
The job seemed simple enough. Petyr had heard the lord kept gold in his summer estate, barely guarded this time of year.
We watched the place for three days, learning the patterns, counting the guards. Six of them. We could handle six.
We went in at midnight. Got past the first two guards clean.
Petyr picked the lock on the treasury door while Jax and I kept watch. My heart was steady. I'd done this dozens of times.
The gold was there. More than we'd ever seen. Enough to change our lives, to stop running, to finally rest.
That's when the bells started ringing.
Someone had seen us. The estate erupted with torches and shouting.
We ran, gold forgotten, survival the only thing that mattered.
Jax went down first. An arrow caught him in the back as we cleared the wall. He hit the ground hard, tried to stand, and couldn't. I reached for him.
"Run," he said. His eyes were already glazing. Just run.
Petyr grabbed my arm and pulled me away. We made it to the trees before more arrows came.
One caught Petyr in the throat. He dropped without a sound, blood black in the moonlight.
I ran alone.
Lord Castellan put a bounty on my head. Every guard in three territories had orders to kill on sight.
I moved at night, slept in caves, and avoided anything that looked like civilization.
The wound in my side from years ago had healed poorly, leaving me with a limp when I pushed too hard.
I was twenty-seven years old and so tired I could barely remember why I was fighting to stay alive.
Three weeks into running, I collapsed in a forest I didn't recognize. The fever had finally caught me.
Infection from sleeping in filth, probably. My body had decided it was done, and honestly, I couldn't blame it.
I lay there in the moss, watching moonlight filter through the canopy, thinking about Mira.
About my parents. About Jax's laugh and Petyr's terrible jokes. About all the people I'd failed to save, including myself.
That's when she appeared.
At first I thought the fever had won, that my mind was creating phantoms.
She moved too smoothly, too quietly. No leaves crunched under her feet.
She wore a dark dress that seemed to absorb light, and her skin was pale enough to glow.
But her eyes. Her eyes were the color of fresh blood.
"You're dying," she said. Her voice was soft, almost gentle.
I know, I managed. Good.
She tilted her head, studying me like I was a puzzle. Is it good? You fought so hard to survive.
Four years of running, stealing, and clawing your way through each day. And now you welcome death?
I didn't answer. Didn't have the energy.
She knelt beside me, and I could smell something sharp and clean, like winter air.
My name is Elysia. And I think you're too interesting to let die.
Her hand touched my forehead. Cool. So cool it almost hurt.
"I can save you," she whispered. Give you strength beyond anything you've known. Speed, power, life that doesn't end. But it comes with a price.
I laughed. Tasted blood. Everything has a price.
This one is steep. She leaned closer, and I saw the points of her teeth. You'll lose the sun. You'll need to feed on blood to survive.
You'll live in a world you never knew existed, surrounded by creatures and magic that would terrify the men who destroyed your village. You'll be another. Forever.
The fever made everything feel distant, unreal. I thought of my mother's face.
My father's pride. Mira's trust. All of them are gone. What did I have to lose that wasn't already ash?
"Do it," I said.
Elysia smiled. It wasn't a kind expression.
Her teeth found my throat. The pain was immediate and absolute, like liquid fire poured directly into my veins.
I tried to scream but couldn't draw breath. She drank deep, and I felt my life pouring out, everything I was draining away.
Just as darkness closed in completely, she pulled back. She bit her own wrist, and dark blood welled up.
"Drink," she commanded. You must drink before your heart stops completely.
Some instinct older than thought took over. I latched onto her wrist and drank.
The blood was thick and sweet and wrong in every way, but I swallowed. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then my heart stuttered and stopped.
Everything went black.
I don't know how long I was gone. It could have been minutes or hours because death has no clock.
But I remember the pull, something dragging me back from wherever I'd gone.
My chest burned, and my throat screamed with thirst. Every cell in my body demanded something I couldn't name.
My eyes snapped open.
The world exploded into sensation. Every sound amplified a thousand times over.
I could hear Elysia's heartbeat, slow and steady, could smell the decay of autumn leaves a mile away, and could feel the vibration of insects crawling on tree bark.
The pain in my side was gone, and the fever burned away like morning mist.
But the hunger was everywhere.
"You're awake," Elysia said from where she sat beside me, watching.
How do you feel?
I tried to speak, but my throat was desert-dry. Wrong. Everything feels wrong.
Not wrong. Different. She helped me sit up. Your body died, Tristan. Now you need to complete the transition.
How?
You need to feed. Human blood. Animal blood won't work for the first feeding.
I stared at her. You want me to kill someone?
I want you to survive. She stood and extended her hand. There's a camp half a mile from here. Travelers. They won't be missed.
I don't want to kill anyone.
Then you'll die. True death this time. No coming back.
Her expression was neutral. You have until sunrise to decide. After that, the choice is made for you.
She walked away and left me alone with my new body and its screaming demands.
I lasted two hours before the hunger won.
The camp had four people, and I took the one on watch, quick and clean.
I told myself it was survival; I told myself I had no choice.
The blood hit my system, and everything locked into place. Strength. Speed. Power beyond anything human.
I was a monster now.
When I returned to where Elysia waited, she smiled.
Welcome to your new life, Tristan. She gestured to the forest around us. Welcome to the world that hides beneath the one you knew.
I looked at my hands, and they appeared the same but felt different. Stronger.
I flexed my fingers and accidentally crushed a rock beneath my palm.
What happens now? I asked.
Now I teach you what you are, what we are.
She turned and was already moving deeper into the forest. And trust me, Tristan. Your old life, your old struggles they were nothing compared to what comes next.
I followed her into the darkness, leaving my human life behind with the same ease I'd left my burning village years before.
I didn't know it then, but I'd just made a bargain with something far more dangerous than any lord or warrior.
I'd traded one kind of hell for another, and this one would last a thousand