How do you imagine it looks when someone who is technically already dead… Dies?
Well, Rhyland had never imagined that. Not in his life, nor his unborn life. In fact, before he was brutally attacked by that siren of the night, Rhyland hadn’t believed in vampires. But as he clung to the last string of lifeline that dangled in front of him, Rhyland acknowledged the irony that as a non-believer, he was dying (again) as a vampire.

[i]“Where is your sire!?”[/i]

Slain twice in one lifetime? That had to be some bad luck. Rhyland blinked slowly as he attempted feebly to focus his hallow gaze on his executioner. Looming over him, broad in stature, was a man doused in weaponry. This man’s face was a perfect picture of determined rage, a clear disgust at the fledgling that lay dying before him. As if the arrow wedged in Rhyland’s chest wasn’t enough, the twist of a sword draped over his jugular meant the taste of imminent death became certain.

[i]“Tell me!”[/i] the hunter bellowed. Rhyland, buffeted by the waves of confusion followed by ebbs of soaring pain, opened his lips to say something menacing. Something that might threaten the two humans. But his impotent threats with his maker in that alleyway months ago hadn’t exactly helped him, so the fledgling gasped a haggard breath. Air wouldn’t fill his lungs, his chest rising with that fractured breath meant the arrows presence became evermore obvious and Rhyland closed his eyes to pull back at the memory resurfaced just before.

[i]“My sire?…”[/i] came a voice that must’ve belonged to him, but was unrecognisable now. Laced with a tortured plea, his voice croaked as it struggled to formulate the sounds.
[i]“Don’t look for her,”[/i] Rhyland begged. His vampire mother’s frightening beauty etched into his minds eye. That pitiful, vengeful smile. Those scarily powerful arms. The smell of her perfume as she sunk her teeth into his neck…
[i]”She was at Belle View,”[/i] he groaned out, a vision of the residential street an hour or so away flickering in memory. [i]“Near the church in Belle View…”[/i]

As the final words left Rhyland’s cracked lips, he finally noticed the girl behind the man. Stoic but firm in her stance, she seemed to be looking at Rhyland analytically. Really looking. The fledgling let out another pained cry, like a wounded animal, and his arms flailed in an attempt to grab at the sword against his neck. The girl, also gripping a short sword braced for attack, would be the last thing Rhyland saw before dying… again. 

[i]“She’s not like me…”[/i] he croaked, voice tight and barely there [i]“She’s stronger… So much stronger…”[/i] 
It was a warning. One which Rhyland had no idea whether these humans would heed. Clearly, they weren’t scared of vampires. It seems they came prepared and knowledgeable of their target. The fledgling was wondering what a young woman like this one could possibly be doing, following a large man with a crossbow and wielding a sword of her own. Is this just what they did? Hunt down vampires to torture and kill them? Maybe it was. Maybe that’s who they were. At least they know, at least they have a purpose. Rhyland lost his the second that beautiful stranger laid her icy fingers on him.