Lyselle was so lost at first, swimming in a sea of fear over what might happen, that she hardly registered the vampiress closing the distance. Even as young as Lys was compared to her companion, her feelings had been built over decades of repetition — drilled into her from a very young age — and those kinds of instincts were always difficult to erase. Then, while she was drowning in that ocean of despair, something shifted: like sunlight filtering through water at dawn, guiding her, directing her, keeping her from sinking completely.

[i]“They will not kill you,”[/i] she heard, blinking her misty eyes as she looked up at the centuries-old creature. [i]“And nor will I.”[/i]

The soft voice was so soothing, so genuine, that Lyselle couldn’t help but part her lips in surprise. A small puff of breath escaped her when she felt the cold hand on her cheek, fingers sliding beneath her chin to guide her gaze upward, and the final touch settling on her shoulder. She couldn’t help but marvel — letting a [i]vampire[/i] comfort her. And the most surprising part was the way that touch felt through the mystic thread connecting them: strangely [i]warm,[/i] like it reached beneath her skin.

Something deep between them pulsed — baffling the young hunter. It felt like she could hear a whispered heartbeat inside the vampiress’ silent chest, as though something ancient was being coaxed back to life. It was perplexing and intoxicating all at once, making her suddenly aware of her own blood, her own heartbeat thundering behind her ears. It was as if the closer they stood, the stronger the supernatural thread pulled them toward each other — reminiscent of tales of reincarnated lovers finding one another after death, bringing a soft blush to her pale cheeks.

[i]“Come with me. Let’s go someplace safe, just until we figure this ordeal out.”[/i]

Without even realizing she’d done it, Lyselle nodded — the bond moving her body before her thoughts could catch up. As easily as breathing, she rose to her feet and simply stared at the age-old woman before her, willing to follow her anywhere, wherever this was meant to lead.

Yet faint echoes of doubt and shame still rippled through her subconscious — flashes of mentors, peers, the familiar scent of the old church, the weight of duty. Questions she didn’t want to answer. Fear she didn’t want to confront.

And still… she couldn’t help herself.

The way she [i]felt[/i] the vampiress — beneath her skin, in her bones, in the ember glow of her very soul — there were barely words for it. It was as if she had finally found “home” after being lost her entire life… even if that realization came hand-in-hand with confusion.