Another bolt had been reloaded and shot, aiming straight for her. Feigning right, the Vampire knew she’d dodged it successfully. That was, until, the tip of the bolt broke away and an oversized net popped out with a satisfying click. Renaissance watched the net expand, its crosshatched silver material flying tauntingly through the air. The vampire had undoubtedly dodged the original arrow, but this? The net’s width would surely snag her wings and give her great difficulty keeping her height. The idea of the net ensnaring her, snuffing out her wings like a candle and causing her to topple to the ground made Ren let out a slow growl. She snarled at the realisation that this would mean almost-certain entrapment and escaping from a net like that would involve more power than she was willing to expend on the fury-riddled Hunter.

Like a religious intervention, a bright light suddenly appeared, casting warm white beams to shine down on Belle View. It was a sigil. And by the looks of Lyselle’s determined but panicked expression, she’d been the one to cast it. The symbol hung in the air for a moment or two, like a beacon. And when Ren’s eyes darted below, she saw the net crumpled on the ground like dirty laundry.

"What the fuck are you doing, Lyselle!? She’s a damn vampire! Kill her!!"

‘What the fuck indeed, Lyselle’ Ren mused internally, the three of them each shared varying degrees of surprise at the heroic intervention. Where had this young Huntress learnt to cast such a strong sigil? She’d formed the symbol so quickly with those agile fingertips, Ren hadn’t even had the chance to acknowledge it was happening. The Hunter’s horror at the betrayal of his kind was well-founded. And it was whilst his guard was dropped that Ren seized her moment. Thanks to Lyselle, a window of opportunity had opened and she wasn’t going to let it pass by her. The Hunter would recover from his shock at the betrayal fairly quickly, she was sure. So Ren chose the only route that was certain to grant her escape.

Blood Magic was a thing of controversy in the Vampire community. Not many fledglings and adolescents were even aware of it but Ancients had likely studied it at some point during their undead lifetimes. Notoriously poorly documented, it was only studied through determined searching for reading materials. Scriptures, scrolls and ancient tomes were the only known evidence of Vampire Blood Magic. Unless you were unfortunate to come across someone practicing it at your expense. Thanks to Ren’s obsession with studying, she’d managed to get her hands on a few volumes on the lost art form. Blood Magic required harnessing a large portion of inner power that was rarely acquired in the community. It was a skill so difficult to develop and the stakes were off-puttingly high, so it was mostly exclusively Ancient Beings that practiced it. Younger vampires had tried, sure. But it resulted in burn-out or worse, death. Creatures had literally imploded from the sheer volume of power required to complete a Blood Spell. Blood Magic was seemingly entirely intended for malicious acts; Curses, deception, harm, destruction. But there were some more intricate castings that were less ominous, these were what Ren dabbled in. She reserved the ultimate evil for when was absolutely necessary. She certainly wouldn’t waste such a large amount of energy on casting against this Hunter.

But when faced with a Hunter hell bent on her demise, Renaissance decided she’d tap into some preventative Blood Magic. The essence of the magic had no bias when it came to whose blood was spilled. It could be human. It could be otherwise. For potency, Ren used her own blood. For what held more power than Ancient Vampire blood? Whilst the Hunter remained stunned by Lyselle’s impressive distraction, Ren had quickly made an incision in her wrist with that deathly talon at the end of her finger. Whilst the puncture oozed, a black droplet of her blood formed and then ran down the inside of her naked arm. Whilst it trickled down her arm like a black stream, Ren began her incantation. It would be swift, it would be articulate and it would be effective.

“Please don’t kill him!” Lyselle plead. The vampiress, wings pulsing to keep her suspended in the air with a great vantage point for her attack, shot a withering look at Lyselle. The arched brow challenged her as if to say ‘And let him kill me instead? Never’
That look was all she had time for, she had to finish the incantation. Blood Magic could not be left half finished, it was hungry in its nature. Complete the spell or let that dark power roam free.

Ren finalised the spell, casting an extended finger to guide the energy towards the intended victim. This wouldn’t kill him, no. It would maim him. This particular ailment would only last long enough for Ren to disappear. She’d retreat back to her loft, where her Wards would grant her anonymity. All the while, the Hunter would awake from his nightmarish slumber disorientated and unsure of what had just happened. That should do it, shouldn’t it? And she’d grant Lyselle’s request to leave him alive.

As the dark energy trailed down her veins to the tips of her fingers, Ren continued to repeat the incantation, coaxing it out of her body. She saw the black smoke-like stream writhe down her veins and out into the air. The smoke entered the space before her and exhaled audibly, a sigh of relief to have been brought to life and a sigh of pleasure to have been put to work. The cloud dissipated and Ren knew it had, through osmosis, bonded molecularly with the air they were breathing. Soon enough, the Hunter would take a breath and slip into an uncomfortable sleep. His sleep would be littered with nightmares and leave him confused when he finally awoke.

Describing this now, it would be reasonable to assume casting Blood Magic was a lengthy process. However, Ren had drawn blood, chanted and cast with a slick professionalism that meant by the time the Hunter realised what was happening, the dark energy would be corrupting him already.
Renaissance, relaxing in the knowledge that she’d gained some time, turned to face Lyselle and lowered herself to the ground once more. She tossed her mane of dark hair over her shoulder and took a few quick strides towards the Huntress. There were many questions burning:

“Where on Earth did you learn to Sigil like that?”

“Why the hell did you protect me? I had it handled (ish)”

“Did you not want to mention you weren’t travelling alone?”

But more than all that, more than the technicalities, Red was dying to ask:

“Do you feel what I’m feeling?”
And by that she meant this channel of energy connecting the two of them, this sense of knowing. Surely she couldn’t be the only one that felt a gravitational pull tugging at her corrupted soul, dragging her toward Lyselle like a leash.
But Ren vocalised none of these questions. Instead she stood just out of arms reach from Lyselle, arms folded, waiting for her to explain who the hell she’d just put to sleep.

As the man scrambled with his weapon and lifted it to line another shot, he already felt it — his body moving sluggishly, like wet sand dragging at his limbs.
“No..!” he growled, gritting his teeth, trying to fight the nightmarish sleep by sheer will alone. Darkness took him far faster than he expected. He clenched his fists, shaking with fury, and just before slumping to the ground he cast one last look toward the huntress — a look sharp enough to cut, venomous and betrayed.
“H-how… c-could…” There was no more struggle. His body sprawled across the sidewalk, swallowed by moonlight as he slipped into the nightmares that Blood Magic promised.

Now, only the two women remained — one standing over the other in quiet, intense questioning, and the other wrestling with a storm of her own making. What had she done? Her whole life, Lyselle had been told, taught, trained, drilled: vampires were evil. And yet here she was, staring dumbstruck at the very woman she had just saved from a hunter.

“I…”

Words failed her. Thoughts flickered across her face like frames of a film — confusion, worry, awe, doubt, and that same confusion again. Slowly, she lowered herself into a side-sitting position. Her eyes fixed onto the vampiress’ black-heeled boots, unable to meet her gaze, unable to process the enormity of what she’d done.

‘What have I done?’
‘What am I doing? Why? If… if I let her go, I’m betraying my order — the people who raised me. But… can I really bring myself to hunt her?’
‘Why does she feel so real? Like everything before this was just some giant… circus act. Fuck… what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?’

Lys lifted the back of her hand to her forehead as if checking for a fever. A sigh escaped her, shoulders falling, eyes shifting aside — ashamed, overwhelmed.

“He… must’ve… come looking for me when he realized I had left — looking for him,” she managed.
“I–… I didn’t mean for… this… whatever… this is… gods…”

Her hand fell, fingers brushing the sigil. She broke it with a swipe, wiping away the symbols that kept it functioning.
“Might as well…”

She hesitated before the next words, throat tightening.

“… kill me… if you don’t, they will…”

Her expression spoke what she could not: a whirl of fear, guilt, clarity, devastation.
Betraying the very thing she had sworn to uphold — the thing her entire life had been built upon.
A single woman had made her question everything.
And she knew what awaited her if Delwyn ever woke and returned to the Vigil.

There was no forgiveness for traitors.
No second chances.
Just death.

All those smiles, all that praise —
the admiration,
the jealousy of her peers,
the quiet pride of being someone special,
the crushing weight of becoming a legend,
the lonely rooftops at sunrise and sunset —

all of it blew away like dust in a sandstorm.
Gone in one night.

She waited for her appointed death at the hands of the very creature she was trained to destroy… because the only alternative was a life on the run. And she couldn’t decide which fate was easier, or which she even wanted. She would never have a normal life.

That was stolen from her the moment the Vigil adopted her — long before she even understood what “normal” meant.

Not like the people she watched in daylight —
going to work,
laughing in groups,
sharing coffee,
having families,
holding hands,
speaking in simple, everyday conversations with infinite possibilities…

Things she would never know.

The stars winked mischievously from the midnight-blue sky overhead and the sound of a far away engine made Renaissance Le Sang, Ancient Vampire, eye the distance with alerted eyes. Her more human-like form resurfaced; Pupils shrinking, talon and fangs retracting, cheeks gaining a natural brush of blush. It was incredible how well-evolved the Vampires had become over the years. There was a time where blending in with humans was impossible, those distinguishable features a constant as opposed to disguisable. Nothing discreet about canines of a wolf and pupils of a blood-thirsty shark.

Lyselle struggled to find the words, the reality of what had just passed finally dawning on her. A twang of empathy played on the strings of Ren’s still heart. She watched the woman fumble with the many words she wanted to articulate, none of them coming to fruition.

“Lyselle…” Ren coaxed, her voice like a warm mug of cocoa on a cold day. She folded her arms across her corseted body, stroking her chin pensively with elegant digits. Her green and lilac eyes scanned the Huntress quizzically, trying to read every micro expression that passed over that beautiful face.

“He… must’ve… come looking for me when he realized I had left — looking for him,” she managed.
“I–… I didn’t mean for… this… whatever… this is… gods…”

Emotional turmoil came firing down their bond and Ren reeled at the IV of human emotion that was administered to her veins. As Lyselle began stammering about death and her mannerisms depicted real worry, Ren held up a hand abruptly. Signalling her to stop, the Ancient Vampiress used the last droplet of her blood magic and a quick murmur of an incantation to eradicate the last of the Repulsion Ward she’d cast earlier. With imperceptible speed, she closed the distance between the two of them.

Suddenly, their surroundings melted away and it was just them. Stood so close Ren could smell her blood type. She stared into her warm eyes, taking in every freckle, every crease in her skin. Each mark etched a story, a moment in time. The Ancient Vampire shook her head as if dismissing any more of Lyselle’s paranoid ramblings. This, she couldn’t abide. Still, the tether between them was flooded with anxiety. A rush of frantic concerns filled Ren’s mind and she imagined taking them all into the palm of her hand and squeezing them tight, crumbling them to dust. For a moment, which felt like an eternity, the vampire let the Huntress clog the bond with her fears. As if she were hearing them out, Ren let them come.

“the admiration,
the jealousy of her peers,
the quiet pride of being someone special,
the crushing weight of becoming a legend,
the lonely rooftops at sunrise and sunset —“

And then, after all of it had poured into her, Ren used her supernatural powers to envisage washing them all away like a spiritual cleanse.

“They will not kill you,” Ren said firmly, stating it as an absolute made it sound final. “And nor will I.” That second part came softer. The vampire let her reassurance caress Lyselle’s cheek, pinch the tip of her chin and lift it up. Slowly, like handling a mistreated animal, Ren lifted her hand and placed it on Lyselle’s toned shoulder.

“Come with me,” Ren whispered gently. “Let’s go someplace safe, just until we figure this ordeal out.”
Then, she reached out a hand down the mental bond and grasped at Lyselle the other end. This added layer of communication that had formed between them was like having a window into one another’s souls. Magical. Otherworldly. Fantastical. Like nothing the aged vampire had ever experienced before. Like nothing she’d ever seen, read or felt. And she’d been in love, once or twice. This was different. This was deeper than love, more consuming than hate. It was a need. A lifeline. Ren felt resurrected.

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.

“They will not kill you,” she heard, blinking her misty eyes as she looked up at the centuries-old creature. “And nor will 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 vampire comfort her. And the most surprising part was the way that touch felt through the mystic thread connecting them: strangely warm, 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.

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

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 felt 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.

It had been many a year since Renaissance had brought another soul, alive, to the Loft. She’d brought soon-to-be victims, granted. But the last time she’d invited someone living and breathing into her home? It would’ve been when she first acquired the apartment 60 or so years ago. The concept of being seen in this way made the vampire a little apprehensive. There were no tell-tale signs that this revelation was bothering her, other than when she pressed her lips together in a fine line as they approached the nearby apartment entrance.

From the outside, the block looked unassuming. Dark grey in colour, it loomed above the two of them, staring them down with lightless arched windows. Ren sniffed the air cautiously as she keyed in her entrance code. There was no nearby scent that caused her concern; Just the hypnotic perfumed scent of Lyselle’s blood pumping just behind her. As the Vampire shouldered the heavy door open and let the warmth of the apartment lobby wrap its arms around her, she shot a look over her shoulder at the Huntress.

“I’ll have to undo a few enchantments before you’re able to cross over the threshold,” Ren explained, making her way to the elevator that readily opened its doors to them both. The apartment had air purifiers and diffusers built in to the ceiling panels, constantly pumping the sweet smell of geranium and fig into the air. This smell had become so familiar to Ren that she barely smelt it anymore unless she really tried. And because she was seeing her home through the eyes of a stranger for the first time, the floral scent circled her nostrils and gave her that comforting embrace that familiar smells did.

The elevator pinged, signalling it was ready to make its way upward. Ren cleared her throat and punched the “Penthouse” button on the control panel. Again, the elevator pinged, and the doors slid shut with a smooth hiss. The silence between the two of them felt laden with so many thoughts. Doubt and anticipation had filled the air between them and they were both right to be nervous; A huntress and ancient vampire? United in an elevator on the ascent to said ancient vampires lair? If someone had told Ren even yesterday that this is where she’d be in 24 hours, she’d have scoffed and slain them for being so ridiculous. She did not fraternise with humans, least of all Hunters. And she certainly did not invite them back to her precious, safe Loft for sacrilege.

The elevator rung out again and Ren had already begun reciting an unravelling spell, loosening the iron grip of the protection charms on her Loft. Like in a sweltering desert, the air in front of her apartment door became hazy and rippled. Ren completed the disarming of her enchantments and the locks clicked obligingly. Then, the door swung open to reveal her most precious possession. Her home.

_______________________________

Renaissance dismissively closed the door behind them both and quickly redressed the Loft in a couple of shielding spells that would grant the two of them complete anonymity. Who knew when the Hunter would awake from his hellish slumber and no doubt be determined to begin his pursuit of them when he finally remembered the chain of events.
The smell of Oud, leather and a hint of lavender wafted through the Loft. Candles were still burning, but barely, and the fireplace by the chaise lounge was mere embers glowering. The overhead vintage lamp pooled warm light over the leather sofas circled around the fireplace and Ren strode confidently to the kitchen.

“I’m going to boil the kettle,” she narrated, filling the old fashioned black cast iron kettle with water from the faucet. “And we’re going to a have a fresh mint tea from the garden.”
As promised, the Ancient Vampire fetched a fistful of mint sprigs from her beloved herb garden on the balcony and dropped them daintily into china cups. Ren eyeballed Lyselle cautiously, wondering what she was thinking. The bond had gone fairly quiet in the last couple moments and she could only sense the humans understandable apprehension of being in a Vampire Lair. As tasteful and elegant as the space was, it was still home to an ancient killing-machine. Trying to come off inviting, Ren gestured for Lyselle to take a seat on one of the leather sofas. She then narrowed her eyes in concentration at the fireplace and quickly restocked it with some dry logs and kindling. Grateful for food, the flames swallowed the wood hungrily and doubled in size as a consequence.

The kettle began to squeal shrilly and the vampire glided across the room with the grace of a swan, taking the kettle and adding boiling water to the china cups. The liquid bubbled as it collided with the fresh mint leaves and turned a pale shade of green, releasing the smell of mint into the room.

“Lyselle,” Ren prompted, outstretching her hand cradling the cup. “Take this, it’ll calm your nerves.”

Very little was spoken betwixt the strange pair as quiet clacks vibrating in the night air—the street still surprisingly empty save the sleeping man—giving them both easy room to travel. As they quietly approached the building, Lyselle found herself silently thinking, ‘she is staying here? But wouldn't it be easy to find?’ Despite her nervousness, her curiosity flared as it ever did, when confronted with new information accompanied by a quizzical knitting of her eyebrows. However, as soon as her older companion spoke of enchantments, her face swirled back to a mix of uncertainty and yet comfort, her curiosity sated for the moment. ‘Not many hunters would expect a normal loft in either case… too easy to track…’ she echoed to herself as the both of them slid inside the elevator.

The new scents assaulted the huntress as they ascended the building, inhaling slowly and closing her eyes, picturing a flower field in the middle of a forest. At least the ancient vampiress had good taste, though it was subtly surprising, as she originally envisioned ancients holing away in long forgotten ruins or castles, flooded with the stench of blood and rot. Her eyes opened slowly and she paid a glance to her host—their bond had grown more loose now, making it more difficult to read the age-old woman, but she could at least sense something she was not expecting: the faintest hint of nervousness. What did such a timeworn woman need to be nervous about? It was Lyselle who should be fretting and wanting to run away, right? Not to say that thought had not crossed her mind… but how could she not follow? The vampiress had been surprisingly kind and soft with her—almost making her feel… safe.

As they stepped off the elevator, she took in another inhale of scents, catching the gentle hints of leather and firesmoke which tugged her lips into a faint smile. Interest sparked once more as she tilted her head to the side and listened to ageless incantations flowing from the haunting woman, soaking in and analyzing what little she could. ‘That sounds vaguely familiar,’ she would note, pursing her lips gently in thought. Regardless, once the enchantments had been broken, she was allowed entrance—where the vampiress was quick to latch the protections back into place. ‘Smart.’

There was something oddly satisfying about the venerable vampire simply stating what she was going to do, even without asking Lyselle if she liked tea, but the huntress did not argue and instead just curved her lips upwards gently. Then new thoughts intruded as she waited—the struggle to believe she was here, in a vampire lair; that it was so well kept; the smells that swirled around her; all the little trophies kept from times in which Lys had not even been born. A lot of hunters—and no doubt other vampires—would call her soft for clinging to such things, and yet she had survived nonetheless, weathered hundreds of battles and come out alive despite her apparent softness.

What the vampiress must’ve lived through, Lyselle thought… before the same thoughts turned back on her. What would she do now? Where would she go? Was she only being sheltered out of pity? Perhaps she meant to keep Lyse as a human pet? Would she be passed around other vampires? Shown off? Fed upon? And even if she were let free—where would she go? Live a normal life? The huntress quietly clicked her tongue at that thought. There was no way she could manage a normal life. A wave of anxiety rippled across her as the reality of never returning to the Vigil sank in once more—everyone that once smiled at her would now look upon her with disgust. She didn't have anyone or anything… besides an ancient vampiress she just met.

Then suddenly she heard her name, causing her to jump ever so slightly, looking to the side to see that acquainted, beautiful face, smooth white snow-skinned arms—even her hands were somehow alluring—and in them sat a cup. The aroma of mint wafted over her gently, calming her instantly, before reaching out and taking it with both hands. For a brief moment she felt her own digits brush against the vampiress’ palm, meeting the ghostly woman's violet gaze, unable to keep the softest blush from stroking her mortal cheeks.

“Th-thank you…” she whispered, her voice soft, unsteady. She slipped into the offered seat and took a small sip, letting the warmth ground her trembling thoughts. After a beat, she lifted her eyes once more.

“U-um… may I… ask your name?”

The huntress accepted the fresh mint tea and cradled the steaming cup in her hands. Ren could feel Lyselle’s apprehension. The bond was suddenly buzzing with questions, no doubt regarding her fate with the Vigil since she’d just performed the ultimate betrayal. Ren felt like she wanted to hash out these concerns with the Huntress, to cradle her woes like a newborn and soothe them gently.

“U-um… may I… ask your name?”

Renaissance blinked, realising that despite knowing the vampire slayers name, she hadn’t shared her own. The ancient vampiress took her own warming tea from the side table nestled next to the opposing leather sofa. She breathed a sigh of satisfaction as the comforting smell of warm mint filled her flared nostrils. Whilst eating and drinking didn’t have the same effect as when she was human, Ren still indulged in the habit now and again. Especially when blending in amongst human company, they often felt uneasy with the blatant absence of consuming food or liquid. Draping herself over the leather sofa, enjoying the way the worn cushions enveloped her and squeaked slightly beneath her weight, Ren folded her legs and gave Lyselle a warm smile.

“Renaissance Le Sang” Ren offered, punctuating her answer with a gentle sip of the tea. She let the warm, aromatic liquid slide down her throat and fill her insides. That soothing herbal remedy coaxed away the residual adrenaline from their recent battle of wits. Ren still couldn’t believe what scene was unfolding before her: A talented young Vampire Huntress, murderer of Ren’s fledgling, taking shelter in her loft. Why were her survival instincts not warning her of what was happening? The vampire expected that inner protective gut feeling to twinge in warning of welcoming her natural born enemy into her home. Yet, nothing. In fact, there was an ease to Lyselle’s company. A natural flow of energies only corrupted by the external stresses that plagued them both. Now that the pair had each made their official introductions, the serene silence of the Loft filled the space between them. The bond was quiet again and Ren thought to herself that this connection that had formed was much like that of twins. She was, in fact, not a twin. But twin telepathy had been widely documented and this union of energies was as if they were now continually wired up to one another. Plugged in, like a emotional hard drive. If they took hold of the bond, asked it to let in from the other side, there’d be emotional indicators as to how the other were feeling. Not as powerful as mind reading, more like a looking glass for inner energy.

Conscious that Lyselle must be in somewhat of an inner turmoil, Ren used the bond as she had earlier; To send soothing energy to alleviate some of the Hunter’s concerns.

“I imagine you’re quite nervous of the Vigil’s reaction when that Hunter awakes and tells them all,” Renaissance said gently, arching a brow inquisitively. She sipped from the steaming cup once again and blissfully sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.
“And whilst your worries are not unfounded,” Ren continued “This doesn’t mean the end for you, by any stretch. Perhaps this is a new beginning for you?”
Then, the vampire gestured elegantly with outstretched dainty hands and porcelain skin. She was gesturing to the Loft.
“You can stay here for as long as you’d like, whilst you establish a plan-“ A corrective clear of her throat and then, “Whilst we establish a plan.”

Lyselle was slowly drawn out of her inner frets after the woman had replied with her name — letting the stillness blanket the space between them until Ren finally spoke again. This time, the young huntress' attention was fully on her opposite, her gaze gliding along her skin, examining every inch she could make out as she listened. There was a particular wash of calmness that swayed over her, causing goosebumps to appear on her arms, as her eyes were drawn to the vampire's own — locking with a purposeful stare. It may have been the first time that Lys outwardly recognized the connection they shared, by whatever mysterious means it had come into existence.

“We…” she repeated softly, her eyes seeming to peer into the vampiress' soul — like Ren still had one. Lyselle let the word hang in the air for a while before letting out a slow exhale, closing her eyes, all in an attempt to send some sort of unspoken thank you along the string that tied them together. Her eyes fluttered back open a moment later as she continued to speak, “Thank you… Miss Ren… but may I—…” A pause as Lys let out a thoughtful hum. “I… sorry… I’m just not sure — what is this?” Lifting a hand up, she gestured between the both of them. “This… feeling — connection? I’ve never heard of anything like it. Even on the best of days, both of us should be… extremely alert of one another… but we both—… it feels like—… like we’ve met before. H-Have we?”

Even in the face of such uncertainty and fear of losing everything she knew, this connection somehow gave her comfort — the vampiress’ mere presence was enough for her to question everything the Vigil had taught her, every book she had read, every legend she had heard. Ren didn’t seem evil or blood-thirsty, but instead sat there calmly, as if the two had met at a book club and Lyselle had been invited over for tea — which in a sense, she had been. Everything inside her told her to be alert, to be protective of herself, to never trust anything that was born from the night… and yet even among her most familiar mentors, she had never felt this level of kinship with them. Clearly, it must have been the same for Ren — Lys noted easily how at ease the vampiress was around her, who was raised to hunt her kind, having even gone so far as to spare Delwyn simply because Lyselle had asked her to do so.

Although just a moment before Ren could reply, Lys added, “New beginning… I’m not even sure what that would look like… I grew up in the Vigil — was taught and trained since I was little. It’s all I’ve ever known and I just…” A light sigh slipped past her lips. “gave all that up. It’s funny how little I regret it too, if it meant you staying alive — though I’ve no idea where that urge comes from.”

“This… feeling — connection? I’ve never heard of anything like it. Even on the best of days, both of us should be… extremely alert of one another… but we both—… it feels like—… like we’ve met before. H-Have we?”

Ren watched the Huntress struggle to find the words, clearly just as bewildered by the unlikely bond formulating between the two of them. In her many years on the planet, Ren knew better than most that the universe had plans that weren’t always expected. These unforeseeable plot twists were like the Universes’ idea of a funny joke and Ren liked to imagine her sat somewhere secluded, laughing as she watched her plans unfold. The Universe would write in destinies that her subjects did not predict. They were her favourite plans. And there was no way this union was predictable nor common! The two of them, pitched against each other by their very nature of being, could never have predicted this. But Lyselle was right… What was this? A spiritual entanglement? A chink in the armour? A shooting star? Either way, it was utterly unprecedented and the ancient vampire shared Lyselle’s confusion. She was certain they hadn’t met before… Had they? How could they possibly? The only capacity in which they’d have crossed paths would be in a Vigil VS Vampire scenario, and Ren was adamant she wouldn’t have forgotten this astounding young slayer. So, the bond was responsible for this feeling, surely? A serendipitous sensation that tricked them into thinking they’d met before, in this life or another. Although Ren hadn’t experienced a deep connection in hundreds of years, she imagined this feeling is what humans would describe with wonder. They wrote songs about this feeling, they dreamt of this feeling. But what did it mean for Lyselle and Ren? Could their differences become their strengths? Could they find a way to discover exactly what was happening? Ren’s thoughts raced at a rate that she pressed a single digit to her temple and massaged gently. She exhaled slowly, letting the worrisome angle of her inner monologue flow from her. She needed to remain as clear minded as she could, and hypothesising wasn’t helping.

“New beginning… I’m not even sure what that would look like… I grew up in the Vigil — was taught and trained since I was little. It’s all I’ve ever known and I just…” Lyselle sighed, and Ren smelt the fresh mint on her breath as it crossed the small distance between the two leather sofas they were sat upon.
”It’s funny how little I regret it too, if it meant you staying alive — though I’ve no idea where that urge comes from.”

Renaissance nodded pensively. She’d held Lyselle’s intense gaze the entire time, watching her carefully. Not cautiously, but more as if she were viewing a work of art. Mounted proudly in a gold hilted frame in front of her, the art begged to be admired. Ren scanned her for every detail, every brush stroke, every varying shade. She admired the care with which her maker had taken to put Lyselle together. She had a soft, unassuming beauty that left Ren wishing for more time to analyse and adore. Like artwork, the huntress remained out of reach, just being. All those micro expressions; The bite of a lip, the furrow of a brow, the breathy barely-formed sentences that fell from her mouth… Ren noticed all of them. She smiled knowingly at Lys, continuing to nod in encouragement as she shared her honesty. At the mention of the Vigil, Ren let out a gentle “Mmmm” of empathy.

“I’m just as confused as you when it comes to ‘this’-“ Ren mentally tugged at the bond, demonstrating that the tether between their souls could be held, gripped and acknowledged in a different way to verbally. “In all my years of studying, I’ve not come across any documentation of this kind of connection. I’m sure it’s the Universe playing some sort of sick joke…” Ren laughed melodically, shaking her head and raising her shoulders as a sign of bafflement. The image of the Universe flashed before her again, sat at a writers desk, giggling as she wrote out their stories thinking to herself how very clever she was to unite a Vampire and Slayer by bond.

“I wish I could explain it. But all I can tell you is that I’ve never experienced anything like it-“ For this, Ren had leant forward to deepen their gaze. She set her elbows on her knees and placed her chin daintily in her upturned hands.

“Although I have no family to turn their back on me, I too have betrayed my very essence in inviting you here. Letting that Hunter live took everything within me, I had to exercise a self control I would never normally let in… And yet, I did, for you.” The ancient vampire accentuated that final sentence, determined to convey the intention behind her failure to kill. Did Lyselle have any idea how few victims had crossed her and lived? How even fewer had been allowed to live through Ren’s choice?

Ren wanted to align them both, to show Lys they were truly in this together. Whilst their lives were far apart, they seemingly shared the same destiny now and whatever differences they had before would have to be set aside to survive. There was no going back, not anymore. Ren would never know the peace of knowing the Loft was completely unknown to another soul, she couldn’t erase the glimmering stream of energy threading the two of them together and she certainly couldn’t undo laying eyes on the Huntress. She wouldn’t want to, either. This bond was the only feeling she’d experienced that could surpass her thirst. As that beating, vice grip of a connection tied them together, Ren felt no desire to sink her fangs into Lyselle’s throat. She didn’t wonder what her blood would taste like, filling her mouth with scarlet. Ren’s primal instincts were totally suppressed by Lyselle. Another astounding concept. A human whose blood had absolutely no appeal? Blood without desire? Another layer of uncharted territory, another unfamiliar landscape to be faced with. But Renaissance Le Sang was not someone to turn away from the possibility for new knowledge. She was determined to get to the bottom of this.

It was clear to anyone watching that the heavy gaze of Ren on her was flustering the huntress, her eyes flickering to the side a few times before looking back to see herself being admired. This young woman was obviously not used to being prized in such a way—praised and encouraged, yes, but not so keenly studied as though she were a beautifully carved marble statue.

Lyselle flinched slightly at feeling Ren pull at the cord before clearing her throat, trying to act as though she wasn’t surprised, but it was all she could manage under the vampiress’ watch. Hearing the laugh caught her off guard again—different than before—as she noted how genuine it sounded compared to a predator’s chuckle. It was musical even, forcing a smile to tug at the hunter’s lips. Then she watched the centuries-old woman lean forward—closer—and Lyselle felt a familiar warmth glow against her cheeks as she shifted, trying not to give away her deep-buried secret.

What was that secret? Deep inside her heart, Lyselle had once admitted to herself that the idea of teeth sinking into her neck could somehow be romantic, though she felt ever-ashamed of it. After all, vampires were evil and manipulating, and the Vigil taught whole classes on how they used charm to seduce victims. The mark she bore on her chest was meant to repel those very glamours, and she’d even trained on recognizing the feeling of influence washing over her—so she’d always know when to steel her mind and heart. Ren was decidedly not doing this, and yet her embarrassing thought still crossed her mind the moment Ren said for you.

There was something deeply alluring about hearing those words—like she had somehow become the center of this ancient vampiress’ world—and no matter how sinful it might’ve been, it caused her to grin slightly. Certainly enough for Ren to notice. Her thoughts of the Universe—like a small child playing with blocks, toying with fate to link them together—were rather amusing in their own right. Though calling it a sick joke felt too harsh to Lys, who instead wondered if it meant something more. These two were having a conversation, civilly, with no ill intent from either side—was this meant to bridge the gap? Were vampires no more evil than the hunters who pursued them with hate? The huntress had always wondered from whence the condition came, but it was older than even Ren, dating back millennia as far as she could guess.

Eventually she broke from her thoughts to refocus on the woman across from her, offering another small, shier smile.
“I guess we’re bound by some sort of fate—to figure this out. I… I appreciate you sparing his life. It’s true I haven’t ever seen a vampire spare… anyone… b-but I’m young still… and not even a fully ordained hunter.”
A quiet pause, then a short snicker.
“Probably won’t ever be, now. I’m… a heretic, maybe? Heh.”

A hand reached up to comb through her black hair sheepishly, twirling a strand around her finger.
“Who knows how long before I get used to that. Though I suppose there’s no use fighting it, is there? Even if I left…”

She bit her lower lip, thinking for several long moments, looking into Ren’s eyes.
“If I had the willpower to leave… my whole worldview has been shifted. I probably wouldn’t last long in the Vigil without pretending—or burying this feeling deep inside…”

An exhale slipped from her lips, her bewilderment painted clearly across her face—and it shivered down the string between them. Lyselle could hardly believe how honest she was being.

The Loft’s fireplace glowed amber with rich, orange flames licking at the firewood. The charcoal grey smoke slinked up the narrow chimney, out into the sky above them. Wafts of smouldering wood filled the Loft, mixing with the fading smell of fresh mint and that background smell of Ren’s favourite incense. She always lit the same one; Oud top notes with a baseline of leather. That earthy yet floral scent resided in the Loft even when the incense remained unlit.

Surrounding the Huntress and the ancient vampiress were the shelves upon shelves of literature Ren had collected. Undoubtedly, in many of them, there would be documentation stating exactly why the two of them being sat opposite, calmly on leather sofas, was exactly the opposite of their written destiny. But the Universe had other plans. And despite it all, despite all the books who watched on doubtfully, still they continued to gaze at one another curiously.

“I guess we’re bound by some sort of fate—to figure this out. I… I appreciate you sparing his life. It’s true I haven’t ever seen a vampire spare… anyone… b-but I’m young still… and not even a fully ordained hunter.”

Ren arched a brow at Lyselle’s honesty. She marvelled at the girls openness, her willingness to be vulnerable. Human nature, when faced with a Vampire, was to be guarded, alert and wary. Known for their manipulative tactics, vampires were approached with caution. But it was true, Ren disregarded her well-developed abilities to coerce and influence. With Lys, similar to her thirst, the desire had simply evaporated. That wired-in tendency to mould a humans’ mind, to mentally bribe them in whichever direction she so pleased, was dormant in Ren when faced with this particular human. Hunters were resistant to it, granted, but there were ways to dodge past the mental blockades the Hunters mark installed. For the vast majority of Vampires, that was enough to deter them. But with Ren’s years of experience, it was possible to barrage past the mental shield and infiltrate like an army anyway.

“Probably won’t ever be, now. I’m… a heretic, maybe? Heh.” Lyselle continued, her half-hearted chuckle made Ren echo the sentiment. Letting out a raspy chortle to match Lyselle’s, the vampire drained the cup of the fresh mint tea and set it to one side. Caressing her tongue over her pillowed lips, moistening them thoughtfully, Renaissance eyed Lyselle in contemplation.

“It can’t be anything but destiny,” she mused “This goes against everything we’ve both ever known… And yet neither of us have any intention to kill-“ Ren paused, shooting Lyselle a mischievous glance. “Unless I’m sat opposite an extremely powerful master manipulator, and you plan on running me a bubble bath of holy water?”
Ren’s purple-flecked piercing green eyes danced with challenge, that playful smirk still tugging at her lips. She watched as Lyselle ran a hand through her jet black hair and Ren resisted the urge that flowed through her to do the same. To reach out and intertwine her fingers in Lyselle’s flowing dark locks and discover how she felt between her fingers.

”Even if I left…” The Huntress trailed off pensively and Ren’s face reset. That mischievous half-smile had been replaced with a frown of concern. Their eyes locked, like a gun on its target, and for a beat or 2 they remained just like that: Opposite one another, each respectively diving into the pool of the others eyes. Ren would swim in them if she could, drown in them, even. The more time trickled by, the bond grew ever stronger. And now, there was something else that hummed beneath the thread that tied them. Something that was the most human Ren had felt in centuries.

“If I had the willpower to leave… my whole worldview has been shifted. I probably wouldn’t last long in the Vigil without pretending—or burying this feeling deep inside…”

Ren contemplated that sentiment for a moment. However distressing she found the idea of Lys leaving, straining that tie that now connected them both, they had to debate all options. Looking at a subject matter from all angles was an important academic prospect and one that Ren wholeheartedly believed it. In order to arrive at the “right” conclusion, you first had to ensure that all other possibilities were “wrong.” And at the mention of Lyselle returning to the Vigil, suppressing all they’d experienced in just a flicker of time, was not an outcome much desired by the vampire. Responding to the inner disdain of this possibility, Ren shuffled forward on her leather sofa.

Now, she was poised on the very edge, closing even more of the space between them. Elbows on her knees, Ren leant forward, arching her intricate spine. The vampire was now so close she could see very clearly the most minute of details on Lyselle’s face. The lines of laughter etched in her skin, the slightly darkened under eyes, hints of barely-visible peach-like hair on her cheeks. She was so close that the heart beating in Lyselle’s chest was like a sturdy baseline in Ren’s ears. She could hear the heart working to pump all that blood around the body, quickening at their proximity.

“Lyselle,” Ren began softly, letting her tongue embrace the lettering of the name, voice cracking with her vocal fry. “You will never be my prisoner- In any sense of the word. This means you are, unconditionally, free to leave. I won’t stop you. I won’t pursue you. I will simply let you go back to your own life, as it is or as it was, without a fight.” The ancient vampire, after analysing Lyselle’s face whilst she spoke, slowly raised her slender hand. She moved it, carefully, towards Lyselle. Then, like handling a precious stone, she took Lyselle’s hand in hers. As their skin collided, the warmth of human flesh pressed against the cool, smooth skin of a vampire, Ren’s eyes fluttered in bliss. She held up Lyselle’s hand, inspecting it with softened eyes, taking in every detail. The rough palms from combat training, the threat of callouses on her fingers, the beautifully silky skin on the exterior… The bond filled to the brim with a warm, glowing energy. It was responding to their physical touch. Opening the door, letting that warm feeling flood in, Ren fixated her gaze back to Lyselle.

“But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be disappointed to watch you go…” she half-whispered. Bond pulsating with excitement at their touch, Ren began gently circling Lyselle’s palm with her thumb. In slow, calming movements, her thumb went round and round as she opened her mouth to say, “Just stay, for now, and let us figure out why you’ve become my destiny.”

A note of amusement sparked across her facial features at Ren’s jest—clearly showing she was not only open to the playfulness, but that there might be more than one might first assume. Her eyes sparkled impishly, and the fullness of their earthy color became even more apparent. Still, she shifted and spoke, finding that her mind was running quicker than her humor at the moment, her thoughts touching on the idea of leaving. In some sense, she wished she could go back in time already. It was all much more simple before tonight—before this fate that had been put into play for her—where vampires were evil and that was that. But she already knew it was too late to turn back the clock, and another part of her begged her never to do so, if it were ever possible.

As always, her attention snapped to Ren the moment she felt and sensed movement—especially as the vampire got closer. Lyselle’s lips parted lightly as she froze in place. It wasn’t fear that glued her to the seat, but something more divine and sweet, causing her eyes to widen slightly—flashes of daydreams, of romance, of finding peace, all flickering through her mind. Then she heard it: she was not a prisoner, she was free to leave, and she would not be pursued. No matter that Lyselle had already known this somehow—hearing it aloud still brought a sense of comfort and safety. Ren was probably well aware of that, perhaps even counting on it.

In the moment after, as she tried to find words, the vampire’s touch awoke another storm of silence, one that nearly drew all her breath away. Lyselle could do nothing but gawk at her bonded companion. The circling of Ren’s thumb was like the winds of a hurricane, the energy of their shared fate brimming like the shining sun itself, and the huntress could do nothing but let it happen—wanted nothing more than to let it happen.

“I—…”

She tried to speak, only to feel her throat tighten, her nerves flaring with lightning at feelings she had only ever imagined. It was one thing to fantasize about moments like this—it was another to sit face-to-face with their reality.

She was silent for a good while, her eyes drinking in everything about Ren—notably with her so close. Those beautifully mismatched eyes, porcelain skin, matching raven hair, plump lips, alluring curves… gods, the amount of men or women Ren must’ve been able to seduce was probably staggering, with how stunning the vampire was, Lyselle thought. The huntress didn’t even know what she would do with herself if Ren got any closer; the only sure thing she knew was that her face felt extremely hot right now, and she had no doubt her cheeks were fully flushed. To top it all off, she was being asked to stay—not for study or instruction or duty, but because Ren wanted her company. That very notion sent a shiver down her spine, and she looked away purely out of embarrassment.

“I d-didn’t plan on leaving.” Lyselle finally squeaked out, making sure Ren knew she didn’t plan on pulling away. That circling digit on her palm was causing so much chaos—but the warm, heart-stirring kind.

“... S-sorry… for making you w-worry… I was only… thinking… processing… everything… but I’m… not going anywhere. H-how could I? E-even as nervous as I am about this… being so new and foreign… I c-can’t walk away any more than you can… Miss Ren…”

“I d-didn’t plan on leaving.”

Renaissance was experiencing somewhat of a sensory overload; Lyselle’s heart was beating at such a pace and with such ferocity that it created a bass-heavy backing track to their synchronised unravelling. Her veins, rising to the surface to cool her body that was steadily increasing in temperature, were exuding her signature perfumed blood scent that Ren found hypnotic. The Huntress’ velvet skin gave way beneath Ren’s entrancing, caressing thumb. The peppering of rosiness across Lyselle’s cheeks triggered an involuntary smile of hunger from the vampire. Indeed, this was an all-consuming experience for the senses.

Whilst the humans blood incited no real thirst in the ancient vampire, the same could not be said for her weakness for Lyselle’s desire. It swarmed the bond, filling Ren with both her own overwhelming needs and Lyselle’s. The combination of both their emotions was almost too much to bear. She reeled from the all-consuming tidal wave the two of them were creating. It was a perfect storm; Clouding their judgment, thunderous yearning, lightning igniting, a downpour of realisation… They’d, unbeknownst to the pair of them, created something that was utter emotional chaos. And Ren, always a pillar of strength, was succumbing to all of it.

“Well, that’s good to know…” Ren breathed, her voice sounding somehow far away.

“... S-sorry… for making you w-worry… I was only… thinking… processing… everything… but I’m… not going anywhere. H-how could I? E-even as nervous as I am about this… being so new and foreign… I c-can’t walk away any more than you can… Miss Ren…”

Renaissance found the humans loss for words endearing. She cocked her head, lifted her perfectly preened brows, and felt her pupils dilate fully.

This was unbearable.

Feeling forced to do something, anything, to get off this emotional rollercoaster, Renaissance Le Sang stood suddenly. She let Lyselle’s hand gently fall from her grasp and separating herself physically from Lys seemed to dampen the bond’s aggressive channelling of blood-curdling desire. She hated to turn her back on this feeling, albeit briefly, but the ancient vampire hadn’t fed in far too long and it made her feel weak. Come to think of it, she could barely remember when she last filled herself with the red elixir she needed so badly to “live.”

“Lyselle,” Ren purred, loving the way her name tasted in her mouth. ”First of all, enough with the ‘Miss Ren’ - It makes me feel old” She chuckled at her own joke, punctuating it with a gentle lift of Lyselle’s delicate chin. Stood over the Huntress now, Ren let her waterfall of thick, black hair fall forward over her angular face. She was looking down at Lys, enjoying this feeling of towering over her for a moment. But she wanted to explain her sudden detachment.

“Seondly, it’s simply impossible for me to endure these feelings I have towards you on an empty stomach…” Ren sighed, her eyes lifting to the Loft windows as if a meal would suddenly present itself before her. That would save her having to leave, save her having to be away from Lyselle for any longer than a few moments. “Do you know what feelings I’m referring to?” she asked hungrily, angling her gaze back to the Huntress. “Every fibre of my being is telling me I need to be close to you. And even then, I doubt that would be close enough. My body is screaming at me, begging me to cave in…” Another short sigh, followed by the unsheathing of her talon as if to accentuate her hunger. “But I need to feed. Pretty imminently.”

The cold early hours of the morning were calling her name. In a couple hours, the sun would begin to rise and Renaissance wouldn’t risk feeding in daylight. She knew she didn’t have to travel far, but far enough so as not to leave a trail of any kind back to the Loft. Feeding would be more complicated, now that a merciless Hunter was not only aware of her existence but had been sleeping worryingly close to her home.
So, she’d have to be calculated about where she sourced her next meal. At the thought of quenching her thirst, Ren’s fangs protruded. Her talon was at her side, readied. Her pupils already consuming her once bright green eyes.

“You’ll be safe here whilst I deal with my urges, Lyselle” Ren’s voice changed when in this hunting state, it had a hissed accent to it. Almost serpentine. “And then I’ll be back to deal with my other urges.”

It almost felt like the bond between them was about to explode with feelings Lyselle could only imagine in her wildest dreams—until the connection suddenly muted. Her gaze flicked upward to look at the vampire now standing over her. It was a strange myriad of sensations: their thread dulled, yet something incredibly enticing about seeing Ren tower above her remained—a confusing urge to almost sink to her knees, as if this ancient vampire were some dark goddess. That thought alone brought another flush to her rosy cheeks, and she swallowed gently, afraid Ren might notice.

“First of all, enough with the ‘Miss Ren’—it makes me feel old.”
The comment pushed a light laugh from the huntress as she glanced down, right before she felt the soft touch on her chin guiding her gaze back up. Lyselle wondered quietly to herself what this feeling was—infatuation, the start of genuine emotion, or some sort of star-crossed love the universe itself demanded?

“Secondly, it’s simply impossible for me to endure these feelings I have toward you on an empty stomach… Do you know what feelings I’m referring to? Every fiber of my being is telling me I need to be close to you. And even then, I doubt that would be close enough. My body is screaming at me, begging me to cave in…”

Almost instinctively, Lys reached her hand out—then stopped herself just shy of touching Ren’s. A breath caught in her throat, making it difficult to speak at first before she swallowed and nodded lightly.

“I do…”

Renaissance had so easily found the words she herself struggled with—words she couldn’t deny. Lyselle didn’t understand it, didn’t know what to make of it, but there was a gravity to the vampiress she felt powerless to fight.

“But I need to feed. Pretty imminently.”

The more familiar sight returned: the shift in her eyes, the lengthening fangs, the single sharpened talon.
“You’ll be safe here whilst I deal with my urges, Lyselle.”
That serpentine hiss in Ren’s voice should have chilled her to the bone.

“And then I’ll be back to deal with my other urges.”

Of everything this night had brought, Lyselle’s reaction to that shift was the most surprising. Her eyes widened slightly as she nodded.

Before she could process it fully, she hurried out:

“Try not to… kill. I know it’s asking a lot and—if you do, it’s… fine… just—try… please…”

Anyone else would think her mad for saying such a thing—and Lyselle didn’t even know why she did. Only that she had never harbored the hatred of other hunters, and she never liked seeing people die when it could be helped. Maybe that kindness was reason enough.

When Ren answered, Lys offered a small smile to see her off—watching the ancient being almost float out of the apartment with a grace befitting her kind.

Left alone, she inhaled the mingled scents of flowers, oil, and ash, letting it steady the confusion that had swept through her. Closing her eyes, she recalled Renaissance’s transformation—and couldn’t help but think how hauntingly beautiful she was, even with darkened eyes and bared fangs. Had she had crushes among the Vigil before? Of course. She’d even dated a few. But she had never been so open with them as she had already been with Ren, and thus nothing had lasted longer than half a dozen months. And there had been pretty women, certainly… but none, fictional or real, compared to the vampire she now felt bound to.

A small click of her tongue betrayed how ridiculous it was—finding a hungry vampire gorgeous.

Letting out a sigh, she slowly leaned back into the couch, finally recognizing how tired she felt. Excitement had carried her far into bliss, some of which lingered still, but her body tugged at her to rest. She let herself sink into the cushions, head on a pillow, staring at the old tomes and lush plants as she drifted. Her mind ran through the day—Rhyland’s death, Ren’s arrival, their bond, their choices—over and over…
…until everything faded to black.

Renaissance’s wings beat in beautiful synergy through the midnight blue sky. She flew, with predatory accuracy, through the shrouds of clouds. Black hair pulled back into a bun for practicality, Ren squinted as wisps of escapee locks whipped in her face. She was moving fast, Belle View far behind her. Flight always served as a great way to clear the mind. It brought perspective, being so far above ground. Flying normally brought Ren a peaceful mental clarity. But now, every thought lead back to Lyselle. The huntress, like water, seeped into every mental gap and filled it to the brim. The residual electricity from their chemistry buzzed through her every fibre, humming gently as a reminder of what she’d left behind.

_______________________________

Hunting was art with a practical theme. It was essential, for survival, to feed. But there was something artful about the expert kill of a vampire. Renaissance had done this dance many times. So many times, in fact, that it had all become second nature. Often subconscious. Tonight was no different, the ancient vampires thirst had firmly taken ahold by now and it drove her hungrily onward. Once she’d surpassed a few towns, putting a healthy distance between herself and Belle View, Ren brought her wings inward to guide herself towards the town below. Roofs of buildings came clearer and clearer into view, tree lines fast approaching and the scent of fresh, warm blood was riding the breeze. Flaring her nostrils, Ren picked through the varying streams of scent, mentally filtering each one to decide which appealed to her most. Younger vampires lacked the restraint to be so choosy. They would simply smell, kill. But Renaissance had a taste acquired from many years of feeding on humans. She knew what fulfilled her most. It was the honeyed profile of a healthy, young woman. They tasted the best. Ren let out a low growl as a scent passed her by with a tempting golden bouquet.

Innocent humans lay sleeping in the surrounding houses; Families, elderly, students… All unsuspecting that an ancient evil being circled above their rooftops. Following the trail, Ren hovered above the house where the scent had lead her back to. Analysing the red brick house, the hungry predator assessed her entry points. She tapped into her supernatural intuition, establishing that her desired victim was fast asleep. She also could feel that this particular woman’s mind was easily manipulated. This was essential. Vampires required permission to pass thresholds and not even the most idiotic human would willingly let her in without a little coercion. Reassured that she could enter mostly discreetly, Ren approached the bedroom window. The woman had butter yellow curtains, only half drawn, and a double bed atop a fluffy rug. The bedroom looked cosy, well decorated and tidy. Save for presumably yesterday’s clothes at the foot of the bed, the room was clean. This bodes well. It implies the human takes care of herself. Must be why her blood has such a clarity to its scent. A swift knock awoke the sleeping woman, whose face was angelically beautiful in slumber. Her eyes fluttered open and immediately observed Ren’s flying frame in her window. They widened in disbelief, clearly debating whether the floating winged creature just outside her bedroom was real or a nightmare. Renaissance tapped into her manipulation and infiltrated the woman’s mind. It was, as predicted, worryingly easy to gain access to her thoughts. She was open, kind. It took a simple gentle push and Ren imbedded herself within the humans psyche, quickly eradicating any fear or surprise. Cortisol polluted the bloodstream, made them taste sour. She watched the human’s facial expressions neutralise, as if brain washed. And she slowly left her bed, padding bare foot to the bedroom window. The night was silent save for the beat of Ren’s wings as she remained stationary, awaiting her invite.

Lauren…

Her victims name entered her mind as she continued to manipulate the humans control board. Like a complicated control room to a space ship, meddling with minds is a series of buttons, gages, switches and dials. With speed, Ren worked her way through Lauren’s mind until she had her Will gripped tightly in a mental stronghold.

“Invite me in,” came the instructional hiss. Using the Voice was always used in tandem with mental manipulation. It was to be used sparingly, as it consumed so much energy, but it was potent in power. Ren, still camping in Lauren’s mind, felt her instruction enter the humans brain. Quickly, she disparaged any doubt or confusion as to why she might do this, then pushed Lauren to obey. This part didn’t always go to plan, some human minds were less susceptible to influence. Manipulation didn’t work on everyone and the Voice couldn’t be used in isolation. It’s the combination of both mental corrosion and the Voice that really bends a human to a vampires will.

Lauren, dressed in her silk pyjamas and bed hair, unlatched the window with a satisfying “CLICK.”
She pushed it open, the window swinging to accept her unwanted guest. Lauren’s neutral, gormless expression remained over her face as she said,
“Come in.”

___________________________

The humans bed was warm and soft, her body heat still haunting the mattress where she’d once laid sleeping moments ago. Renaissance Le Sang was careful not to spill a single drop as she gently parted Lauren’s blonde hair from her neck, exposing that beautiful, soft, penetrable neck. The ancient vampire’s rumble of a growl broke the silence in the bedroom as she lifted that singular lethal talon into the air before sliding it across the jugular held in her arm. The talon grazed the skin like a figure skater on ice, slicing and sliding in an elegant singular movement. As soon as the skin parted and blood began to ooze from the wound, Ren pressed her lips to the humans neck and drank hungrily. The warmth of that honeyed blood filled her mouth, careered down her throat and filled her stomach. Metallic but sweet, the blood whetted her appetite quickly and she watched Lauren slip gently back into sleep as her blood was drained by the Ancient Vampire. The quench of thirst was a satisfaction unknown to anyone but a vampire. It was the kind of relief that a warm shower gives you after a long, hard winters day. Or perhaps the after-glow of multiple orgasms. That is the serenity and release that feeding gives a vampire. It quietens the hungry frenzy that busies the vampire brain and instantly unwinds the tightly knotted pangs that plague their muscles. Ren let out a quivering moan as the continued to swallow down mouthful after mouthful of Lauren’s warming blood. Then, a voice pierced through her mind like an electric shock:

“Try not to… kill. I know it’s asking a lot and—if you do, it’s… fine… just—try… please…”

As Renaissance Le Sang, Ancient Vampire, exited the still open bedroom window of her latest victim, she looked back over her shoulder. There lay Lauren, her body crumpled and hair splayed out around her like a floral arrangement. The humans limbs hung at awkward angles, one of her arms drooping over the edge of the bed. But Ren could see the humans chest rising and falling with every inhale exhale.

Lyselle had wayward dreams and dark nightmares like any mortal, though she experienced the latter far more often. So when she drifted into sleep, she expected nothing different. Yet what she found in the deep recesses of her mind was wholly new—like mixing the ice-white of a dream with the storm-grey of a nightmare, somehow both and neither at the same time. A sense of safety washed over her just as strongly as a strange longing in the pit of her stomach, somewhere she felt both grounded and yet flying through dense darkness, where the melodies of an eerie piano hummed all around her.

As the images began to stitch themselves together, a shadow of a woman with large wings emerged, carrying them both through the skies, the howl of wind roaring in her ears. Then—like a skipped heartbeat—it shifted to a room she did not recognize in the least: yellow curtains, clothing on the floor, a neat bed, a window, the shadow, and a young woman. Everything else was a blur in this ghostly theatre play. She watched in morbid wonder as the shadow whispered into the mind of this stranger, and suddenly a name snapped to the forefront of her consciousness—Lauren.

Oh, how easy it was to slip into her mind, to urge her to obey, to come closer, to invite her in, to feed…

Realization struck like lightning—she was the shadow now.

How horrifyingly tempting it felt to be here, floating as she watched the woman unlatch the window, unable to stop herself from commanding the young woman, only to hear those sweet words:

"Come in."

She wasted no time, landing softly as she sliced a finger across the human’s neck, crimson drowning out all other color. Before she could help herself, her lips were at the wound. She could taste it—like the finest wine with a metallic afterbite that begged her to have more. Her stomach purred, her whole body untying itself as if it had been knotted head to toe, and a sense of quietness hummed in her ears. Had she not been drinking, she would have sighed in relief.

Again the performance shifted. She heard herself moan softly, her vision lifting toward the ceiling. Somehow she still sensed the stillness that blood gave, but she was no longer the one drinking. No—now she was watching Renaissance consume her blood, as though she had been the human the whole time. She couldn’t make out Ren’s eyes, but she knew the feeling sinking into the vampiress’ stomach.

And gods… she felt herself flush at the idea of being the one to provide it. She bit her lip gently, allowing herself this one fantasy, locked safely in her dreams.

Only when she heard herself speak did the enchantment break:

“Try not to… kill. I know it’s asking a lot and—if you do, it’s… fine… just—try… please…”

A heartbeat—and she was outside again, watching Renaissance look down at the woman, somehow acutely aware that she was still breathing.

Was this happening while she slept?
Did their bond truly have such strength?

This felt beyond two souls resonating. This felt mystical—an unknown magic neither of them had words for. She had so little time to adjust, but what choice did she have? The thread that tied them now felt impossible to sever.

Time had no meaning in dreamspace, so when she turned and saw herself lying on the couch, and Ren’s shadow slipping back into the apartment, she was not surprised. What did surprise her was the weight of feeling Ren close again—the gravity of her presence returning to the Loft.

Despite her emotionally charged sleep, she couldn’t help but smile. She was truly happy to feel Ren nearby again.
So much so that when Ren drew closer in the waking world, Lyselle began to smile there too.

The front door of the Loft clicked open at Renaissance’s return. As if a porter were on the other side, the door swung open and the ancient vampire returned to her lair. The incense had long since stopped burning, but that oud fragrance greeted her with open arms. The logs on the fire had dulled to glowing embers. But before she barely took a breath, Ren’s eyes searched for Lyselle. Despite knowing the Huntress would be perfectly safe in the Loft, she had to be sure.

There she was.

Ren was again met with the astonishment that there was a human, a Huntress, in her home. And it felt completely and utterly unnaturally natural. A whole concoction of contractions; Comfortable but unconventional. Lyselle’s understated beautiful smile greeted her and the Ancient Vampire gently kicked the door shut behind her.

The bond vibrated with tension, that golden warm feeling coursing down the thread like liquid gold. Their eyes locked and Renaissance let out a bracing sigh. She rolled her shoulders, readying to be reinitiated into the bottomless pool of emotion that the two of them dived into when in each others company.

The vampire stayed at the door for a moment, allowing the sofa to act as a physical barrier between them. A feeble attempt to somewhat dilute the bonds power, the sofa did nothing to put a break in the energy flowing between them.

Freshly fed and now operating at her peak, Ren mentally took hold of the bond and tried to slow the fusing power. It hummed like a live electric current, trying to push imagery into Ren’s minds eye. Curious, she allowed the current to flow once again, and was presented with Lyselle’s thoughts whilst she’d been out hunting. Lyselle had been asleep, but whilst she was sleeping the bond had granted her access to Ren’s viewpoint. How was that even possible? Neither of them had clairvoyance or anything similar… The only explanation could be the bond itself. At the realisation that Lyselle may have witnessed Ren feeding, part of her twinged with something similar to shame.

‘How had that made Lys feel, witnessing Ren feeding on a human? On her own kind?’
‘Did this change the way she felt? Had it dawned on her that perhaps it was safer for her to leave?’
‘Did she know the human was still alive? That Ren had obeyed her wishes?’
‘Had her Hunter instinct kicked in? Had she decided to put an end to the Ancient Vampire?’

The bond went quiet, ironically unanswering when faced with Ren’s questions. She turned her gaze back to Lyselle, fixing her face with a welcoming smile.

“Huntress,” Ren greeted, bowing mockingly with a mischievous smile. ”You’re still here…”
She reached up a hand and untied her hair, letting it fall freely around her shoulders. Massaging her head, enjoying the sensation of her hair being out of a bun, Ren realised now that she had fed… All she wanted to do was consume Lyselle.

No, not in that way. Not actually. Emotionally.

She wanted to pick her brains, tell her to lay her life out on the floor of the Loft and let them rifle through it all together. She wanted to know about her most embarrassing moment, the last time she’d cried, her opinion on capitalism… All of it. How long would it take Renaissance to devour all of Lyselle’s very being, inside out? Would it be days? Weeks? Months? She didn’t care. The vampire had time… Plenty of it. For all the years Ren had wasted not knowing this feeling, all the time she’d lived without someone bonded to her… It all felt half-lived, half-imagined. What had love been all this time if it wasn’t this? Because surely there could be no feeling more powerful than love? Ren had felt love before. A version of it pale in comparison to what she shared with Lyselle, but love nonetheless! Could that even be possible if this is what it was supposed to be like?

Compelled by her thoughts, Ren sped across the room to face her Huntress. Thanks to her recent feed, her movement speed was back to its normal rate. Vampires moved quickly, swiftly. Lyselle would’ve seen a blur for a brief moment before being faced, closely, by her Ancient Vampire. The bond sung at their proximity, but Renaissance kept a hold of it like the reigns of a stallion. With a little more control over it, she stopped it consuming them both as it had earlier. Turns out it can be handled, somewhat, if Ren’s at her usual strength. Her chest was rising and falling at a quickened pace, her breaths narrow and short. Standing around a head or so taller than Lyselle, Ren angled her head downward to bring their noses almost tip to tip.

Ren was so close to Lyselle, their breath became one. Once again, she marvelled at the Huntress’ beauty. She couldn’t believe how meticulously the human had been put together. So much so, she wanted to thank the parents. Ren’s thick, feathered lashes fluttered as she blinked slowly, her lids lowered slightly in a smouldering look that said exactly what Ren wished to do. The bond pulsed again and she let it, let it fill them both with the feelings ignited by their reunion.

“Did you dream of me whilst I was gone?” Ren whispered with an edge of mischief, her voice thick with desire as she arched an eyebrow knowingly. She clicked her tongue, shaking her head flirtatiously. “I can’t decide if this bond is the best thing to happen to us or the worst exposure of all our supposedly private thoughts…” The sudden appearance of an image took Ren by surprise. It was a mental image of the two of them, bodies intertwined, locked in a passionate embrace. The image lit up in Ren’s mind like a beacon, engulfing every thought around it. That image flew down the bond and the Vampire ran her tongue over her bottom lip, whetting the surface. This was her, metaphorically, buckling in.

Eyes fluttered open just in time to see the picture of her shadowy protector standing at the door, staring at her with an intensity she didn’t even know Renaissance possessed. The warmth of the dream still clung to her skin like phantom fingertips, and Lyselle wasn’t sure where the dream ended and Ren’s presence began. A smile kept to her lips, unable to do anything else, and it was as if the entire room suddenly flooded with color. She had never realized how dull everything seemed before — how grey, how lifeless — and the irony that a vampire was the one stirring such a reaction was not lost on her.

She murmured silently to herself about how she could look at Ren for hours and never tire of the sight… right as she felt the bond being tugged. A curious expression crossed her face — what was Ren looking for?

Then the bond pulled, dragging images and half-formed memories from her dreams and sending them straight into the vampiress. Lyselle half-gasped at how alive the bond seemed, as if it had its own hunger. She bit her lip gently. Ren might have felt a tinge of shame — and Lyselle empathized — but how could she ever fault someone for feeding? In truth, she was grateful for the glimpse into what it was like for the ancient. It made Ren easier to understand, easier to see as a whole rather than as a monster. Lys never saw that as a weakness.

“Huntress… You’re still here…”

Reaching out slowly, Ren spoke first, giving Lyselle no chance to reassure her. The huntress offered a small, playful smile.
“Where else would I be? Where else would I... want... to be?”

She groaned internally, looking away — gods, it was impossible to not be honest with this dark guardian. A huff slipped out as she mentally complained about how bothersome this golden string of fate could be, especially when she’d grown so used to burying every emotion deep inside her soul. And yet… paired with the frustration was a strange relief. A weight lifted. A freedom she had never once felt in the Vigil’s suffocating hallways.

Her gaze returned to Renaissance — and she could feel the bond humming, plucking at itself, whispering desires. Ren wanted to know her — truly know her — every fear, every joy, every vulnerable shard of her. Lyselle’s vision blurred with forming tears. Gods, how long had she waited for someone to really see her? Not the Huntress. Not the prodigy. Not the burden. Her.

She chuckled shakily as she realized she wanted to know everything about Ren just as badly — but from a different place. Not hunger. Not thirst. But a need buried so deep in her heart it scared her. She wanted to please the vampire. To make her proud.

Then she blinked — and Ren was suddenly inches away.

Her heart jumped into her throat, a soft gasp escaping her as breath became something shared. Even without the bond flaring, Lyselle found herself frozen, flustered beyond reason. Ren leaned closer — so close Lyselle could smell the faint trace of another woman’s blood on her breath. One might expect revulsion — but it did nothing of the sort. If anything, it added weight to the moment. Like their breaths had become a single, heavy thread binding them together.

Ren’s mismatched eyes narrowed purposefully.

‘f–fuck… th-this is really happening!’

The thought shrieked down the bond, impossible to hide.

Lyselle was grateful the vampire maintained control of the bond’s brightness — because she certainly couldn’t right now.

“Did you dream of me whilst I was gone?”

Her knees nearly buckled. A small, involuntary whine broke free. Surely Ren could hear her heart trying to escape her ribcage.

“I can’t decide if this bond is the best thing to happen to us or the worst exposure of all our supposedly private thoughts…”

"I-…"

The image that shot into her mind made her eyes widen dramatically.

“I d-didn’t—”

She tried to lie — but the bond betrayed her instantly.
Her pulse spiked. Adrenaline roared. Her own mind screamed another image into the connection:

The sting of fangs at her neck.
Wet lips sealing around the wound.
Heat. Breath. Pleasure.
Bodies entwined.
Kisses stained with blood.
A shuddering release shared between them.

Her imagination betrayed her spectacularly — and Ren would feel every flicker of it.

Her pulse stuttered, then quickened wildly, the sound of it filling her own ears until all she could hear was the frantic drumbeat begging for release. Her body leaned forward before she even realized she’d moved — a tiny, helpless shift, barely an inch, but enough that their noses almost brushed. Enough that the bond hissed with approval, a bright, hungry flare that sang between them like a struck chord.

'I shouldn’t want this…'
But she did.
Oh, she did.

Her fingers curled against her thighs, fighting the instinct — ancient, primal, utterly foreign to her — telling her to bare her throat, to offer, to trust. It was ridiculous. Dangerous. Unthinkable. And still her chin tilted up the smallest degree, a silent, trembling surrender she didn’t consciously choose.

The look in Ren’s eyes told her the vampire noticed anyway.

“I could look at Ren for hours and never tire of the sight…”

Lyselle’s soft, dulcet tones tinkered down the bond, her inner voice coming to life in Renaissance’s mind. The sentiment sent a shiver down the Vampire’s spine as she revelled in Lyselle’s admiration. To be seen, by her, was like light after dark. She was suddenly struck by the realisation that she wanted to be everything this human needed her to be. Whatever that was, she’d simply be it. She felt the gentle caress of reassurance that all of her own paranoia, her worry that seeing her feed was undesirable, was ready to be discarded. She could set aside that passing feeling of weakness, of insecurity that her very essence and instinct that she couldn’t help, may deter this beautiful Human from staying.

“Where else would I be? Where else would I... want... to be?” This time, Lyselle’s reassurance came out loud. A voice as soft as morning dew on glass, it crept up Ren’s arms and left goosebumps in its wake. There was something so beautifully grounding about this humans demure demeanour; The way she spoke softly, hesitantly, as if she was never quite sure what words were going to follow one another. The way she let out little sighs between sentiments, carefully feeling them out like wrapped gifts at Christmas.

Tears rippled in Lyselle’s eyes. There was no trace of sadness in the bond, but it compelled Renaissance nonetheless. She broke their physical silence by placing both hands either side of Lyselle’s dainty face. Cradling her cheeks in each palm, Ren looked on at her bonded human with an almost maternal adoration. To feel so touched by this feeling that it summoned tears was another example of this Huntress’ sweet nature. And it stirred a protective instinct in the vampire that made her want to wrap her up and keep her right behind her rib cage where her heart used to beat.

“I d-didn’t—”

The denial was not of the dream. No, Ren knew that she’d entered Lyselle’s subconscious and played there for a while. She didn’t need to confirm nor deny that… This was a denial of something else, something she couldn’t quite vocalise. As if encouraging her to keep talking, Ren gently caressed Lyselle’s cheekbones with her thumbs. Both of them softly brushing either side of her face, in sync, like soothing a newborn.

And then, it shifted again. Like the strike of a match, a flame of adrenaline lit the bond. And as if it were following a winding trail of fuel, the spark ignited and began travelling down the bond in a hot, desperate plea.

The sting of fangs at her neck.
Wet lips sealing around the wound.
Heat. Breath. Pleasure.
Bodies entwined.
Kisses stained with blood.
A shuddering release shared between them.

An involuntary low, animalistic growl rumbled in Renaissance’s throat. Simultaneously, she heard Lyselle whine at the thought. The bond, by now, was up in flames. They caught the curtains, climbed up to the rooftop and engulfed the Loft in a passionate blaze. The heat that filled them both was enough to relight the fire that had now dulled to smokey ash in the Loft fireplace and Renaissance closed her eyes to submit to it all. She let it wash over her, from head to toe, making her heavy with longing. Her knees felt laden with the responsibility of holding her upright, threatening to give out if she held back much longer. And when Lyselle leant forward, her body also beginning to waiver with the pressures of restraint, that was all the permission Ren needed.

Chin tilted, the Huntress offered her jugular in the most subtle signal. The Ancient, taken by the familiarity of this stance, one that typically ended with blood passing her lips, instead succumbed to a different hunger this time. She craned her neck, leant in, her dark curls falling to frame her face… And pressed her plump, slick lips against Lyselle’s exposed neck. As Ren’s lips connected with the Human’s skin, the bond was ablaze with a ferocious roar. She pressed them harder, deeper into the kiss, inhaling Lyselle’s scent. The smell of her flesh, rosy and floral with residual perfume, flooded the Vampire’s flared nostrils. Another thunderous growl reverberated in the vampire’s throat as she pulled Lyselle’s face closer to her still. Deepening the angle, Ren moved one hand to the back of Lyselle’s head, fingers threading through her feather-soft hair. She pulled her closer again, closing that gap between their bodies.

At every point, they were touching. Knee to knee, hips to hips, stomach to stomach, chest to chest. So close they became one, curved together like the letter “S.” Ren’s lips gently worked into another kiss on the Huntress’ neck, this time further towards her angular jaw. She enjoyed the differing textures of Lyselle’s skin, thinner and more vulnerable here than her fleshy neck. That tempting scent of blood pulsing just beneath the surface made Ren’s tongue gently slide from between her lips. She placed it against the humans skin, tastebuds erupting with Lyselle’s signature scent and a hint of salt from sweat. Trailing her tongue up, up to the Huntress’ ear lobe, her fangs shot from her gums. The sharp points of her fangs dragged along the skin’s surface, not enough to break through, but enough to leave a trail of pressure in their wake. Suckling gently, slowly on Lyselle’s lobe, Renaissance let out a desperate moan of pleasure.

“You must tell me when it’s time for me to stop,” she growled, her voice muffled and husked against Lyselle’s skin. Frankly, she wondered if that were even possible. Stopping now, dousing this raging fire that consumed them, seemed like an impossible task. But if they didn’t put an end to this here and now, what did that mean for them? Though they felt far from it, they were strangers to one another. Despite their bodies seeming to know each other already, the touches feeling hauntingly familiar, Ren knew this was fast heading into different territory. As soon as the vampires lips pressed into a kiss right here on Lyselle’s neck, their relationship had shifted once again. She lifted her mouth a breath away from the human’s skin, hovering it just out of reach. Her ragged breaths brushed against Lyselle’s ear, quicker and more desperate than before.

“Everything in me wants to know you, Lyselle,” Renaissance Le Sang whispered, her lips tickling the edges of the Huntress’ outer ear. And then, like she’d asked so many times at the entryway of her victims doors, she hissed… “Let me in…”

She was almost lost to reason the moment she felt her admirer’s moist lips press against her skin, sending a violent shudder down her spine as the feeling of surrender showered the woman. Despite her body telling her that the flesh brushing hers was cold, all she could feel was heat everywhere Ren touched—striking like a scalding iron that burned away fears and doubts. The rumble that followed from her lover was something primal and demanding, as the hunter’s body became like a puppet, bending and folding however the vampire wished, hands reaching out to grip and pull at anything they could find—clothing, hair, skin—it mattered not.

Like gravity she was pulled again, this time into a vampire’s embrace, the excitement of their closeness rippling through Lys’ body like stormy seas. She was lost to the passion as sensations mixed like colors in a painting, not even sure she could tell where the kisses ended and the licking began, though one thing stuck out like the blackness of night in her mind—the gentle pressing of canines against her skin, forcing a faint whimper from her lips. She was sure she had never felt something so alive.

“You must tell me when it’s time for me to stop.”

If it hadn’t been for the low growl against her ear, she would have laughed—both because of how all this made her feel but also because it sounded absurd. That wasn’t even a thought she could conceive, let alone say aloud. She had buried this fantasy deep into the earth of her being, and now it had been unearthed and laid bare in its raw form. There was no turning back, only trying to cover it with a shallower grave.

It was more than that, of course—because of the bond that lit the room like a roaring blaze. Whatever it was that connected them only grew stronger the closer they were, the longer they breathed the same air. There was no cutting it now. And beyond even that, Renaissance had given her something the bond alone could not: safety, being wanted, being seen and heard, feeling like she was a person and not some tool to covet. If there was a reality in which the bond could be broken, Ren had already started to wiggle her way past the huntress’ emotional defenses—and no matter how much they were strangers, Lyselle already wanted to see more.

“Everything in me wants to know you, Lyselle. Let me in…”

Let her in?

Everything in Ren wanted to know who the hunter truly was, and that alone spoke volumes—like telling a child shaking in the corner that it was safe to come out, that she was allowed to be seen. Had Ren spoken different words—more demanding, less gentle—Lyselle might have hesitated more than the short moment she did.

‘Do I open the door? … no one will see me like this, ever again…’

That was all the convincing she needed.

With a trembling sigh of desire, she opened the floodgates.

It all came rushing down their fated thread in a rolling tidal wave—filling the vampire’s mind, never overwhelming, but with clear intent to share.
Flashes of fantasies came first, some already known, others new:
— the huntress falling to her knees
— being restrained
— obeying
— begging
— worshipping—and serving.

But like water, it only grew deeper the further one went. Beneath the desire lay something steadier: a yearning to be capable, to be worthy, to protect the one she followed, to make her proud that she claimed this human as hers. And deeper still came the rawest truths: a longing to be protected herself, to be cared for, to matter simply because she was who she was. To be forgiven for mistakes. To be allowed to be human.

And then came the memories—the dusty halls of the Vigil, the endless study of scripture and monsters, the warnings of the night, the drills, the restrictions. The indoctrination. No room for a normal life, no room for friends, no room for softness. Other students had lives; Lyselle had lessons. They saw “promise” in her, so they locked her away to shape it. Everything she was, she was for them.

And Renaissance, from her vantage, would see the truth of it:
This was not training—this was grooming a weapon.

This was her door opening.

And with it came a whispered, trembling plea:

“Please… come in…”