There it was, the door into Lyselle’s being, a small wooden door with a heavy set black iron knocker. Renaissance stood outside, waiting patiently for it to swing open and let her in. She wanted so desperately to feel out the human’s inner workings, to understand each and every dark corner of her mind. To be able to hold candlelight to the darkened thoughts, the hidden memories, the secrets she kept. Ren gently caressed the back of her Huntresses head, grabbing fistfuls of her thick hair and tugging ever-so-gently, continuing to plant little seeds of kisses along the length of her neck. The vampire’s razor sharp fangs were still grazing Lyselle’s skin, adding sharp points of pressure whilst Ren waited for the door to her soul to open wide.

“Please… come in…”

With a groaning creak, that wooden door swung open. Ren sped over the threshold and began to touch all she could find. As if in a museum, with ancient artefacts on display podiums, the ancient vampire handled each and every one. These were Lyselle’s deepest fantasy’s, her darkest facets hidden from the world. Protected here, locked away, for just Ren’s eyes. The human emotions were so fragile, so easily shattered if the appropriate care was not taken.

Here in this room, Ren would find Lyselle’s struggle to feel accepted. Her desperation to be protected. The pressures of the Vigil, the incessant push of her abilities. Her desire to be restrained, to worship, to submit. It was a feast for the ancient vampire. A veritable buffet of Lyselle’s subconscious and conscious mind! She continued to graze from the spread, indulging in all this knowing, all this knowledge. The touch of a vampire in your soul was a chilling feeling. Humans knew when their minds had been entered, like when they knew they’d picked up a germ and gotten sick. If you’ve ever heard a bump in the night from downstairs when you’ve been tucked up in bed, that horror of contemplating whether your house had been broken into, that is what it is to have a Vampire enter inwardly.

Just as she felt she could be sick with all she had consumed, Ren ground to a halt mid inspection of Lyselle’s emotions. Something was horribly wrong. A chill shot down Ren’s spine and she froze in place, awaiting the next indication of danger. The hair on her arms prickled and stood to attention as she closed her eyes to concentrate on the niggle that came from her gut. There it was, the tingle of her palms, the warning that a fledgling was attempting to make contact. Renaissance glanced round at all of Lys, strewn across this room for inspection, and made a mental note to return here soon. She still had so much to lean, so much to explore within her Huntress.

But something was tugging at her, calling for her attention. Somewhat begrudgingly, the vampire returned to her body and stepped back from Lyselle’s slowly. Her body language was that of someone who was being followed down a dark alleyway. Her gut stung with the knowledge that something was unfolding that required her intervention. Prying herself from Lyselle’s body took all her will and she sombrely eyed the beautiful human with a warning gaze which she hoped served as some sort of explanation.

Palms still tingling, Renaissance quickly decided the easiest way to get to the bottom of this sudden intrusion of danger was to cast some Blood magic. She didn’t have the time nor the headspace for hypothesis. After all, she’d just been in the pits of Lyselle’s soul, enjoying indulging in her innermost workings. How dare this come at such an inappropriate time!

“Something’s wrong, Lys” Ren said hoarsely, unsheathing her talon and pressing it into her fingertip. “I can receive messaging from my fledglings, some of them, if they’re in danger. Like some kind of motherly instinct…” Trailing off, the vampire held out the bleeding digit and began hurriedly whispering incantations. A singular droplet of blood detached from Ren’s finger and plummeted to the floor, making a little splash as it met the floorboards.
“And whatever this is, whatever’s putting this fledgling in danger, is a bigger threat than she can handle herself- I just need to find out what that is.”

Blood magic flowed through her, the spell beginning to make shape. As it formed, became whole, the ancient vampire closed her eyes to focus her energy on the incantation. She compelled for her power to show her, show her the reason for the cry of help. Palms still tingling, the only giveaway of Ren’s concern was a short, sharp intake of breath. The image of her fledgling, middle aged, crouched in a woodland about 20 minutes flight from Belle View blasted into view. Eyes rolling back, Ren scanned the vision for more information.

Thick woodland. Greyed skies. Misty landscape. Panicked breaths. Cold ground. Dirtied hands. Aching feet. Sweat beading. A dark figure. Another. Looming. Chasing. Pursuit. Hunter and prey. Snarling. Snapping jaws. Thick fur. Beady eyes. Howling.

Two werewolves had hunted her fledgling for hours through the woods and they’d finally caught her up. They were within reach and the young vampire could no longer go on. They’d wounded her already and she didn’t have the strength to push past the pain. So, in a bid of desperation, the fledgling had cried out for her mother, her sire. She’d begged her for safety. And Renaissance Le Sang had been forced to exit the soul of her bonded human to hear the cries.

Explaining what she’d seen, Ren eyed Lyselle carefully. She watched for signs of understanding, signs of encouragement. Not every sire had the same guilty conscience as Ren. She couldn’t just leave her young fledgling to fight off not just one, but two werewolves. Plus, the mutts were Ren’s favourite beast to slay.

The huntress continued to idly claw at the vampire as she felt the shiver of letting her own mind open up. It reminded her of those cold, chilly nights where a full moon bloomed, thunder in the distance, wind howling against windows—a sight most hunters understood as danger. It was reminiscent of how she felt when other vampires were nearby and the first time they had met; it was hard to believe that was merely hours before. The same sensation caused her own mark to flare up in protection, but one could not protect against that which was willingly invited in, and therefore found no purchase in keeping Ren out. This was decidedly different, though—feeling fingers brush across her memories and her secrets, not with intent to harm or dominate but like laying into a soft palm, being caressed and treated with gentleness.

Everything Ren did only enforced what the bond whispered in her ear as ancient promises fulfilled themselves like a plant being watered after centuries, choking on dust. It followed the vampiress in and where she brought chill, it warmed—like the unknowable handing the wizened woman a torch as she studied the inner workings of the huntress. Such was the feeling that Lyselle could have sworn she had felt this before, and yet held no memory of ever letting anyone simply waltz in. When others tried, they were only met with castle gates and cold stone guarding a magically sealed door—the same one she opened, gladly, for her companion.

That’s when Lyselle saw… felt… imagined a string tugging lightly at the only person she wanted, feeling her come to a sudden stop. Holding her breath, she waited to see what Ren was doing, only to watch her leave. A flash of panic crossed the great depth of her perception, but then—as if waiting for the right moment, poised and ready—that archaic bond reached out and soothed her worries. It was only a fraction of a fraction of a moment, but just long enough for the young woman to hear Ren’s voice, forcing her eyes open to see her vampire slowly peeling away.

She only had to see Renaissance’s expression to know she had not pulled away willingly and that something was amiss. The huntress shifted lightly on the couch, slowly pulling herself up as her eyes watched the beginnings of that familiar magic she had been raised to hate. “Something’s wrong, Lys. I can receive messaging from my fledglings, some of them, if they’re in danger. Like some kind of motherly instinct…” The gears groaned to life behind her brown eyes, recalling that this was one of the many, many things she knew—and soon enough she would need to call upon that knowledge.

“And whatever this is, whatever’s putting this fledgling in danger, is a bigger threat than she can handle herself—I just need to find out what that is.”

Despite everything that had gone wrong in her life, this was something she was intimate with, and easily whirled to put her things into order; she left nothing to chance. Whatever gods actually existed in this world, she silently prayed to—she couldn’t, she wouldn’t let Ren go alone. She was everything now. What would her life be anymore without this stranger—or was it even fair to call her a stranger anymore? There was no telling how this truly felt for Ren, at least not now, but even in the waking world the bond gave her one obvious gift: it whispered how things felt to a vampire, to feel that tug of danger, and to know she had done well to trust the ancient. For the worry that echoed in the distance of their connection was much easier to decipher and understand. Renaissance wasn’t like other vampires.

As soon as the vision was over, Lyselle was standing before the taller woman with a facial expression only seen in memories—it was even more determined than when the pair met earlier that night. No doubts crossed the huntress’ mind. And unlike her more submissive nature, she spoke with confidence,

“I'm coming with you.”

Wysteria, battered and bruised, had her near-naked back pressed against the roughened bark of a large tree deep in a forest she was beyond lost in.
This was as close to death as she’d come since she’d, well, died.
She couldn’t even remember how long she’d been running for. Her vampiric speed had dwindled to dangerously low levels thanks to how much energy she’d expended getting lost in this fucking forest.
The fledgling, now an adolescent vampire (technically), had taken to the undead life better than she’d imagined. Was the newborn stage absolute agony? Relentless? Torture? Fuck, yeah. Did she resent her sire with every bone, every breath? Definitely.

But Wysteria had passed that stage now. She’d pushed through the muddied, bloodied young fledgling stage and in recent years had been feeling more and more in control. She even passed as human in daylight! But it was tonight, at nightfall, that these 2 mutts had sniffed her out post feed. It was a messy meal, alright? But she’d taken precautions! They’d been drunk, stumbling home all sleazy and leery. If they hadn’t catcalled her she’d have probably let them pass, humans tasted gross when they were intoxicated. But blood was blood.

Anyway! She’d dragged the humans into the forest, covertly, and had them both pinned down for a little feast. She kinda loved how they squeaked and begged but Wyssy, in hindsight, reckoned that was the dead giveaway to the dogs.
Wysteria thought she’d gone unnoticed, in her defence. But turns out these werewolves had heightened senses too… Go figure!

The young vampire was halfway through draining them both, bearing the taste of whiskey in their bloodstream, when she’d been accosted by not one but TWO beastly werewolves. Wysteria had never clapped eyes on a werewolf before, and she was glad for it. They smelt of wet dog. Their fur was thick, wiry, so jet black it was almost blue. Their ears all pointed and hypersensitive. Muzzles dripping with thick, slimy drool. EEW.
They’d snarled at her at first, probably trying to scare her. She was so shocked at their sudden approach that she didn’t get a chance to run before they’d thrown themselves upon her.

They clawed at first. Dragging their pawed talons down her porcelain skin, shredding it open. Wysteria was in agony, okay? So she screamed a bit. (By a bit, Wysteria screamed the most blood curdling shriek she could muster) The volume of that scream, the frequency, was what startled the werewolves long enough so she could break free.

It took her half a second to take off in a super-speed sprint deep into the thicket of the woods. Ignoring the blood seeping down her back, her arms, her t-shirt hanging off her in tatters. Still, her legs pumped rapidly, feet barely touching the ground before they pushed her on and on, deeper into the trees. There was no plan, no nothing. Just fleeing. Run and run and run until the faces of those beastly dogs were far far away. Abandoning her meal made Wysteria grit her fangs in frustration, letting out a little “FUCK!” into the air.

Young vampire energy drains quickly, by the way. If you’re running at, like 40 MPH, it gets tiring. And soon enough Wysteria had to stop. She paused behind the tree, back against the bark, breathing in ragged, broken breaths. Her lungs were white-hot, burning with the effort of her escape. Then, she assessed her wounds.

“Shit!” Wysteria hissed. Then, she remembered. Her sire. That cold bitch. She was old. Ancient. Powerful. She’d know what to do. She’d know how to kill a couple werewolves, right? So Wysteria, on a whim, sent a mental plea to her maker.

“You owe me, bitch. Come and save me.”

____________________________

“I'm coming with you.”

Renaissance Le Sang’s somewhat panicked but mostly determined face relaxed for a flicker. Lyselle’s determined loyalty thawed her icy heart and she gave her a quick, tight hug.

The Ancient Vampire took a look around the Loft, realising she was having to leave, once again. Fortunately she’d just fed, so Ren was arguably at her most powerful.

“We’ll need weapons,” Ren smirked, her eyes lighting with an urgent excitement. “I don’t know exactly what we’ll be facing, but I’m certain our wits and magic won’t suffice.”
The ancient vampire snatched her cloak from the coat rack and threw it around her slender, elegant shoulders. Pinning it closed in the centre of her clavicles, she then swiftly crossed the Loft to open her large display cabinet. Behind the wooden cupboard doors was her weaponry. Miscellaneous weapons Ren had collected, like talismans, were mounted neatly on bespoke hooks fastened in 6 rows one above the other. Some of her collection had been made for her especially, either under duress or out of love (or both), and some was stolen from fallen foes. Either way, there was something for everyone in this cabinet. Other than guns. She didn’t appreciate them. Too messy, too impersonal.

”Take what you can or what you want,” Renaissance said to Lyselle over her shoulder, gesturing to the weaponry. Distracted and feeling the pressure of saving the fledgling before anything more terrible happened, Ren knew they had precious seconds before they had to leave. There was a trail to follow and they needed to move quickly.
She was busy sizing up each weapon option, debating which she’d prefer to bring. The sense of urgency pushing her into a decision, Ren settled on her silver, ruby-encrusted dagger. Lifting her layered black skirt, the ancient vampire fastened her leather garter-scabbard around her upper thigh. Letting out a “humph” of satisfaction, Ren sheathed the dagger in the scabbard and dropped the skirt so it remained disguised.

“It’s a 20 minute flight away - roughly” Renaissance said, pacing the Loft whilst she waited for her gorgeous Huntress to make her selection. “We’ve got to fly, okay? You’ll have to either mount my back or let me carry you. Is that going to bother you? Now would be a fine time to grow a pair of wings from that human back of yours…” Renaissance bent down to fiddle with the adjustment of the scabbard around her thigh and tossed Lyselle a wink. They had to get moving, soon.

“Oh-!” She was quick to return the tight hug, but it caught her off guard, sporting a soft blush even from such an innocent act. A happy sigh passed her lips before she tucked her hair behind her ear and once again focused.

“We’ll need weapons,” Ren spoke to her, smirking as her eyes lit with an urgent excitement. “I don’t know exactly what we’ll be facing, but I’m certain our wits and magic won’t suffice.”

The huntress blinked once, watching the vampiress spin and march over to her cloak—a flash of when they met crossed her mind, bringing a light smile to her lips. Still, she watched Ren with no small level of amusement. For the past two decades at least, Lys had lived and breathed hunting and fighting, so she was already preparing before the vampiress even spoke. Perhaps, she reasoned, it was simply Ren’s way—after all, even a creature of the night must have lived a life utterly unlike her own.

Still, the offer of more weapons did not go unappreciated. She walked over, eyeing the unique armaments thoughtfully.

A mental inventory flickered through her mind of what she already carried: her silver shortsword, wolfsbane, silver dust, holy water, and her hallowed throwing knives. She’d have to restock those herself from now on… but now wasn’t the time to reflect on her future. She only needed to protect her companion.

Seeing as they weren’t sure what awaited them, she reached for another of Ren’s silver daggers—less ornate, but Lyselle didn’t care, so long as it worked. In the background, she heard the vampiress pacing, no doubt troubled for her wounded fledgling.

“It’s a 20 minute flight away—roughly. We’ve got to fly, okay? You’ll have to either mount my back or let me carry you. Is that going to bother you? Now would be a fine time to grow a pair of wings from that human back of yours…”

A click of her tongue escaped her as she turned, offering Renaissance a lighthearted smile, brown orbs sparkling.

“Oh, of course—you know us humans are famous for having wings,” she joked, rolling her eyes playfully.
“No—I have no problem being carried. Gives me time to place at least a temporary blessing on this dagger of yours. Pairs nicely with my sword.”

As she slid the dagger into her belt, she considered putting both weapons to true, simultaneous use. She had never been known for dual-wielding among the Vigil—they insisted on mastering one weapon above all else. But that never stopped her from learning things in secret… just like her forbidden Scripts.

---

On any normal day, a vampire outclassed a werewolf in a straight fight—if both were at their strongest. But today was far from normal for the young vampire. She was interrupted mid-feed, bleeding, disoriented, and had two werewolves driving her deeper into the woods. Without that desperate cry for help, she would already be dead… or at least, something very close to it.

At least she’d bought some distance—almost twenty minutes’ worth.

And it didn’t help that the pair chasing her were siblings—natural born werewolves trained since childhood to stalk prey with uncanny synergy. Natural borns had the unique advantage of controlling their monstrous form far better than the cursed. They were more wild than rabid, and infinitely more dangerous because of it.

Hunters theorized endlessly while werewolf tribes told their own myths, but no one truly knew why natural borns couldn’t pass their condition to others. The tribes claimed it was a sacred gift from the Great Mother. Hunters liked to believe that the human spirit diluted the curse.

Either way, natural borns were far more cunning.

“Over here, sis,” growled the larger of the two, his voice an eerie mixture of human speech and lupine snarls. He would have towered over the young vampire earlier—nearly six feet even without standing fully upright, fur barely concealing the primal muscle layered beneath. Victor pointed to a tree with broken branches and the faintest smear of blood—easy enough to track, given that vampire blood smelled like rotting flowers.

And if werewolves hated anything more than hunters, it was vampires. On rare occasions, the two species even formed uneasy alliances to take down especially powerful undead.

Victor sniffed the air—once, twice, then several more times—before glancing toward his sister. Her lupine maw curved into something cruelly close to a grin as he nodded northward.

“Probably got ahead,” he grunted.
“But it won’t be long now…”

“Oh, of course—you know us humans are famous for having wings,” Lyselle returned Renaissance’s light-hearted smile, those hazel eyes sparkling with a childlike playfulness. Their exchange was so at contrast with the task they had at hand but it was a relief to engage in something lighthearted. The lingering second-hand panic from Ren’s fledgling tickled in her gut, reminding her that the Huntress and the Vampire were walking hand in hand into danger.

It suddenly occurred to Ren that, despite being the hopeful saviours in this situation, their pairing may be somewhat of a surprise to most. A Vampire Slayer and a… Vampire? Together? Not only that, but the fledgling would have to control their thirst around Lyselle. This was an added complication that hadn’t occurred to Ren when her loyal human had said “I'm coming with you.” Lyselle’s perfumed blood would be intoxicating to a vampire lacking control, her exposed neck rippling with the offering of arteries and veins ripe for the picking. That human heart, alive and beating at an ever so tempting pace, would be the ultimate temptation for a desperate vampire. Fledglings, cornered and in danger, were exactly the breed to succumb to the pressures of thirst when presented with a source. Undoubtedly, Ren wouldn’t let even a droplet of harm come to Lyselle. Not under her watch. But it was an added danger to the fast-growing list of things to be wary of. Naturally calculated, always thinking, Ren continued to mentally prepare for all varying outcomes. She was determined to be a pillar of strength for Lyselle, her protector. The irony of that feeling wasn’t lost on her, either. The very thing that Lyselle had been trained to fear, to fight, to hate - Ren was that very thing. And now, she was her shield. Nothing would come between them, no one would put Lyselle in harms way. The ancient vampire was so certain of that fact, it brought her a comfort she sent down the bond. Feeding the thread with reassurance, promises of safety, Ren watched Lys grab a dagger.

Eyeing the Huntresses silver shortsword, wolfsbane, silver dust, holy water, and her hallowed throwing knives, the Ancient Vampire’s lips formed a hard line. Those same very weapons had been intended for her, not so long ago. She’d drawn that very short sword, flirted with plunging it into Ren’s flesh. It felt like so long ago they’d been staring across Belle View at one another, torn between curiosity and cruelty. How had so much changed in so little time? How had they gone from natural-born enemies to… This? So quickly? The bond vibrated in response, reminding them that it was due to that otherworldly connection that they were now bound by fate.

“No—I have no problem being carried. Gives me time to place at least a temporary blessing on this dagger of yours. Pairs nicely with my sword.”
Lyselle was thinking tactically already. Of course she was. A trained assassin of all things supernatural, the human slipped so easily into battle mindset. No doubt she too was mentally working her way through tactics, fighting combinations, weapon itineraries… They were similar in that way. Fighting came so naturally to the two of them, in very different flavours. One, a Hunter. The other, the Hunted. Though Ren sneered slightly at imagining herself as “the hunted”… No one hunted her. They never got the chance.

”Great idea, Lys” the ancient vampire nodded, rolling her shoulders in preparation for lifting the human into her arms. “If I’d have known one of my idiot offspring would beg for deliverance, I would’ve made time for some Blood Magic. But for the enchantment to have a strong hold, I’d need time-” the ancient vampire hissed air through her teeth. “And that, as we know, is not a commodity we possess in this moment. So I’ll have to mostly fight in the good old-fashioned way.”

Ren grandly pushed the large arched window of the Loft open and inhaled the fresh air like a claustrophobic beast locked away for too long. The night was fading fast, it would be a couple of hours until sunrise, so they had precious little time left to attack. Supernatural entities thrived in darkness, vampires included, and Ren didn’t fancy taking their chances in sunlight.

In a Romeo & Juliet carry, the vampire scooped Lyselle from her feet with the ease of a child lifting a doll. One arm wrapped under the human’s upper back, she supported her head in the cushion created by her flexed bicep and forearm. The other was cradling Lyselle’s legs, letting them dangle at her right hand side. The bond hummed, thriving at their physical contact. Though this wasn’t the closest they’d been thus far, it was certainly an intimate position. Ren realised the power of holding Lyselle in her arms this way and smiled down at her as her large, black wings snapped free. Letting them spread to their full span, the wings quivered in anticipation of flight. The breeze from the open window kissed the edges of those wings, making them twitch with excitement. Lyselle’s dark hair hung loose over Ren’s left and danced with the wind, cracking like a whip against the vampires body. Looking down at her Huntress softly, her face giving away all the anticipation she they were affronted with, Ren’s rosebud lips pulled into a weary smile.

“Hold on tight please, m’lady” she said, her voice imitating a pilots through aircraft speakers “This is your Captain speaking. Welcome aboard Vamp Airlines. Our flight time today is estimated to be circa 20 minutes. Our cabin crew will now begin your safety announcements which include keeping your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. Please enjoy the view as we fly at altitude to an ominous forest filled with unknown danger and potential death. Once again, thank you for choosing to fly Vamp Airlines. Wishing you a wonderful flight.”

And then, Renaissance Le Sang took off, leaping with the grace of an antelope through the open window and out into the dead of night. Lyselle felt light in her arms, unhindering to her flight pattern. The bat wings beat hardily under the additional weight, spreading to full length to balance the distribution. As they cruised above Belle View, taking cover in the grey clouds, the ancient vampire took the opportunity to tune into that distant fledgling frequency still begging for help from the forest. It crackled as Ren tried to mentally grab hold of it, bending and fading in and out of reach. She narrowed her eyes in concentration, gripping Lyselle firmly. The fledgling wasn’t moving. Their mental SOS smoke signal was stationary in that forest, begging for discovery. The winds changed direction, causing Ren to angle her wings alternatively, banking right and riding the air wave like a gull on the shores.
“Let’s establish some ground rules before we head into battle,” Ren said loudly above the sound of beating wings and whipping winds. “First and foremost, you mustn’t die. Seriously. I want you to be careful. Put yourself first, always. If you are overpowered at any moment or you come close to lethal harm, you let me handle it. If they harm a single hair on your head, I will eradicate them immediately.”
Renaissance glanced down at Lyselle, reading her face for a reaction.
“We are to stay together. Close. Do not go idle, do not leave my sight. I want you within my reach until we establish what we’re up against… Okay?”

_____________________________

“Over here, sis,” Victor snarled, pointing his snout to that scent of rotting flowers.

“That’s her, alright!” Violet growled back in reply, her thick bristled tail whipping back and forth excitedly. The sibling werewolves were a powerful pairing. Trained together since their first moonlight turn, they moved and thought in synergy. Sniffing the air in unison, the lupine siblings readied their haunches to take off. The muscles in their impressively stocky bodies rippled as they braced for taking off.

“Probably got ahead,” Victor grunted, Violet let out a low whine in response.
“But it won’t be long now…”
She followed her brothers lead. Everywhere. Every time. He was her compass, her rock, her partner. He had always possessed alpha energy, leading her always. Victor and Violet were so fiercely determined to capture this young vampire, they wouldn’t rest until it was done. It had been a while since they’d crossed one. And they’d be celebrated by the pack for bringing back such a prize.

“Let’s get her,” Violet snarled, bearing her bloodied canines foreshadowing the young vampires fate.

The alpha of the pair looked back with a look of satisfaction and approval - he adored her support throughout the years and loved her dearly, even if he wasn't the alpha of the pack, but he was okay with that. Not every lupine was meant to be leader and guide and everyone had a role, which Victor clearly enjoyed as a hunter and provider. His sister was so attached to him that she would train right alongside him and become huntress herself, something that was uncommon, but not unheard of.

Taking in one last long inhale of the rotting blood, he shifted into a full sprint, having full faith in his siblings ability to keep up. If everyone had a strength they could lean into, then tracking was probably one of their best traits, and even though the smell was disgusting he and his sister could push through the gut wrenching and focus on their prey. Trees and bushes whizzing past him, pumping those massively legs to propel him forward, he could tell the scent was getting stronger - that meant they were gaining on the vampire.

He barked a laugh, "she probably wore herself out!"

---

Lyselle had been completely locked into her task, like turning on a light switch, and there was little room in her mind for fear or worry. So when the wave of comfort rippled across their bond, she was a little shocked to feel it, but swung her head around to give Ren a genuine smile.

”Great idea, Lys.” A glow of relief illuminated her from within, causing her grin to widen. She always loved the praise of course, as it validated that she was doing well, something she always felt the pressure of doing, but hearing it from the vampire was something wholly new and yet strangely familiar. Only a brief pause existed inbetween this and what Renaissance said next, but she basked in its glow none-the-less.

“If I’d have known one of my idiot offspring would beg for deliverance, I would’ve made time for some Blood Magic. But for the enchantment to have a strong hold, I’d need time-” the ancient vampire hissed air through her teeth. “And that, as we know, is not a commodity we possess in this moment. So I’ll have to mostly fight in the good old-fashioned way.”

It wasn't difficult to tell that her vampiress was still on edge by the suddenness of the change, but in an effort to reassure her guardian, she interjected lightly with, "and I can't cast many Scripts, but I can write them quickly if we get in a tight spot... Though in truth, Lyselle was no stranger to fighting in close-combat, her reflexes so fine they came as natural as breathing to her - though she still had more to learn. It helped her feel confidence, letting it surge across their connection, but she wasn't making sure not to overestimate her abilities.

Following the haunting beauty that was the vampire, she drew in a slow inhale of breath as the fresh air, closing her eyes lightly. A brief moment past before she took mental note that dawn was coming soon. It was an understated talent of hers that while any human probably could tell generally what time it was, even without the stars, moon, or sun to guide her, she could feel the weight of time on her skin. Early morning had a particular glow to it, like she could imagine the birds just beginning to wake up, crickets finding shelters for the day, and the switch from moths to butterflies. This was a good thing... usually, as Lyselle could fight effectively at anytime of the day (though she only told a select few that she preferred the night, especially during storms), but it also meant the strength of her companion would wane somewhat - though she had no doubt she could fight her own battles regardless.

Her world seemed to tilt then, feeling arms hook under her form and lift her, drawing an amusingly cute squeak from the young woman. She had never actually been carried like this before and blinked, looking up to find Ren's eyes, quickly biting at her lower lip. The view of watching the vampiress wings spring forth was even more amazing close up and as their fated thread hummed in delight, it forced a rosey color to spread across her cheeks.

“Hold on tight please, m’lady.” The playful take on giving Lyselle a title only made the blush flare moreso, though she rolled her eyes a little with a small grin lined across her mouth. “This is your Captain speaking. Welcome aboard Vamp Airlines. Our flight time today is estimated to be circa 20 minutes. Our cabin crew will now begin your safety announcements which include keeping your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. Please enjoy the view as we fly at altitude to an ominous forest filled with unknown danger and potential death. Once again, thank you for choosing to fly Vamp Airlines. Wishing you a wonderful flight.”

The whole thing made her giggle and instinctively wiggle in an attempt to get closer to Ren or at least as a show of affection, even being so bold as to place a shy kiss at the edge of the vampire's jawline. As the pair jolted off towards the clouds, she gasped softly, noting that actually feeling the wind in her hair was much different than having experienced it in her sleep. She had to admit her honed reactions were trying to kick in - screaming that she was in danger, being held captive by the enemy, but she chose to be brave. Emotionally, she turned inward along their cord for reassurance, soaking in it like it was a hot spring, letting it melt away her worries. Afterall, she needed to be present and focused, not distracted by voices echoing in her ears.

After an adjustment period, she turned to remove the silver dagger in her possession and closed her eyes, murmuring a prayer she had said many times over.

“Goddess of a thousand names,
She who wears the faces of warrior, mother, huntress, and storm —
Bless this silver by your light.
Let it hold the memory of moonfire,
The clarity of truth,
And the strength to cut through shadow.
Guide my hand to protect the living,
And temper my heart,
That I strike only where I must.
By your many forms, watch me.”

As she said her prayer, the silver dagger would begin shining a dull blue, like a pond lit by moonlight. Of course such a thing was dangerous to her if Lyselle would to suddenly drive it in, but despite that, the blessing seemed to wash around the vampiress and left her completely untouched - was it the chain that shackled them together or simply Lyselle's intent to kept Ren from harm? As they traveled, the huntress was able to say it three times before reopening her eyes, giving the ancient room to speak once more.

“Let’s establish some ground rules before we head into battle,” Ren said loudly above the sound of beating wings and whipping winds. “First and foremost, you mustn’t die. Seriously. I want you to be careful. Put yourself first, always. If you are overpowered at any moment or you come close to lethal harm, you let me handle it. If they harm a single hair on your head, I will eradicate them immediately.”

The hunter's face swirled with pleasant surprise before simply nodding obediently, feeling the thrum of her vampire's protective nature over her, even though her default nature was to charge into battle.

“We are to stay together. Close. Do not go idle, do not leave my sight. I want you within my reach until we establish what we’re up against… Okay?”

Another small nod was offered as Lys replied with a simple, "yes, your grace..." The urge to give this winged creature a title was a strange and new one for Lyselle, but it also was part of her nature on some level, having always referred to her mentors as 'master' followed by their name. She enjoyed the protocol of it and especially in moments like this, where even in her confidence she could feel submissive, it felt more strange not to properly respect Renaissance - though now wasn't really the time to be searching for what that title should or would be.

The feeling of Lyselle snuggling in closer spread a warmth throughout Ren’s body despite the cold bite of wind as they flew out of Belle View. The constant “THUD, THUD, THUD” of her wings beat like a metronome and Renaissance eyed the scenes rolling by beneath them. Like a VHS on fast forward, houses and trees and parked cars and streetlights all blurred by below. Flying was one of the most exhilarating feelings for Vampires. It almost distracted Renaissance completely from the determined fire in her belly.

Motherly instincts weren’t exactly what was at play here. Most Sire’s didn’t bond with their fledglings. You didn’t turn a human and become one big happy family, it simply wasn’t like that. Vampires were mostly solitary creatures save for a few Covens or Clans spread throughout the human world. These communities of vampires were mostly spawned by a precious few sires who lived worshipped by their fledglings. It even pre-dated Ren and she had a disdain and disapproval for the whole organisation. Vampire Covens were unwise; They were indiscreet and exposing. Hunters found it easier to track larger groups, of course, as human lives dwindled in their neighbouring presence and it was harder to be subtle in a group of seemingly ageless, foodless and unusual humans. So Ren never stuck around to know her offspring. In fact, she rarely created progeny anymore. There was no real benefit to a sireline, only a guilt for bestowing an infinite life of thirst onto an innocent human.

So, why had Ren even turned anyone in her more recent years? Her last few offspring had been born due to unforeseen health complications whilst feeding. Mostly their bodies had begun shutting down whilst she fed, and instead of letting them die… She brought them ‘back to life.’ Even in those cases, Ren hadn’t stuck around to play mummy. She’d left as soon as she could, expecting that the childe would fend for itself. Cruel? Potentially. But her survival instincts outweighed her guilty conscience. Abandonment was one thing, knowingly letting her kind suffer was another. That reason and that reason alone was what compelled her to answer the pleas of this fledgling. Her thirst for vengeance forced her hand, in this case. And it just so happened that her bonded human Huntress had obliged to accompany her.

Speaking of, Lyselle was reciting a hauntingly beautiful incantation. Ren marvelled at the poetry of it, listening to her huntress recite each and every word as she had many times before. The blessing, surprisingly, didn’t affect Ren at all. She assumed because Lys was in that much control, an impressive feat. The ancient vampire was sure this wouldn’t be the only time Lyselle would impress her with her skill. She hoped that would continue into battle, and she would be able to hold her own against their imminent opponents.

After reciting the rules to her beloved Huntress, Lyselle nodded to mark her understanding.
"Yes, your grace..." she replied. The ancient vampire blinked in acknowledgment of the title, surprised to hear herself being addressed in such a way. She let it hang in the air for a moment, chewing over the title curiously. Renaissance decided she’d accept it, and nodded once in approval. The flight continued, Lys’ dagger now glowing a dull blue with her power. Ren wondered whether she’d be forced to use it, or if this was going to be over nice and quickly. She knew her preference, of course. But as they drew nearer and nearer to the wounded fledgling, something warned Ren that this wasn’t going to be quick nor easy.

“We’re close,” Renaissance called out, glancing down at Lyselle’s beautiful face. She looked so fiercely majestic in her arms this way. So vulnerable, so malleable… Yet so strong in her power.

“I need you to be strong,” the ancient vampire said firmly, launching encouragement and confidence down the bond to her huntress. “Stay with me, listen to me… But be strong, in yourself.”
And with that, the vampire banked hard. She’d been struck with the realisation that the fledgling was nearby. So nearby that the crackly radio-like signal she’d be following became clear. A shining beacon, calling out to her like a voice at the end of a tunnel, the feeling of her fledglings pain was what drew her in.

“Going down!” Ren warned Lyselle, tightening her grip as they lowered to the treeline of the thick forest below. Careful not to catch her huge wings on surrounding branches, the ancient vampire proceeded with her landing. The trees around them circled in, closing around them both as they made contact with the forest floor. Leaves and branches crunched beneath their weight and instantly Renaissance began scanning their surroundings. If it weren’t for the moonlight cutting through the trees, their vision would be obscured by darkness. Ren would have to tap in to the young vampire victim’s energetic presence to lead the way. Eyes scanning the treeline, the woodland around them, the ancient vampire tuned in to each and every sound. She could hear the rustle of wind through leaves, the creak of branches against the breeze… And the panting breath of a wounded vampire.

Renaissance had already released Lyselle from their embrace, letting her stand on her own two feet. Shooting her a glance, she signalled for her to follow. The vampire began treading towards where she could hear those rasping, broken breaths. The smell of vampire blood trickled in through her nostrils on the back of a gust of wind and Ren nodded in acknowledgement. They were headed in the right direction… And they were close.

________________________________

"She probably wore herself out!" Victor laughed. Violet, matching his pace with a little effort, barked back in amusement and excitement. They were gaining on the wounded vampire, and the idea of soon being reunited with their prize was driving Violets legs forward. Faster. Faster. Her breaths left her chest raspy, panting as she kept her eyes laser focused on Victor’s tail. So long as she followed that, she’d be fine.

The ground seemed to rumble beneath their stampeding feet, Violet wondered if it were wise to make so much noise. Would it be sensible to sneak attack? To trail this scent until it became much stronger and then switch into skulking mode? Something more covert so as not to alarm the hiding vampire?

“Victor!” Violet barked, an excitable snarl escaping her muzzle. “Let me know when we should switch to stealth attack! I want to take her from behind…”

As they sailed the winds, Lyselle carefully slipped the dagger back into place, acutely aware not to accidentally nick her newfound lover and simply watched the landscape blur on by with quiet wonder. Silently she smiled to herself, finding Ren's nod to her given - even if temporary - title to be exciting and heart-warming, like butterflies swimming underneath her skin. Eventually she heard, “We’re close,” over the whipping whines of wind. Her brown gaze found Ren once more as she nodded again but this time instead of moving her focus elsewhere, she took these last few moments to stare into those ancient eyes, the link seemed to sigh in contentment, a quiet warmth rippling across her skin.

“I need you to be strong.” The wire that connected them hummed with encouragement that seemed to fill her with a feeling of confidence, as if this age-old vampiress had a genuine confidence in her ability, bringing a light smile to her face. “Stay with me, listen to me… But be strong, in yourself.”

"Yes ma'am." Something in the way that Ren had trust in her abilities and yet seemed to act like a leader sent another surge through the young huntress, filling her with trust and courage, quieting any fears of being held by a blood-drinker even further - though the echoes of doubts still lingered in her mind - just easier to ignore. The world shifted once again as they took a hard turn, gliding quickly towards the ground where Lyselle felt the impact of Ren's feet touching the ground.

As the huntress was lowered onto the ground, she slipped gracefully to plant herself onto the earth below and looked around for a few moments to get her bearing, but quickly following her guardian's lead. The gentle glow of being held still flickered in-between her heartbeats, even as her training snapped into place, handing finding the hilts of her blades. Her hunter sense was always 'on' but it was now alert - sharper and more focused as the energy of battle settled within her.

She could already sense another presence and knew instantly that it was the other vampire as they both of them began to walk forward. Their aura was weak, which was to be expected, and there were leagues of difference in the presence of their being compared to Renaissance's own which marked them as significantly younger. This afforded her the first time to realize that the younger vampire would be sorely tempted to gun for her - feeding gave them a chance to heal and regain their power and here was a human walking in like a snack. A slight click of her tongue as she tensed, she was almost certain the fledgling would interpret her presence as a gift — a living vessel to heal from, which meant she may have to genuinely defend herself against the very person they were trying to help. 'Can't be avoided,' she thought to herself. She wouldn't take it personally, but her silver weapons unsheathed none-the-less, though she noted the tug of something in their link - she would be sure not to hurt the offspring permanently or even temporarily if she could help it.

Another pulse crackled through the hair just then as Lyselle looked to the sides, letting out a slight huff. "Werewolves," she said, warning the ancient sire of who had come to join the fun. "Two of them... trying to flank us." Even among seasoned hunters, her ability to decipher supernatural beings was among one of her chief abilities and one of the reasons she was hailed as a prodigy in the Vigil. Between that and her close-combat effectiveness, it set her up to seem far more experienced than she actually was.

---

As the pair drew closer and closer, Victor began to slow, careful to stay beyond the edge of a vampire’s hearing. As much as his blood flared and growled for him to jet forth, he knew better and lifted a slight hand for Violet to stop, before letting out a huff of frustration escape his nostrils. "Smell that, sis?" he asked in a low, whispered tone. "Looks like she called for help and..." The large wolf-man groaned in disgust. "They brought a human for her - we need to do this fast. I'll go around the other side and attack first and go after the 'help'... you go for the wounded one after me and... try to keep the girl from her - kill her if you have to." Most werewolves weren't innately hostile towards humans like the undead were, but neither did they hold much of a soft spot for them - if anything, they were often taught humans were just food for the abominations and so killing them was always preferred to letting a vampire get ahold of them.

Nodding once to his sister, he darted to circle the pair of vampires, careful to be quiet but quick. He knew he couldn't afford the wounded undead to heal and thankfully despite his size and shape, werewolves were known to be sometimes even more quiet than some vampires - one of the very few advantages they seized every time they could. It wasn't long before he was on the other side and started to creep forward, sniffing the air to keep tabs on his prey, tearing his focus from the stronger scent to lock onto the healthy vampire.

A change in energy, a ripple in the atmosphere. Like a magnetic current that pushes then pulls, Renaissance Le Sang’s receptors tingled with the warning that danger was approaching. The ancient vampire watched her Huntress instantly wield her weapons, on high alert. Ren looked to her, brows knitted together awaiting her words of warning. Her body instantly transformed into attack mode; Talon protruding from her index finger, pupils fully dilating which instantly improved her vision and her fangs showed themselves to anyone approaching. Vibrating like a coiled spring, Renaissance lowered to a half-crouch, her muscles straining with power as they readied to jump into action if required. Like a panther stalking prey, Ren’s form was arched into a prepared stance. Now, she blurred the lines between her human appearance and animalistic nature. Her aura thrummed with power and a deep, thunderous growl vibrated in her throat.

Hunters were experts in hyper-awareness. Different to Vampires capabilities, their nervous system was specifically attuned to supernatural presence. It served them well when hunting, of course. Ren had no doubt Lyselle’s sensory skills would serve them well in this situation.

"Werewolves," the Huntress said gravely but matter of factly. "Two of them... trying to flank us." The astuteness of Lyselle’s observations made Ren swell with pride. She was thankful for the Huntresses abilities, now more than ever. How useful it was to not only have her foresight as to when danger was approaching, but also the specifics of what that danger entailed. Still, as impressive as it was, Lyselle’s warning not only brought comfort in preparation but also a deeper concern for the fledglings well being. Two werewolves would be nearly impossible for a single, young vampire to fight off. Ren realised that the Huntress/Vampire duo may be stumbling across a fledgling wounded beyond repair. Which also meant, consequently, that this fledgling would be beyond desperate for blood.

The damp, woodland air that filled Renaissance’s lungs was laced with undertones. The top notes remained expected; Wet leaves, disturbed dirt, damp wood… But there were two other scents that Ren could decipher. One of them, comparable to rotting flowers, had become increasingly prominent. She let out a serpentine hiss of warning, turning towards Lyselle to shoot her a glance that would put her quickly on the defence.

_______________________________

In a last bid attempt, using the remainder of her energy, Wysteria launched her body out of the thicket. She threw her mangled form at the armed human, snaking her bloodied arms around her neck and locking her weary legs around the humans waist. Mounting her, but her movements slow thanks to those hounds, Wysteria let out a frenzied cry. Her sire had arrived, ready to free her from her impending doom. And she’d brought food! A supply to restore her strength, enough to fight those bloodthirsty werewolves. Maybe her Maker wasn’t as evil as she’d thought for all these years.

Just as Wysteria was about to plunge her fangs into the supple, tempting jugular it felt like mere milliseconds before an almighty force pried her from the humans back. She was ripped away like a ragdoll with just a single arm, minimal effort required to peel her from the humans back. Wysteria let out a desperate cry, dismayed that her food was being withheld from her. Like a stray street cat being picked up by its scruff, Wysteria writhed and kicked and screamed whilst her sire remained still as a stone cold statue. She watched her with those black, bottomless eyes that were so familiar, her luscious lips pulled into a disapproving sneer.

”Wysteria you will not, I repeat NOT, touch a single hair on that humans head,” her sire’s voice was more comparable with a snake-like hiss. It dripped with the repulsion of an uncontrolled fledgling, clearly disgusted by her inability to control the thirst that burnt through her every fibre.

“I’m going to very quickly disable you from doing so, for now, until I can trust you to control your urges…” the almighty Ancient used her seasoned talon to prick her own finger, tracing a line of her blood across Wysteria’s shaking head. A thin smear of blood spanned her forehead and her Mother hastily recited some kind of chant. As she repeated the verse, by the third repetition Wysteria felt her thirst dissipate to a dull roar in her stomach. Some kind of spell had been cast, and she was glad for the temporary relief from the urge to rip out the humans throat.

“Lyselle, my love” the Sire called, directing her call to the very human she’d been pried away from, “How long do we have until the werewolves are upon us?”

Wysteria’s frantic eyes darted from her Maker to the human. Unable to fathom what she was seeing, it was her turn to pull an expression of disdain. “My love!?” Wysteria exclaimed in her mind, hesitant to say a word to either of her saviours. What was their relationship?! Why had a human been brought to her rescue if not for food and consequent strength? An ancient vampire protecting a human like this, least of all one dressed like a Huntress no less, was difficult to decipher. It was an impossible combination. So Wysteria stilled in her Maker’s grasp, still dangling from her vice-like grip above the ground, legs swinging. She flinched away from the Ancient’s scolding eyes, lowering her gaze to the floor. The wolves would be here soon, surely. And perhaps this human was being used as bait? A distraction? There had to be an explanation…

______________________________

Violet’s ears pricked with attentiveness at her brothers instructions. She obeyed willingly, nodding in acknowledgment, her looming body lowering to all fours as she skulked the opposite way to Victor. Moving clockwise, going wide, her brother moved anti clockwise in the opposite direction.

Violet was careful to practice her skulking skills, padding her claws quietly on the soft woodland ground. She imagined herself walking on clouds, feather-like footwork making not a sound as they surrounded their vampire prey. Just like they’d practiced together hundreds of times before, Violet kept her wet nose low, sniffing softly at the scent of rotten flowers and vampire blood. Her fur had risen to stand on its end, causing her to look bigger in appearance. Heckles arched, lips pulled into a snarl, Violet waited for her brothers signal to advance. It was only when he emerged, calling for her to follow, that she would launch into attack.

Victor would know the perfect time. Until then, she continued to circle their prey somewhere a little deeper into the woodland. They were so close, now, she could taste that vampire blood on her dripping tongue…

This would be the second time she had truly seen the animalistic side of Ren in particular. It was just as terrifying as when they first met and just as beautiful, her eyes drawn to the woman with a flash of awe painted across her face. It was amazing how fast her vampiress could switch on a dime like she did, almost like she was a whole other person, but in the undercurrents of their link she could still sense the woman behind the predator. Her eyes widened slightly at the drumming of the emanation that Ren gave off, sending electricity shooting down her spine, like a direct injection of energy.

The hiss drove her from the temporary amazement and she tightened her grip mere moments before watching the fledgling leap at her. The half-starved vampire was no real threat, she was slow from hunger and easy to predict, but something did catch Lyselle off guard. She only meant to defend herself, lifting her blades up as a warning, however her own movements were notably faster then she was used to. It caused her to flinch, pulling her blades away - enough to let the younger vampire clamp around her. Emotions of confusion and fear sparked her heart to beat faster as she watched Ren’s arm snapped out—a blur—and the fledgling was wrenched away. For a heartbeat she was then left frozen in a mess of thoughts, which mostly amounted to 'how did I move that fast?' For a heartbeat, her limbs had moved like they remembered something she didn’t.

”Wysteria you will not, I repeat NOT, touch a single hair on that humans head."

The ancient's voice warning Wysteria not to harm her human brought her back to the present, noting that she'd have to figure out the whys of it all later. Though there was this feeling of warmth that stirred, swelling inside her chest at seeing how protective Ren truly was. She looked to the sire with a discipled, but obvious gratefulness, sending the feeling of butterflies bouncing down their shared connection. Still she said nothing, letting Ren deal with it completely, paired with a sense of trust that the vampiress had been more than serious about keeping her safe.

“I’m going to very quickly disable you from doing so, for now, until I can trust you to control your urges…”

She never got the chance to really marvel at the use of blood magic, but hearing the incantations, much like her blessings being repeated thrice was certainly a treat for the young, curious mind. Especially seeing the effect it had, which was never anything the Vigil ever taught.

“Lyselle, my love.” The words meant to get her attention - which they very much did. “How long do we have until the werewolves are upon us?” As much as her mind screamed at her to try and analyze the use of the word 'love', she simply didn't have the time to do so.

"Seconds," Lyselle had replied, lowering her voice somewhat, clearly an indicator that the wolves were rapidly approaching. "One behind you - one the opposite way." At that, with utmost confidence that she could defend herself and that Ren would watch her, she turned her back to the pairing and lifted her blades up - eyeing where the female wolf had been silently stalking them.

---

As Victor drew closer, he could hear muffled conversation, narrowing his eyes to peer through the darkness - everything painted in silver and black and where light seemed to shine bright to the werewolf eyes. Close enough now to hear normal conversation, just past some bushes, getting low and ready to pounce. Victor had to train especially hard in ambushing and sneaking given his taller form, but by this time he had been one of the best hunters - even if not thee best. Which is why when he was just about to make himself known at full speed, he paused, eyeing the human opposite of his own prey.

Was she wielding silver weapons? A huntress - with a vampire? It certainly gave him pause as questions raced in his mind, of what this meant, and a ping of fear for his sister. They were ready to fight two vampires with one being weak, but never expected the third to be a hunter. Then it dawned - she must be dominated. There was hope then, if he could swallow the vampire's attention, the human might break free of the enchantment and might even turn sides. A very low sigh huffed through his maw before readying himself once more, turning his full attention on the woman protecting their prey, mission cemented in his mind.

Tensing his muscles, he launched himself forward at full speed towards the newcomer, letting out a wild and intimidating roar that seemed to shake the very trees - birds flocking upwards in fear as the quiet broke throughout the forest. He wasted absolutely no time, pouncing towards Ren with claws opened and teeth showing, ready to sink into dead flesh.

Wysteria let her body hang limp in her sire’s grasp. Her head drooped, hair congealed with drying blood flopping in front of her bruised face. The fight, the spunk, the fire she usually had in her belly was - Gone. Along with her thirst, any extreme emotion had been snuffed out like candlelight beneath breath. Whatever magic her sire had bestowed upon her was a suppressant. But it worked like a master switch: She felt next to nothing anymore.
The fledglings eyes slid to rest on the Huntress. Something like a hint of resentment echoed in her chest as she took in her understated beauty, her golden brown eyes, the human pigmentation of her skin… ‘Lyselle…’ the name sounded familiar to her, made the blood in her veins sing with recognition. Who was this human? This lucky earthling, plain of blood, totally and utterly mortal… Why was she so special?
Her sire was merciless. She was larger than life. Majestic. Her bloodlust was in her drivers seat… So what had made her spare this human?
‘My love…’ The words echoed in Wysteria’s mind. Like the pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place, like a blurred picture coming into focus, Wysteria realised that this current in her veins was second-hand smoke. It was an indicator as to what her bloodline was feeling. Wysteria’s Mother had formed some kind of… Love? For this human?

As she hung from her Mothers hand, her hung eyes looked up from underneath the curtain of bloodied hair.

“M-Mother!” she croaked, just as a werewolf she recognised leapt from the thicket behind them.

________________________________

Violet; ever-obedient, ever-well behaved, followed her brother’s signal as he leapt out into the clearing where the vampires and Huntress were gathered. She watched him sail through the air, claws and jaws glistening in the moonlight, a bone-rattling raw erupting from his maw.

Violet followed suit, springing into the air and letting out a long, drawn-out howl. Her body landed on the ground with a thud, muscles rippling with the strain of her landing, and her breaths came hard and fast as her wolffish eyes took in the scene.

Victor had chosen the newcomer. Probably wise, Violet could sense her power. She was to target the already wounded vampire. Something was different about her this time, though. Her fight, her ferocity, had been diluted. Instead, the battered vampire seemed to have let go of that aggression she’d possessed when Violet & Victor had first attacked.
At this realisation, Violet barked a sneered laugh. She focused her attention on the fledgling, predatory senses lasering in on her. She had the young vampire in her sights, like a sniper shooter zooming in on their kill.

The werewolf braced, and pounced. Mimicking her brother’s attack, she soared through the air aiming straight for the defeated vampire who just watched her approach with a hint of apprehension in her eyes. The undead seemed to have accepted her fate and as she began her descent, totally on target, Violet could taste her dead flesh crumbling beneath her jaws already.

______________________________

"One behind you - one the opposite way."

Renaissance quickly relinquished her grip on Wysteria, immediately sensing the scream of danger behind her. Discarding her like a disinterested child with a toy, Ren hissed as panic jetted down the bond. She tried to quell it, to soothe the whine of danger filling their connection, but it was difficult to argue with the truth: They were headed into a fight to the death.
Whipping her head round to see for herself, the Ancient Vampire came face to face with the utter beast of a wolf man sailing through the air towards her.
Harmonising with the wolf’s roar, a blood-curdling shriek escaped Ren’s mouth. Not of fear, of warning. Haunting, the animalistic noise that resonated in the forest clearing was a frequency that would jar the werewolves. With hearing so heightened, the Vampiric screams were an affective deterrent. Ren knew this. So she parted her lips, fangs glinting, and screamed again. It was otherworldly, that sound. Like a car alarm mixed with a banshees cry. A sound undoubtedly painful for a creature that heard frequencies beyond human ears.

And like a well-choreographed dancer, Renaissance twirled so fast she felt herself become a blur as she jumped and flew backwards through the air. Time seemed to slow as she barrel rolled out of harms way; An elegant mess of cloak, hair and poised limbs, the ancient vampire narrowly dodged the werewolf’s pounce. But still, he’d come close enough to make her even more wary. Its lupine smell ignited her nasal cavity; wet dog and vampire blood. Landing in a crouch, Renaissance felt the cool earth beneath her palms as she flicked her head to mark her enemy. Both of them, gazes locked, knew this was the beginning of a tiresome fight. One that Ren refused to lose.

“Lyselle!” the ancient vampire’s call was shrill and laced with urgency. She sent warning down the bond, urging her to stay alert, to get ready to fight or defend or run or whatever she needed to do. Whatever was necessary, Ren expected her Huntress to act. Granted, the Vampire believed in her own abilities. But two werewolves and one wounded fledgling? There was more than just a margin for error. There were factors Ren couldn’t control… And that was what unsettled her.

“Human!” snarled the female werewolf, the one pinning Wysteria to the forest ground with all fours, her dripping, slobbering jaw inches from the fledglings face. “We can handle this! Either help us fight… Or be on your way!”
Ren didn’t take her eyes off of the male werewolf, the stronger of the two. She eyed the vulnerable flesh connecting the skull to that thick, pulsating neck. It was there that she’d aim for. Sever the tie, detach the head. That was the only way she’d put an end to this bloodthirsty beast. The ancient vampire braced herself for his next move. Aggressive creature wouldn’t be able to resist making another attack and this time, Renaissance would be ready.

Victor whined at the blood-curdling scream as he landed, claws tearing into the damp earth. His whole body shuddered as the sound rattled through his skull, forcing his ears flat while a snarl twisted his muzzle. If not for that damned scream, he would already be tearing into flesh. Instead, he shook himself violently—like a dog flinging off water—trying to purge the ringing from his senses. His eyes then shot to Ren and eyed her cautiously, circling to his right as he measured up his foe.

It was clear that this one was much more experienced, having a trick specifically on hand to rattle a werewolf and hearing the fledgling say 'mother' confirmed his gut reaction - this was their prey's sire. Which likely meant she was more powerful - she certainly moved faster than the vampire pup. Still, his blood boiled at the thought of missing his chance to put her back into the ground, letting out another low rumble. Victor did not stay idle long though, pushing his massive body forward and darting to his left, claws open and ready to tear asunder flesh. He had a singular focus and that was making sure this bitch turned to dust for even daring to keep them from their prey.

However there was a flinch in his movement when he heard his sister cry out in pain, but despite the absolute urge to break away and protect his sister, he kept all his attention on Ren. If he had any hope of ending this quickly, it would have to be after the abomination was destroyed - he recognized power when he saw it.

---

“Lyselle!”

The huntress perked at the sound of her name and the warning crackling down their bond, raising her weapons with the intent of defending herself, though she was once again startled. Her perception had always been human; supernatural creatures existed as blurs and shadows at the edge of what she could track. So when she traced Violet’s movement with perfect clarity — not slowed, not blurred — her breath caught. That wasn’t the wolf going easy on them.

That was her moving like something she’d never been trained to be.

Then she watched the she-wolf pounce past her and straight to the young vampire, clicking her tongue in annoyance, turning to hear the werewolf address her, “Human!” The female wolf snarled at her, having pinned Wysteria down onto the ground, inches away from tearing into the weakened undead. “We can handle this! Either help us fight… Or be on your way!”

"Wrong." A single word was returned. Her expression hardened instantly. Something inside her clicked — not a decision, but a program waking. All fear dropped away like shed skin, leaving only precision, instinct, and purpose. The Huntress the Vigil had forged stepped forward.

Lyselle launched herself at Violet, blades angled outward before sweeping them across her body in a brutal crossing arc — a clean attempt to carve matching gashes along the werewolf’s ribs.

And again, she moved too fast. Faster than any mortal. Maybe even fast enough to meet a werewolf head-on.

She doubted Violet expected that. Hell, she hardly expected it herself.

Wysteria watched helplessly from beneath the heavy, stinking werewolf that had her pinned to the ground by both shoulders. The fledgling tried to wriggle free, feeling those dreaded claws sink deeper into her skin. She let out a whimper, lacking the energy to cry out. Then, all of a sudden, the human Huntress moved quicker than she’d ever seen a human move. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, she was upon the shewolf, weapons brandished proudly.

Wysteria watched wide-eyed as the Huntress, Lyselle, brought both blades down in an almighty slash. It must’ve been blessed silver because from beneath the wounded shewolf, she heard the singe of burning flesh and the stench of charred fur.

The beast let out a pained cry, the strange mixture of a lupine whine and a human wail… A haunting sound which would no doubt grab the attention of her fellow pack member.

Wysteria mustered as much strength as she could and seized the opportunity to shove the laden body off of her. She scrambled backwards, kicking up dirt with her feet as she pushed herself further out of the werewolf’s reach.

“Alright, human” Wysteria panted, jutting her chin at the other werewolf that still stood firmly in attack opposite her sire. “Now deal with that one!”

_________________________________

Violet’s vision went to black as she felt the human’s silver blades rake along her flesh. She felt it tear her open, the warmth of pooling blood spilling from her side. Then, the burning commenced. Like pouring salt water on a fresh wound, the silver scorched her abdomen.

Something like a cry for help ripped out of her slack jaw and she shook her head, trying to clear her blurred vision. She didn’t even have time to contemplate the betrayal she felt from the human’s one worded "Wrong."
Compelled by rage and vengeance, Violet clumsily fumbled to her feet, feeling her body strain under the burden of pain. She flicked her head to face her assailant and mindlessly charged, brandishing her claws, ready to tear the human open.

_________________________________

Renaissance heard the wolf cry but felt it more so. It struck down her spine like a bolt of lightning and she watched it register on the male wolf’s face. A flash of worry flickered in his violent eyes as he faced her once again, preparing for his next attack. The ancient vampire watched as he veered left, putting a little more space between them.

Ren was crouched, readied, her hand darted beneath her skirt to grab the hilt of her encrusted dagger. It sung with pleasure to be wielded, anticipating meeting flesh with a hungry imminence. Dagger in one hand, talon on the other, Renaissance felt her body set ablaze with sheer adrenaline and power. She submitted to it, let it seep into every molecule of her undead body. Her muscles pulsed but her breath was slow. Like a masterfully trained assassin, the ancient vampire took slow, careful steps to the right.

And so she and the unwounded werewolf circled one another like lions in the wild. Both of them daring the other with deadly stares to make the next move. Ren didn’t care; Attack or defence it made no difference to her. She felt confident in both positions. Whether it would be a swift lunge and uppercut with her wielded silver dagger, a twist into a slash across the maw with her talon or a defensive plunge of the blade in whatever body part was closest - Ren would succeed. The alternative simply wasn’t a possibility. She couldn’t remember the last time an enemy marked her cold, undead skin. Always prepared, always calculated, always preempting her enemies next move… Renaissance Le Sang was an artful, elegant fighter. She favoured swift, choreographed movements. Elaborate shows of skill, practiced over the span of her eternal life. She’d memorised combinations, mastering the use of a blade in harmonious and synchronised steps.

“Come,” Ren hissed, that serpentine tone to her voice warped into inhuman tones. “I’ll make this quick for you, dog. I can’t bear to hear a mutt whine for mercy.”

“Come,” he heard her hiss, twisting human undertones with the serpentine edge of a snake—how fitting.
“I’ll make this quick for you, dog. I can’t bear to hear a mutt whine for mercy.”

“Fucking body bag,” the male wolf barked, hate dripping from his muzzle as rows of jagged teeth flashed. Still, he circled her a moment longer, pacing like a shadow waiting for the exact heartbeat Ren might leave herself open. It wasn’t strategy so much as instinct—a wild creature reacting on pure predatory impulse.

In that instant, he caught sight of his sister. The scent of charred fur stung his nose. Horror flickered across his features—brief but unmistakable. He had to get back to her… and soon.

With a guttural roar, he lunged, arms sweeping wide in an attempt to close around the ancient vampire and crush inward—torso, neck, whatever he could catch. The sound he unleashed vibrated through the trees, primal and thunderous, a warning of just how much raw power he carried in his lupine frame. Ren would have to rely entirely on her speed and precision; in pure physical strength, they were almost equals, and the werewolf towered over her.

---

Their link jolted—subtle, sharp—with the nervous tension running down Ren’s spine. The sensation only caused Lyselle to anchor herself more firmly, her muscles tightening in reflexive readiness. She answered that tremor with a tap of reassurance through the bond: quiet confidence, wordlessly telling Ren focus on your fight; I have mine handled.

The huntress watched the she-wolf’s body go slack just long enough for Wysteria to crawl free, kicking up damp soil as she stumbled backwards.
“Alright, human. Now deal with that one!”

Lyselle shot her a quick glare—not hostility, but warning. She would not be ordered around by some half-feral vampire, fledgling or not. Yet the bond hummed faintly, recognition passing through it: something of Ren lingered in the young vampire. It softened Lyselle’s expression for only a breath.

Then the she-wolf moved.

Pain and rage twisted Violet’s features as she staggered to her feet, more animal now than before. But even at this heightened ferocity, Lyselle moved first. She was trained to fight monsters with nothing more than human limits; now, something pushed those limits further, sharpening her instincts to a razor edge.

She read the microexpressions, the twitch of muscle, the shift of weight—saw the attack before it fully formed. She pivoted back, sliding just outside Violet’s reach, then surged forward again with startling speed.

Both blades found flesh.

The short sword carved a deep line across Violet’s shoulder.
The dagger thrust upward, catching her eye—half-blinding her, staggering the already-wounded werewolf and sending another burst of hot blood splattering into the dirt.

“Fucking body bag!”

Renaissance’s eyes narrowed in concentration as the werewolf made his move. The sound of his beloved fellow wolf taking a hit had momentarily distracted him, but not for long. Taking his chances, he leapt fourth, claws extended. Ren lowered her body out of the firing line and dove wide as if she were taking a plunge into a pool. Her movements were swift and nimble, utilising her vampiric speed to ensure she was out of the werewolf’s firing line. In strength, the two were fairly evenly matched. It was speed where Renaissance would find her advantage. There was no way a beast of that stature could compete with an ancient vampire’s agility.

After feigning and diving a quick right, her muscular arms outstretched to steady her landing, Ren used those arms to guide her into a graceful roll. Body flipping over just the once, folding out to finish in another crouched position, Ren wasted no time in carrying out her counter attack. Having successfully dodged the wolf’s rigid, hooked claws, the ancient vampire flicked her wrist that wielded her silver dagger. It glinted in the fast-fading moonlight, the encrusted jewels dancing with its vengeful appetite. The werewolf’s forceful, muscular body had arced over the top of her and now Ren would have to seize the small window of opportunity that had opened whilst the wolf’s back was turned.

After narrowly missing the werewolf’s airborne attack, he landed with a thump, tail between his hind legs. The roar that had erupted from his fang-filled jaws triggered a snarl to rip from Ren’s lips. Though she appeared human most of the time, right now she was unmistakably part beast. With her entirely black eyes, swirling like black holes in her angular face and the fangs hanging where her canines used to be, Ren was more comparable to these ferocious beasts than she cared to admit. The evil within her had been awoken and as the ancient vampire charged the furry creature with his back turned, she moved quickly and silently so as not to warn him of her approach.

Beginning her attack with a few quick steps, Renaissance bent her knees and pushed her form upward. Jumping into the air, as the werewolf had, she gripped the silver dagger in her left hand whilst her right harboured the spiked talon poised and ready. The vampire speed with which Ren moved would be difficult, if not impossible, for the werewolf to avoid. He would not be as lucky as her when it came to dodging attacks. If only he’d just moved that little bit quicker, he’d have been able to turn around to face his vampire opponent and the exposure of his back in battle would not have arisen.

The ancient soared through the air, a shooting star, landing firmly with a satisfying thud on the werewolf’s back. Ren’s legs gripped either side of the wolf’s spine as if she were taking a wild stallion. Then, to give her grip, she sunk her talon into the right hand side of the thick, beastly neck. Before he could register the pain of the vampire’s talon, Ren jabbed her dagger into the left hand side of his neck. Like creating handles for herself to ride the enraged, lupine creature, she leant her body forward to deepen the penetration of both her talon and blade. Hearing flesh give way, bones crunch and the sounds of another werewolf cry from behind her, Ren hissed whilst she mounted her beastly enemy. She twisted both wrists, hacking wider and deeper into the wounds she’d created.

“Lyselle!” Renaissance shouted, her voice dripping with an urgent authority “Whilst I have him, finish him!” She wasn’t sure how long she could remain seated on the werewolf’s back. Soon enough he’d recover from the pain of penetration in his neck, he’d see past the pain created by the silver in his jugular. Being mounted on the wolf’s back was not a position the ancient vampire wanted to be in for long. There were too many variables of opportunity for his counter attack, and by the rumble of agonised rage in his throat, he would be quick to avenge.

__________________________________

Violet’s bellow of pain shook the clearing. Leaves leapt from their branches in response to the bone-rattling roar. All she could see was blood. Blood everywhere. Her own. Spattered in the dirt, clouding over her vision. Blood and mud mixing beneath her clawed paws, white hot pain submerging her. She could barely breathe, barely take a breath in beyond the pained cries that fell from her jaws involuntarily.

The Huntress was so close to killing her, she felt her soul begin to peel away from her body. Would these really be her final moments? In the company of the despicable undead she loathed so much? And facing a Huntress with loyalties to evil?

As her legs gave out, Violet’s heavy torso crashing to the woodland floor, her vision fazed out of focus. Instead, she was no longer in the forest. The trees had disappeared, the smell of rotting flowers no longer peppering her wet nose. No, she was watching herself. Seeing herself as a young pup. She was back at the den Violet and Victor had grown up in. The sun beat down from way above them and beautiful green shrubbery surrounded their dirt-made den. Violet’s paws, still too big for her growing body, were padding playfully as she chased young Victor. They were chippering and chirping as the two played, taking it in turns to jump on top of one another and paw at eachother. Panting happily, tails wagging back and forth, the pup siblings joyfully wrestled in the sun.

Then the memory began to fade to black and the last thing Violet heard was the sounds of her own final howl at the moon.

Another rumble vibrated through the werewolf's chest—he nearly had her! The snake had slipped his grasp, and in the next moment she was on his back. He reached upward, hoping to tear her loose, but his brain registered two sharp, brutal stabs to the neck. A cry ripped from his maw, this one tinged with more humanity than beast, as his body sank toward the ground — kneeling, failing, as if the vampire had found some hidden switch inside him.

His burning gaze shot across the clearing just in time to see his sister being torn apart by the human. He couldn’t even process how fast the woman moved—only the searing pain of both body and heart.

Where had he gone wrong? Only an hour ago the pair had been slicing at the young undead, chasing her through the trees like a toy. But now everything was twisted… a human killing his sister, the sire riding his back, and their prey barely standing at all. As he heard the human’s name called across the battlefield, a weak groan escaped him. He tried to move one arm — failed.
'So this is where we die…' he thought, gaze softening as he used his final moments to mourn everything lost in mere minutes.

---

Across the clearing, the huntress watched Violet collapse, struggling to crawl or rise. Nothing worked. Lyselle heard the sickening gurgle of her breath as the she-wolf tried one last time before finally falling limp. A flicker of empathy crossed the Huntress’ features — soft eyes, softened heart — before her expression sharpened again, gaze snapping toward Ren and Victor.

The command was all she needed. Seeing Ren positioned precariously didn’t hurt, either. She pushed off the ground and sprinted, closing the distance within a few blinks.

Her blades caught the moonlight like something out of an action film as she swept forward. With quick, practiced efficiency, she slit the neck of her new foe. No hesitation, no flinch — even as Victor began to rise. Anyone else might have paused at the sight of such a towering creature, but not her. No wasted motion, like a true assassin, as the blessed silver hissed across his throat. A liquid-filled cry of agony tore from him.

It took only moments for the massive beast to fall, collapsing onto the forest floor with an outstretched hand pointed toward where Violet lay. His final thoughts were of her — how small and fierce she had always been, how proud he was of her, how deeply he loved her…

And just as quickly as the battle had begun, it was over, leaving two dead werewolves in its wake.

Lyselle’s chest rose and fell at a controlled, moderate pace — she wasn’t even sweating. Her attention immediately shifted to Ren.
“Your grace, are you all right?”

The first instinct that surged through her was to ensure her bonded companion’s safety. A slight fret trembled across their link as Lyselle stepped closer, eyes scanning Ren for any sign of injury.

Wysteria watched from the sidelines in awe of the teamwork from the most unlikely duo she’d ever come across. The human Huntress and the Ancient Vampire, her sire. A combination for the History books, surely?

The fledgling stumbled to her feet and slowly approached her saviours. She blinked away the sweat and blood that dripped down her bruised face, the effects of her Sire’s magic still dulling her emotions.

”Sire…” she croaked, not sure exactly how she could thank them both. Her pride, wounded. Her ego, battered. Wysteria swallowed the lump wedged in her throat and coughed awkwardly, her head bowing in respect. “Huntress…” she added meekly, not making eye contact with either of them.

How could she possibly even begin to thank them? It went against every grain within her to bow down to a human. Yet, something told her if the appropriate respects were left unpaid, she’d wish the werewolves had finished her off.

Speaking of the ugly dogs, their giant furry corpses lay splayed out in the forest clearing. The battle had been over before it had a chance to begin, the Human and the Maker working to ensure those wolves didn’t get an opportunity to sink their claws in. They were far from meagre match, too. She’d barely been able to flee the pair of them. Those werewolves were powerful solo, let alone together. And the Human/Vampire duo had handled them like it was their hundredth fight side by side. They were quick and efficient with their kills, playing to their respective strengths. All the while, ensuring Wysteria was also untouched.

________________________________

Renaissance had squeezed her thighs tighter around the werewolf as he’d began to rise. The bond was charged with a mixture of concern and reassurance. Her Huntress would be upon him, imminently. So all she had to do was leave both the dagger and talon wedged firmly in either sides of this thick, furry neck and wait.

Lyselle’s blades glinted in the moonlight, dripping red with the other werewolf’s blood. She sprinted across the clearing and for a moment, despite the carnage surrounding them, Renaissance admired the powerful human approaching them. By beckoning her, Lyselle had come. She moved with a quick grace that would leave Ren spellbound if she weren’t riding a sizeable werewolf. A mass of powerful, controlled aggression and understated beauty; Lyselle sliced her bloodied blades along the length of the werewolf’s jugular. Instantly, blood spurted from the wound and it audibly hissed from the silver. A fan of blood sprayed across the clearing, spattering the fallen leaves, seeping into the dirt beneath them. Like abstract art, the blood pooled out, finding its way into gap between the wet leaves. Little pools of blood surrounded them.

Ren felt the werewolf begin to lose his footing. Any moment now, he’d fall like an amputated oak tree. Gurgling through the fountain of blood built up in his now severed throat, the wolf released a strained, strangled cry. The ancient vampire nodded, satisfied he would soon fall, and tore her weapons from where they’d been wedged into his jugular. As if she were swimming, the ancient vampire flipped from his back. Her cape billowed, hair rippled and she landed firmly on her feet.

As if in slow motion, their second victim teetered and fell to his death. The sight of the mass in front of them both was cause for a moment of thought. Ren acknowledged both bodies, lifeless and encircled by their own scarlet bodily fluid. She scrunched her nose disdainfully, hating the scent of the dog’s breathless bodies. The ancient turned her attention to her Huntress, eyeing the dripping weapons at her side.

“Your grace, are you all right?”

Worry pinched at the bond and Renaissance let it flow through her, expelling the concern with reassurance. She sent her own concerns of wellbeing in return, filling the bond with gratitude and congratulations. She took a few broad steps towards Lyselle and didn’t hold back her affection. Ignoring Wysteria’s presence, she outstretched her arms and fiercely pulled her into an embrace that said exactly how glad she was that Lyselle was unharmed.

Ren’s muscular arms snaked around Lyselle’s body, pulling her against her. She was aglow with pride of her Huntress. Their efficiency, the ease with which they’d eradicated two powerful werewolves. This was a feat they should be proud of. It would’ve been an impressive show for anyone that had the pleasure of watching…

Wysteria had made her presence known. She’d cleared her throat awkwardly but kept her gaze fixated at their feet. Renaissance was glad the fledgling hadn’t forgotten her respect in all this chaos.

“I think the words you’re looking for, Wysteria, are thank you” Ren said firmly, coldly. She still had her arms wrapped tightly around Lyselle and she squeezed her quickly before releasing her. The embrace was far too short, affection far too short lived. But there’d be time for that, plenty.

Wysteria blushed, still keeping her eyes lowered. She was a far cry from the feisty, sharp-shooting fledgling Ren had turned all those years ago. Partially due to the blood magic, mostly to do with the humbling experience of coming nose to nose with death at the hands of werewolves. She whispered her thanks, her tone hushed but gracious.

Renaissance nodded in acknowledgement, lifting her chin defiantly. She jerked her head in Lyselle’s direction and arched an eyebrow to indicate the thanks were unfinished. The fledgling physically recoiled at submitting to a human. Ren watched everything in the stubborn, wounded young vampire resist. Her ego had a different post code at this point, abandoned at her sire’s command. She thanked Lyselle, biting out the gratitude like she was chewing on something unpleasant.

Renaissance tutted like a disapproving teacher scolding a child. She sighed.

“I don’t have the energy to force the appropriate thanks from you, Wysteria” the ancient vampire stated plainly. “And I won’t drag it from your tongue purely because Lys would disapprove. I’m sure she thinks you’ve been through quite enough this evening without me adding to your burdens-“
The light had shifted in the forest. Dusky sunlight began to filter between the branches, casting dappled light over the gory scene before them. It made Ren shoot her Huntress a pointed look, injecting her concern at daylight approaching down their bond. She smoothed her facial expression into a soft, sweet smile reserved explicitly for Lyselle.

“It’s time we made our way back home, Lys” she said, her gentle tone so polarised with the clipped scolding she gave Wysteria.
“It’s too light to fly. Shall we walk?” she coupled her suggestion with an extended hand, open and waiting for completion from her oh-so worthy partner.
“Wysteria, say goodbye to your Huntress saviour.”

A breath slowly escaped her lips as she watched Ren glide off of the werewolf's back, looking as graceful and beautiful as ever, giving her a sense of peace and comfort that the vampire was safe. The sight of the crimson liquid was hardly even on the mind of the young hunter—she had seen more than enough in her short lifespan, even more than most soldiers ever would. Out of habit, she stepped to the side, keeping her boots clean of the sticky pools that slithered across the wet ground.

Despite the battle they had just endured, even the small reassurance that shivered toward her was enough to let the huntress relax, sliding her weapons away with one fluid motion, extremely aware to keep them from touching the pair of undead. Their bond swelled with positive emotions before she watched the ancient quickly close the distance between them, feeling herself being pulled into a tight embrace. She could hardly help closing her eyes and returning the hug, feeling the warmth that their closeness brought melting beneath her skin once more. Lyselle gently nuzzled into Ren's chest happily as she soaked up the feeling of bringing pride to her lover—she had experienced this before, but never quite like this.

“Sire…” She heard the voice of the younger vampire crack nearby. Pulling her eyelids open, she looked over to see the woman bowing her head, and let a small smile creep across her own face. “Huntress…”

“I think the words you’re looking for, Wysteria, are ‘thank you.’” The chilled squeeze given was filled with affection, though she was somewhat disappointed at the short length of it. Still, she followed suit and let the embrace fall before her eyes looked between them both—her smile spreading just a bit at seeing Wysteria humble herself.

Clearly, though, Renaissance did not think this was good enough, grabbing her offspring's chin and forcing her to look at Lyselle straight on. It was clear that Wysteria struggled to thank her so directly and, honestly, she didn't blame her. The feud between vampires, humans, and hunters spanned at least a thousand years, if not more—though it did bring back an old question of hers; what started all this?

Especially seeing that vampires could have heart and emotion like this after being told time and time again they were nothing but evil. The picture was starting to become clearer for the sharp student, who now wondered if all this was similar to when two families would feud and eventually forget why they were fighting. Though it had always been human nature to fear and fight things they did not understand or that were dangerous—spiders came to mind at that, a creature once associated with witches.

“I don’t have the energy to force the appropriate thanks from you, Wysteria.” Her voice brought Lys back to reality. “And I won’t drag it from your tongue purely because Lys would disapprove. I’m sure she thinks you’ve been through quite enough this evening without me adding to your burdens—” Renaissance wasn't wrong, as the young woman thought just that.

“It’s time we made our way back home, Lys,” her tone shifting to a gentleness she did not spare for her offspring.
“It’s too light to fly. Shall we walk?” She coupled her suggestion with an extended hand, open and waiting for the huntress to take.
“Wysteria, say goodbye to your Huntress saviour.”

Her brown orbs made their way to Ren's own then as she nodded slightly, an indication that she was ready to leave.
“A nice walk would be lovely, M'lady,” her voice now softer and filled with a kindness Ren had begun to know.

Before the younger vampire could speak, Lyselle looked at her with genuine softness in her features—a stark contrast to her expressions while fighting. Reaching out to hold her darling's hand, she spoke first:
“Wysteria... take care of yourself, all right? Be careful. If you ever find yourself in a situation like this again...”
She glanced to Ren, a hopeful look in her eyes.
“I hope Lady Renaissance will let you call on us again.”

And with that, she offered a smile to Wysteria.

It shouldn’t surprise Renaissance Le Sang, after so many years of existence, that humans possessed so much humanity. Yet, watching Lyselle treat the stubborn fledgling with such humane kindness, reminded Ren that she too possessed that same innocence. She forgot, often, that she was once human. There was a life before this one. A life where she bled, her belly would rumble when she was hungry, she’d dream and take naps and squint at sunlight. That life seemed so far away from Ren now… Almost as if that were a separate person entirely. She supposed, in reality, it was a different person. A young woman in the 1500s, with societal challenges in a world full of cruelty and war and poor health. Her human life was like a TV series she’d watched once upon a time; She could vaguely recall the characters, the setting, the general plot line… But she’d have to watch it again to gain a sense of familiarity.

And as she watched her beloved Huntress, that gentleness aglow in her delicate features, a pang of something similar to envy struck at the chords of Ren’s still heart. Despite knowing that the essence of her spirit lived on in this undead body, that beautiful humanity her bonded Huntress so easily accessed was a million miles away for Renaissance. Now? She knew too much to be kind without question. She’d seen too much to be naive. Innocence was a fickle thing, torn away from her slowly after years and years of bloodlust and loneliness.

Perhaps being close to Lyselle would reignite her humanity? They still knew so little about the extent of this connection they’d had thrust upon them. The bond was so powerful and ran so deep that perhaps, as well as channelling feelings and thoughts and God knows what else, it could feed her the ghosts of her humanity?

Their hands interlocked like perfect puzzle pieces. Fingers lacing together, Ren wished she could forge them that way so that they remained locked forever. The warmth of Lyselle’s human skin against her cool flesh made her sigh gently, a sigh of bliss and relief. The bond sung in response.

Wysteria granted Lyselle a brief nod, her eyes flickering with the echoes of gratitude, and she turned her back. Limping slightly as she disappeared into the thick brush of the forest, Ren watched her leave and dismissed her inner questions as to where she was going. She would feed, she would recharge, she would re-enter the world a touch more humble than before. Werewolf attacks could do that to a vampire. A reminder that though eternal, they were not invincible. Death could creep up on them, unbiased and merciless in its approach. Instead of sparing her fledgling another thought, she focused her attention on Lyselle, squeezing her hand gently in glee.

With nothing for company save for the trees and the rising sun, the ancient vampire revelled in the peace she felt in that moment. A gentle morning breeze to tickle the forest leaves, the sound of the forest awakening. It all looked far prettier in the morning light.

Taking slow but purposeful steps, Renaissance lead Lyselle through the thicket. Stepping over exposed roots, dodging fallen branches, crunching leaves beneath their feet, they steadily made their way out of the woods. Before it disappeared from view, Ren turned her head to look at the two werewolf corpses they were leaving behind. Abandoned in the clearing, left to rot and eventually feet the forest floor, the werewolves seemed smaller in this light. Just two lupine creatures, at peace in death, forever sleeping soundly in the woodland.

“You fought well,” Ren said, breaking the soft silence that had fallen between them. ”You wield with confidence, accuracy… The Vigil has taught you well.” The Ancient Vampire paused for a breath, turning her head to allow her gaze to fall on her human. Those beautiful hazel eyes facing out at the world, taking in the surroundings and watching the sunlight grow stronger by the minute.
”I do wonder what this bond has planned for us, Lyselle” the ancient mused out loud, watching her Huntress as they took synchronised step after synchronised step. “It’s embryonic in lifespan, I know, but it’s already so powerful. It almost has an entire mind of its own, its own agenda and wishes. I feel your emotions through it; Both the ones you send intentionally and unintentionally-“ As if aware it were being discussed, the bond hummed in response. Ren gave Lyselle a small smile and gently stroked her thumb over the Humans hand. In slow strokes, she traced tiny repetitive patters in the Human’s skin.
“I think, when we return home, we should see if I’ve got any scripture about a bond like this… We can’t be the first and only ones, I’m sure.”

The human watched after the offspring with a sense of protection echoing deep within her soul, the bond reminding her all too easily that a part of Ren lived on in Wysteria. Yet she felt confident enough that the young vampire would heed her advice—and call if she needed another net to land safely in. Somehow—perhaps because of the bond or simple empathy—she knew how difficult it was for a vampire to give thanks for something normally considered food. Regardless, the huntress was pleased that they had saved her, even if her priority had always been Ren herself the whole time.

The gentle force she felt on her hand brought her attention back to her taller companion, looking up with an affectionate smile. Seeing the light gleam off Ren's face brought a sense of awe to her heart, watching her black hair sway in the gentle wind accompanying them both. As she was tugged along to weave between twigs and branches, Lyselle could feel the heat of their connection sing happily, reminding her what it felt like to truly be seen by someone—especially someone as beautiful as the ancient.

Her gaze followed her lady for a moment before sliding back to the pair of wolves, still and surrounded by red. Lyselle didn't regret what she had done, but she wished there had been another way. The reality was that, even in spite of her own slow revelations, she knew the truth of the millennia-old conflict between them all and that it could never be healed so easily—her link to Ren was the only reason they walked hand-in-hand right now.

“You fought well,” Ren's voice interjected the hunter's silent thoughts. “You wield with confidence, accuracy… The Vigil has taught you well.” She couldn't help but beam softly at the praise, a blush crossing her cheeks as she offered a shy smile.

“I do wonder what this bond has planned for us, Lyselle. It’s embryonic in lifespan, I know, but it’s already so powerful. It almost has an entire mind of its own, its own agenda and wishes. I feel your emotions through it; both the ones you send intentionally and unintentionally—”
She too felt the connection pulse with warmth, her own heart seeming to sing softly as she felt the cool thumb stroke across her hand. She gave a gentle squeeze of her own in return.

“I think, when we return home, we should see if I’ve got any scripture about a bond like this… We can’t be the first and only ones, I’m sure.”

“I agree, M'lady...” she spoke softly at first, a note of admiration layered beneath her voice as brown eyes watched her vampiress.
“It brings a lot of questions to mind—like what it is, how it formed, why us... and seeing you...”

There was a pause, as if considering her next words, her gaze sliding across the landscape once more.
“The Vigil taught me my whole life that vampires were purely evil and only sought to destroy and manipulate. I… had always wondered how true that was, deep down, even though I never dared share those thoughts. But after seeing your offspring—not Wysteria, the other—the way he seemed to beg for death... I’m not sure I’ll forget that. Even more so... you care so deeply for my comfort and my feelings, I—”

Lyselle simply stopped then, her cheeks turning a deep scarlet, emotions of affection and happiness flooding their connection.

Then a phrase returned to her, something she still wasn’t sure how to process. “Lyselle, my love.”
Was this feeling truly love? How could it be in such a short timespan of only a single night? The cord that tied them together hummed once more, filling her heart with the warmest feeling she had ever felt, as if trying to answer her.