Renaissance felt the flow of energy that pulsated in her hand, the one that was wrapped around Lyselle’s like a cocoon. There was a pleasant heaviness at their connecting palms, a reminder of the bond that sizzled from their touch. Their fingers were tangled, tying themselves around one another like satin ribbon. It felt like something they’d done many times before, despite this being the first. As if it were a comfortable habit, the Slayer and the Vampire’s hands slinked together effortlessly.

Ren stole glances at her bonded Human, still drinking her in like a warm cup of hot chocolate on a winters day. She wondered if Lyselle’s beauty would be something she grew accustomed to one day. Would she cease to be compelled by those high cheekbones or the glossy hair or the golden brown eyes that found her own so often? They’d catch one another stealing long gazes at the other, small smiles of acknowledgment passing their faces as if they knew a secret no one else did.

The forest had begun to thin out, the spacing between the trees widening and the path becoming less scattered with roots and branches. Ren felt the sunlight cutting through the canopy of leaves overhead, slicing little streaks of light into the ground beneath their feet. She braced herself for the inevitable discomfort of feeling that sunlight on her skin, the itch that would tingle beneath the surface.

“It brings a lot of questions to mind—like what it is, how it formed, why us... and seeing you...” Lyselle’s soft voice was laced with curiosity, her face pinched with wonder. Trailing off thoughtfully, the Huntress scanned the horizon, the sun refracting in her glassy eyes. The rays caused the golden flecks in Lyselle’s hazel orbs to glimmer entrancingly. The Ancient Vampire nodded pensively at her Huntresses unfinished sentence. “I’m sure I have some kind of documentation of this in my archives,” Ren stated, mentally scanning the shelves back at the Loft. “I’ve heard of vampires sharing telepathic connections and soul ties, but that’s the blood bond - This is different. It’s all consuming. The scholar in me wishes to work it out, like an equation. We’ll do our research. We’ll figure it out.”

A moment passed, the pair settling into a steady rhythm, their shoes crunching leaves in harmony. At a quick glance, they were two women hand in hand taking an early morning walk through the forest, little did a passerby know that they were so much more than that.

Lyselle went on to explain the vampire stigma she’d been raised with. Of course the Vigil demonised vampires, how else would they encourage their Hunters to so actively pursue them? And in part, the Vigil were right. There certainly was vampires out there with an unquenchable thirst for blood. The Covens were full of elitist vampirism, enslaving humans and building blood farms. Those creatures forgot their humanity completely and surrendered to the bloodlust, becoming beasts driven by hunger and power. Ren had never stretched her soul to the point of breaking. She’d clung to what little was left of herself, determined to give purpose to her new undead life that wasn’t centred around blood. Ren was glad to hear Lyselle had always questioned the Vigil narrative, even before they’d met. She was bright. Perceptive. A mind like hers would’ve proven foundation-shattering if permitted to grow within the Hunter’s organisation. Would she have ever mustered the courage to share her doubts? Would she have repressed those challenging retorts she so badly wanted to say out loud? They’d never know. But Lyselle had been proven right, there was such thing as a vampire less grotesque than the ones she’d imagined. In fact, here the Huntress was, hand in hand with her natural born enemy.

”Even more so... you care so deeply for my comfort and my feelings, I—”

The ancient smiled softly as the forest cleared and they came upon a quiet residential close, deserted at this early hour. Ren caressed Lyselle’s hand with her thumb, tightening her grip a little in agreement with the Human’s observations.

“Regardless of this link between us, my feelings for you are insatiable” Renaissance’s voice was laden with emphasis, as if she were speaking in emboldened lettering. “These feelings, they’re making me soft” a little chuckle fell from the Vampires lips and she shook her head incredulously at what she was about to say. “It almost feels as if being this bonded to you is making me feel closer to my human spirit. I feel protective, over you, over your happiness… It‘s quelled my thirst for you completely. When I hear your heart beat, I don’t want to rip it from you. When I smell your blood, nothing within me feels compelled to drink. You’re changing me, Lyselle…”

“I’m sure I have some kind of documentation of this in my archives. I’ve heard of vampires sharing telepathic connections and soul ties, but that’s the blood bond—this is different. It’s all-consuming. The scholar in me wishes to work it out, like an equation. We’ll do our research. We’ll figure it out.”
Lyselle seemed to note the comment with a light, thoughtful smile before she continued with her own words, leading up to Ren's next reply.

“Regardless of this link between us, my feelings for you are insatiable.”
Nothing short of the sweet kisses lining her chin had ever posed such a strong reaction, but the words felt like they echoed into eternity itself, filling her core with honeyed liquid that gently swirled. And as sweet as it was, it also forced her body to react in another way—one she was still getting accustomed to. Her cheeks, her nose, and her ears flared with a deep scarlet as she felt the heat of the blush bloom across her skin without so much as a plea. It was daring enough to send shivers down Lys’ neck, goosebumps rising along her arms, becoming very obvious.

She had no time to reflect just yet, though, as the ancient vampire had more to say.

“These feelings, they’re making me soft,” her blossoming love turning a normal chuckle into a musical melody that was like candy to her ears.
“It almost feels as if being this bonded to you is making me feel closer to my human spirit. I feel protective—over you, over your happiness… It’s quelled my thirst for you completely. When I hear your heartbeat, I don’t want to rip it from you. When I smell your blood, nothing within me feels compelled to drink. You’re changing me, Lyselle…”

Her mind raced, and with the earlier invitation she had given Ren—one she did not rescind—it would be all too obvious to sense the layers of gears turning like a motor. The truth spoken by her darling vampire struck a chord with the scientist inside her and set ablaze her beating heart, warming their connection as if it were wrapping around them in approval. With her face still flushed red, she glanced up at Renaissance with genuine wonder and amazement, compelled to speak in return.

“I… I don’t know how to describe how you make me feel… I feel so fiercely protective of you, and yet to come when you call seems as natural as breathing to me. It’s confusing, I must admit—I’ve dated before…”
The human swallowed gently, her eyes sliding downward to watch their synchronized pace and their joined hands, reminding her of pictures and old films of long-married couples.
“But never… never like this. I… I’m shocked that the bond quiets your thirst so completely. All the while, I’ve felt a certain level of—not comfort, but normalcy—in what you have to do around blood… even your magic.”

The young human laughed softly, unsure whether she should feel embarrassed, thrilled, happy, nervous—or all of the above. Her free hand lifted to comb through her raven hair while an idle thumb gently stroked her lover’s hand.
“…you already know some of my darkest fantasies…” she added in a bashful murmur, the bond humming playfully as it allowed flashes of being pinned and bitten to drift toward the other woman.
“You’re changing me too. Sure, I questioned before—but it feels like in just a single day, you’ve turned my entire life upside down. I mean, fuck… now that I’ve had a moment to breathe like this, a new feeling keeps urging me that the real place I have in this world is you—and only ever will be you.”

Then, as she leaned a little closer and looked back up at the vampiress, she asked,
“Do you think this is permanent—what’s happening to us? I’ll be the first to say that I genuinely hope it is. Life before you came into it was all a blur, dark nights filled with training after training in some attempt to earn love. But with you, I… I don’t feel that pressure. It’s scary, and it’s a relief.”

It was true—this was the first moment the pair had truly gotten to pause and reflect. And here Lyselle was, pouring her heart out to an ancient undead being who preyed on humans.

The Ancient Vampire and promising Huntress walked side by side, hand in hand, the rising sun enveloping the scene below in golden light. As it climbed up through the clouds, the giant ball of fire splayed impressive rays through the bright blue sky. Shards of gold. Like watercolour; oranges, reds, yellows and flecks of purple beamed across the horizon. Renaissance and Lyselle exited the forest, finally finding their footing a lot easier on grassland. The thick blanket of trees, hiding the secrets of their battle with werewolves, was behind them now. Ren cast her eyes over their shoulders, shoulders pressed firmly together as if close simply wasn’t close enough. She admired how, like them, the trees were intertwined. Branches interlocking with branches like wrangled hands, leaves brushing against leaves with the whispers of secrets the forest kept. Thankful to turn their back on the werewolves and Wysteria, Ren embraced the moment alone with Lyselle and clung to it. She realised just how much she’d craved exactly this; Just them.

It didn’t occur to the Ancient Vampire, until she allowed the thought to intercept, that it had been just 1 singular day since Lyselle had spotted her up on that rooftop. How had a mere 24 hours brought such a tsunami of emotions? They were deep in it now, the crests of waves breaking over them, covering them from head to toe. Each time Ren came up for air, she felt another surge of emotion coming. The bond was flooded with the amalgamation of both their feelings, Ren’s body prickled with every shift. Lyselle’s heart and mind were working on overdrive and it was becoming difficult to decipher whose were whose thoughts.

The Ancient Vampire envisaged taking the reins of the bond once more, as she had earlier. She wanted to control the flow of it, to make this all more manageable. She could barely think of anything else, save for what the connection that tied them together, wanted her to think.

“It’s all-consuming…” Ren muttered. Her lids fluttered shut, the curtains to her soul pulling together for a moment. In the darkness of closed eyes, she found clarity. The bond bent to her will, the volume quietening to a dull roar. The vampire exhaled. She could finally listen to Lyselle, truly tend to her words. And as the human Huntress spoke, she observed every micro expression, every finite detail. She marvelled at the way her lips formed sentences, the way she became breathy at unfinished thoughts, the way she used ellipses instead of full stops… Ren smiled as Lyselle’s throat bobbed with a cautious swallow, that soft laughter like the tinkering of a bell. She took in every precious syllable.

“I… I don’t know how to describe how you make me feel…“

“To come when you call seems as natural as breathing to me...”

“You’re changing me too...”

“The real place I have in this world is you—and only ever will be you…”

Renaissance felt a warm, embracing feeling wind around every limb, cocooning her in a blanket of comfort. Lyselle’s honesty, bearing her heart for the Ancient Vampire, it caused an explicable swell of unadulterated adoration. She could feel the glow of heart radiating from her eyes as she poured her gaze across Lyselle. It felt like she’d been set ablaze, flames erupting from her pores. And in that moment, she knew what she felt. There’d been uncertainty, bafflement, at this bond and all it brought with it. But Ren could finally get a grasp on what this was. It was something she’d felt fractions of before, fragments of a mirror. But this, this was different. It was a new. And that had been why she’d found it so difficult to define. But listening to Lyselle, her body and mind responded in a way that left her with only one possibility remaining: Love. It had to be! What else would drive her to this brink that she was stood upon? Like being on the edge of a cliff side, looking out into a wondrous abyss of unknown and knowing in her heart that she wanted to jump. It had to be love.

“Do you think this is permanent—what’s happening to us? I’ll be the first to say that I genuinely hope it is. Life before you came into it was all a blur, dark nights filled with training after training in some attempt to earn love. But with you, I… I don’t feel that pressure. It’s scary, and it’s a relief.”

Renaissance let Lyselle lean closer, breath catching in her throat as her dainty features came sharper into focus, and her body matched the movement. She dropped Lyselle’s hand and held her face instead, with both hands, fanning her fingers across cheeks and hair. With her thumbs, she gently brushed Lyselle’s cheekbones, and she leant her head forward so there were forehead to forehead. Lash to lash, Ren gazed deeply into Lyselle’s eyes. Chartreuse meeting hazel brown, they shared an elongated, longing look before Ren’s rosy lips parted to speak.

”Lyselle, I know this is overwhelming. It’s beyond what either of us could’ve hoped to dream of. But it’s real. I feel you. I feel you everywhere, in everything I do. My soul has submitted to you, to knowing you, to protecting you for as long as we are together. From this moment, right here, just as the sun has risen another day I know I will love you. I will love you now, I will love you then and I’ll love you forever in between-“ Something prickled in the vampires eyes, a burning feeling she hadn’t felt in a very long time. “This is the beginning for us both. Which means it’s the end of all we’ve ever known. It’s time to abandon reason where experience has failed us. This is something unlike anything we’ve felt before and it’s taken me until now to decipher exactly what it is…” The singular tear fleshed out in her duct before it spilled over and trailed down the vampires cheek, leaving a shining streak in its wake.
”It has to be love, Lyselle. It has to be… I’m sure of it.”

The Ancient Vampire let out a quick exhale, expelling the weight of what she’d just confessed. Pushing the fear of vulnerability out of her mind and instead narrowing her eyes just centimetres from Lyselle’s. Then, she closed the tiny gap between them, and she pressed her plush lips against hers. They collided with such conviction a small, almost inaudible moan rumbled in her throat. Flexing her lips, deepening the kiss, Renaissance angled her head to gently pry Lyselle’s lips open, to wrap them around her own. Time slowed to a stop and the world around them both melted away to nothing. Nothing but them, only them, as Ren hoped it would be for forever to come.

As the slow realization settled in, feeling their link growing quiet beneath the vampire's control, she looked over in a fit of curiosity when her hand was let go of. It didn’t last long, though—feeling skin against her flushed cheeks, she naturally looked up to the vampiress. Her hands quickly clamped around Ren's forearms, her earthy eyes shimmering to a golden brown, always keeping her gaze fixed on Ren as they drew closer together. They were so close she could feel her companion's breath against her lips, her heart quickening in its beat, the world around her fading as she focused solely on the haunting beauty before her. Renaissance’s features were such that she resembled a marble statue glistening in the sun, her black hair in sharp contrast to her pale skin—a view Lys could never tire of.

“But it’s real. I feel you. I feel you everywhere, in everything I do. My soul has submitted to you, to knowing you, to protecting you for as long as we are together. From this moment, right here, just as the sun has risen another day I know…”
Real—a word she repeated in her mind as she tried to grasp the reality of it all. She had only ever dreamed of hearing such words, like some fairytale she’d pieced together while lying in bed, hoping for anyone to save her from being alone. A small voice in the back of her consciousness whispered, trying to convince her that a vampiress did not have a soul, that this was all some elaborate trick to turn an enemy into an ally. It was something the Vigil would have said, regardless of the experiences and emotions now surging through her being.

“I will love you. I will love you now, I will love you then and I’ll love you forever in between—”

'Love?'

“This is the beginning for us both. Which means it’s the end of all we’ve ever known. It’s time to abandon reason where experience has failed us. This is something unlike anything we’ve felt before and it’s taken me until now to decipher exactly what it is…”

She watched as a single tear rolled down the ancient’s cheek—a sight she was certain she had never seen, nor something she ever thought she would. Since when did vampires cry? Saying such things within the Vigil would have been heresy… and yet here it was, happening right in front of her eyes.

“It has to be love, Lyselle. It has to be… I’m sure of it.”

'Love…'

Lyselle barely had time to truly process it all as Ren moved closer, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away—actually noting that she was leaning toward the kiss herself. A gentle gasp slipped from her lips as they touched, a strange warmth radiating through her entire body as the vampire pressed forward, gently coaxing her own lips apart. She had never been with anyone like Renaissance—the gentleness, the confidence, the honesty, the command. It was like witnessing a painting come alive in her mind, a queen of porcelain floating down to take Lys into her arms. Her heart sang a song that filled her very core, and that was when she realized it.

'I love her…'

Her hands slipped to Ren’s lower back as she pulled her closer, gently, submissively, letting the vampiress know she not only accepted the kiss but wanted more. Parting with her sweetheart felt impossible now—not even the gods could separate what the two of them had become in such a short span of time. Somehow, Lyselle knew they were simply fated for one another, that time and reality itself were on their side, forever entwined.

They say when pivotal moments play out in your life that time warps into something more comparable to a concept. In fear, time quickens. Things unravel, quickly, beyond your control. In sadness, every second elongates, stretches, taking your pain from momentary to endless. But in love? Time seems to expand. And that expansion feels like a broadening of the mind, the heart, the senses. Renaissance felt everything around her expand as her lips melted into Lyselle’s. She no longer cared whether the kiss lasted seconds or days, as long as it happened. Her hands, like a talented sculptor, worked over Lyselle’s body. As if her sight had failed, she wanted to commend every inch of this human to her memory. Her hands skirted over her arms, her clavicles, her beating chest. They danced their way down her waist, around her hips, to the small of her back. Nimble fingers flickered like fairy lights over the top of Lyselle’s thighs, then they retreated back up to her midriff, tracing the outline right where her rib cage became her accentuated hips.

With every breath Ren reemerged for, she resubmitted to the kiss like a diver. She wanted to drown in it, let her body surrender to that relentless current pulling her back in for more. Lyselle’s warm, soft lips fit perfectly within hers, slipping between them then pressing themselves on top. They shared the lead of the kiss, first Ren would pout hungrily, then her human would lean back in for more. It was the kiss of two beings who realised how long they’d been hungry for this. An appetite not yet fed, unknown, dormant within them. Now they had a taste, it would be impossible to pry Ren away.

A cool morning breeze whipped round them, lifting their hair up and flicking it around both of their faces. Ren’s cloak danced with the wind and the feeling of the fully risen sun bathed them both in a glorious light. With a small gasp, the Ancient broke the spell. She pulled away slightly from the kiss and peered somewhat apprehensively at the sun above her. Though it were myth that vampires perished in sunlight, it wasn’t entirely comfortable nor preferable for them to be stood in it. It depleted their power, diminished their abilities. Yet Ren still felt her power bubbling inside her, unaffected by the light that usually robbed her.

“Lyselle…” the Vampire whispered, her breath brushing the humans lips. Her mind flicked through the strange occurrences: Lyselle’s speed, Ren’s single tear, her new resistance to sunlight…
“I think the bond is gifting us…”

She hated to pull away from the embrace. Unreasonably, she would’ve remained right there until her final days if she could. But this revelation begged to be shared. And if Ren could sense a difference, Lyselle probably could too.

“My love, I haven’t cried since the 1500s… And right now? The sunlight is doing absolutely nothing to quell my power… And your speed in the forest? Almost as quick as I can move?… The bond - It’s connecting us both in more ways than we realise.”

Just as she waited for Lyselle’s response, something twisted a knot in her stomach. Like a wildcat sensing a predator, like a woman walking home alone at night notices footsteps behind her; Renaissance realised they soon would no longer be alone. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating. Her hand flew to Lyselle’s and she held it tight, instinctively pulling her closer. They were just outside of the forest still, in a residential area somewhere a little outside of Belle View. People were yet to awaken, the inhabitants of nearby houses still not disturbing the streets peace with their presence. No, this company was not human. Not like civilians anyway.

The Ancient Vampire extracted her talon, keeping it by her side for now. Her skin prickled with the sense of danger. It was impending.

“Lyselle - What’s coming?” Renaissance Le Sang hissed urgently. She awaited her Huntresses sixth sense to inform her.

Several shivers coursed through her body as she felt the cool touch on her, far more intimate than their first exploration, like she was a favorite doll that Renaissance had just unwrapped on Christmas morning. That feeling of care, attention, and confidence drew a subtle moan from her throat, followed by a gentle whine, begging for more. The more she indulged in her natural obedience, the tighter her fingers curled into her lover’s clothing, pulling and pawing as passion slowly built within her. It felt like being caught in a gentle whirlpool, like watching soap bubbles circle a bathtub drain—but she wanted it to go faster. So much faster.

And yet she stayed whatever course Ren had set for them both, the kiss melting like colors into a canvas, brushstrokes accumulating into a portrait of them together. When the vampire pulled back, frustration flared and Lyselle pushed forward, unable to stop herself, needing more. It felt like she had waited her entire life for this. If she dove any deeper into the vastness of this ocean, she might have begged and pleaded for her dark goddess to take her right then and there—but the undead beauty had other intentions.

As the kiss was gently pulled away, Lyselle let out another soft whine before slowly opening her eyes, specks of gold still shining in her earthy orbs. Then her vampiress spoke, cool breath brushing her lips, tempting her toward another embrace.

“I think the bond is gifting us…”
The huntress was a scholar of sorts herself, her sharp mind eager to latch onto new information, and that small jolt of curiosity pulled her thoughts back to the recent battle.

As if reading her mind, “My love, I haven’t cried since the 1500s… And right now? The sunlight is doing absolutely nothing to quell my power… And your speed in the forest? Almost as quick as I can move?… The bond—it’s connecting us both in more ways than we realize.”

“Oh… you’re right…”
She hadn’t had time to consider the why of her speed, too focused on protecting the vampires in that moment—but the realization surfaced now.
“Does that mean… it’s magic?”

Ren never got the chance to reply.

Lyselle not only noticed the change—like a cat arching its back—but felt the pulse of danger surge through their bond like a drumbeat. Her eyes widened slightly as she was pulled closer to her dark queen, her attention snapping toward the nearby road. Instinctively, she clenched her jaw and squeezed Ren’s hand tight.

“Lyselle—what’s coming?”

“The Vigil.”
She almost growled the name. Normally, panic would have set in—questions of loyalty, doubt, whether she was truly ready to leave what she once called home for someone, for a vampire she had only just met. But the bond had shown her something undeniable. Beyond that, her night-born companion reinforced it—not just hearing love, but feeling it. Had that not happened, she might have wavered, hesitated. But not now.

“I can sense Delwyn… a couple of the newer recruits and…”
Her hand tightened around Ren’s, a subtle reassurance.
“One of the Masters. There are seven of them… it’s Lady Seraphine Holt. She’s strict—even among the Vigil—and she has a reputation as a hunter…”

Her gaze slid to Renaissance, love and lethal focus blending seamlessly in her expression.
“Torture,” she said flatly, without pleasure.

“We’re going to have to be very careful, Lady Renaissance,” she added as she unsheathed her throwing knives, intent on taking every advantage they could.

The air seemed to still, as if holding its breath, as the four figures came into view.

Delwyn—the man they had met before—looked carved by hardship rather than age. His face was angular and hard-set, jaw perpetually tense as if grinding back a snarl. Deep lines creased his brow and mouth, not from laughter but from years of restrained fury. His eyes were sharp and unyielding, pale and cold, lingering a fraction longer than comfort allowed.

Next came a recruit with brown hair tied back. Fresh-faced and visibly new, his skin was unblemished, eyes bright and restless as they darted toward authority figures. His armor looked recently issued—edges sharp, leather stiff and barely broken in. He stood too straight, shoulders unnaturally high, as if bracing for inspection.

After him was a woman. She blended in at first glance—average height, average build, muted features, the kind of face that slipped from memory unless studied closely. Her armor was worn properly, neither pristine nor neglected, bearing subtle scuffs of early fieldwork.

Her eyes were the most striking feature: thoughtful, watchful, often lowered. She rarely met another’s gaze unless necessary. Her hair was practical and unstyled, tucked away without care. Her movements were careful and efficient, never wasted or exaggerated. Something about her reminded Lyselle of herself, a bitter pang twisting in her stomach.

Then, last but not least—Lady Seraphine Holt.

She was elegant in a way that felt deliberate and controlled. Tall and slender, she carried herself with effortless authority, every movement smooth and measured. Her features were refined and symmetrical, her expression calm and unreadable—lips often curved in a faint, knowing smile that never reached her eyes.

Her hair was immaculate, pale blonde threaded with silver, styled away from her face in a manner that suggested discipline rather than fashion. Her eyes were a cool, assessing gray, sharp and unblinking, capable of holding a gaze until it faltered. She wore layered Vigil attire in dark ivory and ash tones, the fabrics rich but restrained, adorned only with subtle insignia denoting rank.

When Holt entered a space, she did not announce herself—presence alone did the work. Even at rest, she appeared poised, hands folded lightly, spine straight, as though always prepared to pass judgment.

Then she spoke, her voice steady yet carrying effortlessly, as if volume were unnecessary.

“Lyselle… that’s enough toying around with the dead. Or—don’t tell me you let that ‘thing’ dominate you. You didn’t, did you? If you did, we’ll be doing mental drills for the next month.”

“The Vigil.”

As soon as it had left Lyselle’s lips and floated out into the air before them, Renaissance Le Sang swiped the razor sharp talon across her forearm and watched her dark, thick blood ooze in response. The Ancient had already begun her hurried enchantment, her voice slithering into that serpentine hiss effortlessly. Like someone bilingual flitting between languages, Ren switched to the chant she knew so well. Hurried syllables hissed, intonations rushed to form. This Blood Magic needed to take ahold, and quickly.

“I can sense Delwyn… a couple of the newer recruits and…”
Her hand tightened around Ren’s, a subtle reassurance.
“One of the Masters. There are seven of them… it’s Lady Seraphine Holt. She’s strict—even among the Vigil—and she has a reputation as a hunter…”
Ren squeezed back in acknowledgement, continuing to repeat her chosen spell. She could feel the Blood Magic winding and twisting through her veins as it took form, lapping up the Vampire blood that had been offered as sacrifice. Blood Magic felt like fever, hot and fast through the body, disorientating if not carried out by a seasoned caster. Thanks to her years of undead life, Renaissance was confident that the spell would take. She could feel, in the way it left her body with fierce determination, that she’d done enough to influence the outcome.

This Blood Magic was not widely used in battle often. Many didn’t see the benefit of casting this particular spell. But Ren knew human nature, she knew the twists and turns of battle and what really influenced a fights outcome were emotions. Even the most skewered matches, with one far more powerful than another, could be won should there be an opening of opportunity. And what could drive a wedge in battle? Create an opportunity where those less likely to have won could strike? Emotions. So this enchantment that Ren had uttered so hastily under her breath, hand gripping on to her beautiful Huntress whilst her blood trickled down her forearm in sacramental sacrifice, would heighten these Human’s emotions.

The spell would take hold regardless of the emotions presented to it. The affected would feel each and every emotion within them tenfold. So, as Renaissance Le Sang watched the Vigil approach with visible but restricted disdain, she assessed each of her enemies in quick succession.

Delwyn, twisted with rage, would soon feel his fury transform and mutate into an uncontrollable implosion of the senses. That hardened expression, his furrowed brow and twisted lips, would crush into unbridled wrath. And what was the effect of anger on battle? Well, it added a ferocity that would certainly strengthen him for a time, but uncontrollable rage made fighters clumsy. Anger replaces logic. It blocks brain receptors responsible for clever calculation. This Blood Magic intended for the hardened Hunter to become clumsy in his vengeful state.

Then, the newborn recruit. Visibly youthful and unscathed by battles past, Ren’s fangs immediately dropped into view upon laying eyes on him. She could smell his apprehension, those widened eyes giving away his fear. Once the Blood Magic found him, he’d feel petrified. His nerves would shake his bones, fear gripping at his heart and squeezing for good measure. A fearful fighter will likely flee or fumble. Ren hoped for both. Her primal, animalistic desires wished for the latter. She enjoyed a chase.

Next to him was an entirely forgettable woman, perhaps a sight more experienced than the young man. She was poised for battle and seemed more readied, but it was clear she would be following the lead of her superiors. The Blood Magic would find her dependence on instruction and leadership, it would murk her ability to think independently. That need for obedience and compliance would absorb her, render her incapable of thinking for herself. A fighter depending entirely on command would be slow to act instinctively, the enchantment would be sure to further lessen her ability to fight alone.

Finally, the most complex case, the Master. Renaissance could sense her gravitas before she even spoke. Power recognises power and Ren knew she would be the hardest to befall.
“We’re going to have to be very careful, Lady Renaissance,” Lyselle’s voice felt muffled, far away. Ren was focused on finalising the enchantment. Due to the haste with which it had been cast, it wasn’t proving strong enough to corrupt all 4 of the Vigil members. The Master’s mind was too well protected for this spell. Ren struggled to see her achilles heel beneath the ironclad wall of strength the Hunter had built around her mind and self. So the Ancient Vampire accepted she’d have to leave the Vigil Leader untouched for now, rounding off the spell like garnishing a dish.

As the four Vigil members assembled opposite them, outnumbering Ren and Lys 2:1, the Blood Magic dissipated into the air around them. The Ancient Vampire’s breathing was steady but at a marginally quickened pace. She was relieved that she’d managed to cast before the inevitable battle began. She wondered what this would be doing to her Human love, how it would feel to be faced with her ‘family.’ It was so close to her departure, Lyselle had barely been away from the Vigil a day. Would being faced with them all here and now change her mind? Would laying eyes on the Master awaken her to the folly of the events unfolded? Renaissance felt her body click into the predatory mode she knew so well and a warning growl vibrated from her chest.

“Lyselle… that’s enough toying around with the dead. Or—don’t tell me you let that ‘thing’ dominate you. You didn’t, did you? If you did, we’ll be doing mental drills for the next month.”

The Master spoke with a cool, cold steadiness. Renaissance hissed in response to the disrespect.

‘Or—don’t tell me you let that ‘thing’ dominate you.‘

The sentence echoed like a taunt in Ren’s mind. Her body went rigid with an irritation she could barely control. The words reverberated in the Ancient Vampire’s body like a gnarly reminder. She’d take great pleasure in ripping that sullied tongue from the Master Hunter’s mouth.

Unlike the hunters before them, Lyselle had already come to peace with the blood magic coursing through the air, barely flinching as Seraphine scowled softly. They could both tell the enchantment was already taking hold—Delwyn showing the most obvious signs as he reached for his longsword and loaded his wrist bow. The Master, however, held out a hand to stop him from attacking. Even in the midst of heightened emotions, Delwyn still respected the authority and power Lady Holt held, though he growled openly in frustration.

The newest member froze, flinching as if he wanted to run, yet something kept him rooted in place—no doubt the threat of death should he betray the Vigil. Then the woman moved, reacting differently than Ren had predicted. Her fists clenched, eyes snapping to Lyselle as if the huntress had betrayed her personally, vengeance beginning to burn behind her stare.

Still, none moved as Seraphine released a slow sigh, glaring at the vampiress before turning her gaze expectantly to Lyselle. After what felt like an hour, Lyselle finally replied,
“I’m not dominated, and I’m not playing,” she stated firmly, clearly on the defensive—though a flicker of nervous tension drifted toward Ren through the bond.

Holt raised an eyebrow before pressing her lips into a thin line.
“Lyselle… you have no idea what you are doing—what you risk. Come here before this gets out of hand.”

“Master Holt! I told you she was a—”

The experienced hunter was cut off mid-sentence as Holt snapped at him, her voice sharp with cold authority.
“Remember your place, Delwyn—you are a guest here.”

His anger was clearly getting the better of him, his posture rigid, as if he might attack regardless of the punishment awaiting him. Holt’s eyes returned to Lyselle.
“Get over here—now.”

A flash of annoyance crossed Lyselle’s face, tension tightening her frame, but instead of faltering she stepped closer to Ren.

With determination driving her words, she replied,
“I won’t… I can’t. Everyone taught me that vampires are evil, but there’s still humanity left in them. I’ve seen it myself—please, just let us leave.”

That was when the woman behind the Master spoke, venom dripping from her tone.
“Blasphemy! You sound like one of those Rising Sun heretics—I always knew you were a bad apple.”

“I made up my own mind, Felicity…”

Everyone in the Vigil knew of the Rising Sun—a sect of priests and hunters who believed there was more than met the eye. They preached caution, insisting that vampires and werewolves had once been human and that their humanity was not lost, only dulled by the curse they carried. Such beliefs made them deeply unpopular. Lyselle had never met one personally, but she often reflected on the whispered stories of Vigil encounters with them—and how none were ever left alive if the Vigil could help it, branded as tainted by evil themselves.

Once again, Seraphine raised her hand to silence the others and slowly narrowed her eyes at Renaissance.
“This is your doing, no doubt. Now we have no choice but to kill you—but I will not make it quick. Turning one of our brightest hunters against us is not something I’ll easily forgive, harlot.” The bond flared and carried Lyselle's own emotions of anger and protectiveness, as if daring the Master to call her darling that one more time, her grip causing her knuckles to turn white.

Without another word, she signaled the others to attack.

Thanks to the spell binding the hunters’ emotions, only Delwyn and Felicity moved at first. Delwyn focused immediately on Ren, firing his bolt once more. The projectile looked like a metal ball at the end—likely concealing another silver-lined net. As predicted, his anger made him sloppy, though fast. He didn’t even wait for the net to deploy, crying out as he charged forward with his longsword.

Lyselle’s instinct was to guard her lover, flicking her knives outward toward the incoming bolt—but it was stopped mid-flight by another blade. She blinked in surprise, eyes snapping up to meet Felicity’s piercing gaze, cold ire etched across her face. The woman lunged forward, far more focused than before, her attention fixed solely on Lyselle, as if nothing else existed.

Thankfully, Lyselle knew Felicity’s tactics well—they had trained together countless times—and she knew jealousy had always simmered beneath the surface. Now, under Ren’s enchantment, that emotion had sharpened into something vicious, enough to send shivers down Lyselle’s spine.

As the battle unfolded, the new recruit lingered behind them, eyes fixed on Holt, standing rigid as if stillness alone might spare him from being called upon. The Master glanced back, lips curling into a snarl as realization dawned. She pointed sharply to the ground beside her, leaving him no room to refuse. When he finally stepped close, Lady Holt began to draw upon his skin—a sigil meant to dispel the blood enchantment Ren had cast. She worked effectively, drawing the lines like she had done this thousands of times before, and the vampire could feel her spell loosening its grip on him.

For now, it was one-on-one for the bonded pair.

But not for long.

“I’m not dominated, and I’m not playing,” Lyselle was firm in her response.
Renaissance Le Sang, blending between her human and Vampire form, let out a raucous, animalistic snarl. Her knees dropped, back arched like a street-cat, her eyes bottomless pits. The fangs she splayed, advertising their razor-sharp tips, begged for flesh. The hair on the Vampire’s arms stood rigidly upward, eyes intently focusing on each of her opponents one by one.

With each smouldering, withering look, Ren assessed her newly-presented enemies. Ever the strategist, ever the logistical analyst, the Ancient Vampire raked her contemptuous gaze over every inch of the Hunters before her. She watched for tells, signs of weakness. Locking in her focus, the Ancient Vampire felt her vampiric intuition beg to be released. Like a caged animal, her repressed power trembled with glee at the prospect of being unleashed. It had been so long since the Aged Creature had been challenged so outright. With so much power laying dormant inside her, Ren had to lock away the beastly rage that rumbled beneath her cold, dead flesh. But like any caged animal, this power ached for release. And so, stood opposite these Humans, Ren opened that trap door just an inch. Her intuition soared with energy, rearing up like an impassioned stallion as she unlatched the stable door holding it prisoner. With calculated care, Ren unleashed her intuition upon the Vigil members. Details began to become apparent:

Delwyn’s left side was weakest, especially his knees. Many years of Hunting, sleeping rough, walking long distances, had worn down the muscle.

Felicity was technically sound at hand-to-hand, but she focused too much on what she’d been taught. She was rigid. She lacked elegance and initiative in her fighting style.

The boy… He was easy enough to pick off. He had to follow orders, and he would do so to the best of his ability, but talent can’t be taught.

But the Master? Seraphine? Her weakness was hidden behind that stonewall she’d created. It would take time to delve behind it…

“Get over here—now.”

Renaissance felt the shriek bubble in the pit of her stomach. It ripped through her, tearing through her vocal cords. The banshee-like scream was so contrasted to the beautiful rosebud mouth it flew out of. Haunting, shrill, blood curdling… There was the tiniest thread of human tone to the cry, but it was mostly vampiric. Hauntingly so. The scream was a protest to Holt’s arrogant commands. Renaissance couldn’t bear to listen to the Human attempt to overpower Lyselle, to corrupt her.

“ENOUGH!” Ren roared. She lifted her muscular arm, extending that threatening talon in a menacing point, angled directly at Holt. “I can’t bare to watch you scramble for control any longer. Enough.” Then, tossing her glossy midnight-black curls behind her slender shoulders, she narrowed her coal-like gaze at Holt with the threat of a well-trained predator. A seductive, villainous smile spread across her face as she cocked her head tauntingly at the Master Huntress.
“I’m already fantasising about forcing you to address me by “harlot” for the last time… Except this time you’ll be choking it out as I tear open that pathetically feeble jugular and drink directly from your Carotid Arteries.” The vampire spoke with quick, artful spite. She meant it. The image flashed into reality before her eyes, bringing another layer of determination to the violence that coursed through her veins.

Then, slowed by his rage, Delwyn made the first attempt to attack. That enchanted, exaggerated anger made his intentions clear and his aim sloppier than usual. Renaissance sprung into action, flipping the internal switch that triggered her vampiric speed. Her blurred form almost swam through the air, gliding from left to right. She kept Lyselle at the centre of her movements, not straying too far from her side. They’d have to partner up to face these foes. A united front.

The bond flickered with apprehension from her beloved Human. Renaissance imagined clasping it with a gentle touch, soothing it with a caress, before setting it free like a baby bird. Her talented Huntress had brandished her throwing knives with the agility of a determined warrior and when Felicity made her strike, Renaissance saw her slither of opportunity. The vampire, still moving with that supernatural agility, dove forward. She landed on the ground with a soft roll, swiping her taloned hand in a horizontal strike. She felt the tip of her claw slash across both Felicity’s shins, right where there was a gap in her armour. The vampire saw the material in the Huntresses trousers rip open with a satisfying tear and blood spattered forth. She hissed in satisfaction, not pausing to bask in the glory of a successful attack for long.

Agile as a bird, swift as a panther, Renaissance slunk away from Felicity and returned to Lyselle’s side. Her eyes constantly scanning the battleground before them, the Ancient awaited the next attack. She remained alert, her breaths turned to growls. Rabid but controlled, Renaissance remained behind her Huntress, a pillar of strength behind her.

“We move together,” Renaissance whispered down the bond, feeling it ablaze with flowing energy. It seemed to respond, catalysed with the adrenaline of the battle. “They’ll try to separate us, pick us off individually. They don’t know how connected we are… The bond is our strength” Her inner voice echoed down the thread that tied the two together and still the vampire’s guttural roars punctuated the air thick with tension.

They’d face the Vigil. Together. Bloodbound but never broken.

The boy flinched as the blood-curdling shriek vibrated through the air, pulling his arm away momentarily in fear and causing a brief interruption in the Master’s sigil. The act drew a low huff of frustration from the woman—though she did not seem truly affected. She spared Ren a short, assessing stare when she was addressed, but no words were exchanged. Lady Holt merely smirked arrogantly and returned to her work, fingers buzzing quickly as she completed the spell etched into flesh.

The bolt from Delwyn whizzed through the air confidently until it missed its mark, beginning to tumble as it spun downward and struck the ground with a soft thud, proving completely ineffective against the undead woman’s speed. That did not matter to him. His grip tightened on his blade as he closed the distance between himself and the subject of his now-augmented hatred.

In that moment, two things happened: Felicity’s cry of pain as the vampire blurred forward, and Delwyn shifting to his right, exposing his left side to avoid a projectile. As the vampiress opened a wound in the woman, Lyselle paired it with a thrown knife aimed at Delwyn, forcing him into a weaker position. The bonded huntress did not know of the man’s vulnerability—she only meant to catch him off guard, leaving a far greater opening for her lover than she realized.

Then, in the brief moment while Ren was still returning—using her own enhanced speed—Lyselle hurled another blade toward Seraphine. It spun through the air gracefully, and Lyselle knew the Master would evade it, but it forced her to abandon the sigil’s final strokes, buying them precious time. It was only moments away though.

She felt the air come alive as Renaissance returned, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It was like warm electricity caressing her skin before the message itself reached her.

“We move together. They’ll try to separate us, pick us off individually. They don’t know how connected we are… The bond is our strength.”

A quick glance flicked toward the dark goddess, surprise flashing across Lyselle’s face at how clearly she heard it, before her focus snapped back to the battlefield.

The huntress took quick inventory as she shifted her weight, getting ready to fight up close—no more than a blink’s worth. Delwyn was within striking range of Ren. Felicity, teeth grit, was pushing through the pain and advancing once more. And Holt continued carving her rune into the boy’s skin, moments away from freeing all four to join the fight.

Delwyn and Felicity were closing in on the pair of them. Now firmly back at Lyselle’s side, Renaissance lowered her body once again, arms spread and talon brandished. Her left hand flitted down to her side and gripped her encrusted dagger still stained with werewolf blood. Unsheathing her weapon, Ren was prepared to strike quickly. Whatever rune that Huntress Master was carving into the boys skin was surely finished soon? And Lyselle’s knife whistling through the air did little to deter her.

Letting out a warning, serpentine hiss, the Vampire watched Delwyn expose his vulnerable side and she struck once. Twice. The dagger swept through the air, slicing up across Delwyns exposed rib area. The Ancient Vampire quickly followed the strike with another devastating downward slash. The dagger did its job, carving into Delwyn’s flesh with satisfying ease. Moving agile as a deer, Ren moved behind both Felicity and Delwyn, whipping around them like a whirlwind. Now behind them, she shoved Felicity toward Lyselle, engaging them into combat far sooner than Felicity had bargained for, no doubt. The aim was to hit her with the element of surprise. To put her in an unexpected position, prime striking distance for her bonded human. Lyselle was ready. She always was. And Ren knew she’d seize the opportunity to strike whilst Felicity was bewildered, even if only for a second.

Not satisfied that Delwyn had suffered enough, Ren clamped a flexed hand on the Hunter’s shoulder and spun him round to face her. Her face a portrait of horror, she glared at him with those midnight black eyes and saw the Hunter’s fury seeping from his pores.

“Come now, Hunter!” Renaissance taunted, her voice shrill and subhuman. She awaited his next move, which would be predictably enraged and avoidable. Whilst she handled Delwyn, she expected her beloved Huntress would deal with Felicity. Then, once they’d successfully defeated these two, Ren hoped they’d be able to tackle the far more difficult task at hand: Holt.

The man roared as his anger was baited by both attack and taunt, blood steadily spilling from the two strikes to his weakened side, disoriented further by the forced spin. He barely waited a single breath before swinging his blade wildly at the vampire. They were experienced strikes, but devoid of tactics or thought, relying entirely on instinct—which Renaissance possessed in spades compared to the human hunter. Even as she engaged him, however, a shiver of danger slid down her spine.

Meanwhile, Felicity nearly stumbled into Lyselle’s range, hissing softly at the pain in her legs before brandishing her weapon toward the object of her jealousy. Lyselle had already freed her weapons by the time Felicity locked eyes on her. She swung her dagger in a horizontal arc, which her opponent barely avoided, only to feel the sting of Lyselle’s shortblade sink into her shoulder. The huntress had used a feint to land the blow, her expression as serious as ever—not even a flicker of a smile—as she knew this battle would not be easily won.

What surprised Lyselle was the sudden rejoining of the newest hunter—Thomas—the vampire’s spell now completely dispelled. She had to shift her stance quickly to block the blow of his weapon, a mace that knocked her off balance despite being wielded with far less skill than the others. Still, it created the perfect opening for Felicity’s counterattack, her shortsword sinking into Lyselle’s bicep. Lyselle winced sharply as the burn of metal tore through her arm. Thankfully, the woman reacted quickly, pulling away and using her newfound speed to gain some distance from her opponents, who now numbered two instead of one. Thanks to her hours of training both off and on the field, she was able to force her own pain to the side, letting adrenaline course through her veins.

Just as Renaissance had reacted to Delwyn, Holt was upon her with practiced grace and speed. Though fully human, the Master Huntress moved with startling precision, concealing her presence until she was only a few feet away. Her chosen weapon was revealed in a flash—a jian—whistling through the air as it struck toward the vampire’s back. It was handled with the skill befitting her title and backed by surprising strength, the blessed silver searing through ancient flesh. How much it caught depended on Ren’s reaction speed—but it caught nonetheless.

The sound and scent drew Lyselle’s attention almost instantly, concern and alarm rippling through their connection even as she forced herself to remain focused in the face of her own threats. It was the first time either of them had been wounded since this confrontation began. Lyselle hated that. But there was nothing she could do now except keep her eyes on her enemies and her mind disciplined. She knew, as much as she wanted to protect her darling love, that staying in the moment was the right call.

Renaissance’s senses were exploding with stimulus. Her nose inhaled the scent of her enemies in quick, short breaths. Her vision had sharpened, like the twist of a focal camera lens. Her movements were always swift, agile yet elegant. The ancient vampire truly engaged in battle as if it were a well choreographed dance. Like lovers salsa dancing on a dark night.

Except this wasn’t a dark night. It was broad daylight. And Ren didn’t have her toned arms snaked around the hips of a lover. Instead, she’d cut open the flesh of Delwyn the Hunter and watched as his scarlet blood spewed from his ruptured skin. What followed were some determined strikes fuelled by his enchanted rage. They lacked the precision they undoubtedly normally had thanks to the fury that bubbled in his stomach. That face a perfect picture of rage, contorted into pinches of something bloodier than disdain. Renaissance ducked and dived, her shoulders rolling, her back arching, cutting through the air in speedy dodges. The threat of that hungry blade narrowly avoided the Vampire’s skin, bouldering through the air around her in repeated near-misses. Ren could hear Delwyn’s grunts of effort, little puddles of bubbling spittle forming at the corners of his downturned mouth.

As Delwyn the Hunter struggled to recover from his combination attack, his wounded left side weighing on him greatly, Renaissance’s hand snapped out to grip his forearm. Her fingers closed around just above his wrist, locking into a bear trap of a grip. Twisting her arm in a sharp, flicking motion the Vampire forced Delwyn’s hand to loosen on his weapon. Whilst stunned and before he had the chance to swing for her again, Ren levered herself around to Delwyn’s back. If human and animal were two colours on a canvas, Renaissance was blending the two as she leapt onto Delwyn’s back. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles to squeeze in a suffocating hold. Mounted upon him, the Ancient glared down at the arteries in his neck, pumping furiously. One arm twisting around his jugular like a python, Ren pulled back. The sweet spot between her bicep and forearm was snugly pressed against Delwyn’s adam’s apple and the pressure she enforced upon him would be enough to hear cracking bones soon. Ren wasn’t ignorant enough to assume that her advantage from upon his back was sustainable. She had little time to finish this attack before he gathered himself and readied for his counterattack. The Ancient let out a shrill shriek as she plunged her fangs into the Hunter’s neck, revelling in the sensation of flesh crumbling beneath her elongated cuspids. Legs locked around Delwyn’s torso, one arm still squeezing his neck like a murderous scarf, Ren felt the warm spurt of blood filling her mouth. It bubbled from the puncture wounds, the nightmarish creature angling her face so the fangs widened the incisions. The warm elixir that the Vampire craved so wholly slid down her throat, coating her teeth, enveloping her tongue. It was metallic, the tannins full and adrenaline polluting the ordinarily sweet tipple.

As Lyselle engaged further in battle with Felicity, the only thing to pry her from Delwyn’s delicious neck was the bond vibrating with a call for attention. Ren dropped from the Hunter’s back, not checking to see if he’d been properly incapacitated. The curse took hours to take hold, she had time to circle back and ensure he was dealt with before the blood began to turn. For now, she directed her attention to Lyselle. Her majestic, capable Huntress was fighting off the jealousy-fuelled Vigil member. There was an efficiency to Lyselle’s movements that demonstrated her capability as a recruit. Her shortsword had found its way embedded into Felicity’s shoulder, that much was clear. Though the vampire had been busy mounting Delwyn like a wrestling partner, she could see Felicity weakened dramatically by her Huntresses handicapping blow.

But Renaissance had listened to the bond’s call too late. Distracted by the newly awoken Thomas, spell broken and ready to join the flight, Felicity’s weapon buried itself in Lyselle’s forearm. It had all happened too quickly for Ren to intervene and guilt pricked the bond as she had the sinking feeling that Lys was wounded. Seeng her bonded lover’s face pinch in pain made the Ancient’s body erupt into unfathomable rage. Like lighting a fire beneath her, Ren sprung forth. Crossing the distance between Delwyn’s discarded form quickly, she rumbled a thunderous growl and a shrill scream ripped from her snarling lips. Ren’s bat-like wings snapped open from her spine, spanning in impressive width and causing her to seem a lot larger. Just as a wildcat would brush up their tail, heckles flaring, spine arching and curling, Ren’s wings trembled with suppressed, primal anger. She saw Lys’ forearm wound seep blood and the bond crackled with concern. This battle would not be easily won. She had to accept that wounds would be made, on both sides, and that was part of the balancing act of a war. For both of them to emerge unscathed was an impossible, naive pipe dream yet seeing her precious human Huntress injured was as if she’d suffered a fatal blow herself. Regardless, Ren didn’t have time to embrace the heartbreak. She had to protect Lys.

Just as the Ancient was about to engage in more combat, a whistling caused her to nap her head to face Holt. She’d made the mistake of turning her back to the experienced Vigil member. Too distracted, too torn, too concerned. Ren hissed as she realised she’d created an opportunity for Holt to plant an attack. A jian, blessed silver hissing as it soared through the air, heading straight for her. If not for the vampires wings springing forth from her spine, the flying weapon would have been easier to avoid. But the vampire couldn’t quite move quick enough and she watched as the spiked jian arced like a javelin and punctured the thing skin of her right-hand batwing.

The sound of the blessed blade tearing through her wing triggered a deep roar of anguish from the vampire. Renaissance felt her knees buckle, threatening to give out. Her kneecaps trembled from the weight of keeping her upright, the smell of singed flesh filling the air. The simmering, white hot pain that imploded from the penetration of the jian was momentarily blinding and Ren strained to refocus. Vision blurred, she squinted under the efforts to recalibrate. She had to recover quickly, to preempt a follow-up strike. Holt wouldn’t relent, no doubt lining up her next attack and this time Ren would not allow the blow to land.

Defensively, her batwings folded back into place, disappearing within her back. She focused her gaze on Holt, repressing the acknowledgment of pain pulsing from her wounded wing. The bond had illuminated with the shock of her injury and Ren felt torn between return attacking Holt or joining the fight against Felicity and Thomas.

Deciding with the click of her fingers, the Ancient dove amongst the clash of the two Vigil recruits VS Lyselle. The safety of her bonded human far outweighed the need for revenge with Holt. That would come later.

For now, she hissed as she approached the pair, choosing Thomas as her next victim. The talon sliced through the air like a conductor leading an orchestra, each swipe aiming for Thomas’ back, shoulders and neck. The sharp whistle as the talon danced through the air punctuated the attacks laced with pain. Ren gritted her teeth through the burn that coursed through her spine, reminding her of what could happen if she allowed her mind to become distracted again. The battle continued and Renaissance Le Sang kept her senses on red alert, listening for Holt’s next attempt on her undead life.