They were planning to go home, as they slipped from the caravan grounds: in full view, for the first time all week. Their mind felt clearer than it had since the day Alison took their finger from them, since her blood flowed past their lips, one drink to another, and they couldn’t deny that physically, they felt good.

All the shivers had settled to an even chill, though Clari could feel their own skin lightly flush with warmth, stolen from the woman in the basement. The gum pain and dry mouth were both of the past, too, replaced instead with sharp fangs they were still struggling to talk around, and that hunger was…

…The hunger had changed, at least. Grown from a mortal ache into something deeper, something far more malicious.

Clari reached the bridge, passing between the Flower Valley and the Spire proper. Their hand trailed along the rail, the surface warm from the sun. Warmer than they were, definitely. They tapped their fingers along the surface, crawling them like a spider, until they turned abruptly and gripped it as tightly as they could.

That woman. What was her name? They knew someone had said it, but Clari couldn’t for the life of them remember what it was. They’d attacked her, drank her blood: she was the one who completed their turning, and they didn’t even know her name.

It wasn’t meant to be like that. That wasn’t how they’d planned it. None of this was how they’d planned it. Every possible thing that could have gone wrong had, except for the fact that no one was dead.

No one had told them anything. They hadn’t known it would be today, they hadn’t prepared for that. Every push for information rejected, every reach for connection denied. Everything was slipping through their fingers and they’d attacked someone. Like an animal. Like a monster.

They remembered the Nameless—Eclipse, Visha’s Zeal—calling themselves a gentle monster. They hadn’t thought about it much, not at the time, as although the words ended up in their notebook all the same, they’d thought of it more like a turn of phrase, rather than a cold, hard fact.

They were a monster, too.

Obviously Clari knew what they’d signed up for, at least conceptually. An eternal lifetime of craving. A cold, fanged body they’d spend that life within. Fangs and blood and power, just like they’d asked for.

It wouldn’t be like that every time, would it? That loss of control, that sea of red they fell into…that wasn’t their fate forever, was it? Eclipse was able to feed with control, as was Alison, even if she was a monster. Clari could get themselves under control to be like them, too.

Even still, they didn’t realise that they’d feel so…odd. Clari lifted a hand to their mouth, tracing one of the long fangs that pressed from their gum.

Between that and the hunger, their body didn’t feel quite like their own. Like they were wearing themselves, their skin, like an unfamiliar outfit. They were certain that wouldn’t last, at least, akin more to growing pains than anything permanent, but still, it didn’t help the unease that settled in Clari’s gut next to that awful, feral thirst.

It hadn’t been enough. They’d had, what, a few gulps from the woman and a dead rabbit? Was that really all they were worth, dead animals and stolen blood? That hadn’t been the plan.

They wanted more. Another bite, another burst of brilliant flavour on their tongue, but they couldn’t. Not yet, not now. They didn’t want to go chasing rabbits through the Flower Valley for bland, unpleasant blood.

They’d be okay, for now. They had to be.

Clari kept tapping their fingers, going to move back towards the town until something caught their eye.

They couldn’t see their hand in the water.

Clari leaned over the edge of the railing, peering down at where the river met the lake and saw…nothing. No reflection. It was like they weren’t even there.

Their gut twisted, fangs gnawing at the edge of their lip as they stared down at the place they were meant to be. Like they weren’t real, disconnected from the world. Rejected by it.

Their fingers curled against the rail again as Clari tried to stabilise their breathing, to keep it together.

Transcending, empowering; this was what that was for, this was worth it, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter if they couldn’t see themselves anymore. The imperfections they saw in a mirror, maybe it was better if they were hidden away, somewhere Clari couldn’t think in circles around them. No more obsessing over blemishes, no more noting their slightly uneven eyes. They were what they were.

It didn’t make them feel much better.

They couldn’t go home. Not yet. As Clari slunk from the bridge, deeper into the forests bordering the Spire, everything was quiet, as though the very world shunned the choice they’d made. And as Clari stared down at each pool they passed, they pushed the same thought through their mind on a loop, over and over until they believed it.

This was worth it.

This was worth it.

This was worth it.

YOUR ETERNAL FATE, A SLAVE TO THE BLOODLUST

Clari’s lips still tasted like blood.

Not theirs, not an animal’s, but that of a person, a real living person they’d sunk their fangs into, pushing past the skin with a pop of pressure until the taste filled their mind. It had taken them so agonizingly long to come to their senses, like swimming up through an ocean of red that lived deep in their mind.

It was incredible. For every taste that had been stolen from them, all the foods that tasted far away, this was the culmination of all of it. Flavour, but better. Warm and rich and intoxicating.

A small part of them wishes they’d kept drinking.

The early morning sun beat down on them as they walked…where? Home? Home didn’t feel quite right, they didn’t want to be home. They didn’t want to answer questions or talk to anyone right now, and there was nowhere to hide in the walls they shared with another.

They wanted to slip their skin, turn to that brilliant mist they’d used before in a rush of weightlessness, but they felt horribly grounded by the light. Like it crept into their skin and anchored them to the world.

Somehow, Clari’s feet brought them back to the bridge. They leaned against the railing, staring down at the place their reflection should be once more.

They could handle this, couldn’t they? Obviously they could see now why vampires struggled with the bloodlust, but there was more to life than just craving, they knew. Life, in whatever form you could get. Friends, loved ones. They had a choice, they’d always had a choice, they just had to fight back against the red inside them.

Clari knew that now. They knew that logically. But they couldn’t forget the way the doctor’s heartbeat sang to them when they were that close. The pulse of his blood.

The blindfold that didn’t fully work. The caution, the hiding away. The thought of registration they’d have to lie their way through: after all, what kind of maniac wants this life?

They couldn’t even make themselves regret it, not yet. There were growing pains, sure, but the physical power was incredible. The mist form, the speed, the way they seemed to blend with the shadows. The stillness in their body, unmoved by time. They were something more, certainly.

And there was no point in regretting what was done.

They simply had to keep pushing, strive to do better in the future. They had time. If they had anything, it was time.

They would learn. They just…hoped it didn’t take too long. They’d almost gotten caught today, and they’d gotten caught before. The eyes were a nuisance. If only they didn’t have to hide it, if they could be what they were with a degree of openness, maybe they wouldn’t feel so ashamed.

Secrecy breeds shame in their mind, but they didn’t want it to.

If this was the price of ascending, who would they be to hide? Still, it was necessary for now.

Clari takes a deep breath. They lick their fangs again, though there’s no blood that remains.

This was still worth it.