Chapter Text
Pyro didn’t want to admit it, but he might have gotten a little bit lost on his way to Oakhurst. It didn’t help that he’d dropped his map into a puddle several miles back, rendering it nothing but a pile of useless mush, but he thought he’d had the route memorized- well enough to get him to town at least. Only, the one etched in his memory had led him off a beaten path, and now all the trees seemed to be leading him in circles, the faint morning fog making every scene look the same.
He groaned, continuing to trudge through mud and peat, wrinkling his nose at the mess it was making of his shoes. He certainly didn’t feel as though he was getting further from his destination, although there was little to prove that notion besides a hunch that drew him in like a puppet on an invisible string. Pausing to catch a break, he opened his notebook to reference the hasty mockup he’d made of the map, but it did little good where he had no idea where exactly he was.
As the noise of his own breath became quieter, he froze, perking up at a faint hollow sound that echoed through the woods besides the birdsong and rustling of trees.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
Somewhere, it sounded as though someone nearby was chopping wood.
Relief flooded through his chest as he strained his ears and began making his way towards the source of the noise, knowing that if someone nearby was gathering resources out here, then surely they knew their way back to town. The foliage became less dense, allowing more sunlight to peek through the trees, and his heart sank as the sound ceased, although luckily it wasn’t a concern for long.
“Hello?” The voice of a woman called, and he stumbled out of the brush to find where she was chopping up a tree she’d felled, her shoulders squared and her eyes keen, the axe held at her side.
“H-hi, hello!” He replied, dusting some leaves off his coat and smiling in a way he hoped looked harmless and friendly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to trouble you or anything, I just seemed to have gotten a little… turned around.”
Upon making himself known, the woman visibly relaxed, her eyes softening as she chuckled a little. “Yeah, these woods’ll do that to ya. You heading to Oakhurst?”
“Yes, actually!” He laughed, meeting her at the centre of the small clearing. “Are you a local here by chance?”
“Who, me?” The lady blinked owlishly before shaking her head. “No, no- I only got here a couple weeks ago, myself. I do live there though, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Well then, you’ve been here longer than me.” He smiled, before holding out a hand for her to shake. “My name’s Pyro, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Pearl,” She returned with a toothy grin, shaking his hand with a firm grip and calloused hands. “Nice to meet you too! If you give me a moment here to gather up some of the wood I’ve just chopped, then I can lead you back to town, if you’d like.”
“That would be greatly appreciated,” he nodded with gratitude, watching her pack up the logs onto her back with a practiced and efficient precision. “Ah- would you like some help carrying all of that?”
Pyro wasn’t the strongest by any means, but it felt rude not to help out when she was already doing him a favour.
“Oh, sure!” She smiled, dumping a bundle of logs into his arms, which he nearly dropped from the sheer weight, wheezing slightly in disbelief at the fact she was somehow carrying about five times the amount she’d given him. Clearly, she was much stronger than she looked.
With that, she began marching off into the trees, and he struggled to keep up, careful not to lose any of the bounty he’d been trusted with.
“So, what brings you to Oakhurst, Pyro?” She asked idly as they walked, not a twinge of strain in her voice as she jovially bounced along. “Besides the lovely scenery, of course.”
“I uh-“ He panted a couple of times, his arms starting to burn. “Well- I came here to study- study the culture… and history here! F-for my thesis.”
“Ah, you’re one of those academic types, huh?” She ribbed playfully. “I should introduce you to Shelby then, she’s doing a similar sort of research on the folklore around here. Said it was some sort of personal project, I think?”
“Oh- that would be lovely actually,” he said breathlessly. He wasn’t expecting to run into anyone else trying to document the strangely absent history the town seemed to have here, but he would take any help he could get. Perhaps they could even compare notes.
The rest of the walk continued with similar small talk, although near the end Pyro was only grunting out short responses in an attempt to keep his breath. He was baffled at how effortless Pearl made it look, the woman not even breaking a sweat as they finally made it to a quaint little tavern at the edge of town.
His arms felt like jelly as he finally heaved the lumber down by the side of the building, stretching out aching joints as his companion simply shrugged it off like it was nothing. Her unnatural strength was starting to make him feel a little insecure, if he was being honest.
She was still friendly as ever though, so he tried his best not to let it show as she invited him in, glancing at the sign above the door that read ‘The Red Crown Tavern.’
“I work as a waitress here most of the time, but I end up doing a lot of the other chores Martyn is too lazy to do.” She explained, leading him inside.
The tavern was quite cozy inside, a homely and rustic sort of charm that he imagined made it quite popular for townsfolk looking for a place to hide from the brisker nights. It didn’t look particularly busy at the moment- besides a group of sketchy looking fellows sitting at a table in the corner, which his gaze quickly glanced over in hopes to avoid starting trouble. Apart from them, there was only a person with brilliant orange hair sitting at the bar, talking to the moustached man behind the counter.
“Cleo!” Pearl beamed as she came into view, and the stranger turned to her with a similar expression of delight.
“There you are,” They smiled warmly, paying little to no attention to Pyro whatsoever. “Was starting to think you got lost or something.”
“Me? Never.” Pearl grinned, and he was starting to think she’d forgotten he was here.
“Whose yer new friend there, lassie?” The man behind the bar asked in a thick and unfamiliar accent, finally bringing attention to him.
“Oh, right!” Pearl laughed, shaking her head. “Ren, Cleo- this is Pyro. Found him stumbling around the woods at the edge of town, said he got lost.”
“I-“ He gawked, his ears burning a bit as he scoffed. “I was not stumbling. You make me sound like some sort of drunk!”
She giggled. “Sorry, just teasing. This is Ren, he owns and runs the pub here, was kind enough to offer me a job when I first got here. And Cleo…”
“I do what I want.” Cleo replied dryly, earning a snort from Pearl.
“Yeah, true.”
“I work for hire as a farmhand most of the time, but I pick up work wherever I can find it.” They elaborated with a casual shrug.
“Well, what brings you to our wonderful town of Oakhurst, Mr. Pyro?” Ren smiled, the wrinkles and the edges of his eyes crinkling. His warm presence truly made the place feel complete, like a home away from home.
Pyro opened his mouth to give the same response he did to Pearl, but was quickly distracted by the sound of the suspicious group from earlier all getting up and leaving the tavern. A few gold coins were left on the table, but aside from that they left with nought a word, only a couple of grumbles and grunts.
“…Who were they?” He asked instead as Pearl trotted her way over to collect the payment, counting them in her palm before slipping it in her pocket.
“Ah, them.” Ren sighed, shaking his head. “Just another wee group of monster hunters, don’cha know? Prolly after some sort of bounty.”
“…Huh?” He squinted, struggling to decipher the man’s words.
Cleo rolled their eyes, leaning against the counter as Pearl returned to the conversation. “Monster hunters. Some idiot started going around stirring up trouble, saying there’s monsters in the woods. Now everyone and their mum is coming around here looking for them.”
“Who, the author?” Pearl asked, assumedly referring to the idiot Cleo spoke of. “He’s not that bad. I mean hey- the publicity is good for business.”
“I suppose.” Ren nodded, cleaning out a glass with a rag. “Just hope they don’t go hurtin’ no one with them fancy silver swords o’ theirs.”
He saw Pearl shudder in the corner of his eye, and blinked at the three of them in shock.
“You’re saying they’re the real deal?” He gaped, his interest instantly piqued. “Hang on I’ll- I’ll be right back. Thank you for uh- everything!”
“Be careful, Laddie!” Ren called after him as he was out the door in less than a moment, chasing after the unusual group on a sudden impulse.
He’d heard this area had many tales of strange creatures and happenings, and if he wanted a good source of information to draw from, genuine monster hunters seemed like a chance he just couldn’t let go to waste. They weren’t typically known to be the most sociable of folks, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least give it a try.
“Wait!” He cried, running up to the cart they seemed to be stocking with weapons, and an older man with a wide brimmed hat and shaded glasses rose a brow as he approached, eyeing him up and down skeptically.
“…You’re late.” The man grunted before Pyro could even catch his breath, earning him a puzzled stare.
“-What?”
“…Yer the apprentice that was supposed to be comin’ along, right?” The old hunter grumbled, and Pyro did his best not to gawk.
“Um- y-yep! That’s me,” He lied quickly, afraid hesitance might give him away. “R-reporting for duty..?”
Clearly, he’d been mistaken for someone else, someone who was meant to show up, but hadn’t. He hadn’t got much of a chance to think over the consequences of assuming that person’s identity before the words had slipped from his mouth, and was now sweating in the face of his blatant dishonesty.
“Right. Help load up the cart, would you?” The man said, seeming to either not notice or not care he was lying. “I’d like to get this over with.”
Pyro nodded frantically as he began helping, his mind running a mile a minute as he began to process what exactly he’d gotten himself into. He felt like nothing but an obstacle to the scarred and grizzled hunters at his sides, who only glanced at him with a mild annoyance. He’d never felt like more of a child beside them, and only as the cart was leaving town did he realize he had no idea what they would do to him if they found out he was lying. Oh boy.
He sat at the front next to the older hunter who’d greeted him, and looked by far the most experienced of all of them. Everyone else sat in the back as they rolled out of Oakhurst and onto the dirt roads, leaving behind a town he’d hardly spent a few minutes in. God, what was he doing?
It took some time to quell the panic inside him, assuring himself that this was fine, and he was doing it for research. Surely no one could fault him for that, right?
“So…” He started, sneaking out his journal from the inside of his coat to take some notes and begin gathering information. “What exactly are we… dealing with?”
“Probably nothin’.” The old man grunted, and Pyro blinked at him dumbly. “Some famous writer said he saw something that might’ve looked like a nest, but y’know how those creative types are. Imaginative.”
“You think he’s lying?” He balked, quickly shaking himself from his stupor. “Then why are we here?”
The hunter heaved out a weary sigh. “Our job to check it out regardless. Haven’t seen any signs of ‘em since we got here, and there ain’t no records of the castle he’s talkin’ about, but there’s always a chance there might be some sort of old magic at play. If that’s the case, then we might even have an elder on our hands.”
Castle? Old Magic? Elder? His blatant lack of any sort of monster hunter training was now coming into play, and he had no way of knowing what an apprentice should and shouldn’t know. He supposed he’d just have to play himself off as particularly incompetent.
“An elder what?” He asked cluelessly, and the way the old man looked over him had his jaw clenched tightly.
“Did you bring any weapons, kid?”
“I uh… no,” He replied nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m uh, more into the… research aspect…?”
The hunter let out an exasperated huff, reaching into his coat before pressing something wooden into Pyro’s hand, who blinked down at the sharpened stake with a sinking dread.
“Vampires?” He all but squeaked, knowing enough about the legends for at least that. Immortal beings who feasted on blood and prowled the night, preying on the innocent and stealing their life force in order to survive. A terrifying creature that could only be slain by a stake to the heart.
“Best you keep at least one on ya,” The old man rasped, giving him a hefty pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I keep several spares.”
He considered the fact that maybe the man did know he was lying, and just telling him all this to mess with him. He honestly hoped that was the case, because the alternative was he was about to walk into the den of an Elder Vampire, with little to no idea on how to defend himself. That certainly wasn’t a very comforting thought.
Shaking away the nerves and inhaling sharply, he refused to show weakness in the face of his opponent. If it really was bluff, then two could play at that game. He wasn’t backing down until he was deliberately called out.
“You talked about not seeing signs of them before, how can you usually tell that they’re around?” He asked, determined to get at least some information out of this.
“Drained livestock. Periodic disappearances.” The man huffed. “Shouldn’t you already know this stuff?”
“Ah well-“ Pyro began to sweat. “I’m an apprentice for a reason, aren’t I?”
“…Fair enough.”
Luckily he managed to make it the rest of the ride without any more blunders, the cart stopping at the side of road in an entirely ordinary spot that he would have never assumed something was amiss, aside from the fluttering blue handkerchief tied to one of the lower branches of a tree. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting- perhaps a dark and dreary path into the woods where all the plants had died and the earth smelled of blood, but the forest looked exactly the same as it had on his way here, completely unremarkable.
Soon hunters were loading their weapons off the cart, and he dreaded carrying something heavy again, his arms still aching from earlier, but mercifully he only ended up with a small crate of bottles filled with what he could only assume was holy water, which he suspected was given to him because it was fragile. None of the other hunters exactly screamed the careful kind, covered in a patchwork of all kinds of scars, but he supposed that was a part of the job.
“I thought it’d be… more obvious.” He commented aloud as the older hunter brandished a machete to chop through the overgrowth, a silver lantern staff holstered on his back.
“Well, we’re not exactly dealing with a new blood here.” He grunted, taking the lead as Pyro followed behind him. “If there really is something out here, then it’s gonna be smart enough not to leave a trail.”
The thought chilled him a bit as they made their way further into the woods, imagining a predator so intelligent that it might have gone hundreds- if not thousands of years without being discovered. What chance in hell did they stand against something like that?
I should turn back.
He stopped in his tracks, a strange shudder passing through him. The thought had certainly felt like his, but he couldn’t shake the feeling there was something oddly foreign about its presence in his mind. Not quite a whisper, not an audible one at least, but a gentle suggestion from what felt like the woods themselves. He yearned for the warmth of the tavern and the company of the people he’d just met back in Oakhurst, who he was starting to feel a bit guilty for running off on to chase some pipe dream. Who was he kidding? He didn't belong here.
Pyro was startled from his thoughts by a gruff chuckle, probably the first morsel of humour he’d heard from the old man since meeting him.
“Feel that?” He rasped, a hungry sort of excitement radiating off him.
What it felt like to him was that they were somehow going the wrong way, whatever that was supposed to mean in this context. Similar to the intuition that had been guiding him towards town before, something deep in his gut was telling him not to continue. There was nothing out here.
“It feels… wrong.” He said carefully, his hair standing on end as his grip on the crate tightened ever so slightly.
“Old magic,” The hunter muttered, clicking his tongue. “Looks like I was right. Best you don’t listen to your thoughts from here on out, just focus on moving forwards.”
The deeply unsettling realization that some sort of magic was influencing his mind shook him to his core. He’d heard tales of ancient and forbidden magic that could be used to control the minds of others, but it had always been more of a cautionary tale in his eyes. A myth. Anything like that should have been long extinct, nothing but a scary story to tell your children.
An elder vampire that performed such powerful sorcery set off all kinds of alarm bells in his mind, one that he knew would send the republic of magic into hysterics should they ever catch wind of it. All of Oakhurst and the woods for miles would be rendered to nothing but ash if they had their way, that much he was sure of. All he could do was stand paralyzed at the eye of this hurricane, and wonder how in the world he’d gotten himself into this mess.
Swallowing a sharp lump in his throat, he clung to the hunter’s instructions, reasoning that he had a much better chance of making it out of this alive if he followed in the footsteps of someone with experience. He focused on simply putting one foot in front of the other, although the deeper they travelled, the higher his adrenaline spiked, eventually reaching the point where it felt like every step he took was off the edge of another cliff. Sweating and shaking, he gripped the crate of holy water so tightly the wood was likely to cut indents into his palms, urging his body forwards despite every part of his mind that screamed for him not to.
Eventually, the man in front of him, who he could hardly even remember the identity of anymore- stopped, Pyro bumping face first into his broad back with a quiet oof. Stretching his neck to look around him, he caught sight of a dense thicket, a large wall of thorns and bramble that was packed tightly between the trees. It was clearly unnatural, meant to keep things out, and his brain had a hard time conceptualizing that anything might be behind it.
Pyro wasn’t sure if it was simply a product of his weak psyche, but the man in front of him- monster hunter, he reminded himself, did not seem phased by any of this in the slightest. Risking a glance back, even some of the other hunters looked unsettled, though none as much as he thought they should have been.
“Here we are.” The old man declared, and a grim silence settled over the group. This was no false alarm or cry for attention as they had originally assumed, but a very real thing that was happening and needed to be faced.
He almost retched at the wet sound of the man’s machete tearing through the thick and thorny vines, which seemed to have a disturbingly similar consistency to flesh or meat. It didn’t help that the plants seemed to flinch and wither from the blows, slowly opening a gateway to the other side. Scrunching his nose and holding an arm over his head, he ducked beneath the dripping vines and followed the old hunter through the passage.
Passing through the threshold, an immediate weight was lifted from his chest and mind, flooding his lungs with a relief so dizzying he almost passed out. His thoughts and nerves no longer screamed for him to run, and as he stumbled through to the other side he couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh, shaking the remnants of the dark magic from his brain.
Pyro almost felt proud that he’d been able to push through the invisible barrier, although it was largely outweighed by the dread of having to return through it when he left. The thought faded quickly however, as he took in the unusual sight that met them.
The trees quickly thinned into a lush prairie of rolling hills, where a herd of cattle peacefully grazed at the long grass in the fields. There were plenty of them, and they didn’t look particularly bothered by their arrival, though it was hard to tell through the thick fur that covered their eyes. Highland cows, he believed they were called.
In the distance, beyond the fields of rippling grass and its passive inhabitants, stood a towering dark castle at the centre of the different biome. Large canopies of ancient trees shaded the base of the structure and its courtyard like a natural umbrella, carefully and expertly pruned into what could only be described as a work of art. Pyro could only stand in awe at the sight for a moment, before setting down the holy water in the grass to frantically fumble for his notebook to make a sketch.
Thankfully, the rest of the hunters seemed similarly starstruck by the sheer absurdity of it all, spreading out into the fields that felt like something out of a dream. The woods continued around the entirety of the peculiar sanctuary, enclosing it all in a giant circle that should’ve been visible from well... somewhere at least. The fact this place hadn’t made it onto a single map was utterly baffling, especially for being so close to a town.
“This is insane,” He whispered under his breath, fear forgotten in favour of complete fascination. He could write his entire thesis on something as interesting as this, hell- he could probably fill several volumes with theories and observations alone. He’d gotten into all of this expecting silver or maybe gold- not the heap of diamonds and precious gems it had just given him. It was practically a whole mine of valuable knowledge and mysteries.
After scribbling down his findings and coming down from the euphoric glee of the discovery, he noticed the old man inspecting one of the cows nearby, taking a look at something that hung around its neck. Curious, he picked the crate of holy water back up, tucking it under his arm as he trotted over to see what he had found.
“What’s that?” He asked, hardly able to contain his excitement.
“Blood charm,” The hunter replied, turning over the strange pendant that hung from the loose rope. “It’s a real old vampiric custom. They used to make these for mortal creatures as a sort of way to ‘lay claim’ to their lives. I’ve only ever seen temporary ones before, but by imbuing an object with a few drops of their own blood, the scent can help ward off natural predators or other vampires.”
Upon close inspection, he realized there was a tiny red cross at the centre of the pendant, and as the man tilted it in his hand, he realized that it was made of glass, and sealed behind it was a red liquid that moved along with it.
“There’s vampire blood in here?” He gasped, gently cupping it with his own hand to observe.
“Mhm. Don’t get any stupid ideas, though.”
“Hey- all of them have one.” One of the other hunters called, a smug sort of grin appearing on his lips. “Why don’t we just take these things back and sell them? People would pay a fortune for something like that- to be protected. Chances are the money’s way better than whatever the guild is paying.”
The suggestion was a bit meat-headed, and Pyro couldn’t deny it annoyed him a little, but before he could open his mouth to protest, the old man spoke for him.
“If you fancy gettin’ violently dismembered, then sure, go ahead.” He snorted, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve got some sort of tracking spell on them, if the vampire can’t just up and feel where they are. You might get a day’s head start, but tryin’ to outrun an angry vampire long enough to sell ‘em ain’t gonna last long. They ain’t too fond of people touchin’ their stuff, you’ll find.”
Slowly, Pyro lowered the pendant down as if it was a bomb that was about to explode, the reality of the situation finally starting to set in. This wasn’t some sort of magical archeological find, the person who’d made them was still alive. Well, not alive- but definitely around. Likely somewhere in the castle that lay before them, which suddenly felt like a watchful sentinel with its countless darkened eyes. From this distance it would be impossible to tell if someone was peeking through one of the curtains, watching and waiting. Despite the warmth of the sun’s rays beaming down on him, he shivered.
“You can sell the shells if you’d like after we’re done with this, but the blood itself’ll likely turn to ash.” He grunted, setting off towards the castle’s gates without another word.
Feeling suddenly quite vulnerable out in the open like this, Pyro quickly hurried after him, the crate of bottles clinking as he ran.
Approaching the edge of the shadows where the older hunter waited for the rest of the group, strange symbols carved into the bodies of the trees caught his attention. They were in no language he could recognize, and he wondered if they were more of that old magic the man had mentioned.
“What do you think they’re for?” He wondered aloud, and an oblivious grunt came from the man beside him.
“Huh?”
“Those carvings,” He said, taking out his notebook to copy all the ones he could see, which is when he realized that most of them were the same.
“Probably some kind of runes to make sure this whole place doesn’t just go up in flames.” He grumbled, shielding his eyes from the sunlight to squint them. “Practical for someone who’s used to being under siege.”
Pyro nodded, realizing the trees would have made wonderful kindling for an angry mob trying to set the castle ablaze. He doubted the castle itself would burn, pillars carved of dark stone and decorated with black metal, but he couldn’t imagine the smoke to be pleasant. Were the residents of the fortress human they would likely choke and die because of it, but he wasn’t sure if vampires needed to breathe at all. Surely it would still sting their eyes though, right?
He wasn’t given time to finish the thought before the hunters ventured forth into the unnaturally thick shadows, leaving him to follow into the dense jungle of unfamiliar plants. As his eyes adjusted to the change in light, he was surprised to find that it wasn’t nearly as dreary as he was expecting.
A bounty of colourful flowers, some of which he recognized, some of which he didn’t, lined the mossy cobble path, swaying in the dappled light from up above with an ethereal sort of glow. There were even bushes of them closer to the light where the branches didn’t quite meet, framing an elegant bridge leading towards the ivy-covered gates further beyond. The sight was like something out of a fairytale, and the sound of trickling water as they walked over the bridge really pulled it all together.
“It’s… beautiful.” He mused, placing a hand on the bridge to look down at the small fish swimming down in the stream. Even butterflies and birds could be seen fluttering about, scarcely bothered by the alleged evil presence that lay nearby.
“For now.” The old man grunted. “S’likely an effect of magic. Once we slay the beast, I wouldn’t be surprised if it all withered.”
There was an odd pang in his chest, something that made him feel as though it was… wrong to disturb the little ecosystem that had developed here. Nothing about it felt dark or violent, and the idea of it being destroyed admittedly made him a little sad.
“What a shame…” He murmured, and was nearly startled out of his skin when a hand came down on his shoulder.
“It’s all illusions, boy.” The hunter growled, shaking his head. “Don’t let yourself be fooled by the glamour of immortality. The longer it lives, the harder it falls.”
Swallowing thickly, he nodded, and they continued forwards through the open gate. The courtyard was even more extravagant, with bubbling fountains and well trimmed shrubs, every tree twisted in a picturesque way that made them look like natural sculptures of their own. The shadows were deeper here, and certain plants seemed to glow with a faint bioluminescence, making him wonder what it might look like at night.
He shook away the thought, knowing that if he was still here when the sun set, well… he hoped that wouldn’t come to pass. Unlike the main gate, the grand doors to the castle were predictably closed, and hardly seemed to budge when the hunters pushed at it with all their might.
“Oh well, guess no one’s home!” He joked nervously, placing down the box of holy water and anxiously searching the shadiest parts of the garden and keeping himself alert. The last thing he wanted to do was get snatched while no one was looking.
“Oh, they’re home alright.” The older hunter chuckled, pulling a piece of chalk from his coat which he began tracing symbols with at the base of the door and on its face.
As Pyro watched him work, he recognized it as a crude recreation of a breaching spell, complete with a handful of components each placed within the white circles on the stone, including a bottle of holy water, which he didn’t recall being a part of the original recipe. The weapon was unholstered from his back, and when the bottom of the staff touched the ground, light and dust seemed to explode from all the cracks around the door, sending a powerful vibration through the ground.
Shortly after, one of the large doors creaked inwards, a faint smoke still fading from its hinges. His breath hitched at the sight of the pitch darkness within, entirely and unnaturally devoid of light.
“Keep your wits about you, men.” The old man said lowly. “Vampires are an ambush predator, and’ll wait for the perfect moment to strike.”
Nothing inside him wanted to enter through the foreboding dark entrance, but he’d already come far enough that there was no chance of turning back now. With hunters who could crush his skull for lying behind him and the blackest pit of hell in front of him, all he could hope was that the devil might take pity on him.
A torch was sparked, but it did little to cut through the ombre fog, only reflecting off the tightly formed group that carefully inched further inside.
Pyro clutched the stake he’d been given close to his chest to try and hide the trembling in his hands, and could hardly hear a thing over the pounding of his own heart. Like walking into the maw of a massive beast, he yelped as it snapped shut behind them, the door slamming loudly in the same moment their only light was snuffed, much like a scene from a bad horror novel. Had he not been in the situation himself it might have made him laugh- but the terror gripped him too tightly.
Mercifully, the endless dark was only momentary as the sconces on the walls began to erupt with an eerie red light, one pair after another until the entire hall was lit, revealing an extravagant chair at the far end where an unfamiliar figure lounged, inspecting long, claw-like nails.
“You know, It’s awfully rude-“ The figure drawled, and he noticed how all the hunters around him tensed, ready for a fight. “-To come barging in here like you own the place.”
Much like the garden, and the castle he resided in, the vampire was terrifyingly beautiful. A crown of white curls adorned his brow, providing a striking contrast to the piercing red eyes below, and carefully framing sharp and well defined features. He was decorated with tasteful jewelry and an elegant wardrobe, and looked no older than Pyro in age besides the ancient look in his disinterested gaze.
His brow seemed to twitch upwards a fraction as the two of them made eye contact, immediately sending an embarrassed flush over his face as he looked down in an attempt to make himself less noticeable. Pyro wasn’t sure the extent of the powers a vampire might possess, but reading his thoughts didn’t seem entirely out of the question, considering the stories he’d read. If it could read his mind, he only hoped it knew how much he regretted it. Eye contact was a challenge to those who itched for a fight, and he had no intention of making himself a target.
“Your reign of terror comes to an end, beast.” The old hunter spat, the vampire giving him an incredulous look as he spoke. “Face your end as all things do, for it is the natural order of things.”
“What ‘Reign of Terror’?” The vampire almost laughed, seeming amused by the little speech. “I’m literally just sitting here. You’re the ones who broke into my home! I keep the door locked for a reason, you know!”
Pyro blinked, admittedly thrown by the creature’s logic. The hunter had spoken of no torment to the nearby population, and from what the cattle outside suggested, it was likely the blood it consumed wasn’t human at all. Why did they need to provoke its wrath at all if it hadn’t been hurting anyone?
The other hunters seemed similarly baffled, but were able to recover much quicker than he was, raising their weapons once again as the old man spoke.
“Your existence is sin, a deal with the devil. You dare to claim innocence in the long life you have lived?”
“As far as you’re concerned,” The vampire replied, eyes narrowing. “I have done no harm. Leave me be.”
Something about all of this didn’t feel right. Why was this conversation even happening? The vampire could have easily torn out all their throats the moment the light went dim- taken out a couple of them at the very least before they had a chance to recover. Was that simply too boring for a creature as old as he? What did he gain by speaking to them like this?
“Silence your wretched tongue and meet your end with dignity.” The old man growled, grip tightening on the lantern staff at his side.
The vampire let out a long, dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes and sitting up in his chair. “You are all welcome to leave here alive, but I’m warning you, my patience wears thin. Usually my guests aren’t this terribly rude.” He said, heaving himself from his throne and stretching his neck.
“I’m not going to ask you again. Leave with your life, or accept your death at my hands.”
Personally, Pyro wanted to do nothing more than turn with his tail between his legs. Unfortunately, his body had ceased responding to commands from his brain, frozen in place like a statue by the thick tension in the room. Not even words could form on his tongue to explain he held no grudge, that he hadn’t come here with the intention of killing.
He was going to die, trampled under the hooves of beasts far greater than him, fighting a battle he knew nothing about. Would anyone even look for him? Mourn his death?
“Well?” The vampire prompted, and just as Pyro believed he’d found the courage to speak, the snap of a crossbow firing beside him stole his words as the bolt hurdled towards its target of the creature’s heart.
His mouth fell open in shock, but the shot never hit its mark- instead caught inches from it in the hand of the one it was aimed for. It had been so quick that Pyro hadn’t even seen him move, his brain too slow to even process what had just occurred.
“So that’s how it is then?” The vampire sneered, twirling the bolt between his fingers, observing it closely. “Very well.”
Like a gust of wind, he was upon them before Pyro even had the chance to blink, burying the crossbow bolt deep into the shoulder of the man who’d shot it, causing him to scream out in pain as everyone else whipped around to face the threat. From there, chaos seemed to explode from that moment, the vampire dispersing into a swarm of bats before all the light quickly vanished once again. Acting entirely on instinct, he dove out of the line of fire and began scrambling to find cover behind one of the hall’s great pillars, groping blindly in the dark before a different kind of light illuminated the room.
He cried out in alarm as a ribbon of blue flame came close to singing his coat, and only peeked his head out once he was safely hidden behind the pillar he’d been gunning for. From the lantern that swung off the old man’s staff, a brilliant orange and blue fire filled the hall, incinerating the flapping shadows and passing harmlessly over the other hunters. It took a moment for him to pick his jaw up off the floor, but he recognized it as real, genuine holy magic.
The fight seemed vicious, but it was hard to tell when it was only lit by the occasional flashing of the flames and striking of claws. The vampire seemed to have little trouble holding his own, and moved so quickly it sometimes appeared he was in more than one place at a time, bouncing between hunters and tripping them up. From what he could tell, no one had died yet, and he was reminded of a cat playing with its food, only batting it around for entertainment- but something about it didn’t feel quite right.
After watching for a while, it was clear the vampire was fighting defensively, despite having no real reason to. He was deliberately neglecting chances to easily finish them off, although the older hunter wielding the lantern hadn’t given him any such opportunities himself.
He heard the shattering impact of glass followed by a sickening sizzle, and he heard the vampire let out a roar of fury. In the light of the fire he was just able to catch the creature launching one of the hunters across the room like he weighed nothing at all, and heard the loud crack of bone when they collided with the wall. He winced, knowing that one likely wasn’t getting back up.
One by one, the hunter began to fall to similarly gruesome deaths, although the vampire’s appearance was starting to look worse for wear in the glimpses he stole. Blood stained his clothes, burns marred his skin, and Pyro slowly started to see him for what he really was- not a monster, but a man fighting to defend his life. It was a startling reflection of himself through flame and silver weapons, the rage of someone who only wanted to be left alone.
All he wanted was for them to leave him alone.
He ducked behind the pillar to avoid a splattering of stray blood across his face, still cowering in his hiding spot, too shellshocked to leave. Soon, it was only the old man and the vampire remaining, two titans in a world he could scarcely hope to understand, with wisdom beyond anything he’d ever achieve.
“It’s a shame really,” The vampire panted, having clearly exerted a great deal of energy. “You seem to be quite good at what you do.”
Dodging a lick of fire that came dangerously close, the vampire suddenly vanished into thin air, leaving the hunter brace for defense.
“I have experience in dealing with your kind,” The old man growled, readjusting his staff and keeping his head on a swivel. “You might be the eldest I’ve ever faced, though.”
Claws swiped out from the cover of darkness, clipping the hunter in the leg, who cried out in pain and fell to one knee, somehow managing to keep his stance despite the pain.
“Is that so?” The vampire’s voice echoed through the hall, sounding far and near all at once. “How many of my kind have you slain, hunter?”
“Seven.” The man spat, chilling Pyro to the bone. “Four were fledglings, but the rest gave me some scars to remember. This’ll just be one more for the collection.”
Most hunters would have claimed a far higher number. He would have expected someone so experienced to have at the very least ten or more kills under their belt; some even went as far as to claim they’d bested hundreds- but seven. Seven was real, and seven was honest. All things considered, seven whole immortal lives snuffed entirely from existence was no easy feat.
“Fledglings,” The shadows seethed, a sudden coldness appearing in it’s tone. “You’ve killed three vampires, then. Three vampires, and four children.”
“Those bloodthirsty beasts were anything but children.” The hunter snapped, the chain that held the lantern clinking as he turned. “Feral things. Ought to be glad I put ‘em out of their misery.”
The vampire came launching out of the shadows, tackling the old hunter to the floor and just barely held at bay by the silver of the staff. With barred fangs, the vampire bore the burning of the metal against its palms to push the pole down in a struggle against the hunter, the both of them trembling with effort.
An animalistic hiss came from the vampire, and soaked with the blood of his enemies with murder in his gaze, again he looked like much more of a monster. The creature’s back was turned to him as the two of them fought to break the stalemate, and Pyro’s gaze drifted to the stake he’d never let go of, swallowing thickly. Possessed by a familiar force, he stumbled forwards, a sort of static overtaking their mind as he readied the weapon. He had to remind himself this was not a riverbed, and he was not holding a stone.
He’d done this before. He could do it again just as easily, and yet this time there was a hesitation- one that hadn’t been present the first time. He didn’t know this man- vampire, what was the difference? All he’d seen from this person so far was a desire to be left alone, something he could sympathize with deeply. What exactly made him more of a monster than Pyro?
“For God’s sake lad, just do it!” The hunter shouted, snapping him out of his trance.
The vampire turned, and he fully expected to have his throat torn from his body, leaving him to bleed out on the floor. What he didn’t expect was for the vampire to hesitate as well.
When their eyes met for the second time, Pyro felt himself falter. There was no fear in his eyes, not even anger. There was only a deep, melancholy exhaustion, a pleading he had no reason to make. Pyro had seen how fast the vampire could move. He could probably remove the human’s head in the blink of an eye if he wanted to, yet for some reason he didn’t.
‘Don’t make me kill you.’ It said, a tiredness much older than Pyro could ever understand. ‘Please.’
His stance slumped, arms falling to his side as the conviction drained out of him. He couldn’t determine exactly why, but he just couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to do it.
The old hunter had no such qualms. Taking advantage of the vampire’s momentary distraction, he struck it with that flaming staff, sending it shrieking in alarm and skidding across the carpeted floor. He didn’t even give the creature a single second to recover before he was bringing it up for another brutal swing, ablaze with holy flame.
“Wait!” He screamed, grabbing hold of the staff in a blind panic, a searing heat running through his palms and down his veins, filling him with a dizzying power he’d never felt before.
“What are you doing, boy!?” The old man practically roared with fury as they fought for the weapon. “You-“
He didn’t get to finish, the vampire’s clawed hands grabbing his head from behind, cleanly snapping his neck with a deafening crack. Pyro let out a cry of alarm, stumbling back and falling on his ass as the body slumped lifelessly to the ground in front of him. The holy fire immediately went dim, but was quickly replaced by the light of the sconces again, this time with a far more natural, golden glow.
He could only sit and stare in shock for a moment, wondering if his involvement counted as an assisted murder and whether or not he was bothered by it. Well, he was sure it would come back to haunt him later, but the strange numbness that overtook him made him feel surprisingly calm about it.
The vampire let out a sigh, unclipping his cloak and laying it over the slack jawed corpse of the hunter, finally forcing Pyro to tear his eyes from it and blink up at him in puzzlement. Some of the bodies that now littered the hall had met far uglier deaths than the one before him, yet for some reason it had only thought to cover the one. How strange.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he sighed, wiping the blood from his hands with a lace handkerchief he’d magically produced. “I’m… not usually like this, I swear.”
Pyro could only blink at him in utter bewilderment, staring blankly in a way that probably made him look like a complete fool.
“Are you… going to kill me?” He rasped, wetting his dry cracking lips as he sat, entirely stunned.
The vampire’s eyebrows raised and Pyro followed his gaze as he glanced down to the stake well within the human’s reach. “…Are you?”
He shook his head, blinking rapidly. “….N-no.”
“Then I don’t believe you have anything to worry about,” He smiled softly, trying to roll up his sleeves and letting out a tsk of displeasure when he realised they were stained and torn to shreds. “Oh dear. I really liked this shirt, too.”
“You’re… not going to kill me?” Pyro asked again, just to be certain, and the vampire blinked down at him incredulously.
“Of course not! You haven’t done anything wrong. Ah!- but where are my manners?” He extended a hand to help Pyro up, casually wiping off the burn marks and scratches he’d sustained as if they were little more than dust or makeup. “My name is Scott Goldsmith, pleasure to meet you.”
Still a bit out of it, he took the vampire’s hand without much thought, yelping in surprise at how easily he was pulled to his feet. He stumbled a little, still quite out of sorts as he glanced around at the carnage surrounding them. “…Pyro. My name is Pyro.”
“Pyro,” The vampire, Scott, if he was to be believed- echoed fondly. “You’ll have to forgive me, I think this is the single worst first impression I’ve ever made on someone.”
He let out a surprised little chuckle, running a hand though his hair and doing his best to process everything that was happening. “That’s alright, I think I might’ve seen worse.”
“Really?” Scott laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “My, what an interesting life you must lead. I suppose that would explain how you ended up in such dreadful company.” He said, glancing at what remained of the hunters.
“Yeah, I uh…” he trailed off, inhaling sharply and trying to shake the unusual fog that had come over his brain. “-Sorry, this is all just so strange. Am I dreaming, perchance?”
The vampire gave him a sympathetic smile, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently guiding him out of the room. “No, I’m afraid not, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re still in shock. Come, let’s bring you somewhere more hospitable in case you faint.”
The adrenaline still pumping through his veins made him feel as though he were walking on air, and he did in fact struggle to stay awake as Scott led him to a parlour and sat him down in a comfortable looking chair.
“Wait here a moment- well, perhaps longer than a moment, but I’ll try to be quick.” The vampire informed him before disappearing back through the door and leaving him alone.
Seated, blood seemed to flow though his system much easier, allowing him to breathe and come down from the mind numbing panic he’d been in only minutes prior. Somehow, against all odds, he was alive.
He wasn’t quite sure what to think about all of this. On one hand, everyone he’d come here with was now dead, brutally slaughtered in the main hall of the castle before his very eyes. On the other, he… hadn’t really known any of them particularly well. A piece of him was still obviously horrified, those hunters likely had friends or family they’d never see again, lives to go back to that had been abruptly cut short… then again, they’d been given the chance to return to that and refused.
This… Scott Goldsmith was a powerful vampire, that much was clear. He could have ambushed them and been rid of them in the blink of an eye, yet he’d chosen to confront them instead, offering the choice to leave him alone. Even after that, he’d still been giving chances, waiting to be attacked first before he chose to defend himself. It didn’t make any sense. Why did he care? Why show mercy to creatures that had caused him nothing but trouble?
His thoughts drifted to the cattle in the field, incredibly healthy and well fed. They hadn’t been afraid of them either, docile and friendly in a way only a well loved animal could be. Did Scott tend to them himself? He hardly seemed the type, but then again he seemed to be full of all sorts of surprises.
Glancing around the parlour he’d been placed in, he found it resembled more of a study, decorated with gothic decor and a number of books. He wondered how old some of them might be, and the amount of untamed knowledge might reside within them. He recalled what the hunter had said about touching a vampire's things though, so he restrained his curiosity and filed it away in his brain for later.
He wasn’t sure how it wasn’t the first thing he’d noticed, but on the far wall was a large window, light shining through tinted glass and onto the floor, thick velvet curtains pulled back even in the day. Even though half the room was still cast in shadow, the sight surprised him, knowing well that vampires had an aversion to sunlight. Perhaps the glass was enchanted, or the architecture was designed only to let it in at certain points. Either way, it fascinated him deeply.
While the vampire’s tastes certainly seemed expensive and macabre, nothing about the room felt particularly dangerous to him, lacking the foreboding touch that should have sent shivers down his spine. The same could be said about the vampire himself.
Maybe he’d finally just lost his mind- or perhaps he really had just died and this was all a delusion he’d conjured in order to cope. Pinching the skin of his hand between his nails, he still felt pain, which seemed to disprove that theory. It was then, as he was looking at his hands that he noticed they hadn’t been burned.
He could have sworn he’d felt the searing of flesh when he’d grabbed the hunter’s staff earlier, but his hands looked the same as they ever did, entirely unharmed. It seemed that in a stroke of incredible luck, his genetic affinity for fire magic might have actually helped him for once.
Scott returned as he was inspecting his miraculous lack of injury, and he dropped his hands back into his lap and did his best to act like he hadn’t been staring at them. Luckily, occupied by what he was carrying, the vampire hardly seemed to notice.
Setting down a tray of various refreshments, Pyro noticed he’d also changed out of his ruined clothes, sporting a much more casual looking low necked blouse.
“Sorry about the wait,” He smiled, fangs poking over the top of his bottom lip. “The biscuits might taste a bit stale, but they should be alright to eat.”
Pyro blinked down at the tray, finally processing its contents. Aside from the ornate tea set Scott appeared to be busy with, there was a plate of various dry fruits, cheeses, and even a couple of sweets organized in an orderly display.
“You keep… human food?” He asked, somewhat baffled.
“Well of course,” The vampire chuckled, pouring steaming tea from the pot into a cup. “What else would I feed my guests? Perishables are few and far between for obvious reasons, but I was in quite the cheese making frenzy a couple of centuries ago. You’ll have to let me know how it tastes, considering I can’t really have any myself.”
Picking a slice of cheese from the platter, he observed it carefully and found nothing unusual about it. It looked like cheese- smelled like it too, even reminded him of the fancy sort he’d once had at home. Taking a hesitant nibble, he was surprised by its wonderful savoury taste.
“It’s delicious,” He gasped, his mouth watering and stomach cramping as he realized just how hungry he really was.
“Ah, well that’s a relief.” Scott sighed, placing a cup of tea on a saucer next to the plate. “It’d be a shame to know the cellar is filled with sub-par cheese. You’re welcome to have as much of it as you’d like.”
The vampire began to head back towards the door and Pyro quickly swallowed what he was chewing with a frown. “You… aren’t staying?”
“Oh- excuse me, but I still have some… cleaning up to do.” He grimaced, gaze drifting in the direction of the main hall they’d come from. “I won’t be long. Focus on regaining your strength for the time being, and feel free to browse my collections as well. I’ll be back soon.”
“Thank… you.”
And with that Pyro was left by his lonesome again, although the invitation to take a peek at the books around the room was a tempting offer. He figured it best to finish his food and drink before that though, lest he spill anything and cause a mess, so he went to work clearing the plate.
It was only after he’d finished that he considered the possibility this was all some sort of trap. It seemed rather unnecessary and elaborate if that happened to be the case, but something about this scenario seemed too good to be true. Was this all some sort of illusion in order to make him lower his guard? If the vampire didn’t want to kill him, what on earth could he possibly want him for? Some sort of ritual sacrifice?
Puzzled, he got up and brushed his fingers along the spines of the books on the shelf, humming thoughtfully to himself. Nothing had made a whole lot of sense the second he stepped foot in this place, all the way back at the bramble wall that had screamed for him to leave. If he played his cards correctly though, he might just be able to get out of here alive.
Occupying himself by leafing through a book he’d picked off of the shelf, he waited for his host to return, and that he did, much sooner than Pyro had expected.
“That was quick,” He commented, placing the book back in the spot he’d taken it from. “…You appear to have a lot of classics here.”
“Oh, those are just my collections. First editions and such,” The vampire smiled, and he felt his eyelids flutter in surprise. “If you’re interested in the real collection, I can show you the library if you’d like.”
Something about that charming, mischievous grin of his had a way of making him forget any potential dangers, replaced by a peculiar fluttering feeling he often felt when discovering something new. He couldn’t deny that Scott was a very attractive man, or vampire rather- but there was simply a certain air about him that Pyro couldn’t quite place. Awe, perhaps? He did have a particularly powerful aura to him.
“That… sounds wonderful actually,” He breathed, unable to fight his excitement as he followed Scott back into the hall.
“So… I’m curious. How did one such as yourself find your way on an expedition with… monster hunters? You don’t exactly strike me as one yourself.” The vampire asked as they walked, and Pyro gave a sheepish chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“…Is it that obvious?” He laughed, shaking his head with a sigh. “No, you’re right, I just- made one too many impulsive decisions, I suppose. Originally I came here in search of a topic for my thesis, but…”
He trailed off, not sure how to explain how he’d gotten here without sounding like a complete idiot.
“Ah, a scholarly type then?” Scott mused, nodding thoughtfully. “Well, if you’ve come in search of knowledge, then you’ve certainly come to the right place. My archives aren’t as extensive as some of the other vampires I’ve known, but I’d definitely be surprised if you didn’t find something that catches your interest.”
Opening a pair of grande mahogany doors, the vampire revealed possibly the most gorgeous library- no, most gorgeous place he’d ever seen in the entire world. Pyro let out an audible gasp at just how many shelves were stacked with books, from floor to ceiling of every wall. Dark wood stairs led up to a second- and even a third level above it, lined with ornately carved railings that looked like works of art themselves. Some shelves even held scrolls, yellowed with age and likely full of forgotten secrets.
Spinning around to get a full view of the place, his mouth fell open in a starry eyed wonder, and wondered if somehow against all odds he’d found himself in heaven. He heard Scott chuckle softly behind him, and turned to the vampire, utterly speechless.
“I had a hunch you might like it,” He smiled wryly, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.
“This…” He could hardly think, let alone speak. “This is incredible- I- I could spend my entire life trying to read all the books here, and I feel like I’d hardly make a dent!”
“The perks of immortality, I suppose.” The vampire shrugged, and if possible, his eyes widened even further.
“You’ve read them all?”
“Oh heavens no,” Scott chuckled, shaking his head. “I keep a good chunk reserved for rainy days and such, although I’d say I’ve probably read most of them. Over half at least.”
“Wow,” He breathed, still reeling from the thought.
“Did you have a general topic in mind? I can try to help you find what you’re looking for, but I’m not a mind reader.”
Pyro blinked, having almost entirely forgotten his thesis in the grand scheme of things. Here, everything about his goals and aspirations suddenly felt so unbelievably small.
“Oh- I mean, I was planning on looking into the history and culture of the area, but- I couldn’t find anything anywhere.”
“Ah, well that’s partially my fault.” The vampire laughed awkwardly, before raising his hands that glowed with a mystical power. “I’ve struck a great deal from public records in order to preserve the secrecy of my life here, but Oakhurst has a much richer history than you might believe.”
Select tomes began to float down from the shelves and into Scott’s grasp, where he began stacking them on a nearby table as he used his magic to flip though a few and check their contents. “In terms of culture, the local library still does carry a lot, although most of the historical context for it only remains here.”
When he turned, he finally seemed to notice the look of awe Pyro was giving the floating books, and smiled, raising a brow. “Of course if you have an interest in magic, I have plenty of material on that as well.”
Pyro shook himself from his trance, a light heat coming to his cheeks as he realized he’d been caught staring. “O-Oh! That’s- that’s very kind of you!- I mean, all of this is really, but ah… unfortunately I’ve never had much of a talent for that kind of thing.”
His excitement dimmed a little as he was confronted with the disappointing reminder of his inability. Glancing down at his hands though, he wondered if maybe it was worth trying again.
“What do you mean?” The vampire asked, tilting his head quizzically as if the concept was entirely foreign to him. Maybe it was.
“Well, technically I come from a pretty long line of fire mages-“ he explained, wringing his hands self consciously. “But uh… it was decided that my… potential was too low. For me to be worth teaching.”
Being the family disappointment was nothing new to Pyro. He’d lived with it possibly since the day he was born, never measuring up to the expectations his parents had for him. He thought that if he couldn’t bring pride to them as a mage, then he’d make up for it by winning awards for his research- but even that had become a spoiled memory. Now, he only hoped to live and die quietly, perhaps publish something to leave his mark on the world.
Scott snorted dismissively, covering his mouth with his hand, but his eyes quickly widened in realization when he saw the look on Pyro’s face.
“Sorry! Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you-“ He scrambled to explain, waving his hands in a panic. “I just- who on earth decided that?”
Pyro blinked slowly, brow furrowed. “The… International Academy of Magic…?”
The vampire let out a scoff, rolling his eyes and running a hand over his face. “Of course those crackpots are still around,” he sighed, shaking his head and mumbling to himself. “Goodness, how many excellent students have they fumbled since I encountered them last…?”
“You’ve met them?” He asked, undeniably curious.
“Unfortunately,” Scott grumbled, looking less than pleased. “They were but a simple small college back then, but even then their utter stupidity managed to baffle me.”
“They’ve managed to produce some of the most powerful mages in history though,” he said, surprised to find himself defending the institution in any way shape or form. “Surely they must be doing something right.”
His host let out an audible tsk, stepping forward and abandoning the pile of books he’d just been gathering. “Hmm, how do I explain this?”
Tapping his chin with a finger for a moment, he seemed to come to a decision rather quickly, summoning a small flame in his palm.
“Think of it like this,” he began. “Magic is not a… genetic ability. It is something more akin to a feeling or an emotion, that you can train yourself to draw upon.”
With the hand that didn’t hold the flame, he raised it to pull another book from the shelf, which floated down the same as all the others. “Take this, for example. When I do this I am drawing upon the frustration of how long it would take me to do it ordinarily- of which I would not be able to do if I hadn’t already experienced it thousands of times. Anything can seem like magic if you’ve done it enough.”
Pyro blinked, his eyes returning to the flame Scott now gingerly held in both his hands.
“By that logic… anyone could do it, couldn’t they?” He asked, entranced by the dancing red light.
“Given enough time and effort, yes.” The vampire nodded, holding out the flame for him to take. “Everyone has the capability, although it’s a combination of fear and belief that prevents most from practicing. Some might take to it more naturally than others, of course, but that doesn’t mean it’s a waste of time.”
Hands trembling slightly, he reached out to cup underneath it, and gasped a little as it flared slightly when spilling into his grasp, the colour taking on a more natural hue.
“Looks like it likes you.” Scott giggled, and he blinked in confusion.
“What, the fire?” He asked, feeling a little lost.
“Of course,” The vampire smiled. “Fire lives, breathes, and eats the same as you, does it not?”
“I guess,” Pyro chuckled nervously. “I’m afraid I might drop it. I don’t want to set fire to this beautiful library.”
“Don’t be, I’ve taken many precautions to prevent such a fate.” Scott grinned in his peripheral vision. “I’m almost offended you considered me so careless.”
“S-sorry.” He stammered, not taking his eye off the flame.
His gaze momentarily flicked to the vampire when he heard a sigh, and felt his heart pick up as cold hands were cupped gently around his own.
“Fire might have the potential for destruction and chaos, but it is a lot of other things too.” The vampire offered softly. “It can also be warmth, safety, and light. Like emotions, how you treat them can affect how they manifest.”
Looking into the flame for so long was starting to burn his eyes, but he couldn’t bring it in himself to look away, staring sombrely into its light. Using a technique he’d seen his father perform many times as a child, he carefully closed his hands around it and snuffed the fire, leaving nothing but smoke to slip through his fingers.
“I… hadn’t thought about it like that before.” He admitted, looking up and nearly startling at the proud grin the vampire bore.
“Look at you, you’re already a natural!”
He let out a breathy laugh, wiping the smell of smoke off on his coat. “I only put it out, that’s hardly special.”
“I beg to differ, but we can work on that.” Scott smiled, tilting his head in amusement. “Now you can understand how I find it so strange that anyone speaks of ‘potential’. It’s as if discussing a person’s potential to feel, and isn’t that ridiculous?”
“I guess, wait- work on it?” Pyro paused, slowly processing the implication of his words. “You’re saying you’re willing to teach me?”
“Obviously,” The vampire laughed, as if it had easily been the most blatant course of action to him. “What, were you expecting me to throw you to the wolves?”
“I-“ his brain seemed to stop functioning entirely for a moment. “Mr. Goldsmith, I-“
“-please, just Scott is fine.”
“Scott Goldsmith, I-“ He literally couldn’t believe it. “I- I couldn’t! I literally broke into your home less than an hour ago, almost m-made an attempt on your life! I can’t just-“
“Oh, water under the bridge.” He scoffed with a wave of his hand. “It was never your intention to harm me anyways, was it?”
“Well- n-no, but-“
“Then what’s the issue?”
“I don’t deserve it!” He exclaimed, much louder than he’d meant to, slapping a hand over his mouth and quickly reeling himself in. “I mean I- I don’t understand. Why… are you being so kind to me?”
A number of emotions flashed through Scott’s eyes, none of which he was fast enough to catch besides the softness he landed on.
“I apologize, I hadn’t meant to… rush you in any way.” The vampire smiled, a faint sadness to his gaze. “The truth is… I get a little bit lonely living out here all by myself. I enjoy my solitude to a degree, but… I don’t get many visitors who aren’t trying to kill me.”
“Oh,” Pyro breathed, stunned into stillness.
“You don’t have to stay here, I’d never force you-“ Scott said very seriously, placing a hand on his shoulder before letting it slip away. “But… It would be nice to have someone around again. Someone to talk to.”
“I see. How… long has it been exactly since you last went to town?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“Oakhurst?” He replied, before making an awkward grimace. “Well… formally- it’s been a couple centuries, at the very least.”
“Really?” Pyro gawked in disbelief. “-but it’s so close!”
“Yes, well- it’s generally much safer, for both the townsfolk and I if we remain… separate.” The vampire mumbled, looking almost embarrassed.
“What about other vampires?” He asked, “Surely you can’t be the only one.”
“No, I write old friends of mine on occasion, but unfortunately most of the vampires I’ve known- or well created, are no longer… around.”
“I’m… sorry.” He croaked, understanding the meaning between his words. The only fate that could have befallen those friends were violent murders, and he felt sick to his stomach knowing he’d been associating with the kind of people who were likely responsible. He doubted all of them were innocent, but if they were friends of Scotts then he couldn’t imagine them being much more monstrous than him.
“It’s alright. When you’re as old as I am, grief becomes quite natural.” He sighed wistfully. “There is a pair of younger vampires I mentored some time ago in the area, but they seem quite content keeping to themselves most of the time. We’re becoming rarer and rarer these days, it would seem. Maybe I should check on them.”
“I can’t imagine what it would have been like to isolate yourself for so long,” Pyro said quietly, knowing the silence would have long since driven him mad.
“Well, I’m not entirely alone, I suppose.” The vampire shrugged, glancing out the window where the cattle could be seen grazing far below. “Caring for the herd is a good way to keep myself occupied. I depend on them, after all.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips, remembering how affectionate and sweet the animals had been. “You take good care of them.”
“Thank you,” Scott smiled. “I do have stores, but it’s important to keep a reliable source of blood handy. Cows certainly do have a lot to spare.”
Pyro chuckled. “I uh… can’t say I’ve ever really… thought about that either.“
“I’d be worried if you did,” Scott said, raising an eyebrow in amusement.
After a breathy laugh a silence fell between them as Pyro genuinely considered the offer and everything it entailed. “…I’d be free to leave whenever I’d like, right?”
“Of course-“ He replied almost immediately, looking utterly appalled. “You aren’t a prisoner here, Pyro. You’re also under no obligation to keep an ancient thing such as myself entertained, believe me. I’ve handled far worse than a little bit of loneliness.”
There was nothing keeping him there, and knowing that dissolved what remained of his urgency to leave. After all, where did he really have to go? He had hardly any money to his name, and hadn’t had much of a plan coming here in the first place. He didn’t even know where he planned on sleeping tonight.
“I don’t know for how long, but I… I think I would be honoured if you allowed me to stay here with you.”
The wide grin Scott broke into reminded him a little too much of the cat who’d caught the canary, with his long and sharpened fangs. A part of him still worried he’d made some sort of grave mistake, but he supposed he’d just have to get used to how strange his life had suddenly become. Learning sorcery from a vampire in a hidden castle. How much stranger could it get?