— Reverend Manton Grady, “A Study on the Pantheon of Ageria,” page 18
The nightingales began to sing as the sun dipped below the treetops.
In the time since Emily had stepped into the textile factory that morning, the population of hunters had seemingly doubled. They were patrolling the streets, lurking on rooftops with binoculars. Emily lost count of how many of them she and Lux passed as they hurried home. Did it really take this many to guard the town from a single vampire? If there even was one. Perhaps it was just paranoia. The books Emily had read spoke of monsters with unholy speed and razor-sharp teeth. Only the most skilled hunters stood a chance against them.
Emily knew she would never be one of them, even if she joked about it. She was neither swift nor strong, nor particularly capable of anything that might stop a monstrous nightmare. But that didn’t matter.
The hunters were here to protect them.
And yet, she had never seen them fight. Never seen them prove their worth. She figured it would be exciting to finally see them in action. To take down some lowlife criminal, chase a cotton thief through the streets, or, in tonight's case, potentially take down a vampire.
Eventually, the two girls reached the crossroads and shared a quick hug before parting ways.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lux said.
“If you don’t get bitten, that is!” Emily jokingly said. “Remember, I’m here to save you!”
“Shut up,” Lux laughed.
Emily would have jogged the rest of the way home if she hadn’t been feeling so tired. Normally, work was the cause of her exhaustion, but today, it was the magic she performed. It had to be. All that practice was finally paying off. It filled her with a sense of pride. She didn’t need some dumb school when she could study old tomes and practice for herself.
When Emily reached her house, though, another chill caught her. It felt different this time. It wasn’t a chill from the cool air, but the looming, ominous sensation that she was being watched. But there was no one around her. No one but hunters.
Emily locked the front door after stepping inside, then let out a long, relieved sigh to finally be done with another long day. Her body ached, and all she wanted to do was relax. She had some time to, after all. Dinner wouldn’t begin until her father returned, and the empty space above the fireplace, where his hunting rifle should have rested, told her he was still out.
Emily hung her jacket by the door and retreated up to her room. It was small, with hardly any space between her bed and desk. What she couldn’t fit on her shelves, she squared away beneath the bedframe. It made pulling anything out an uncomfortable chore, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. She wished her room were more like the one she had in Inner Peccatum; tons of space, a soft carpet instead of hardwood, thick velvet curtains, and wall sconces between her bookshelves. Now all she had for light was a small oil lamp perched on the edge of her desk. She struck a match and lit the wick, and watched as her room was bathed in a warm, golden glow, then sat on the edge of her bed.
She overturned her palm and stared at it. The ethereal glow was gone, and all that was left were faint lines that were nearly invisible against her wrinkles. It looked like her skin was made of cracked ceramic.
In all her time practicing magic, Emily had never seen or heard of anything like this. Maybe it was some strange, magical ailment, or perhaps she had performed the spell incorrectly. She couldn’t be sure. Magic was elusive, nothing but vague gestures and controlled thoughts. If magic was indeed the cause, the last thing she needed was for her mother to discover it. She was already lucky to be allowed any magic at all after the incident at the academy.
Absently, Emily rubbed her thumb over her palm, tracing the faint cracks as if she could smooth them away. She wished desperately for someone to talk to about what happened, someone who knew more than her. What was she doing wrong? Or, more alarmingly, what had she done right? The textbooks and professors were adamant: beginners could never lift anything heavier than half their body weight, and even that required perfect concentration. Lux was a whole person, and Emily hadn’t just lifted her; she’d held up half the factory. How?
She didn’t want to worry about it, didn’t want to let it spiral into fear. She wanted to relax, to escape into something simple and safe. Shaking her head, Emily tried distracting herself from the whirlwind in her mind. She reached for the book atop a stack of telekensis and pyrokensis tomes: ‘The Ballads of Chester Finch: Volume 8 - Of War, Women, and Wine.’ Emily read a lot of books in her spare time. There wasn’t much else to do after work when she wasn’t spending time with Lux. But, with a curfew in place, all she could do was read. Specifically, stories of adventurers and monster hunters. Her favorites were the Ballads of Chester Finch. They were stories about an eccentric author who would travel Ageria, purposefully getting into mishap for the sake of treasure, glory, and women. She had always thought a life like that would be fun, moving from place to place, meeting friendly faces, getting into epic battles, and seeing all the beauty Ageria had to offer. There were two more books on the shelf above her bed: ‘Volume 2 - Whispers from the Shadowed Valley’, and ‘Volume 5 - The Flames of Brozegr?d.’
Emily took a deep breath and opened to the page she had left off on;
Miles from the city now, I was still coated in dry blood. It made my clothes stiff and was rather uncomfortable. I needed to wash them. There was no way I could make it across the countryside looking and smelling like a dead animal. Without the money for a bathhouse, nor a bathhouse for miles, I would have to resort to a stream or lake, whichever I found first. It turned out to be a lake nestled off the beaten road, where I found sanctuary, and to my surprise, something more. Something spectacular. Beyond the rocks near the shore were bloody garments slung over a low-hanging tree branch. There was armor propped against the stump of a tree. And there, naked and waist-deep in the water, was a woman, and not just any woman. It was Kathrin. She had escaped the battle as well, it seemed, and unscathed from the looks of it. She was thinner without her armor, with smooth, soft-looking skin, and a curve that I would have never imagined. I tried to keep out of sight to linger longer, but a branch snapped beneath my feet. It was then that Kathrin whipped around, and for one glorious second, she finally presented herself to me in all her alluring splendor. She was beautiful, from the hollow of her throat to her round, ripe breasts with their huge dark nipples, and the lush curves of her waist and hip. Then, she sank down, covering herself up to her shoulders in water.
“I'm glad to see you survived as well,” I said to her.
She didn’t look too kindly at me.
“Care if I join you. I am also in need of a fine rinse,” I said to her.
“Turn around!” she shouted at me, and though I hesitated, I obliged. She hastily rushed out of the water and snatched her wet clothes from the low-hanging branch.
“How many beasts did you slay back there?” I asked her.
“Shut your trap,” she snapped at me, fumbling to put her shirt on.
“Bet it wasn’t half my tally, but I’m sure you—” and that is where she cut me off. Her dagger came up over my shoulder and pressed against my neck. I tried to calm her, raising my hands to show I truly meant no harm to her. “Kathrin, my sweet, you see a blade on me? The last monster I gutted swallowed my sword whole. I’m harmless as a babe.”
“Of all the scum to crawl from that bloodbath, it had to be you,” she said to me.
“Lucky, ain’t I?” I said to her with a sly, fox-like grin.
“Your luck’s run dry, Finch,” she said to me. Kathrin pulled the dagger back and spun me around to face her. The white of her shirt had soaked through, doing nothing to hide the peaks of her breasts poking through the fabric. I'd have gone for a squeeze if not for the edge of her dagger poking me in the stomach.. “No one’s here to save you now,” she growled at me.
“Oh, Kathrin, why waste such fire on killing me?” I said to her. “That dagger’s better suited for carving roast than my poor hide. Besides, you saw that battlefield with corpses piled high. We’re the only ones left with breath to share. Kill me, and who’ll sing your praises? Who’ll tell the Vale how Kathrin, fierce as a dragon, slayed all those beasts, and bathed like a goddess in this here lake? Put that blade down, love. We could make sweeter use of this solitude.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, but the pressure against my skin eased by just a fraction.
“Let’s not spill more blood,” I said to her. “What say we share this lake, wash away the war, and see what else we might share?”
Kathrin’s lip twitched, and I could see that familiar flicker of disgust in her eyes, but also amusement, for once. “You’re vile, Finch.”
“Vile, but alive,” I countered, stepping back with my hands still raised. “And I’d wager you’d rather my company than the wolves howling tonight. So, what’ll it be? A slit throat or a warm embrace?”
Kathrin lowered the dagger. “You’re not worth the effort,” she muttered to me, turning back to the lake.
Emily’s door suddenly swung open, the creak of the hinges startling her.
Her mother, Clara, stood in the doorway. She was still wearing her gray seamstress dress and apron, though she had let her hair down. “Emily, dear, I’m home at last.”
Emily stared back from her bed, slightly wide-eyed from the sudden intrusion. “Hey…”
Clara’s gaze settled, and her soft smile curdled like soured milk.
“What?” Emily asked, sitting up straighter.
She stared disapprovingly at her. “Go back downstairs this instant and take a proper bath. Then change before dinner. Your father should return soon, and I won't have you at the table looking like you've been rolling in the pigsty.”
Emily glanced down at herself. She didn’t look any dirtier than usual, nor did she smell particularly bad. Her shirt was smudged with dust and a faint streak of grease, sure, but it had been worse. She’d come home before, covered in mud after practicing telekinesis by the river. “I was going to,” she muttered, swinging her legs off the bed.
“And not into clean work clothes,” Clara pressed, stepping fully into the room. “Put something nice on. Leave those rags out for me to wash come morning. I’ll see to them before the shop opens.”
“Something nice?” Emily raised an eyebrow. “Like… my nightgown?”
“If you’d come back and work with me and the seamstresses, as I’ve told you time and again, you could wear nice dresses more regularly. Something to suit your figure. And take off that dreadful cap. Let your hair fall properly, for heaven's sake. You'd look more ladylike.”
Emily groaned, yanking the cap lower over her forehead. “Maybe I should keep these on, then.”
Clara huffed. “Your beauty is important, young lady. Pay attention to what the other sixteen-year-old girls are wearing, the daughters of the millers and the solicitors, all prim in their dresses. Not traipsing about like a stable boy.”
“Oh come on, Lux wears boys’—”
“I don't care what that girl wears,” Clara snapped. “It's not ladylike. Especially for an elf. No doubt her parents will start forcing her soon enough to dress more properly. She’s of age, after all.”
“Gods, I know! You don't have to keep reminding me!”
“I wouldn't have to if you'd remember,” Clara retorted. “And watch your tone young lady. It’s improper. Speaking of impropriety, you'd appear far more ladylike and modest if you set aside such books about that womanizing adventurer. They’re utter rubbish, lowbrow scribblings unfit for a young lady's mind. You should be perusing literary fiction, something edifying and refined. Not this fantastical wish-fulfillment garbage.”
Emily rolled her eyes.
“It’s positively indecent.”
“And?”
“You should care, Emily. Grace and restraint are important. You want to settle down one day, don’t you? Find a suitable husband and bear children?”
Emily scoffed, closing her book, then brushed past her mother. “Where's the fun in that?” she muttered under her breath.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
After her bath, Emily returned to her room and changed into her nightgown. She typically didn’t wear it until it was time to go to bed, but she certainly wasn’t going to wear one of the dresses her mother got her, and she wasn’t allowed to wear any of her clean work clothes, so this was all she was left with.
“Time for supper!” her mother called.
When she came downstairs, she found that her father, Arthur, had returned. He was hanging his rifle over the fireplace, and she tackled him from behind with a big hug. “Whoa, calm down,” he said with a hearty chuckle. He gave her a quick hug in return, his breath smelling of cigarettes. “There’s my little witch.”
“How was the trip to Linchester?” Emily asked as she pulled away.
“Same as always, never anything new.”
“Did you see any vampires out there? Anyone with silver eyes?”
“Wish I did. I could have made you a necklace with its fangs.”
Clara scoffed from the kitchen. “That’s disgusting. Don’t tell her such things. Her mind is polluted enough already with all those books she reads.”
“No harm in a little souvenir,” Arthur replied.
Clara side-eyed him. “If there is a vampire, the Hunter’s Lodge will make swift work of them. End of discussion. I don’t want to hear any more of it tonight. It’s unbefitting for a girl to discuss, and I don’t need you encouraging her.”
“Alright, alright.” Arthur raised his hands defensively. “Speaking of silver…” he fished something from his pocket; a pocketwatch. The warm light from the candle on the dinner table gleamed off it. It was held up by a golden chain that looked far more expensive than anything he could afford.
“Where did you get that?” Clara asked.
“From a trade with one of the clockmakers in Linchester.” He gestured for Emily to outstretch her hand, then gently dropped it into her waiting palm. It was cool against her skin, carefully engraved with frills and leaves across the case.
“For me?”
“You’re always complaining about how the days never end. I figured you might like something to help you tell the time. Know how much longer until you can go home?”
“Really?” Emily smiled, rubbing her thumb over it. “Thanks! But, wouldn’t you need it more than me?”
“Why would I need it?”
“So you can get here in time for dinner,” Clara said from across the room.
“Hey, I’m here, aren’t I?” He laughed and ushered Emily toward the kitchen table.
It was already made, with a candle in the middle emitting the pleasant scent of lavender and vanilla. Emily pocketed the watch and sat across from her father. Clara dished out steaming potatoes, and, like always before they ate, they folded their hands and bowed their head. “Asdros, guide us with your light. Bless this meal and those who eat it. May your strength and wisdom be with us always. Amen.”
“Amen,” Emily repeated before digging in. The food tasted no different than usual, but for some reason, Emily couldn’t help but devour it. Despite eating throughout the day, her stomach churned like it was hollow.
“So, Emily,” Arthur said, cutting into his meal. “How's practice been?”
Clara stared disapprovingly.
Emily hesitated, glancing at her mother before answering. “Better than I thought it would be.”
“Learn anything new?”
“Not exactly new, but I used magic today!” A bit of excitement crept into her voice. “I saved Lux at the textile factory. There was an accident, and I caught her with telekinesis!”
Arthur leaned back, eyebrows raised. “See? Who needs a fancy school when you’ve got books? Good job, sweetheart.”
Clara exhaled sharply through her nose. “It’s a waste of time, that’s what it is. No good comes from it.”
Arthur shrugged. “Have some faith in her. She’s getting better.”
“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Clara muttered under her breath.
Emily sank lower in her chair.
Arthur waved a dismissive hand. “I think you're doing great, Emily.” He paused. “Wait… accident?”
“Yeah,” Emily said with a chuckle. “Lux was leaning on a railing when it broke. She fell, and I caught her. Not just her, though, I caught the railing too. And all the dust and cotton in the air. It all just... stopped for a second.”
Clara’s frown deepened. “The railing broke? Honestly, it’s a miracle that place is still standing.”
Emily nodded. “Yeah, and there was this strange man there, too. He almost fell over the railing himself.”
Arthur looked up from his plate. “Strange man?”
“Mhm. He was looking for people like me, people who can do magic, I think. He said he wanted to buy me and take me somewhere special.”
The room went silent.
Arthur exchanged a look with Clara and set his knife down carefully. “What did this man look like?”
Emily thought back. “Tall. Dressed in all black. Hat, black glasses…”
“And he wanted to… do what, exactly?”
A knock echoed from the door.
The room fell quiet.
Arthur rose slowly and stepped toward the door. As it creaked open, Emily leaned back in her chair, trying to catch a glimpse of who was outside.
“Hello?” he said to the stranger.
CRACK!
The door exploded inward.
Arthur was thrown back, slamming into the far wall.
Emily barely had time to scream before Emeric stepped inside. His long coat settled around him as he dusted off his sleeves. The glasses from earlier were gone, revealing silver eyes that burned into Emily’s very soul. “There you are.”
Clara was in front of her before Emily could move, shielding her with outstretched arms.
Arthur staggered to his feet and threw a punch, only to fall back as Emeric sank his teeth into his throat. He collapsed in a gurgling heap.
Clara screamed and took Emily’s hand as she tried to run, but the vampire was already there. She barely had time to gasp before he bit a chunk out of her neck and tossed her aside like a discarded doll.
Emily screamed again, scrambling backward. Warm blood splattered across her face. “Mom!”
Emeric wrapped his cold fingers around her throat, lifting her off the ground as easily as if she were weightless.
She gasped, kicking, clawing at his arm, but his grip didn’t waver. He just stared at her, amused, almost admiring her.
“I wonder… is it really you?”
Emily flailed her other hand around, reaching for anything.
The fork.
It flew into her grip, and she drove it into Emeric’s arm with all her strength.
He hissed in pain and dropped her. She hit the floor hard, coughing, gasping for air.
Emeric ripped the fork from his flesh and snarled. “You insolent little brat—”
“No!” Emily screamed.
Her body flared with heat, and the air around her exploded.
A tidal wave of force slammed outward, knocking everything loose. The table, the chairs, silverware, and books launched all across the room, shattering against the walls.
Emeric crashed into the far wall but landed on his feet. His slow, delighted chuckle turned into a laugh. A grin spread across his face, and his bloodied fangs elongated from his gums. “It is you… The Conduit.”
Emily froze. Neither of her parents was moving. Her breath hitched. Run. Fight. Do something. She couldn’t just stand here.
Emeric took a step forward, and Emily bolted for the door, but before she could reach it, he was there.
She skidded to a stop.
“There is nowhere to run, little one.” He loomed over her, smiling. “Queen Lockhart awaits you.”
Emily stumbled back, her heart racing.
The rifle.
She twisted toward the fireplace and reached out. A painful tingle surged through her body, and the rifle flew into her hands.
She leveled it at Emeric, hands shaking, trying to remember what her father had shown her. Her finger found the trigger, but it wouldn’t budge.
Emeric chuckled. “Pathetic.”
He yanked the rifle from her hands and swung the stock into her shoulder.
Pain exploded through her torso.
Emily hit the ground with a sharp cry, her vision swimming. She could barely breathe.
She couldn’t stop him.
She needed help.
She needed her mother and her father.
Emeric loomed over her, reaching down.
Emily let out a desperate scream for help, and again, her body flared with pain and power.
The fireplace exploded in a violent inferno. Fire ripped through the house, swallowing everything in its path. The heat was suffocating.
Emeric stumbled, shrieking as the fire consumed him.
Flames burst through the windows and belched into the street.
Emily staggered to her feet, untouched by the flames. Her breathing was ragged, her body aching. Something in her body was sending pinpricks racing across her skin.
Her palms were glowing again.
Emily made for the door, rushing past Emeric as the unbearable heat closed in around her.
The fire had jumped to the nearby buildings too quickly to be natural, engulfing them almost instantly.
Distant screams rose into the night, carried on plumes of thick, black smoke. People ran out into the streets.
The inferno was spreading.
She… did she just do this?
“Where do you think you’re going?” Emeric growled like a violent animal. He staggered out after her, his body a twisted sight of blackened flesh and raw, seared muscle. His skin was peeled, but his silver eyes remained, burning with anger. “You cannot run from me, little one.”
Emily took off, only glancing back to see the vampire tear into the fleeing crowd. He ripped them apart like a rabid beast, his fangs sinking deep. Blood splattered across the ground as he fed. A woman shrieked, writhing, then went limp in his arms.
The burns on his body knitted together. His scorched, ruined flesh healed.
Suddenly, dozens of rifles cracked in unison. Bullets tore into Emeric’s body, staggering him back, riddling his chest, his arms, and his throat. But he only laughed at the hunters.
His wounds healed in seconds.
Emily ran harder, her lungs burning with every breath. Something inside her was churning again, and it hurt. It really, really hurt.
Flames exploded from her hands, and Emily tripped. She clenched her fists, trying to stop it, but the fire wouldn’t obey. It lashed out of her uncontrollably.
She had to get out of town.
Emily pushed herself harder, weaving through the chaos as buildings collapsed in showers of embers. The factory loomed ahead, its towering silhouette barely visible through the thick smoke.
Emeric was behind her, tearing through the hunters like they were nothing more than an inconvenience. A trail of bodies lay in his wake.
When Emily reached the factory, she desperately looked for anywhere she could hide, or anything she could use to escape.
“You are trying my patience,” Emeric snarled. “Perhaps I'll break your legs. We’ll see how fast you run then.”
Emily bolted inside.
Darkness swallowed her. The scent of cotton, oil, and dust filled her nose as she sprinted through the factory floor, weaving between towering looms and wooden worktables.
Where was she going? She just needed to run! To escape! She couldn’t. Her lungs were burning. Her legs couldn’t carry her any further.
Another blast of fire erupted from her hands.
The flames leaped to the nearest wall, climbing fast, devouring the stacks of fabric, spreading everywhere.
Emily fell back, the fire consuming the factory faster than she could process it.
Behind her, Emeric prowled through the smoke. “You can’t run forever, little one! Queen Lockhart will have you!”
Emily whirled around. Emeric stood at the entrance, cutting off her escape. Smoke curled around him, the fire’s glow casting eerie shadows over his ruined flesh.
“Nowhere left to run.” He took a step forward.
Emily’s pulse pounded. Panic flared inside her. A wave of fire shot up between them, spiraling into the rafters. The factory groaned, metal creaking, and wood splintering as the structure weakened. Machines toppled, chains snapped, and gears clanged to the floor.
Emeric barely flinched. “Impressive. But uncontrolled.” He took another step. “The Queen will help with that—”
A figure appeared behind him, and a toolbox soared through the air. It slammed into Emeric’s back. Metal clanged to the floor. The vampire barely flinched, whipping around and slashing through Foreman Razmoth. His claws raked the dwarf across the chest, but it didn’t deter him. He got another good swing in.
“RUN, GIRL!”
Emeric snarled, sinking his teeth into him.
Above, the burning rafters gave way. The massive carding machine came crashing down.
Emeric looked up just as it collapsed onto him, pinning him beneath a mess of steel and smoldering wood.
Emily seized the moment and stumbled away. Smoke stung her eyes as she burst through a side door, choking on the thick air.
Someone was screaming. The entire town was in chaos.
Emily’s body was too exhausted to go any farther, but she knew she had to get as far away as she could. She made it back to the main road.
A wagon rolled past.
Without thinking, she lunged and pulled herself into the back. Other townsfolk huddled there, coughing, crying, covered in soot.
Pain lanced through Emily’s side. She barely had the strength to push herself up. Her mind raced, her body trembled. She couldn’t even bring herself to look back.
Everything was happening so fast. She could barely process it. How did she even get on the wagon?
Mother. Father. Her home.
All she could see were the raging flames towering over the town, swallowing everything whole. Was that… her fault?
Where was Lux?
Was the vampire dead?
Why wasn’t anyone helping? Were they all dead, too?
Where were the hunters?
Emily clenched her head between her hands, curling onto her side, and she started sobbing. Her palms burned, but not with fire. They were searing, unnaturally hot, glowing as if she had plunged them into molten steel.
She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut.
What was she supposed to do?
Nothing. There was nothing she could do.
Mina yanked the reins. Her gelding reared and neighed wildly.
She calmed the horse, and for a moment, surveyed the ruined town. Hardly anything remained of Pillio’s Watch, save for the skeletal frames of a few buildings. Those that still stood were horribly scarred, with stone scorched so black she almost mistook it for charcoal. The nearby trees were black and bare, their bark as dried up and rigid as an alligator’s back. Not even the factory overlooking the town was spared. The windows were blown out, and burn marks climbed the walls like desperate souls clawing their way out of hell. The smoke in the air made Mina’s eyes water. It was thick with the acrid smell of charred wood and smoldering debris. Amidst the foul odor, the unmistakable scent of blood permeated the air, its weight hanging heavily, like a suffocating blanket thrown over the desolate town.
Mina dismounted her gelding and left him on the edge of town. She pulled down the wide brim of her cap as the sun came to shine in her eyes. Corpses littered the streets. Some were charred, others viciously mutilated. Their faces were slack, or stiff, or swollen, unrecognizable, barely human. She came to stand over one of them. Her trench coat billowed behind her as the wind came up. The corpse was a male with five clean incisions across his gut, a ripped-out throat, a torn trachea, bloodshot eyes, and bloodied hands. With all that, and the trajectory of the nearby blood trail, Mina could almost see each step of the attack. He was slashed first and pounced upon. One clean bite to the throat and he was left to bleed out.
Mina closed her eyes and listened intently. She could hear the crackling embers, the ruined structures creaking and settling, the wind whistling through their charred remains, and even blades of grass as they brushed against each other. She could almost feel each sound wash across her. Amidst it all she picked up the sound of gnawing and squishing. Feeding.
Mina opened her eyes and peered in the direction. She brushed aside her trench coat and withdrew her revolver.
One of the things you will be able to see on my Patreon are previous versions of chapters. I don’t know if it is something everyone would be interested in, but I’ve always liked the idea of seeing something before it was finalized. It lets you compare and contrast the two versions, see what changed, speculate about what might have been. I’ve always found it fun, so for a select few chapters, I will be releasing full drafts, or just comical snippets of previous versions for your entertainment.
Oh yeah, and there will be a few chapters here and there where we jump between different perspectives for the sake of story. In those instances, I made these special scene headers with each character's respective icon. That way, you'll be able to easily tell who we're following at the start of each scene :)
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