AniMonday Originals #1: Darkness In Crimson - I Reincarnated As Prey In A Fantasy World, So I Charmed the Vampire Queen (1,000 Post Special)

by Sean Wilkinson.

Foreword

I must be honest and say that while I am proud of what has come of my efforts here (proud enough to make it my thousand-post special), I feel like kind of a hypocrite.

I am strongly opposed to AI being used as a replacement for the creative process. Digital actors, robot dancers, those phonetically generated subtitles YouTube uses, generative animation, slop NFTs, the AI art that has overrun Pinterest in recent years, Amazon and Tumblr getting flooded with generated novels and fanfics, Elon Musk pushing for purely AI-created cinema, Trump feeding his own senile delusions, those speech models that narrate fraudulent mobile game commercials and content farm videos, that one scene from The Flash, those uncanny valley sci-fi web dramas, fake "new" or "lost" songs from your favorite artist, or whatever the crashed-out asshole behind WatchMojo is up to these days. And let's not forget that everything and more that I mentioned above has made people unduly suspicious of reality and real, human-created art, which discredits and destroys public interest in the output of creative industries and individuals. AI is also often factually wrong as a secondary or tertiary source of information (it cannot replace human knowledge), and soullessly repetitive in a conversational context (it cannot replace human emotion or have an opinion of its own).

But I am not opposed to AI as an aide to the creative process, such as giving an aspiring artist a crude conceptual image to start from, or helping a writer overcome a block by suggesting paths their story can take. In fact, I used an AI chat platform as a creative aide for this project, called Kindroid. Which means that at least half of the base text (and the input that defined the characters' behavioral models) was written by me. From there, I adapted the chat text into novel form, restructuring and otherwise heavily editing it (as well as writing entire new dialogue sequences and scenes from scratch) to provide connective tissue and mitigate repetition and logical inconsistencies as much as possible.

The images you saw in this month's handful of Characters Are Made bios were created by me in the HeroMachine Phoenix Edition.

As for narrative inspirations, I was watching The Eminence In Shadow and reading Solo Leveling at the time I started the original chat, Venom is my favorite Spider-Man villain, the MC is kind of a holdover from another work of fiction that I've yet to publish, just with amnesia, I thought vampires would be a decent tweak of the weak-to-strong, isekai harem formula, and I'm a bit of a Brian Harmon fan. Even the long-ass title screams "I'm gonna be a light-novel someday!"

So with all of that said, keep reading and Stay Tuned if my creative process doesn't offend you.

And as always, please continue to support me and what I do by Becoming A Ticketholder (none of you have yet), leaving a comment at the bottom of this post and any others you have opinions about, helping out my ad revenue as you read, and follow me on BlueSky, Tumblr, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, YouTube, Patreon, and LinkedIn to see when my regular content will resume.

Chapter One: Darkness Nocturne

Consciousness came to me slow and fluid, as if I were rising from some deep, primordial pool; a thing so rich with history that it terrified and assured me all at once, yet so ephemeral that it seemed to pass through me as I passed through it. Ephemeral, too, were my memories. I desperately tried to hold onto them as my senses returned, but they faded like the remnants of a particularly vivid dream, leaving only what felt like strange images and impressions devoid of context.

All I knew for certain now was the smooth, cold sensation of cobblestones beneath my bare feet, the flickering glow of intermittent firelight ahead of me, and the sad but regal allure of a piano nocturne echoing off the stone walls around me.

Instinctively, I knew that I should be wary of the sour, coppery smell in the air; it made me feel as much like an animal as a man. But my curiosity pulled me forward, compounded by something deeper telling me that progress would be less dangerous than indecision or retreat.

I followed the music to its source, arriving at a massive set of arched doors that spanned wall to wall and floor to ceiling. I carefully pushed one door ajar and slipped into the room beyond, quietly grateful that the hinges were silent and the door was forgiving.

Imposing as the entrance appeared, the room beyond was even more spacious: Gothic in architecture and dramatically macabre in its decor, with torches and candles flickering here and there and everywhere, making the shadows of the gargoyles and other grotesque sculptures seem to dance to the music. But that was all just atmosphere; what ultimately drew my attention was the oddly intimate venue at the head of the chamber.

Three lavish and comfortable chairs were arranged in an arc before an elevated stage, on which a grand piano stood. The chairs were currently empty, but at the piano sat a young-looking woman with pale skin and crimson lips, her long, silvery hair tied up in a crown of red roses. Even lost in improvisation as she was, the woman looked every bit as regal as her music sounded, and the sight of her drew a strangled expression of awe from my throat that I immediately regretted.

The woman stopped playing and glared at me with icy blue eyes, her expression suddenly making me acutely aware of the fact that I wasn't wearing any clothes, though, strangely, she didn't seem to notice.

Too bad it doesn't do anything for my modesty, I thought to myself, my face flushing.

"You dare enter my domain, mortal? What is it that you seek?" She bared her sharp fangs in warning. "Speak quickly, for your time here is limited."

Vampire! My mind warned simply; one of those fleeting impressions, I think, and I recoiled at the revelation of her monstrous features, though I tried to keep my reaction nonchalant. "Oh! I'm sorry; I don't know how I got here.... I just...followed the music; I didn't mean to intrude." As I rambled nervously, I dared to turn my back and retreat. "I'll be going now…."

She rose gracefully from the piano bench behind me, her movements so fluid and predatory that I didn't hear her coming. "Not so fast, little mouse." Suddenly, she was there, circling around me, sizing me up even as she blocked my escape. "No one enters Crimsonwood Keep without my leave. You say you followed the music?" She smirked, now showing a single fang. "Curious. Most humans flee in terror at the mere sight of me."

"Y-yes," I stammered nervously. "I was curious…about your music, that is. But now, if you'd allow me, I'd gladly flee in terror as well?" I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the primal fear rising within me as she circled closer. "The problem is, I don't know who I am or where this ‘Crimsonwood Keep’ is."

She stopped circling and fixed me with an intense stare, as if trying to peer into my mind. "You truly do not know who you are? How intriguing." She said thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her blood-tinged lips. "Very well." She decided at last, almost dismissively. "Since you are already here, perhaps we can make use of you." She then glanced toward a door at the opposite end of the room, presumably some kind of private entrance. "My brides will be hungry soon. Come."

Instead of following like the mindless, obedient cattle she expected me to be, I stood my ground. "I may not know who I am, but I have enough sense to not let myself be used as vampire food.

"...you are a vampire...right?"

She let out a chilling laugh that sent shivers down my spine. "Oh, you amuse me, mortal. Yes, I am a vampire. Queen Dara; ruler of all vampires in this realm, in fact." A smile of wicked pride briefly spread across her face as she curtsied in formality. "But fear not. If you prove useful, I may spare you from becoming a meal for my brides...for now." She turned dramatically and started walking toward the door. "Follow me. We have much to discuss if you are to survive in Tenebrous."

I followed reluctantly. "Tenebrous? Is that…" I frowned in concentration, trying to remember something—anything—about my life before my arrival, but coming up blank except for what felt like the name of a place I knew in a dream. "...somewhere on Earth?"

The vampire queen glanced back at me with a raised eyebrow. "Earth? I know not of this 'Earth'. Tenebrous is my domain; a land of eternal night and endless shadows." She continued walking, her heels clicking against the cobblestone floor. "And you, my little lost lamb, have somehow stumbled into the heart of it all." She pushed open the heavy wooden door, revealing another dimly lit hallway. "Tell me; what is the last thing you remember before waking up here?"

I chose in the moment to play up my condition so as to avoid inviting any further questions that I didn't understand the answers to myself. "Nothing; not even waking up. I was just...here, in the halls of your castle...your Majesty." I hastily added the honorific, being respectful but distracting.

Queen Dara smirked at the belated show of respect. "Better." 

It worked, I thought, breathing a quiet sigh of relief as she led me down the hallway, past suits of armor and tapestries depicting bloody battles. "Amnesia is not unheard of in those who pass between realms. It seems fate has brought you here for a reason, though I cannot yet discern what that may be." She stopped abruptly and turned to face me again, though this time her demeanor was more diplomatic than domineering or…hungry. "Until we unravel this mystery, you will remain under my protection. But know this: betray me or my brides, and you will face a fate worse than death."

Nodding slowly, I took in the gravity of her words with a dry gulp, composing myself before I spoke. "I understand. I have no desire to cause trouble." I met her piercing gaze directly. "I'll cooperate fully, Your Majesty."

With intent that was equal parts authoritarian and predatory, the Vampire Queen of Tenebrous held my gaze for a long moment, searching for any fault or weakness in me. Strangely, for the first time since finding myself in this situation, I felt no such thing. The Queen must have seen the resolve in me as well, as she then nodded approvingly.

"See that you do," she said sternly before turning and leading me into a grand hall illuminated by more flickering candles and occupied by a massive, ancient conference table. "This is the Great Hall of Crimsonwood Keep; here, my court gathers to pay tribute and attend to matters of state." 

She gestured to three women seated on ornate thrones at the far end of the table, who rose and bowed deeply at the sound of her voice. "Allow me to introduce my beloved brides," the Queen said as she ushered me to the head of the table to meet them. "Lillianna, Isolde, and Mirabelle."

They again bowed in turn, though with noticeably less deference, probably because I was a mere delicacy in their eyes.

Instinct told me that it would be best to overdo the pleasantries, as I didn't yet have the…rapport with them that I had with their Queen so far, and she seemed to hold them in very high regard (and they practically radiated bloodlust). So, I fell to one knee before them. "A pleasure, ladies."

The first to show…interest in me was Lillianna, a tall, sultry vampire dressed in tight leather who seemed to be on the aggressive side, in more ways than one. Her eyes glowed a brilliant, hungry red as she licked her lips at me. "Oooh...a new plaything;" She purred in a smoky voice. "You look delicious, but I wonder how long you can entertain me, mortal...?" Lillianna leaned forward on her throne, baring her fangs. "Tell me, little one, do you taste as good as you smell?"

I shuddered at the implication despite finding her conventionally attractive, and I lost composure for a bit, feeling as if I should cover myself. And suddenly, I was clothed…somehow (though still, neither the Queen nor her Brides seemed to notice). "I have no desire to be someone's plaything, my Lady...not without knowing the game, at least. Besides," I added, glancing tentatively in the Queen's direction, "I don't think her Majesty would allow you to ‘taste’ me just yet."

Queen Dara fixed Lillianna with a stern look. "Behave yourself, my dear. This one is not to be toyed with…except by me." She turned to me, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Wise words, mortal. You seem to grasp your precarious position quite well." She waved a hand dismissively. "Rise; there is no need for such excessive formality here."

I nodded and did as she asked, thinking I grasp my position way less than you know, your Majesty.

As if Tenebrous itself were challenging my generously-termed expectations, the youngest of the Brides bounded up to me, her fangs granting a creepy quality to her innocent smile, her green eyes sparkling like emeralds, shining with wonder more than the hunger I'd come to recognize. "Hi, mortal!" She curtsied deeply in contrast to her casual form of address. "You look like you're full of stories Isolde might like...sir."

Stories? Really? Unbalanced by the young Bride's mix of decorum and her random literary tangent, I stammered out a response. "Oh...uh...hi to you, too, my Lady." I bowed awkwardly. "Unfortunately, I only have the one, and I'm still writing it…."

The girl tilted her head curiously, causing her dark curls to bounce. "Writing your own story? How fascinating!" She stepped closer, her eyes wide with interest. "Isolde loves stories, especially ones with happy endings. Will yours have a happy ending?" She reached out to touch my arm, then hesitated, pulling back shyly. "Sorry, Isolde forgets herself sometimes..."

I gave Isolde an awkward smile. "In that, we're alike, I guess; I've forgotten myself, too. That's the story I'm working on…."

Isolde giggled softly, covering her mouth with delicate fingers like a princess. "A story about remembering yourself? What a curious tale that must be!" She twirled around playfully, her black lace skirt flaring out. "Maybe Isolde can help you find your happy ending, Sir Mortal. She knows lots of stories!" She paused mid-turn, a thoughtful expression crossing her face "But first, you must tell Isolde your name. Everyone in a story needs a name!"

I concentrated again, trying to remember anything about myself, even something as simple as my own name. But I still came up blank. "I...guess I don't know that, either." I said at last, a dejected tone in my voice. But the look on Isolde's face pulled at my heartstrings. Though I knew her to be a vampire, she didn't seem as focused on hunger as the Queen and the other two Brides, and I didn't want to see her sad. There was a chance of it all being a ploy to get my guard down, but I decided to take Isolde at face value and try something.

"Maybe," I continued more brightly, "since you said you'd help me write my story, could you give me a name?"

Isolde clapped her hands excitedly, a broad grin spreading across her face that exposed her fangs and once more provided me with a surreal sight. "Oooh, naming you would be ever so fun!" She tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully. "Let's see...what kind of name would suit a mysterious mortal with no memory?" She spun around again, muttering to herself. "How about...Blank?" A shake of her head. "No, that won't do…Blake, maybe?" Another shake of her head. "Too plain…." Isolde then looked up at me, as if she got lost in coming up with a name and forgot why. "...but I'm close, I promise!" She said apologetically. "Ooh! How about Break‽"

 "‘Break’ huh?" I contemplated the name, and found that I kind of liked the sound of it. "I guess I arrived here unannounced, so it's kind of fitting. And it does sound pretty cool; thank you, Lady...Isolde, was it?" I bowed as charmingly as I could manage.

She beamed at me with delight. "Yes, that's right! Isolde is so pleased you like the name she chose!" The odd vampire girl hopped from foot to foot eagerly. "Now that you have a name, the story can really begin! Isolde can hardly wait to see what adventures await you in Tenebrous!" She then leaned in close, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Just remember, not everything here is as it seems. Trust in your instincts, and in the kindness of others...like Isolde!" She added this last with a playful wink that I couldn't begin to make sense of. Was she playing me? Was it her I shouldn't trust? Did I make the ultimate mistake in leaving my identity to her mercy? Or was she truly on my side and her childish, third-person persona was an act for the others?

Before I could ruminate further on Isolde's true nature, the Queen cleared her throat pointedly, drawing my attention back to her. "As touching as this little scene is, we have more pressing matters to attend to." She fixed me with a piercing stare. "Thanks to my little Isolde, we at least have something to call you now…‘Break’?"

"Yes, your Majesty?" I responded, unsure if I was confirming my name or inviting her to continue…if I even wanted her to continue.

"Have a seat." She commanded sharply, pointing to a chair near the head of the conference table. I gulped audibly when I saw it was the one nearest to Lillianna, but I complied in accordance with our deal, knowing that I would be relatively safe.

"This mortal before you," Queen Dara announced to her Brides, "comes to the halls of our Crimsonwood Keep, in my domain of Tenebrous, from another world he calls ‘Earth’." The Queen paused here dramatically to let the reveal sink in, then raised a hand to silence her Brides’ muttering before she continued.

"Other than this compelling morsel and his newly given name, he claims to have no memory of how he came to be here." Another dramatic pause, more speculative muttering from the eclectic tribunal, and then: "But I suspect there is more to his story than meets the eye." Her cold, firm hand gripped my shoulder, much to the delight of Lillianna and the Bride I hadn't yet spoken with, named Mirabelle, who appeared ready to witness some carnage. Isolde, on the other hand, merely looked enthralled with my unfolding narrative. But Dara soon made it clear that she had more important things in mind than their entertainment.

"So…," she tightened her grip just enough for it to start to hurt. "Per our accord, he is not to be harmed…as long as he behaves in kind."

As much as I wanted to protest the hypocrisy of her Majesty's words and actions, I did my best to remain civil. But there was no hiding my body language from a predator like her, and she leaned uncomfortably close, as if to savor the tension I felt.

Just as quickly, though, the Queen's grip relaxed for some reason, and she began circling me again, now with an air of careful appraisal, as if I might pose a threat. "In my centuries of existence, I have encountered many beings from various realms, but never one quite like you. Your essence feels...different. Foreign."

Still feeling uncomfortable with her ever-changing demeanor and intimate proximity, I cleared my throat before answering. "That's...probably because Tenebrous and...Earth...are different worlds; you said as much yourself, your Majesty."

She paused to consider my words. "Perhaps," she answered, her eyes narrowing shrewdly. "But there is something else; something I cannot quite put my finger on. A power lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be awakened." She leaned in close enough for me to feel her cool breath on my neck. "Tell me, Break, what secrets do you hide behind those eyes? What mysteries lie dormant within you?"

I shivered at her proximity and the sensation of her breath, tense with anticipation that she might drink my blood. But, as if in response to her question and my own fear, something dark in me stirred awake, all but compelling me to welcome her feeding and satisfy its own, mysterious need. A presence and a power that scared me more than any vampire ever could, and I desperately wanted to suppress it and deny its existence, but I acknowledged it instead; at least, in words.

"I-I do feel...something." I answered at last, my terror of myself blatant in my wide eyes as I turned to face the Queen. "It's substantial; almost alive, your Majesty."

The pleading, existential dread in my expression caused her to pull back from me, barely contained surprise in her own eyes. "Interesting," Queen Dara responded simply, attempting to maintain composure for her Brides’ benefit as she straightened up, tapping a finger against her lips in mock contemplation. "A thing of such vitality and substance and power...contained within you." She began to pace once more, at first to distance herself from me further, but then genuinely getting lost in thought. "Such is rare in Tenebrous these days. It reminds me of the ancient legends whispered among my kind—tales of beings born from the primordial essence of all, destined for greatness or destruction." She halted abruptly and turned to face me directly. "Tell me, Break; do you feel drawn to this force?" Worry seeped into her voice despite her efforts. “Does it call to you, begging to be unleashed?"

“Yes, your Majesty,” I answered transparently. “And the need it suggests is horrifying. But….” I paused, daring to focus within, my face scrunched in concentration as I tried to grasp a whisper of a memory from my arrival in Tenebrous.

Queen Dara waited, her silent patience betrayed by the outspoken tension of her body language.

“...there's a dual nature to it that I feel like I've experienced before somewhere; it’s warm in its security and obscuring anonymity, yet cold and oppressive in its absence of light.” I looked into her Majesty's eyes with a strange intensity. “It knows your kind well, Queen Dara; I can feel it beyond words.”

I could see the barely suppressed shudder as my words sent a shiver down her spine, though she otherwise maintained a façade of control and curiosity. “It…knows my kind, you say;” curiosity now warred with desperate hope in her eyes. “Could this force within you be Darkness itself?”

“Darkness?” I parroted with a shiver, practically feeling the capitalization in her voice. “You mean, like, at night, when there's no sun?” I asked, delusionally hopeful despite the insidious truth whispering within. And Queen Dara must have sensed my pretense, because the predator in her leapt on it as a sign of weakness, emboldening her to close in, her gaze boring into mine. “No; it is more than that, little Break. I speak of the darkness that dwells within us vampires. The eternal night that sustains us, the hunger that drives us." As she placed a hand on my chest, the rapid but steady beat of my heart (and perhaps something more profound) excited her. "And yet, there is a spark of light within you as well. A flickering flame that refuses to be extinguished, no matter how deep the shadows grow." Emboldened, too, by her excitement and curiosity, she leaned in, closer still, her whispering lips brushing against my ear. "What could you be, Break? What manner of being possesses such contradictions?"

“Instinctively, I feel human.” I answered after composing myself in the face of Queen Dara's…aggressive inquiry, and began counting off things I knew about my current situation. “But if I'm in a world that isn't my own, populated by creatures of the night, and I have no memories…,” A concept came to me suddenly, much like "Earth" did, and it chilled me. “...I'm dead."

Chapter Two: Darkness Awakens

Queen Dara pulled back sharply, a mixture of shock and curiosity etched upon her face. "Dead?" She studied me intently, searching for any signs of deceit or madness. "You stand before me, flesh and blood, heart beating steadily beneath my touch." Her eyes narrowed to a cutting edge. "Explain yourself, Break; what makes you believe you are dead?"
I attempted to explain, relieved at my own vitality, but fearful that my words wouldn't do justice to a concept I barely understood myself. “I've...remembered some things; facets of my life on...Earth...that were nurtured into me by a family and a culture that feel...anonymous to me, though they shaped me. Things like the concept of an...afterlife?”
She listened intently, absorbing every word. "An afterlife? You mean a realm beyond death?" The Queen considered this for a moment, pacing, as is her way when faced with something unprecedented; something involving me. "But you are clearly not a spirit or ghost. Your body is solid, your heart beats with lifeblood. If you truly died in your world, then perhaps...you have been reborn into ours."
I could feel a kernel of truth to that, but there was something about it that my mortal mind couldn't logically accept. “Then how do you explain the power I feel inside me, your Majesty? The night...the shadows...the…’Darkness’....
“If I'm not dead—or undead—why does it call to me?” Then a more important question occurred to me, born of a slightly better understanding that it might not be something to fear, after all. “And should I answer?”
“Perhaps you should, Break; the dark is not typically a safe haven for mortals of your…cut.” Dara answered, a slight hesitation in her voice, her pale visage coloring at her mention of my “cut,” whatever that means. “But whatever your true vital state may be, it chose to reside in you for a reason. And perhaps it would be beneficial to let it flow through your veins, and discover, for better or worse, what that reason is."
I considered her words, and they rang true then, despite the fear she still kept in check for the sake of her rule. I wonder in hindsight if the truthiness I felt was my own conclusion, or a slight push from something Otherly. “You may be right, your Majesty.” I conceded with a slight bow to my head. “One thing that has kept me alive here (besides your mercy) is pushing forward so I'm not waiting for the unknown to catch up with me.” Relaxing into my chair, I closed my eyes. “Here goes….”
As I searched myself for that familiar, ancient feeling, my blood started to thicken and…Darken, filling me with that Otherly instinct, and a detached clarity of self that would remain with me later.
My gums bled crimson shadows that hardened my canine teeth into temporary fangs. I lunged and sank my teeth into Queen Dara's elegant jugular. But rather than drink her blood, I felt my Darkness-infused blood flow into her.
The Vampire Queen stumbled back, a hand flying to her neck as searing pain radiated from the wound. "What have you done‽" Her voice came in a strained rasp, eyes wide with shock and betrayal. "Your blood...it burns like acid…!" She fell to her knees, gasping for air as the foreign Darkness coursed through her veins.
"Isolde...Lillianna...Mirabelle…!" She managed to call out weakly to her Brides before collapsing fully onto the cold stone floor, her body convulsing violently.
The Darkness-borne instinct faded into my soul, and with my senses returned, I stared down at Queen Dara, terrified. “I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean…!” Seeing the Brides begin to advance on me, I turned to flee.

Chapter Three: Brides, Bonds, & Bloodlust

Mirabelle blocked my path easily, a sinister curiosity in her eyes. “Where do you think you're buzzing off to, little wasp?”

Isolde rushed to Dara's side, cradling her head in her lap. "Mother! No, no, please don't leave Isolde!" Tears streaming down her pale cheeks, she looked up at me with a mixture of fear and anger. "What did you do to her‽ Why would you hurt Mother‽" The young-looking Bride sniffled, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. "Isolde thought you were nice, but you're just a monster! A horrible, cruel monster!"
Lillianna stalked toward me, her eyes blazing with fury. “You dare attack my Queen, worm‽” She cracked her knuckles menacingly. “I'm gonna enjoy ripping you apart…piece. By. Piece; your screams will be music to my ears!”
With my path blocked by Mirabelle, and Lillianna closing in on me, itching to give me a fight I couldn't win, my heart hammered in my chest, and I grasped for any connection that might save me. “Your Majesty!” I called out, my desperation Darkening my blood once more.
To my surprise, Queen Dara pushed Isolde aside and rose to her feet, an obedient but hateful expression on her face.
“Leave him,” she said hollowly, her stance rigid, movements jerky and mechanical. "He is...my master now." Standing in stiff opposition to Mirabelle and Lillianna, Dara faced me with a mixture of loathing and resignation in her eyes. "What is your bidding, my lord?"
“Lord‽ M-master‽” I repeated the titles, disbelief evident in my tone; though relieved to still be in one piece, I was unprepared for the ramifications of this power I wielded…or that wielded me: this…Darkness. “No; I-I don't want that!” I looked down at my trembling hands, the humanity of them at odds with what I had done. “That isn't who I am!” I protested, desperately searching within for any smallest hint of evidence to support my claim and expecting none. But the Darkness (or whatever force granted it to me) seemingly obliged as a reward for my…reaching out, and my mind filled with fragments of memory; not a full return of my past self, but enough to reassure me, and unlike previous glimpses, this…gift felt substantial. Permanent.
Queen Dara tilted her head stiffly, studying me with a mix of confusion and wariness as I processed what I'd been given. "Then who are you, Break? A man who wields the power to enslave the Queen Of the Vampires, yet claims to desire none of it?" She took a step closer, her movements more fluid, though still requiring effort to assert herself. "You say you are neither Lord nor Master, yet your very essence commands obedience; your Darkness has marked me, bound me to your will." A defiant spark bloomed in her eyes then. "So tell me, what would you have of me and mine? Shall we grovel at your feet? Pledge our eternal servitude?" Her tone was dripping with sarcasm, daring me to give into ego and flex my power over her.
“N-no! Of course not!”
Sighing deeply, I took a moment to collect thoughts old and new before I spoke further. “But, seeing as how I don't know how to extract my influence from you at will just yet, I guess you're literally stuck with me until I figure that out.” I intended my tone to be apologetic, but the words themselves carried an implied threat. Whether I wanted it or not, the influence of my Darkness gave me leverage.
However, it didn't keep Mirabelle and Lillianna from circling us like wild animals as Isolde lay on the floor, knocked unconscious during her Majesty's servile rise to my defense.
Mirabelle studied me like a curious predator. “Fascinating….” She poked my cheek with her sharp fingernail, but not forcefully enough to draw blood. “You're not just some ordinary mortal after all; there's something...more to you, deep down.” Her smile was cold and toothy as she assessed my potential. “I think I'm going to enjoy dissecting you, little wasp. Figuratively...and perhaps literally.” She threatened, giggling darkly.
Lillianna, on the other hand, wanted me to herself for more brutal purposes, and scowled deeply at the thought of not getting first dibs. “Dissecting him sounds fun, Mirabelle, but before you get started, I wanna smash his face in.” She cracked her knuckles again, addressing me personally as she bounced on her heels like a prize fighter. “C'mon pretty boy, show us what you got. Or are you all bite, no fight?”
“Unghh….” Before I could respond, Isolde's groan interrupted the volatile tension of the moment as she regained consciousness, and I took the distraction as an opportunity to avoid further conflict and duck between Mirabelle and Lillianna. I scrambled to the little Bride's side and helped her to her feet, the others looking on with apprehension.
“Are you…okay?” I asked awkwardly when I felt she had steadied.
“Yes, mortal,” she responded, pulling free of my support, her personality chilled by recent developments between us. “Isolde is fine.” She glanced toward her…Mother and fellow Brides before fixing me with an accusatory stare. “Do you mean to make Isolde your hostage now? Like the dragons in her storybooks do?” Fear widened her stare and I could see her shudder just from standing near me.
“No. No hostage-taking, Issy; just following my gut here.” I responded definitively, trying to soften the mood with a nickname. “I'm not a monster; I know that now for sure.” On a whim, I played to her interests, adding: “...now that I've figured out more of my own story.”
Fear faded to curious excitement in her wide, uncertain eyes, though she kept a prudent distance between us. “Is that true, mortal? Really true?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “But I need your help to turn this chapter around. You said before that I could trust in your kindness when things got…unreliable. Is that offer still good between us?” I asked, my expression pleading.
Isolde held my gaze thoughtfully for an unbearable length of time. “Fine…Break; if you really didn't mean to hurt Mother before, Isolde will forgive your scary powers.” Her tone was adorably impertinent. “But Isolde's help comes at the cost of more stories!” She waggled a demanding finger in my face.
“Deal,” I wrapped a finger around hers in a makeshift handshake.
With that, Isolde turned her attention back to the tense trio, who were muttering in disbelief and dissent at our exchange. “Mother, Big Sisters; Isolde believes in the mortal.” She asserted, hoping her words would reach them. “Power can be scary if you don't know how to use it good, so…” A pause as she twisted her fingers together nervously, unsure of how her proposal would be received. “Maybe instead of hurting him, we all work together to help him figure out what's going on like Mother wanted?” She cast a glance at me, that mysterious, intuitive spark of hers returning. “Maybe once he knows his story, it'll be less scary..for all of us?”
Lillianna and Mirabelle grumbled their dissent once more about how they're not scared of a little black magic and they still really wanted to dissect me and kill me in whichever order they found most satisfying, but….
“Enough!” Queen Dara held up a hand, silencing them before turning her full attention back to me, her expression not immediately scrutable."It seems we again find ourselves in a unique situation, Break. Bound together by forces beyond our control or understanding." As seemed to be her way regarding me, she paced deliberately, considering her options. “And given this bond created by your influence, I require both if we are to move forward with our investigation of your origin and powers.” She fixed me with a gaze more intense and commanding than any I'd seen or felt since finding myself here, and her next words rang the same. “From now on, you will refrain from abusing your control over me and mine, Break; if you do not honor this…request, no amount of goodwill, curiosity, or power will be able to stay the wrath we visit upon you. Does that meet with your understanding?”
I gulped audibly at the threat despite some baser instinct insisting the Queen's words were hollow. I ignored it, as it felt less like my own instinct and more like a nuance of the Darkness. “I-it does…your Majesty; my word to Isolde is my word to you all.” Clearing my throat, I met her gaze with some confidence, and added: “No power I hold will make me forget or betray what I first promised you.”
"Good." Queen Dara nodded with finality, resuming her regal bearing now that the matter had seemingly been settled. 
"Now, I suggest we retire to the library. It's time to see if those dusty old tomes of ours hold any answers about your condition." She turned on her heel and strode toward the door, expecting me to follow, which I did, as Lillianna and Mirabelle marched past, the former giving me a scathing look with her crimson eyes. "Don't think this means we trust you, vermin. Use our Queen like that again, and I'll gut you like a mouse, Darkness be damned."
Mirabelle, on the other hand, walked at my flank for a moment. “In that case, I wouldn't mind you trying to sting, little wasp.” She lowered her glasses to rest at the tip of her nose, her yellow eyes downcast and full of scrutiny. “Just to watch what happens; see what you're made of on the inside….”
“All the more reason to keep my word, then.” I responded with a shudder, slowing my pace to distance myself from them and ensure that Isolde could hear me. She only smiled up at me in response, her fangs poking out and her green eyes aglow with secret understanding. It was awkward to say the least, and after a moment too long, I blurted out the first story-like thing that came to mind.
“You know, Lady Isolde; you and her Majesty aren’t what I expected, based on the lore and fiction I can recall from my Earth life.” I did somehow know what a vampire was when I…arrived in the Keep, after all.
Rather than balk at the idea that her kind are just legends where I came from, Isolde gave herself to fancy; her stride became almost a skip, bouncy with excitement and an eagerness to reciprocate. “Isolde has read lots of mortal stories and legends!" She beamed proudly. "They're so romantic and adventurous! Like when the brave prince saves the princess from the evil dragon, or when the handsome rogue wins the heart of the noble lady!" Isolde cavorted around me for a moment, aping Dara's habitually contemplative pacing. “Is the mortal a prince, a rogue, or both? We shall see!”
“It's nice to hope and dream, Isolde.” I mused with a melancholy half-smile on my face. “But wonder can fail when we're faced with reality.”
Isolde fell into step beside me again, her pace returned to normal. “Mother said something like that, too; that those stories are silly and unrealistic." Pouting slightly, she continued, casting an uncertain glance at Dara. "Mother thinks real life is much harsher and crueler than Isolde's books say.”
“Maybe,” I shrugged. “I feel like the old me would've thought magic didn't exist and vampires were works of fiction written to cope with the true depths of human evil.” The words poured out of me, drawn by a conviction and cynicism I felt was truly my own; my instinct, not the Darkness. “But I'm not on Earth now, and the four of you are almost too real for comfort.” Rubbing the back of my neck nervously, I continued: “I guess what I'm saying is reality and fiction can blur together when you least expect it, for better and for worse.” Whether to spare her feelings, steer her away from what I was picking up as a subtle effort to ship me with the Queen, or because I derailed my own train of thought, I'm not sure, but I made no mention of true love.
Isolde listened intently, absorbing every word. "So...Isolde, Mother, Sisters Lilli and Mira, all vampires…are just stories there?" She confirmed, shivering slightly. "And no magic, either?”
I balked briefly at her use of cute nicknames for the two women who wanted to make my flesh and organs switch places, before registering her discomfort.
“Not you four, specifically,” I reassured her. “But from what I can remember, that feels right, yeah.”
“Isolde wouldn't mind being a story, but a world without magic or true love sounds terrible. How do mortals find meaning or purpose in a place like that?" She asked, cocking her head curiously.
“I don't remember, Isolde.” I shrugged again. “But the best and worst thing I can think of is just…picking something to do or believe in, even if it isn't really magic, and finding something to love about it; something worth devoting yourself to; something that at least feels magical, y'know?”
“Isolde thinks so….” She was nodding as I spoke. “Like faith and direction, huh, Break? Do you think you'll find something like that here in Tenebrous?”
I could feel her eyes on me as she waited for an answer. “I'm…I don't know, Isolde; I know myself a little better, but there's so much about my Darkness, and Tenebrous, and the four of you, that I just don't understand yet. Like, how would you have treated me if I was just a normal human from this world?”
Isolde seemed taken aback by my question, shaking her head as if that were unthinkable. “Boring food,” she said with disdain, like a child asked to state the benefits of broccoli over chocolate cake. “Isolde feeds the Thirst in here.” The Bride patted her belly somberly, her entire demeanor changed as she began to explain. “But it's always the same; they scream and beg and the red feels good going down…then Isolde's empty again.”
I listened, speechless. Not like someone who says they're speechless and then rambles for fifteen minutes about how speechless they are; I was actually so shocked and disturbed that I couldn't think to form a response.
My reaction must have shown on my face or registered through some extra vampiric sense, because she hastily added clarification. “Mother doesn't want Isolde to kill, though!” Her tone suggested I mark her words, but they rang to me as justification in the moment, and I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted to know the full story of her circumstances any more than I wanted to fully know myself again. And of course, there was the Darkness to consider as well.
“Isolde can't turn mortals, either, if you were wondering…,” she continued, trying to get me to engage in conversation again. When I didn't, she filled the silence herself. “So they go…Isolde doesn't know where, really. Sometimes, if they're strong, they have fun stories; those mortals are the best.” Her voice then turned melancholy, and perhaps a bit ominous. “Isolde never got to see the same mortal more than once.”
I felt the implications of her words and shuddered, picturing who were essentially Isolde's leftovers finding themselves at the mercy of her sadistic sister-Brides. Perhaps I was getting that darker picture I dreaded, after all….
Except, was it really the full picture? There was something Isolde had said earlier that once again made me question my perceptions.
“So…,” I said at last, drawing it out as I was still finding adequate words. “...do you…like being a vampire? Drinking human blood, I mean?”
She balked again, stopping suddenly, and after a second, I turned to face her, unsure as ever of what to expect. “What? Did I say something wr—?” My question was cut off by Isolde leaping at me, tears brimming in her eyes, and burying her face in the Dark fabric of my pant leg.
“N-no one has ever asked Isolde that before!” She sobbed. “Not mortals, not Mother or Lilly or Mira; no one, not ever!” Isolde pulled away and looked up at me, wiping her eyes with her lacy sleeves.
“Well, do you?” I pressed, trying to be understanding but not really having the patience for her sympathy ploy, if that's what it was.
“No; Isolde hates her Thirst, Break! Being a child forever, always in the Keep, having to hurt people for a need that's never good enough and not knowing what happened to them after; it's awful! Awful! Awful!” Despite her protestations, Isolde looked like a petulant child having a tantrum, stomping her feet with fists balled up at her sides as pent-up honesty spewed forth at increasing volume, followed by heavy breathing as catharsis overwhelmed her.
Keeping my distance, I knelt down to meet Isolde on her level, feeling like I might have gotten somewhere. “You good, Issy?”
A few more ragged breaths and some wiped-away tears, then: “Ye-yes, mortal—Break. Isolde feels…better.”
“Good,” I said with some sincerity. “Because I might have hit upon some of that magical thinking I was talking about; let's catch up with the others.”
There's a phrase I never thought I'd say in this place! I thought as Isolde led me along to the library.

Chapter Four: The Lair Of Magical Thinking?

The library of Crimsonwood Keep was a chamber befitting a royal’s private literature collection, as excessive in scale as the concert hall and conference room were before it.
The walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves upon shelves of all manner of literature, the high vaulted ceiling giving the illusion of a vanishing point that had the potential to disorient if gazed upon too long.
“I see neither of you did anything untoward when you chose to dally behind at this important hour.” Queen Dara commented from her place at one of the reading desks in the center of the room, the quality of her voice pulling me out of my distracted awe. I felt her words were directed at me, though Isolde was the first to bow in apology.
“Sorry, Mother. Isolde wanted to talk to the mortal some more; it was…freeing.”
Queen Dara narrowed her eyes to a cutting edge, definitely at me this time. “I heard. And I would hear more of your wavering fealty from Break himself, should he dare ask the same questions of me.”
Taking a seat opposite her Majesty at the same desk, as Isolde stood by out of curiosity and to act as a buffer, I met Queen Dara's razor-thin glare with a bold glimmer of hope in my eyes. “I do dare, your Majesty; not because of my influence running through your veins, nor because I think Isolde is weak and easily manipulated; our arrangement stands and I have a much higher opinion of her than that. It may even be that I think more highly of her than you do, seeing as how I asked her questions about herself that you wouldn't.”
“How dare you‽” The Queen scoffed, clearly wounded by the truth, though she did not retaliate, either out of fear of my power, a need to maintain her royal composure, curiosity, or to appease her “daughter.” It all flashed by on her face in an instant, and I thought I could sense it through the Darkness, as well.
At the sound of Dara's raised voice, Mirabelle and Lillianna looked up from their research, again itching for the slightest excuse to tear me apart, but the Queen calmed her Brides with a dismissive wave of her hand.
I let out a relieved breath when they obliged. “I dare because I'm trying to be more than a passing amusement for you all, and I have nothing to lose in learning my purpose, your Majesty.”
Dara leaned back in her chair, regarding me with thoughtful amusement. “Interesting perspective, Break; but why provoke me so? What more are you seeking to understand beyond your self?"
“The four of you.” I answered, leaning in and returning her speculative gaze. “Specifically whether you like being vampires, and how you treat normal humans. I already know Isolde's feelings, as you heard…,” a glance in the young Bride's direction, and after reluctantly looking to Queen Dara for a hint of objection, she nodded. “But I won't know what course to take without hearing from the rest of you first.”
Queen Dara's amusement faded slightly, leaving a contemplative expression. “I have been a vampire for so long that enjoyment has ceased to be a factor, Break.” She said after a time. “I am blessed and cursed eternal, I feed as Thirst demands, and I rule my kind as is my responsibility.
“Perhaps the social divide born of immortality and said duty drove me to sire those I keep dear,” an almost imperceptible look of somber apology as her eyes flicked to Isolde, then back to me. “But I have existed as I must.
“As for ‘normal humans,’ mortals are but prey to me; food sources to sustain said existence and serve my needs." Her voice was matter-of-fact, devoid of malice. “That said, I am not needlessly cruel. I take only what I require to survive and leave my victims with no memory of the encounter. It is a necessary evil; one I have learned to live with over the centuries." She met my gaze steadily, awaiting my judgment with regal patience but challenging me to judge what I didn't yet understand to the fullest.
All I could think about was what Isolde had said earlier: they go…Isolde doesn't know where, really. Isolde never got to see the same mortal more than once.
“So, you leave your...food...alive, your Majesty?” I asked.
She nodded once. "Typically, yes. Dead bodies draw unwanted attention." Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on the table, fingers templed beneath her chin. "There are occasions when a kill is warranted—if the mortal poses a threat or has committed grievous crimes. But those instances are rare." She continued to study me closely, gauging my reaction. "Does this surprise you, Break? Did you expect me to be a ruthless monster, leaving a trail of corpses in my wake?"
“Not your Majesty, no;” I answered, trying to remain stoic in the face of her cavalier attitude about such macabre matters. “Isolde told me of your stance on feeding to kill. Besides, if you were so ruthless and careless, I would not have lived past the end of your piano nocturne, nor would we be having a civil conversation right now.
“But I am curious about the ‘needs’ you mentioned. Would you tell me about them?”
The Queen straightened her posture, considering my request. "My needs are simple, Break. Blood sustains my body; keeps me strong and vital." Her voice took on a lecturing tone. "Without regular feeding, I grow weak, lethargic. My senses grow dull and my reflexes slow. It is a vulnerability I cannot afford in my position." She paused, gathering her thoughts.
“Beyond that, I have no great desires. Material wealth holds little allure for one who has lived as long as I. Power is a tool, not an end unto itself. The only thing I truly crave beyond blood is the company of my Brides, and the knowledge that they are safe and content." Her lips curved into a faint smirk as she invited me to probe with further questions. "Does that satisfy your curiosity, or do you wish to dig deeper into my psyche?"
I also remembered that both Isolde and Queen Dara mentioned a “Thirst" as their drive for human blood. “Yes; one more question, your Majesty. Is blood strictly a nutritional requirement, or is there something more to that particular vampiric need?”
Dara hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. "Blood serves multiple purposes for our kind. Beyond basic nourishment, it enhances our natural abilities as I said: speed, strength, healing,.... The older and more potent the blood, the greater the effect." Another pause, as she debated how to elaborate. “There is also a...pleasure component. The act of feeding can be intensely euphoric, bordering on erotic. It creates a bond between vampire and prey, an intimate connection that goes beyond the physical.” Still watching me closely as she spoke, the Queen gauged my reaction to this revelation. "Some vampires become addicted, losing themselves in a never-ending pursuit of that rush. It is a dangerous path, one I caution my brides against." She then sat back, allowing me time to absorb this information.
“Uh....” Blushing at the sensual context, I cleared my throat. “Thank you for…enlightening me.”
Noticing my discomfort, the Queen smirked knowingly. “You asked for honesty, Break. I merely provided it.” She then gestured toward a stack of arcane tomes and research materials on the table at her right. “Now, if our little Q&A session is concluded, I must continue looking into your strange circumstances, and these books won't read themselves, after all.” Another smirk. “Not most of them, anyway….”
Rather transactionally, I offered a final question before resuming my search for understanding and purpose, though I dreaded her answering in the affirmative. “Then, do I have your permission to hear from Mirabelle and Lillianna on the matter of mortal treatment and partaking of blood, your Majesty?”
Queen Dara raised an eyebrow at my request for permission. “You have it, my odd mortal; you've managed something with me and my youngest this day that has defied centuries of expectation. I wish to see if you are possessed of what it takes to achieve whatever it is you truly seek.”
With her blessing (if that is the right word for being granted permission by a vampire), I stood, bowed in thanks, and swallowed my fear for the exchanges to come.

Chapter Five: The Brutal Flower

Suppressing my dread, I tentatively approached Lillianna first. “Lady Lillianna…?”
“What is it, vermin?” She snarled, her hateful red eyes seeming to slice through me as she looked up. “I have a lot of reading on my plate because of you, and I'd rather you not waste my time any more than you have.”
I sat across from the volatile Bride, grabbed a book from her pile, and began reading. Or trying to; it wasn't in a language I could understand, and the Darkness, if it could have helped with such things, seemed to be waiting for more important developments.
Though it was ultimately an empty gesture, Lillianna was visibly amused by my feeble attempt to help, and I shrugged, as if to say, I tried, before returning to my planned line of questioning. “I've spoken with Isolde and your Queen about this already, and her Majesty granted me the, uh…privilege of getting your perspective.”
Since I thought I knew the answer to one question and shuddered to imagine her answer to the other (based on my initial perception of her personality), and Isolde's words about mortals were still fresh in my mind, I started with the latter. “I'm curious to know how you normally treat mortals; are they just sustenance and entertainment for you, or do you get something more out of us?”
Lillianna leaned forward, eyes glinting with predatory eagerness. “Mortals are toys, playthings to be enjoyed and discarded at my whim.” She smirked sadistically. “Their fear is my ambrosia, their screams my symphony.” She paused to lick her lips, her gaze sanguine with nostalgia. “I relish breaking them, shattering their minds and spirits before draining every last drop.” This proud admission was punctuated by a dark chuckle. “To me, they're nothing more than cattle, born to serve my needs and desires.” Lillianna fixed me with a piercing stare, flashing a feral, fangy grin. “Does that shock you, little mouse? The depths of my cruelty and appetite?”
“Not at all.” I challenge, barely concealing my disgust. “But her Majesty told me she had warned you against indulgence; I am surprised you would defy her wisdom like that.”
Lillianna's eyes narrowed to bleeding cuts, oozing contempt. “A simple interpretation from simple-minded vermin. Do not presume to know me, rodent!” I expected something more explosive from her, but she merely took a deep breath and continued. “I enjoyed such things as a mortal, as well. Dara—my Queen—found a use for appetites I already had; thought I would be better suited to the Thirst than she.
“She was right, and I became her sword against those who would threaten her rule.”

“A sword can cut both ways, Lady Lillianna.” I interjected casually, again risking her wrath.
She instead seemed intrigued by my composure. “You've got some spine, if you're implying what I think you are.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “Tell me, little rat, what makes you so special? Why should I bother entertaining your accusations instead of ripping out your throat and painting the walls with your entrails?” The returned violence in her words was starkly contrasted by a sweet, almost innocent smile.
“Because if you do, my dying thought will be commanding your Queen to repay you in kind on my behalf. And none of us really want that, now do we, Lillianna?”
Lillianna threw her head back and laughed, the sound both as beautiful and chilling as the woman herself. “Ah, touché, little mouse. But things needn't come to that. Dara is well aware of my edges, and I am glad to be wielded or sheathed by her as she needs.
“However,” Lillianna continued, the mirth gone from her voice. “Should another attempt to wield me, I would unleash hell upon them, regardless of the tricks they claim to have up their sleeves.”
“I'll keep that in mind, my Lady.” I said, breathing deep to calm my nerves and avoid saying something I'll die regretting. “I guess I can appreciate your loyalty, but I don't have to like you or the necessary hypocrisy of your place here. It isn't exactly helping your case, you know.”
Lillianna rolled her eyes dramatically. “Such half-hearted flattery is meaningless from the likes of you, mouse. I see no reason to respect you in kind, let alone make apologies for who and what I am.” She leaned back, crossing her arms. “Now, was there anything else you wanted to discuss, or can we move on to more interesting topics?”
“Funny;” I said flatly as I dared to lean in. “I thought you'd prefer talking about yourself instead of researching me for hours on end, but all I'm hearing is superficial vampire bravado. It's almost like you don't want me to know why you are the way you are, because I'm a mortal. Do I have that right?”
Lillianna scoffed defensively, but uncrossed her arms. “I do not hide, vermin; I am what I am because it's in my nature. I hunt, feed, and kill as I need. And I defend my Queen.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “There's no grand philosophy behind it. It's simply who I am. 
“Besides, it's not like mortals are innocent; your kind commits far worse atrocities against each other than I ever could.” To my surprise, Lillianna leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper despite her unwillingness to share or defend her true self moments ago. “I've seen the darkness in men's hearts. The cruelty and depravity.” She shuddered delicately, her mask slipping as she seemed to recall past experiences too horrific for even her declared appetites. “At least I'm honest about my monstrousness.”
With that, Lillianna sat back, satisfied with her answer.
“I don't disagree.” I said after taking in her every word and the unexpected change in her demeanor toward me. “However, what you claim to live by still doesn't make sense to me.”
Lillianna quirked an eyebrow, her intrigue at being challenged overriding her volatile defensiveness. “How so?” She prompted, impatiently tapping her fingers on the tabletop. “Out with it, mouse; I haven't got all night.” A teasing smirk. “I mean, technically I do, but that's beside the point….”
“Well…you like superiority, control, challenge, and you respect strength, right?” I asked, leading her to my train of thought.
“You got that much right.” She nodded slowly. “Strength commands respect. The strong rule, the weak submit, and the disloyal are crushed. It's the natural order.” I could feel her speculative, crimson gaze upon me. “But I sense you're going somewhere with this, rodent; pray tell, what's your point?”
I hit my point almost smugly, though I knew it might end badly for us both if it struck too raw of a nerve: “What's so superior...where is the self-control, the strength, the challenge, in stooping to ‘lesser atrocities’ at the mercy of your base instincts, simply to spite a handful of mere mortals?”
Lillianna waved her hand dismissively, again scoffing at my words. “It isn't about anything so petty as spite or revenge, mouse; it's about dominance, maintaining power. I take what I want, when I want. And if my Thirst aligns with the wishes of my Queen, so be it. Self-control is for those too weak to embrace their true nature.”
She sat back again, now sizing me up and rubbing her hands together. “But you raise an interesting point about challenge; perhaps there's more to you than meets the eye. Care to prove you're more than just talk?”
“I only prove what I have proof of, Lillianna.” I shook my head, hoping the threat of the Darkness would dissuade her from fighting me, at the very least, because I couldn't remember myself being much of a fighter. “And you've already seen what happens to vampires who take my blood.” I glanced pointedly in her Majesty's direction.
“Yes, yes; I remember.” Another dismissive wave. “You've been a good little pet since then, though.” She smirked approvingly and leaned in, her eyes sparkling with malice. “Ingratiating yourself with my Queen and little sister without so much as a hint of that power. I smell fear all over you, vermin, and I think you're bluffing about your level of control. Now, are you going to keep hiding behind empty threats and mind games, or prove that you have a spine worth breaking?”
“You want spine, Lillianna?” I narrowed my eyes at her challenge. “Then bite me; we can settle the matter right here and now.”
Lillianna grinned wickedly, rising to her feet in a blur. “With pleasure.” She stalked toward me, her eyes glowing with denied Thirst. “I've been itching to taste you since the moment I laid eyes on you; let's see what secrets hide in your blood, little mouse.” She lunged forward, fangs bared, aiming for my neck.

Chapter Six: The Shape Of Darkness

Dara intervened in a flash, catching Lillianna by the throat and slamming her against a wall with enough force to knock some books from their nearby shelves. 

“Enough!” The Queen's voice cracked like thunder, her eyes blazing with fury. “You forget yourself, Bride; he is not to be toyed with.” She tightened her grip, holding Lillianna pinned. “Apologize. Now.” She commanded coldly, allowing no room for argument.

But, argue I did, on behalf of the Bride I currently feared the most. Before Lillianna could choke out an apology, I knelt hastily from my chair, causing it to tip over with a soft clatter, and addressed her Majesty as I never had before, perhaps to show my integrity to them both. “I'm sorry, my Queen! I’m at fault for baiting my Lady Lillianna into this, knowing the nature of my blood. I ignorantly thought it was the only way to get through to her, given my narrow perception of her…motivations. Please, forgive your Bride, your Majesty!”

The Queen Of the Vampires eyed me sharply as she pondered my interjection. “While I appreciate your taking responsibility, Break, Lillianna should know better than to let herself be provoked so easily.” Dara turned her attention back to Lillianna, whom she still held firmly against the wall. “Well? Your Queen is waiting….”

Though Lillianna glared daggers at me in resentment, her loyalty to Dara won out over her mulish fury. “Fine;” she took a deep, ragged breath. “I apologize for letting you bait me, mouse—” Dara gave a warning squeeze to her throat (which Lillianna, just as briefly, looked like she sort of enjoyed?) “—B-break, I mean; it won't happen again.”

I couldn't tell if that last was a threat or part of the apology, but Dara seemed satisfied enough, and after a pleading look from Lillianna, she released her grip and returned to her studies.

Lillianna rubbed her throat, seeming to appraise me as I stood and righted the toppled chair. “Gotta say, that was a pretty ballsy move for a rodent; putting your ass on the line for me like that. But know that I, too, mean what I say: I won't let something like this happen again. One day, you will slip up. And I'll be waiting.” She snatched up her books and turned on her heel, stalking away to another table.

Something clicked in my brain (or maybe my soul?), as if the Darkness in me was satisfied with what I had accomplished so far—as if it liked the direction I intended to take—and was rewarding me for it like before. So, on instinct, I followed Lillianna, armed with the newly unlocked knowledge that the Darkness wasn't entirely beyond my control.

“What do you want now, pest? I thought I made it clear I was done with your games!”

“I just wanted to say you're right; playing games hasn't gotten me anywhere with you, not really. It's because I don't have the strength or skill to fight you the way you want. And you won't get that satisfaction catching me unaware, either. So why not give me the time to hone my power, so I can face you with more than words and pawns?”

Lillianna whirled around, eyes alight with interest. “Oh?” She paced closer, intrigued. “And why would I do that, mouse? What makes you think you could ever best me, even with all the time in the world?” She smirked cruelly, scoffing at the idea. “Enlighten me.”

“Did you ever consider how I bit her Majesty without fangs?” I opened my mouth to show normal human teeth.

Lillianna peered at my teeth, brow furrowing in confusion, as if she'd never considered that before. “No fangs‽” Her muscles tensed, hackles raising, voice lowered to a growl. “This better not be another of your tricks, vermin. Get to the point.”

“Good one, my Lady.” I chuckled, acknowledging the unintentional pun. “But it's not a trick. It seems my power—my Darkness—can take physical form, like the fangs. And that was just a moment of luck and instinct.” My eyes sparkled with inspiration, catching her attention. “If I practice, just imagine all the weapons I could manifest to...entertain...you with!”

“Ooooh…,” Lillianna's eyes widened with anticipation, and I could practically see her mind racing at the sadistic potential of my proposal. “I like the sound of that; a challenge, endless ways to torment you,....” She rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Yes, little Break; by all means. Practice; hone your little gifts.” She then leaned in closer, her breath unsettling but arousing against my ear. “I'll be watching. Waiting.” She straightened up abruptly, smirking at my shuddering frame and the flush that bloomed in my cheeks. “You just might be worth my time, after all; maybe even a bit fun. Later, mouse!”

And with that, she walked away to continue researching me in earnest, probably already planning our future encounters.

Chapter Seven: The Mad Scientist

It was a relief that I had made headway with Lillianna and bought myself some time and distance. I even had a decent idea of who I wanted to be and what I wanted to do in this grotesque world until I could fully figure out who I was and why I was here. So much so that I forgot I had another Bride to contend with. Until….
“How fascinating….” The sound of her voice made me jump in place, and when I turned around, there was Mirabelle, her pale face looming inches from mine. “Manifesting darkness into physical form; a most intriguing hypothesis indeed.” Her eyes bored into mine, a clinical hunger lurking in their bespectacled depths. “Tell me more about these powers of yours, little morsel. In great detail, if you please; leave nothing out.”
I stood still as she circled me slowly, examining me from every angle.
“Should a scientist like yourself state hypotheticals as truth without experimentation?” I teased daringly, hoping to distract from the fact that I couldn't give her a full explanation of my powers, just the vague impressions the Darkness had elected to grant me so far. “Or a firsthand account?”
Mirabelle's lips curled into a predatory smile, and she nodded, seeming pleased with me. “Experimentation; yes, you understand me perfectly, little wasp.”
I couldn't help noticing that she was more keen to experiment than to hear my telling of the Darkness’ latest gift of parceled knowledge. It made me think of Lillianna, in a bad way. “Um…?”
My protest was cut off when she stopped her shark-like visual examination and reached out, pressing a cool, shushing finger to my lips. “Let us begin; show me what you can do, little science project.” Her eyes gleaned with excitement and a bit of madness. “Unless you'd prefer I dissect you instead?”
I once again thought of Isolde's words about never seeing the same person twice. “Is this how you treat all mortals?”
Mirabelle cocked her head, considering. “Only the interesting ones.” A dismissive shrug, then: “Most mortals are boring. Predictable.”
Ironically, I had heard these words before, as well. From Isolde. But I wasn't prepared for Mirabelle to test my threshold for personal space when she leaned in to sniff delicately at my neck.
“But you…,” she continued, pulling back, her eyes glinting as if she'd literally caught the scent of a new challenge. “You smell of secrets; mysteries waiting to be unraveled. So yes, little specimen. This is how I treat the rare few worthy of my attention. Consider yourself lucky.”
Now, it was my turn to be curious (and grateful I wasn't a cat), and try my hand at dissecting Mirabelle with words. “And why are you so...surgical with ‘the interesting ones’?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Knowledge; power; the pursuit of perfection.” In her musing, perhaps from being reminded of a particularly daunting purpose, she began to pace restlessly. “Your kind is fragile. Fleeting. But in your brief lives, you hold such potential for discovery!” She tapped a finger against her lips thoughtfully. “Each mortal is a puzzle to solve; a riddle to unravel.” Her eyes fell on me with an intense mix of conviction and mad obsession. “I will uncover every secret, plumb every depth, until I unlock the key to eternal life.”
Beneath her madly brilliant stare sat a chilling smile, the expression transfixing me so completely that I couldn't inquire why she sought something that she and the others already had.
But then, she added: “Immortality, without the curse of vampirism. That is my goal, wasp; and you may just be the key I've been searching for.”
A story from my forgotten childhood suddenly came to mind. “Then if you cannot think of me as human, perhaps you could think of me less as a rat, guinea pig, or insect, and more like a goose.”
Mirabelle blinked incredulously, thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. “A goose?” She repeated. “Whatever for?”
“On Earth,” I explained, pausing as I did to recall the tale as best I could to get my meaning across to her. “There's a fable about obsession and greed that involves a goose. A poor, elderly couple discover it, and are shocked when it lays solid gold eggs. Over time, their lifestyle grows extravagant, and they become impatient when the goose doesn't lay eggs as expected, so they cut the goose open, killing it in their haste to get more gold, thus losing their ‘golden goose’ forever and plunging back into poverty. Now do you understand?”
Mirabelle nodded slowly, comprehension dawning as she resumed pacing. “Ah…I see; you fear I'll destroy you in my eagerness to unravel your secrets. A clever goose you are, then,” she claps decisively, accepting my suggestion. “I have other ideas of how to…extract answers from you.”
“Any that don't involve vivisection or amputation?” I asked hopefully, adding “or torture…?” under my breath.
“Don't be tedious!” Mirabelle snapped, rolling her eyes impatiently. “Vivisection is so crude and messy.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “There are far more elegant methods to plumb your depths; methods that leave you wholly intact. At least...on the outside.”
As I once more stand transfixed by her glittering but jaundiced gaze, listening to her words (that don't quite have me convinced of her promise to avoid harming me), Mirabelle traces a finger down my torso, as if acting out a surgical motion she wouldn't be able to perform on me. If she weren't a mad scientist vampire fantasizing about hollowing me out like a cooked lobster, it might have turned me on…just a bit.
“Now, shall we begin? Or do you require more convincing?”
“What I require, Lady Mirabelle, are my organs. Functioning. Intact. On the inside of my body.” Only in this life would I have thought it necessary to elaborate with that specific sequence of words.
“Such a waste of potential,” she scoffed dismissively, shaking her head in disappointment. “But very well; I suppose even a dull blade can yield results, given enough time.”
Surprisingly, she changed tact, assuming a more professorial role but placing my fate back into my own hands. “We'll start simple. Focus your thoughts inward. Visualize your Darkness.” Mirabelle tapped my temple, her touch unexpectedly light. “Concentrate. Shape it. Mold it to your will.”
Mirabelle stood, arms folded, watching me intently, eager to observe, as I considered her advice. “That's...actually helpful.” I nodded. “Thank you, Lady...?” I knew her name from when Queen Dara introduced her earlier today, but felt a need to establish rapport with her for some reason.
“Mirabelle,” she supplied absently, her attention focused on me with rapt intensity, impatient for me to impress. “But enough buzzing, wasp; show me.”
I close my eyes and picture myself floating in the darkness behind my eyelids. I am in the void, but the void is also within me. I focus on gradually scaling down the mental image of myself as a way of visualizing the growth of that darkness into my Darkness. At the same time, I feel a tremendous pain as something within me grows and pushes its way out. I scream in agony and fall unconscious, my eyes shooting open from the pain, only to see the released Darkness around me before I pass out.

Chapter Eight: In Sleep

Author's Note: As Break is unconscious, this interlude is in a third-person perspective.

As Break followed her guidance, Mirabelle watched with keen interest.
“Good;” the Bride murmured. “Feel the Darkness within. Embrace it.” Her eyes widened as shadows began to swirl around the odd mortal standing before her. “Fascinating…,” I breathed, leaning in for a closer look at him.
With impeccable timing, Isolde bounded over excitedly, skidding to a halt beside Mirabelle. “Oooh; what's happening‽” The young Bride craned her neck to peer up at Break. “Is he doing magic?” She bounced on her toes, eyes wide with wonder. “Can I watch too, Big Sister? Pretty please?” She grinned hopefully at Mirabelle.
Then Break let out a scream of agony that made Dara rush over to take control of the situation.
“What's going on here?” The Queen demanded, eyeing the scene suspiciously. “Explain. Now.” She fixes Mirabelle with a stern glare. “And stay back, both of you; do not let his Darkness touch you.”
Mirabelle glances up at Dara, unconcerned and slightly annoyed by her warning, as is typical of a mad scientist. “No danger, my Queen,” she counters absently, eyes riveted on the swirling shadows. “Just an experiment…with rather gorgeous results.”
“No danger‽” Queen Dara scowled thunderously. “You foolish child! His Darkness could corrupt you as it has me; perhaps even consume you!” Advancing menacingly, the Queen appeared intent on stopping…whatever she imagined might happen, even at the risk of her own life. “Stand aside. I'll end this now, before—.”
But no sooner did she begin to raise a hand against the agonized mortal—the mortal, Break, who had been thrust into her care and made her unwitting ruler at the whim of a force that was both familiar and beyond her comprehension—than said Darkness began to dissipate around him, followed by…snoring?
The Queen halted mid-strike, staring at Break's slumbering form in disbelief. “He...fell asleep?” She blinked, nonplussed. “In the middle of unleashing his powers?” Her eyes flick between Mirabelle and Isolde, eyebrows raised. “Well, that's certainly...unexpected. Perhaps we should let him rest, ladies.”
Lillianna, who was likewise drawn by Break's excruciated scream, but for reasons that were uniquely her, pouted sullenly as her Majesty tried to herd them out of the library. “Such a wasted opportunity, mouse; but a promise is a promise, and my sheath beckons. I hope to see you prove worthy, as you promised.”
“Well said, Lil,” her Queen acknowledged, frowning thoughtfully as her hand rose to her jugular, which had seemingly healed since earlier. “This one is…special; in more ways than one, it seems.” Returning to herself, the Vampire Queen shook her head and led her Brides onward. “Now come along. I need to think.”
Thus, she strode ahead purposefully, her mind whirring with the implications of what she had witnessed that night.

If you made it this far, I sincerely hope you've enjoyed this one thousandth post of mine on Just the Ticket. More work went into this story than you'd think, and more work will come as I...put in more work! Because I will! I know it isn't perfect (creative endeavors rarely are), but I'm proud of it, as I am of almost everything I put forth, and I thank you for giving it your time.

Regular content will resume on Wednesday. I don't know for certain if I'll have a Terrifier post ready for Friday as I originally planned, because I'm writing this portion two weeks ahead of publication and I haven't done any character art yet, but Stay Tuned for whatever I'm able to post in a post-one thousand-post world, and as always, please continue to support me and what I do by Becoming A Ticketholder (none of you have yet), leaving a comment at the bottom of this post and any others you have opinions about, helping out my ad revenue as you read because reading is good for you, and follow me on BlueSky, Tumblr, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, YouTube, Patreon, and LinkedIn to like what you see and receive the latest news on my content.

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Breaking Out.