The winds continued to blow over us as time seemed to slow itself.
Zakir's arms were trembling, his hands were shredded and torn, as blood dripped onto the grass beside him. Sylva was the same. Her knuckles were still white from holding me, her breathing uneven. It all seemed like a dream.
"You—" Sylva's voice cracked, as her screams earlier seemed to have injured her vocal cords. She turned on me, eyes glistening with anger.
"You absolute idiot!" she screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks. "What the hell were you thinking? You said you had a plan! Not a fucking suicide mission! You could have— You were supposed to—!"
I tried to speak, but she pushed me, her hands now rolled into fists. "Do you have ANY idea what would have happened if I didn't save your sorry ass? You think what you did is smart? You think it solves anything?!"
"She's right," Zakir muttered, falling to his knees as he was lightheaded from the amount of blood he had lost.
Their words struck a nerve, revealing a feeling I had long forgotten. It reminded me of my brother scolding me. His words cut deep, but underneath it all, it was full of warmth from someone who still cared.
Sylva's face crumpled. "The white demon we knew… he would have never done anything like that. He wouldn't have thought twice about using any one of us to save his own arse. But you—" She looked down towards me, her voice softened.
"You jumped."
Zakir gave a grim nod. "You know, ever since you came back, we've had this feeling that something was different. The way you carried yourself. The way you spoke. The way you acted. Everything was too different," he continued.
"Who are you? And what happened to the real white demon?"
I sat still, stretching the silence that was unwavering between us. I couldn't understand this feeling I felt in my heart. It was something I've missed for the last 7 years. Despite the heavy winds tearing at us on the mountains, my body felt warm inside for the first time, and my mind was clear. However, a lingering question still echoed in my mind.
"You two…" I started. "Back then… You tried to kill me. Yet now… You guys are going to such lengths to help me. Why?"
Sylva's expression darkened. "Don't".
"You guys are right. I don't remember anything at all. That is exactly why I want to know.
Did you always hate me that much?"
They looked away, almost as if my words struck a chord somewhere within them. There was more to the story than I had originally thought.
"We didn't want to either," Sylva said, after a long pause, wiping her tears off her face.
"But you had changed, Feng. You weren't the same as you were before back then."
Before I could ask her what she meant and finally unravel the mysteries of this body's former soul, the sound came again.
The very same sound we thought would be gone forever, a threat never to be seen again. The low and primal growl of the beast resurfaced once again.
No. It wasn't dead.
Zakir spun around, his sword already drawn, his palms drenched in a mixture of cold sweat and blood. "No way. This can't be…"
Sylva stepped back, her eyes darting towards the cliff's edge. "We saw it fall. We saw it vanish with our own eyes. So why… Why is it coming back?"
The sounds of its claws filled the air as it dug deep into the walls of the mountain as it made its way up the cliff. It was climbing—climbing back up.
And then I saw it. The beast's massive form, its glowing molten eyes, as it made its way over the ledge.
It wasn't over.
Time slowed.
Zakir, blade in hand, but his legs trembled in fear and exhaustion. Sylva sat rooted, too petrified to move, as she was still trying to recover.
The beast's gaze landed on Sylva. Almost as if hinting at revenge for the stunt she pulled off earlier.
It lunged at her. She didn't move. Not from cowardice, but rather from the sheer weight of it all. She had nothing left to give.
My body moved on its own, or so I thought.
I threw myself towards Sylva, knocking her out of the way.
A deafening roar was heard through the mountains as I felt the impact before being able to register the pain. A force so strong, cracking bone as my chest caved inward. It was almost as if I were reliving my memories again. But this time, it wasn't Sylva's arm. The beast's claws tore through me as blood erupted from my mouth. I tried to scream, but no sound came out.
"NO!" As their voice briefly cut through the chaos, before the rest started to fade away.
Then came the silence.
My knees hit the ground, followed by the rest of my body. And the questions came flooding back.
Why?
Why did I throw myself in front of her?
Was it because I felt sorry for them?
No… That wasn't it.
Pity could never push me that far. It was something else. Something deeper. Something I forgot long ago.
I saw my brother's face in hers. That look in her eyes, full of anger yet so fearful at the same time. It was as if she believed someone would come for her. That I would come for her.
And maybe, just maybe, I wanted to feel like that again.
The boy who believed he could do anything for his brother, no matter how hard it got. The one who never hesitated, even when the world repaid his kindness in spades.
Maybe I wasn't trying to protect her. Maybe I was trying to protect that part of me—the part my brother left behind.
Because in that moment, before the pain hit, before I was longer meant for this world, I wasn't a vampire. I wasn't their enemy. I wasn't me.
I was his little brother again, remembering what it must have felt like for him.
Just like that, my world slipped away. Yet the next time I woke, I was somewhere else entirely.
***
I was in a chamber. It was vast, lit by hundreds of torches, illuminating the night sky.
Twelve figures in robes stood around me, their robes hiding their faces. I was naked; however, I didn't feel cold. They raised their hands together in unison while whispering a foreign tongue.
A tongue I was not familiar with, yet understood every word of it.
"He is not ready," one whispered
"There is no choice. It can only be him. The other was banished, remember?" said another.
Suddenly, a single towering figure stepped forward from the darkness. His robes were old and heavy, evident of royalty. Yet there was one part of the robe that stood out amongst the rest. The sigil of the Crimson Star. I had no clue what it meant, yet it felt of utmost importance.
He raised a goblet.
Liquid swirled within, not wine, but blood. A crimson red, its purity seemingly out of this world.
They raised the glass to my lips.
"Drink. And lose who you are. The twelfth hour approaches, and the blood of the great one will course through your veins."
I didn't move.
He forced it down my throat as I gagged.
"This is just the beginning," he continued.
"My son. Vladros Nyxerion."
I tried to speak, but no words were formed. My head was hurting. Shards of past memories surged their way back, each one piercing through my skull.
Then everything was calm.
***
I awoke from the memory with a cold sweat. The sounds of battle rang in the air as I came to process my surroundings once more.
I felt the weight of someone over me. Warmth pressing into my chest.
And I saw her face once more. Sylva, frantically hovering over me with her hands, squeezing her own arm. She was breathing hard, her fangs bared, sweat running down her head.
I looked down to see what she was doing. My eyes widened with shock. Her hands were squeezing her arm as if trying to force something out of it. It was then that I noticed a long, singular deep cut beneath.
She was draining her blood…forcing it down my throat in an attempt to save me.
"Goddamn it, who told you to save me?" as she continued, tears flowing down her cheeks once more.
"You would always shrug off injuries that would have killed anyone else, boasting your own abilities. So why aren't you waking up now?"
Zakir was yelling behind her, doing the best he could to keep the beast at bay by himself once more. His sword had cracked in half, his left arm was limp and broken.
As I tried to regain function over my limbs, the memory I had surged forward. So many questions. Where was I? Who was he? However, there was one thing I knew for sure. I had a name. And it wasn't Zhao Feng.
"Vladros Nyxerion…" I whispered.
"Huh?" Sylva's eyes widened as I started to open my own.
"Feng? You're alive? I can't beli—" before she could finish her sentence, the world around us seemed to crack and shift. The winds howled stronger than ever, the sky turning a crimson red.
The fighting in the distance stopped, as it took everything they had to simply remain standing and not be caught up in the storm.
The ground beneath me started to fall apart, and clouds began to form. It felt as if the air thickened, changed by the weight of something. An ancient power stirred from within me. It started small, almost like a singular raindrop. But then it exploded into crashing waves, spreading from my heart into the rest of my body.
A surge of energy sent Sylva flying back, as I began to rise. My wounds began to close. Any evidence of the hole through my chest is gone, restored to the way it was before. I extended my arm, and for the first time in my life,
I felt powerful.