A Shade of Vampire 78: An Origin of Vampires

by Forrest, Bella

  The announcer said something about a couple of Aeternae-only fights coming up, separate from the tournament and part of a different competition, but I didn’t pay much attention. I was too busy wrapping my head around what had just happened, mystified by Kalon’s reactions and the prospect of him fighting Demetrius to the death.

  I’d only just met Kalon, but I reserved the right to dislike the thought of him dying. Even if it bothered me a little more than it should’ve.

  Tristan

  Their laws and the way in which they could be dodged through the tournaments bothered me, but, like Derek had reminded us—it wasn’t our business. This wasn’t our land. We had no right to tell them what they could or couldn’t do.

  Witnessing Krassus’s murder had opened my eyes, though. I could see that Valaine wasn’t happy with the referees’ decision, either. Not to mention Kalon, who was still boiling. Worst of all, he’d accepted Demetrius’s duel challenge. Understandably, the dinner atmosphere was gloomy and tense, as the full moon was tonight. After dessert, Kalon would walk out and fight Demetrius.

  Acheron and Danika kept it low key for the evening. Just us and them, along with Valaine, Corbin, Kalon, Petra and Zoltan, as well as one representative from each of the other noble dynasties—including Demetrius’s father, Clayne Mefithi, whose presence I didn’t yet comprehend, given today’s events. Beryn and Maylin had also joined, a Rimian and a Nalorean, respectively, who’d become Aeternae. I had trouble not staring at them, as they had more in common with vampires than they did with the Aeternae. They’d been turned, which was quite rare here on Visio.

  Words were scarce across the dinner table. Amal kept quiet throughout, barely eating the grilled vegetables and fruit tarts that followed. Nethissis pushed the raw meat cubes around her plate for a while, disgust still casting shadows on her face. Derek and Sofia did not refuse any of the mind-expanding blood, but I could tell they didn’t enjoy the flavors and the sensations that came with them as much as yesterday.

  Esme didn’t have anything to say, either. Not out loud, at least. I knew her mind was frazzled. She hated the system. She would’ve gladly seen Demetrius’s head lawfully cut off for what he’d done in the Blood Arena. And she was worried about Kalon dueling him.

  “Things will go back to normal,” Valaine said to me, her voice low as she poured more blood in my crystal goblet. “Once Kalon is done with Demetrius, true justice will be served.”

  “That’s another loophole, right?” I asked, connecting the dots. “Demetrius got away with murder in the Blood Arena, and Kalon will kill him and walk off scot-free with a duel.”

  She nodded. “Our laws are flawed, I know. But changing them takes a lot of time and many votes, which are extremely difficult to get. For all our progress, the Aeternae do not cope well with change. We see reason and order in what we’ve put together. I know it’s not a comforting thought, but for what it’s worth, incidents such as this don’t happen very often.”

  “Do you trust Kalon to finish Demetrius off tonight?”

  Glancing to my left, I noticed Esme listening. She stared at her glass, with Kalon next to her, but she was definitely paying attention to what Valaine was telling me. “Kalon is a true champion of the Blood Arena. One of the few who have yet to suffer defeat in the tournaments. He got his ass kicked early, which hardened him for the more dangerous fights that followed. Demetrius is an up-and-comer, but his arrogance will be the death of him, eventually.”

  “Not to be rude, but Kalon’s quite full of himself, too,” I replied, smiling.

  Valaine’s black eyes twinkled with amusement. “That’s only on the surface, Tristan. There’s a lot you don’t know underneath. Sides of him that will surprise you.”

  There were sides of her I’d yet to uncover. Esme could handle Kalon. She could get to the bottom of it if she wanted to. Valaine was a different challenge altogether, and tonight she looked stunning in her black dress. The skirt and bodice were made of satin, and a lace bolero with long sleeves drew beautiful contrasts with her pale skin. Several rows of pearls covered the base of her neck, and her hair was pulled up in an artful bun, luscious and black and perfect.

  “So, Maylin, Beryn… you two were made Aeternae,” Derek said, breaking the awkward silence that had reigned over the dinner table for the past half-hour. “When did that happen, and how?”

  Beryn had been in his mid-sixties when he chose to become an Aeternae, and he would forever carry the fine lines, the wrinkles, and the long, white hair that had betrayed his age at the time. Unlike most Rimians I’d seen, however, Beryn was tall and rather well built, reminding me of Trev Blayne, Kalon’s friend. He smiled, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with a black silk napkin.

  “I earned it,” Beryn replied. “I worked hard. I amassed my fortune.”

  “And he was able to buy himself an Aeternae ticket to… eternity.” Maylin chuckled, her nose high. She was a curvy Nalorean woman, with pale skin and an hourglass figure, further outlined by the tightened blue velvet corset of her dress. She wore her pale blonde hair in a loose braid down her back, with diamonds and pearl strings tied around the tail.

  “Don’t be jealous,” Beryn said, giving her a sideways glance. Maylin had been in her early twenties when she was turned. Her youth and arrogance seemed to have persisted. Beryn shifted his focus back to Derek. “Yes, I bought my transcendence. It took me years to make the decision. Unlike Maylin here, who killed people for it.”

  That drew some glares from our crew as we looked at her. Maylin smirked. “I won a tournament in the Blood Arena. Everything I did was justified.”

  I wanted to believe that that made it all right. But it didn’t. It was still wrong. Not your business, remember?

  “Did you fight in the tournament for this opportunity, specifically?” Sofia asked, and Maylin nodded, beaming with pride.

  “I almost didn’t make it into the final,” she replied. “To be honest, though, I did train with some of the greatest fighters among the Aeternae.”

  She looked at Corbin when she said that, which led me to draw a reasonable conclusion. “You trained her,” I murmured, gawking at Valaine’s dad. It didn’t take long for me to remember that Valaine fought in the Blood Arena, too. “I suppose you trained your daughter, as well?”

  Corbin sighed, crossing his arms. It made him look too big for his seat at the table, but he didn’t seem to care. “Maylin showed promise from the very first day she came to me for help. I was ready to maim her just to prove she didn’t have what it takes for the Blood Arena, but she surprised me.”

  “I knocked him on his ass, is what he’s saying,” Maylin interjected, and emptied her chalice, reaching for the half-full pitcher.

  “That’s an exaggeration.” Corbin chuckled, though I could still sense the strain in his tone. Maylin didn’t fear him one bit, but he still had to assert himself. He was the master commander of Visio’s armies, after all. “As for Valaine,” he added, frowning at his daughter. “I had no choice. If she was to win these tournaments, I had to make sure she learned everything it took to be undefeatable.”

  “He trained Kalon, as well,” Valaine said. “My father is, by far, one of the greatest warriors of the Aeternae.”

  “And one of the most seasoned, as well. Almost a million years spent fighting for and defending our empire,” Acheron replied, smiling at his friend. “Long before Danika and I even sat on this throne, before we were even born, Corbin has had nothing but the empire’s best interests at heart.”

  “You’re too kind, Your Grace,” Corbin replied.

  “How many Rimians and Naloreans turned into Aeternae are there?” I asked. “I suppose you keep a record, don’t you?”

  Danika smiled. “We do. Approximately five thousand.”

  “Will their children be born Aeternae, too?” Amal asked. I’d almost forgotten what her voice sounded like. She’d been quiet and brooding for so long.

  “No. Unfortunately, those who are turned do not
inherit the full scope of our species’ genetic pool. Their children will manifest some Aeternae traits, such as enhanced senses and heightened reflexes, but they will have to be turned, as well, if they wish to be like us. Otherwise, they will be mortal.”

  “So, you have children of your own?” Amal asked Beryn and Maylin.

  They both nodded, but they didn’t seem too keen to answer. I had a feeling it was a touchy subject for them.

  “Mine were born before I was turned. I’ve had to watch them die of old age,” Beryn said, sadness heavy in his voice. “I’m looking after my great-great-grandchildren now. They will soon be gone, as well. No one in my family has wished to be turned, though they have had that opportunity, thanks to me.”

  “They don’t want immortality?” I replied.

  He sighed. “No. They think it’s unnatural.”

  “The Aeternae are obviously not offended by this mindset,” Petra sought to assure us, while Zoltan eyed us carefully from his seat next to her. “We understand that not everyone appreciates a forever life. It does have its downsides, which Beryn here has experienced on a deeply personal level.”

  “Watching your loved ones die around you, not just other Rimians and Naloreans,” I mused. “Yes, I understand. What about you, Maylin?”

  “I had my twins after I was turned. One of them wished to become an Aeternae, so I helped him secure the riches he needed. The other… she chose to age and leave me and her brother,” Maylin said, lowering her gaze.

  “Hold on. So, you have to pay to become an Aeternae?” Nethissis asked.

  “Most of the time, yes,” Petra said. “You see, the gift of becoming an Aeternae is incredibly precious. Immortality is an honor we cannot bestow on just anyone. The pretenders must prove that they will do what it takes; they must prove that they understand what a privilege it is.”

  “Few have been the cases in which a turning has been simply… gifted,” Zoltan added. “Usually, the Rimians and the Naloreans must pay a hefty price. Fortunes that many do not have. Beryn is a good example. The second option is through the tournaments, the path Maylin took. Risking one’s life for the sake of living forever.”

  “Either way, we’ve earned our seats at the table,” Beryn declared.

  It drew Danika’s ire, though she kept her composure and grace. “We, the Aeternae, have been nothing but respectful toward you and all the others we’ve turned.”

  “True. But it doesn’t mean you like us,” Maylin cut in with a cold grin. “After all, we’re intruders into your way of life. Someone allowed this to happen all those years ago, and you know you can’t change the laws now. Not without stirring an uprising. Five thousand of us is no joke, is it?”

  Suddenly, previously unknown tensions between their species began to arise. There was bitterness coming from the Aeternae. If Maylin was right, it meant that the Aeternae did not really want to turn others, but they did it anyway, due to old laws and traditions.

  “You’re talking nonsense,” Danika muttered.

  “We like almost everybody,” Acheron added. “But if you’re going to be rude and gratuitously mean, Maylin, we can always rescind the dinner invitations.”

  Maylin feigned shock, while Beryn pinched the bridge of his nose. I had a feeling this wasn’t the first time she was stirring trouble here. “Oh, no… Then where will I go for all the cheap theatricals? Goodness gracious!”

  “What Maylin means to say is that not all the Aeternae approve of other species being turned, regardless of the laws of the land,” Beryn said, his tone clipped in a bid to temper the former Nalorean.

  Maylin scoffed, but she didn’t engage Danika or Acheron any further. Clearly, respect for the Lord and Lady Supreme could only stretch so far for creatures like her and Beryn. They weren’t afraid to speak their minds, and I was willing to bet it was because they’d been turned, thus standing a better chance against their makers.

  “It’s natural that there are disagreements between your species,” Esme replied, trying to recalibrate the mood around the table. “The Aeternae are the supreme predators, the top of the food chain, and the ruling class, while the Rimians and Naloreans are comfortably subjugated and subservient. When one ascends from a lower to a higher level, that’s when the more uncomfortable truths come out. I think it’s okay for you all to disagree on certain things. To not like one another, even. I’d have been more suspicious if you were trying to sell us some utopic fantasy in which everybody gets along with everybody.”

  Acheron laughed. “I like you, Esme Vaughn. You speak your mind without fear. It’s a rare quality in people.”

  “Yes, she’s quite the firecracker, isn’t she?” Petra said, her eyes small and charged with venom as she looked at my sister. I didn’t like her. I didn’t like her one bit, and the fact that she wasn’t hiding her animosity toward Esme was all the more concerning.

  Kalon shot his mother a cold stare. “She’s infinitely superior to most of the Aeternae women I’ve come across. Present company excluded, of course,” he said, and it was enough to soften Petra’s expression.

  I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful to see him stick up for Esme, though I did wonder what Petra had in mind regarding my sister. This was something I’d have to investigate later down the line. Maybe tomorrow night, when Esme and I had agreed to do our invisible tour of the palace, unsupervised.

  Valaine smiled. “As you can see, we’re not a perfect society. Not even a perfect species, as much as we’d like to think otherwise.”

  “Perfection is overrated, if you ask me,” I said to her. “There’s more charm and excitement in a family drama or a territorial skirmish than in permanent peace and harmony. I don’t think we’re designed for such dreamworlds, anyway.”

  “We definitely aren’t,” Zoltan replied. “Hence our Blood Arena and predilection for deadly duels.”

  “You know what? I’m going to go ahead and say it, since no one else will,” Acheron interjected, looking at Kalon. “You handled yourself very well today, Lord Visentis.”

  “I’m thankful for your grace and righteousness.” Clayne Mefithi finally spoke. The rest of the noble Aeternae had been murmuring among themselves at the other end of the table, occasionally smiling and nodding at anything that Danika and Acheron had to say. They didn’t seem all that happy to be with us tonight, but to be honest, I didn’t really mind that. It meant that maybe they had something to hide. I was always a fan of a good mystery. “And I apologize for the offense that my son committed today. I cannot stress that enough.”

  Unlike his son, Clayne was a slender Aeternae, with ginger curls and bright green eyes. Kindness radiated from him like scorching heat waves—the complete opposite of Demetrius. How had his son turned out to be such a bloodthirsty psychopath? I didn’t believe in the nature of monsters. I was firmly convinced that they were made, not born. Demetrius couldn’t have been designed evil from his mother’s womb.

  Kalon gave Clayne a faint nod. “I know you bear no responsibility for his actions, Lord Mefithi.”

  “It’s why I invited him for dinner tonight,” Acheron said. “What happened in the Blood Arena should stay in the Blood Arena.”

  “Only it won’t,” Petra cut in, still angry about the duel. “Call off your fight with Demetrius, Kalon, before it’s too late. Let him pay Krassus’s family and be done with it.”

  “You think gold will make Krassus’s children feel better?” Kalon shot back. “What would you do if someone killed me after I yielded in a tournament, Mother? I guarantee you’d want their head on a spike. You wouldn’t take anything else from them.”

  “It’s bad enough I have to watch you fight in those mindless tournaments,” Petra hissed. “There are better things you could do with your time. A Nalorean died, and the referees drew their conclusions. Leave it at that!”

  Clayne shook his head slowly, staring at his crystal cup. “I must apologize. It’s because of my son’s poor decisions that you’re arguing right now. I do not wish to cause more
strife in your family.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Lord Mefithi,” Kalon replied, eyeing his mother. “The high priestess simply has trouble understanding that she no longer controls her son. Her sons, actually. Our youngest brother might still be in her grasp, but he’ll grow out of it, too. We’re allowed to make our own destiny.”

  “Speaking of which,” Zoltan said. “Lord Visentis, there is a council meeting I’d like you to attend sometime next week. It involves some administrative changes around the palace and its neighborhood. I think the high priestess has wanted you to get involved in affairs of the empire before.”

  I remembered Valaine telling us that Kalon didn’t have a specific role assigned anywhere, but that he’d been groomed to someday become Lord Supreme. Of course, there were doubts that the Nasani dynasty would step down anytime soon, but it hadn’t stopped Petra from channeling all her resources into making sure that her son was more than ready for the challenge.

  It was also interesting to hear about Kalon’s brothers. I hadn’t met any of them yet, but I figured that would happen soon. The family dynamic of the Aeternae was certainly part of my area of interest, from an anthropological point of view.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Kalon replied after a long pause. It seemed to please his mother, who leaned back into her tall chair and took a long sip of spiced blood from a flute-shaped crystal glass.

  Beryn cleared his throat, drawing our attention. His eyes were fixed on Derek and Sofia, and his expression made me feel somewhat uncomfortable. I didn’t need to be a sentry to sense the mild aggression coming off him. My instincts were quite sharp.

  “So, have you found what you were looking for?” he asked.

  Derek frowned, looking slightly confused. “What do you mean?”

  “You can’t tell me you expect us to believe you’re just visiting. It’s a tad absurd, given that I hear you’ll be running blood tests on our people soon,” Beryn said.