A cool breeze took the edge off Prospero’s anxiety. Among those worthy of trust, he’d found the answers to his tragedy, but just as he feared, the nightmare had yet to end. He could not refuse the fate hauled upon him, knowing all too well that he no longer had a home to return to. He would be on back foot for the rest of his days, hounded by forces beyond his comprehension, saddled with a curse he had no desire to master.

  “It is cruel that you must inherit this mission, Prospero,” Albus spoke freely as they hiked through the forest. “The Beastblood will reignite a conflict once thought extinguished, and you will remain squarely at its centre until Orlok is dealt with.”

  “What is it?” Prospero asked. “This Beastblood.”

  “It is an ancient lineage dating to the infancy of vampirism, when the Incandescence was ravaged by a creature born from humanity’s cruelty and darkness,” he continued. “Since then, there have been many lineages, and many vampiric houses, but none so rare and desirable as the Beastblood, for it represents a crystallisation of the First’s power, and the potential of his dominating strength.”

  There was only so much of what he was being told that Prospero could understand, but the afternoons spent tolerating Luthor’s lectures in the study had left him with enough historical knowledge to piece a few of Albus’ words together. “The First…” He repeated. “Are you referring to Dracula?”

  “It’s reassuring that you’re already familiar with the name.” Albus replied. “Yes… the Beastblood lineage was Dracula’s own, and only his direct descendants - or those who have partaken of his sacred blood - are its carriers.”

  The cover of trunks and bushes parted to reveal a clearing in the woods, where something that may very well have once resembled a cemetery stood. The unpolished, moss-covered headstones and toppled cairns were relics of an age long forgotten. Like the one not far from Innsworm, Prospero recalled from his youth, it was an ancestral burial ground.

  “Many of those entombed here were once Vampires themselves.” Albus wandered ahead, into the mist hovering just above the grass. “Followers of your father - those who accompanied him into his isolation and took the secret of the Beastblood to their unnatural graves. Gaspar was the one to end them once they were ready.”

  “Albus-” Prospero could not help but ask, “are you a Vampire?”

  “No,” he answered, “I was settled here before Gaspar arrived, and like so many others, became tangled in his quest for peace. But Eliza is a Dhampir, as are many of the villagers. Regrettably, you are the only true Vampire left now that Gaspar is gone. I have a feeling Orlok may have factored this into his plans… waiting for the most opportune moment to strike, no matter how many decades it took. Let that be a reminder of just how deeply he covets the Beastblood.”

  Their conversation caught the attention of something hidden in the mist. Prospero watched the silhouette raise its head before scurrying off. Frenzied gashes were left in the soil when they approached. Aged, rotting bones had been unearthed from below.

  “An Elite has emerged from one of the local wolf packs.” Albus kneeled by the grave. “It has happened before, but the forester we relied on to deal with such matters passed away years ago, and his son has no interest in culling the threat.”

  He stood and turned. “-It is of no consequence whether the animal dies now that Queensbridge is doomed, but you may extract something useful from it, young master. It will be a fine test of your abilities before we send you on your way to Glassoph.”

  Prospero pulled the term from his studies. An [Elite] was something akin to a leader among beasts, emerging through a combination of chance and hardship. They were often more intelligent than their kin, and had a tendency to cause trouble for nearby settlements. But before he tested anything, there was a worry in his mind. “Are you going to abandon Queensbridge?” he asked.

  “No,” Albus answered. “Eliza and I, and all those distant servants of the village, will fight to preserve your odds of escaping. We will meet Orlok’s thralls in the village, and when that plan falls through, we will lead them into the woods and slow their advance.”

  Prospero took a step forward. “I will not abandon you - or any of these people - to die for my sake.”

  “You do not want to,” Albus corrected, “-but you must. Not all of the villagers will join us. We cannot expect them to, for generations have passed since your father’s arrival, and the few of us who have chosen to prepare for this day outnumber those who desire quiet lives. Some will flee, and some will fight. But all of us will die in time. There is no escape. Not from Orlok.”

  Prospero felt the need to press, no matter how desperate it sounded. “...Is there no other way?”

  “Long ago, perhaps. When your father was still at the height of his strength. But he gave that up for your mother’s sake, and for yours as well,” Albus continued. “Please, Prospero. I swore to your father that I would guide you if Orlok attacked. He entrusted you with the Beastblood because he was confident that you had the heart to resist its temptations.”

  Now a destiny was being thrown upon him, and Prospero had no choice but to accept. To seek vengeance for his father’s death, and to preserve his own life, there was no other way.

  He sighed. “...Why did this have to happen?”

  “The phantoms of our past stalk us always, and your father left behind many phantoms indeed,” Albus replied. “In death, he will never forgive himself for thrusting this responsibility onto you, the child for whom he discarded everything in the name of love.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The hole in Prospero’s heart would not fill out for decades, if it filled out at all. So many things left unsaid would tear at him in the realm of dreams until he took his final breath. His father was indeed dead, and like his mother, would never return no matter how dearly he prayed and begged.

  He breathed in and resisted the urge to sob. “...You want me to cull this Elite?”

  Sensing that he desired to move away from the topic of his father as quickly as possible, Albus nodded and took the conversation elsewhere. “Have you discovered the secret of your lineage already? The hidden power of the Beastblood?”

  “Shapeshifting, yes,” Prospero answered. “But it comes at the cost of my humanity.”

  “As it does for all Vampires, or so I have learned,” Albus kneeled to inspect the tracks left by the Wolf. “Vampiric powers differ greatly from lineage to lineage, but the governing chaos of ‘Beasthood’ keeps them in moderation. Some Vampires accrue Beasthood when they feed - others when they make use of the runic path. Your lineage is to do with shapeshifting.”

  He stood. “You mentioned the System earlier. I take it you’ve learned the basics of how it operates?”

  “-And only the basics,” Prospero folded his arms. “Never anything specific.”

  “This realm is disconnected from the Coalition. Hidden, as your father wished. Abbots from the Emerald City were never invited here, and as a result, we’ve lived without the System for generations.” Albus replied. “Good for peace. Terrible for war. Beyond terrible.”

  He cocked his head. “We’ve attracted some attention.”

  From the distant range of oaks and grass emerged shapes in the fog. Prospero would not have noticed their arrival until it was far too late - a different story from the lone wolf who attacked him on a whim of impulse the night prior. They were six in number, led by a fearsome specimen nearly twice the size of its brethren, stalking Prospero and Albus under the mist with uncanny intelligence.

  “Focus first.” Albus said. “An enemy who does not want to be revealed can always hide their strength. But under scrutiny, the System reveals all.”

  Prospero narrowed his eyes and homed in on the wolves’ leader.

  Lowland Wolf (Elite)

  Grade 2 Beast (Wolf)

  Physical Resistance - 0% Magical Resistance - 0%

  The beast snarled as if offended by the gesture, strings of saliva dangling from its enormous maw. While it approached, the rest of the pack moved to surround Prospero and Albus before they could react. The latter scanned his surroundings before snapping his head to the side. “Watch out!”

  Prospero sidestepped just in time to avoid a lunge. He had no weapon, but the footwork from Luthor’s fencing lessons had been seared into his mind. Coupled with his newfound agility as a Vampire, it appeared to him as if the beast was moving in slow-motion. Albus was not so lucky, his diverted attention exploited as a second wolf bore down on him.

  “Albus!” Prospero ran over, but before he could reach the wolf, it leaped away and retreated to a safe distance, “are you okay!?”

  “Keep your eyes on the pack!” he shouted.

  They were being circled now, creating a threat in every direction. Prospero had never known wolves to move with so much coordination, but Albus had mentioned that the Elite would improve their intelligence. Whenever he made a move, the wolves’ formation moved with him, forming a strict perimeter. Albus touched the wound on his shoulder and drew warm blood on his fingers while Prospero spun on his heels. “How do we attack them!?” he asked.

  Albus exhaled and stood. “You must be patient… they will attack as one, to rob any chance of a counterattack. Strike then - right at the leader’s heart! We will be worn down otherwise…”

  Peace of mind was strikingly difficult with one’s life on the line, but Prospero had done so before. The rapiers of Baptista manor were sharp unlike anything, and he’d nicked himself plenty during his sparring sessions with Luthor. His greatest victories in training arrived when his mind was at ease.

  Just think of it like another duel…

  He took a breath and felt the cool morning air on his skin. His nose tickled with pain as the odd shaft of sunlight slipped under his waning cloak-hood. He remained aware of the [Elite] in his vision, but did not ignore the wolves on his flank. He listened to their paws scraping across the fallen leaves and waited for the right moment.

  With unearthly synchronicity, the beasts pounced at one, and Prospero stepped towards the Elite’s gaping maw with a curled fist at the ready. He was not at all confident that a punch would fare well against a wolf, but he had no other option than to trust in the power of the Beastblood.

  …Now!

  An instant passed. The surprised yelp of a scorned animal captured the cemetery in stasis, followed shortly by desperate whimpers and the turgid folding of flesh and bone. Prospero’s hand punctured deep, through the matted fur and rib cage towards something boiling and alive within the wolf’s core. With unknown familiarity, he retracted his arm, the beast’s heart wheezing between his fingers. The [Elite] was already dead. Its expression remained firm and vicious even as its body went limp in the grass.

  [Lowland Wolf] Defeated

  [Canine Proficiency] + 2

  [Elite Bonus] + 5

  Total Proficiency Gained - 7

  The remaining wolves stiffened as if deprived of their new intelligence, scurrying in the next moment to lose themselves in the thickness of the forest. Prospero’s mind was racing at the sight of blood, but he swallowed the sensation down before it could control him. The [Elite]’s heart continued to beat, undying, in his hand.

  “Huh,” Albus wandered over, “from how you’ve been acting, I thought you’d be green. But it takes skill to move the way you did, young master - skill that one cannot inherit from simple Vampirism.”

  Prospero shook his head to dispel the bloodthirst. “...I mentioned once to my father that I had an interest in fencing. Naturally, he took it too seriously, as he always did, and arranged for Luthor to tutor me three times a week.”

  “That does sound like Gaspar.” Albus smirked. “Never did anything halfway, that man.”

  Prospero smiled as well. It was calming to be reminded of better times, if only for a moment. “...So, what is this?” he asked, nodding towards the heart, “I’ve never seen anything so gruesome.”

  “The organ is still alive with that beast’s Essence,” Albus explained, “meaning you can use it for your own needs. The System accrues proficiency in class-specific acts, but that proficiency is only redeemed once Essence is absorbed - and only improves your abilities if the essence in question is powerful enough. Stops folks from just whaling on the weak, you see.”

  “And this ‘Essence’ - how do I absorb it?” Prospero wondered.

  “How else, young master?” Albus stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “-You eat it, obviously!”

  Prospero paused. “...Excuse me?”