Alchimia Rex

Eva stirred awake within a large tent, the setting sun peeking through the flaps. Her sleep had been light, ready to jump at the first sign of anything amiss. But tonight, much like the previous night and the night before that, the Vampires had not tried anything.

“Lady Zagan wishes to inform that we will be on the move in a few hours.” The shadows simmered softly, and a Fledgling stepped forth, head bowed low. “May I be of service, my Lady?”

Memories of an old, dusty library and empty hallways stirred within Eva, her lips pursed at the bitter aftertaste as she waved the messenger off. “I’ll handle myself.” She dismissed the maiden, needing not to dress up since she’d gone to sleep in full gear.

Stepping into the camp, she ignored the bustling Fledglings as they hurried around, many of them hurrying off to the pre-pens that’d been set-up at the edge and away from the tents. Hogs squealed and cried out as the maidens moved to sate their hunger, drinking heartily from the animals. Meanwhile, some feral maidens were being dragged into the tent, restrained not by chains or fences but by spells that dulled thoughts.

None of the creatures would survive. A few of the hogs would be butchered for their meat to feed those that didn’t feed on blood. But the rest would be gathered and torched, burnt until nothing remained.

The sight of it bothered Eva deeply.

Not the death nor the blood-sucking, even burning ferals was understandable, but the boars too? It was perfectly usable meat, and it would’ve cost nothing for them to merely catch a few more boars rather than suck them dry, taking them along for the next rest. All that meat that could’ve been given to the humans of the camp had instead been turned to ash.

And that wasn’t the only thing bothering her.

There was something about how everyone moved and acted that just felt… wrong.

Though the Fledglings would happily obey the orders of any Vampire, or Zagan, they all appeared to have a “leader” that they’d prefer. The first night, Eva had suspected this “favoritism” was merely factional, but she’d soon realized it was something else. The Fledglings would not just show a stronger deference towards whatever Vampire they followed, but it would be so much more. Random moments where they would stop to stare, their gaze lingering with wistful sighs, fidgeting nervousness, licking fangs, and hungry eyes.

Every move they did to and with their “favorite” carried an odd mix of reverence, affection, and unspoken threats.

The Vampires had looked almost paradoxically normal by contrast, with the same arrogant self-assuredness any noble might hold. The sort of bloated ego that Eva had grown to hate more ever since she’d met Rick and Monica, compared to them… the ancient-blood suckers that marched around, bloated with bravado… it was almost comical.

Putting her frustrations aside, Eva marched out of the camp and into the forest, ignoring the shadows following her. She knew the Vampires were not about to take risks; the pleasantries were nothing but the gilded cage they’d intended to put her in. Eva would’ve considered going back on her word and looking for the first chance to go back to Sinco…

But that was not possible.

Not while Rick was a prisoner to a Tigress clan.

Tuning her senses to her surroundings, pushing away unnecessary thoughts, she set out to hunt for some breakfast and better familiarize herself with the region. Who knows when an opportunity might present itself.

“At first I’d believed your insistence on hunting for your own food was merely stubbornness and mistrust, but now I see this is routine for you, my Champion.” Zagan bubbled out of the darkness, red eyes regarding Eva with curiosity. The Ghoul’s voice dripped with sickeningly sweet fakeness, one that made Eva’s skin crawl.

“You promised the Vampires would die,” she said, ignoring the point entirely as she cleaned her mouth of the blood of the feral. “I can’t help but notice they’re still breathing.”

“A matter of lacking preparations.” Zagan purred the words, the glowing red lines under her gray cracked skin pulsing hungrily. “Preparations that we put into effect shortly after you left to hunt.”

Eva’s brows furrowed slightly. “Are they dead, then?” A part of her hesitated to believe it had happened, there was no way the Vampires would’ve allowed themselves to be killed. That, and without any Vampires other than Eva, the group would be at a significant risk when crossing through the Tigress’ territory.

“Not quite.” Zagan answered. “It is a process in need of a mediator.”

“Mediator?”

“A Mistress of Blood.” The Ghoul replied. “You, my Champion.”

It was the fake courtesy, she realized. The pretense of civility and amiability that would undoubtedly turn into betrayal at the drop of a hat. Eva knew the type, she’d been surrounded by people no less conniving a lifetime ago. But she’d since learnt how to deal with that. Rick might not have thought himself a teacher in the realm of politics, but she’d learned a trick or two from watching how he ruled Sinco.

“Cut the bullshit,” Eva snapped, crossing her arms, flashing fangs. “Say what you mean.”

Zagan’s mask of fake smiles and agreeableness cracked, eyes widening ever so slightly as she hesitated. “My Champion, these are subtle matters, ones that should not be-”

“I don’t care.” Eva pushed harder, raising her chin slightly. “We are not allies, we are not friends, and I would never take you as a vassal. Stop pretending I am here for anything other than the opportunity to save my Lord.”

There was a sadistic enjoyment in how much Zagan had to contain the disgust from seeping through her mask. Eva could almost hear the thoughts running through the Ghoul’s head, the revulsion at the thought of a ‘mere’ human being above a Vampire.

“Very well.” Zagan grit her teeth, bowing her head. “To lose a Vampire without another to take her place is to guarantee our eventual doom as a species.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of my business.”

“If we kill the Elder Fangs without at least trying the ritual of transference, the Red Queen herself will hunt us down.”

Eva raised a dubious eyebrow but said nothing, crossing her arms and staring up at Zagan without a hint of hesitation. The Ghoul did not look happy about that, clearly unnerved about it all. They both knew Zagan was the stronger fighter of the two. As much as she called Eva ‘Champion,’ the claim had little merit on the shoulders of someone who’d been human last spring. At the same time, however, Eva did not fear Zagan. She knew she’d likely die, but when compared to Monica’s wrath and Rick’s… whatever it was that he did when he wanted to do it, the Ghoul had little intimidation to offer.

But more importantly, Zagan was trying to play games of politics. Eva had not missed the discreet ‘us’ in the statement, the way she’d worded things as if they were on the same side.

“It would help you learn how to make more Vampires.”

“Not interested.” Eva rebuffed instantly.

“You say that now, but would you not have won the fight against Sinco had you merely a handful of Vampires to assist you?” Zagan offered, eyes gleaming as she noticed Eva’s hesitation. “You’re a Vampire yourself, but how much do you understand your own powers? Our race has stumbled plenty over the centuries, mistakes that were very costly.”

As much as Eva loathed to admit, Zagan had a point. She’d spent months trapped in the old Lord’s library, digging through dusty tomes in search for scraps. Days upon days, barely able to cobble together the bare-bone basics of how to cast spells through blood-energy. And as many ritual designs as she’d cooked up in her mind, she’d yet to develop the fine control necessary to cast them.

It’d been a game of one frustration after the next. Weeks upon weeks trying every form of visualization and training known to the kingdom, only to inch ahead barely half a step and then grind to a halt.

At least she’d been capable of grasping the more intuitive powers. Jumping through shadows was as easy as jumping into a lake. And summoning ashen wings had been a surprise, but no different to discovering a limb that had been numb all along.

If only her control over blood energy were better…

“What does being this ‘mediator’ mean?” Eva conceded after a moment, taking a deep breath and letting it out as a sigh.

“It is a simple thing. You must be the one to drive the knife. And you must be the one to offer the gift.”

“Gift?”

Zagan’s lips curled, showing rows of teeths that were far too sharp for anyone’s comfort. “The blood of a Vampire.”

As they returned to the camp, Eva heard the fighting before she saw it. There were screams as tents were torn down, the smell of blood thick in the air, yet different to any blood Eva had ever smelled. It was sweet, honeyed and aged, a tasteful succulent promise that made her lips tingle the more she breathed it in.

Fledgling corpses littered the ground, some of them so badly damaged they appeared as if they’d exploded, others were cut down by extremely sharp and precise weapons. Some of the bodies were a few hours old, already cold, while others were fresh.

“This way, my Champion.” Zagan spoke, voice oozing with amusement. The Ghoul was delighted at the massacre, looking at the corpses of the maidens that she’d used for her goals like delectable morsels.

It was sickening.

Eva grit her teeth, following along, eyes out for a possible ambush as they moved beyond the camp and towards the forest. The signs of battle were far less intense here, diminishing the further they went. Eventually there were no signs at all, not so much as a splatter, yet the sweetened scent of blood was becoming thicker.

“We’re not too far now.” Zagan informed. “Can’t allow the ritual to be contaminated with the blood of lessers.”

Eva said nothing.

Through the darkness of the night, the red glow of a ritual became clearer. A portion of the forest had been cleared out, leaving in its wake a massive ritual a twenty meters across. Within it were the Vampires, five of them. Unconscious, they’d been stripped and tied spread-eagle on the ground, their bodies being meticulously cleaned and cleansed by a dozen Fledglings each.

Eva made a point not to step into the ritual even as Zagan continued onwards towards her prisoners. The Ghoul stopped to look at her with a slight frown, the Fledgelings currently not occupied on “tending” to their captives turned their gazes at Eva in turn.

Ignoring the pressure from so much attention, she very carefully inspected the ritual’s design. It was very rudimentary in design, so much so that she could even recognize some symbols and patterns belonging to ritual design a few hundred years old.

The spells therein had only two functions. The first was a sleep-spell, concentrated into five spots, the spots currently occupied by the Vampires. The second was a barrier of sorts, meant to contain the blood-energy within the area of the ritual as tightly as possible.

She checked, double checked, and triple checked every facet of the ritual, very slowly walking around its perimeter. After an hour, she’d ascertained that if there was a trap somewhere to be found, it wasn’t within the ritual itself. Yet as she completed her rotation, she noticed something else, something that had been tucked away near the center of the formation.

“What’s that?” She asked from where she stood, pointing at the ivory bowl lying at the center of the pentagram formed by the five captives.

“That is where the gift is to be given, my Champion.” Zagan spoke without a lick of her previous annoyance bleeding through her mask.

One final glance to confirm no nasty surprises waiting for her, and Eva stepped into the ritual. Her breath caught in her throat as the air became viscous with the tantalizing taste of blood-energy, her mouth watering and body tingling deliciously under its touch. A shudder ran up and down her spine before she stepped again, closer towards Zagan.

The closer she got to the center of the ritual, the more potent the sensations became. Yet her steps did not waver, Eva sharpened her focus on the bowl, and inspected it just as carefully as she had the ritual. There were none of the tell-tale signs of enchanting, yet the ivory was practically humming in resonance to the energy around it.

No, not ivory, she realized as she picked it up. Bone. Bones that had been carefully and perfectly carved and polished, fitting together into a singular piece large enough to fit in her hands.

“All you have to do is give some of your blood, my Champion, so that the feast may commence.”

“Feast?” Eva’s brows furrowed, looking around her, at the five unconscious captives, at the hungry looks in the Fledglings’ eyes. “Is this how Vampires are made normally?” She asked, doubt and hesitation.

“Yes,” Zagan nodded. “A Vampire’s blood is a potent stimulant, addictive, enthralling.” Her words caused the Fledglings to grin and nod, pupils wide and gazes fixed on Eva, not moving an inch. “To ascend, a Fledgling must embrace this addiction, become one with the thirst and pleasure…”

The Ghoul continues on, waxing poetically about the virtues and pleasures of ascension into full Vampirism. As much as Eva wanted to dismiss the claims, she couldn’t help but draw parallels to that night she’d ascended herself. There were similarities, but she also couldn’t help but notice there were some fundamental differences as well. Her ascension had been a celebration of life, of… love.

This was not that.

The words spewing out of Zagan’s lips were of debauchery and death. Of the “ultimate pleasure” that came from being the one to drink the last drop of life out of an immortal. It was a celebration of violence and, to a degree, betrayal.

Yet as she heard the words, something else became clearer to Eva.

Looking back to her own ascension, the moment had been one of profound realization, one that she’d embraced and made into the core of who she sought to become. She remembered every detail, every little moment, thought, and feeling. It brought about a simple question to her mind: would she be fundamentally different had the events of that night been built around some other concept?

The answer was obvious: no.

What would Rick do? The Vampire’s lips curled in realization, fangs peeking through ruby lips. “I think you’ve spoken enough, Zagan.” She declared, straightening out to look upon the gathered crowd. “I ascended without the blood of a Vampire, nor a ritual. It needed neither violence nor death. You said it is necessary for each of them to taste my blood? Then I will give it myself.”

The Ghoul was about to complain, but Eva raised the bowl and brought it down against her knee, shattering it against herself. The crowd gasped, even Zagan looking horrified as she tossed away the pieces, approaching one of the groups. “Let me tell you about bonds, about humans.” Snatching the unresisting Fledgling’s jaw between her fingers, she looked into the maiden’s eyes.

And though Eva’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, she spoke her truth.

The truth of companionship.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she spared no detail of that night of passion. The violent delights of a bond-mate, of having someone to trust, to share, to… love and the power that came from that. Eva’s ascension would’ve been impossible without her embracing a core fundamental truth of herself. This realization brought a sudden rush of insight: Kiara had been wrong. Even if she’d succeeded in having Eva ascend, there would’ve been no love or loyalty born out of the event.

But while the Succubus had failed to understand the truth of the rules of how to ascend into becoming a Vampire, Zagan had not.

The Ghoul’s words had been with the purpose of planting seeds, the spiel not meant for Eva’s ears insomuch for those of the Fledgelings. Whoever resonated most with the concepts would be likelier to ascend tonight, why else gather so many Fledgelings per each Vampire? It was meant to maximize the likelihood of success. And whoever ascended tonight, it would be the ones who’d taken words of violence and death to heart.

A political move to empower herself or whatever faction she followed.

One she hoped to subvert.

Her thumb played against the lips of Fledglings starved for attention and release. Eva dipped her thumb past trembling lips, nicking herself against the maiden’s fangs, the drop of blood drawing a deep-throated moan, pupils dilating so wide her irises vanished. “Here.” Eva commanded, pulling her finger out, grasping the girl’s hair with her other hand, and leading it down to the unconscious Vampire. “Drink, slowly, savor it.”

She repeated this process, going one by one, Fledgling by Fledgling, voice ringing out for all to hear. She was no public orator, no charming charlatan; she definitely did not have the skills to sway crowds. What she did have was passion, and more importantly… She had learned a few tricks from being under Kiara’s thumb for weeks on end. So every time her words stumbled, she’d use the silence to focus more on a single individual rather than the crowd. Every time she found herself unable to think of the words, she’d steal a kiss here, a squeeze there.

The crowd wasn’t accepting of what she said, not as much as she would’ve hoped. There were hidden scowls, worried glances, and sometimes even outright anger. And yet, the crowd was too high on the prospect of the rich blood of the feast before them. A little frown or a little annoyance was worth putting up with for the taste, the pleasure, the high that would come from their promised meal.

The chorus of screams, moans, groans, and laughter rang out louder with each new Fledgeling “allowed” to start. And while some of them dug into their meal with ferocity despite Eva’s “orders,” others had turned borderline masturbatory in how strongly they resisted the urge, if just to extend the flavor for another second.

And all the while, Zagan had watched her do this, stupefied, anger flaring across her face, but entirely unable to lash out. How could she after days of pretending to exalt Eva’s ‘champion’ status as if practically divine?

Too late to change that now.

The die was cast.

Eva had to wonder how many of those who’d ascend would be aligned with the Ghoul’s words… or hers.

One thing was for sure.

She would make the Vampires regret ever having pulled her into their games.