They had left the capital market just as the final echoes of chaos faded into the wind. On the road back, the air had grown cooler, carrying with it the crisp scent of fallen leaves. Stray foliage tumbled across the dirt path, brushing against the wheels of the carriage.
Ahead, a few frail-looking, aged vampires knelt near a cluster of dry branches, quietly breaking them apart. The crack of splintering wood echoed across the quiet land. They were preparing—gathering what little they could before the true cold of winter descended.
Summer was at its end, and autumn had come—a season of transition. For humans, it marked a time to brace against the bitter bite of oncoming snow. For vampires, however, winter was not a season of dread but of strength, energy, and life.
Eira sat in the carriage with three other ladies, her gaze distant as she looked through the window. Then she saw her—a lone vampire woman standing just off the road, barely within view. Her cloak clung to her frail frame, arms filled with broken branches. The wind tugged at her like it pitied her, revealing the fatigue in her posture.
The woman was clearly a vampire, yet she looked anything but strong—her presence was brittle, almost lifeless.
Moved by instinct and empathy, Eira leaned forward and spoke to the coachman. "Stop the carriage."
The other contestants, riding in separate carriages ahead, passed by the woman without sparing a glance. Even the girls beside Eira protested harshly.
"Hey, human princess," one sneered in the old tongue. "If you get off to help that lowlife vampiro, we won't wait for you. You see how deserted this road is—no carriages, no souls. Do yourself a favor and stay inside. Unless you want to get left behind."
But Eira only smiled, calm and resolute. Selflessness had become second nature to her. She no longer questioned it—it lived in her bones, guiding her every decision. And so, without a word, she asked the coachman once more to pull over, then stepped down onto the dirt road.
The others watched her from their carriages, scoffing and shaking their heads, but they did not stop.
As Eira approached the woman, she offered a warm smile. The vampire's eyes were slightly red, dulled rather than sharp, and her expression sagged with exhaustion. Eira felt no fondness for vampires—whether pure-blooded, turned, or halflings, she loathed them all. But that did not mean she lacked sympathy. She was not heartless.
Noticing a pile of yet-unbroken wood at the woman's feet, Eira gently lifted the already-split ones and said, "Madam, you can go. I'll handle the rest. When you return, they'll be ready for you to take home."
Her voice was soft but serious, her smile genuine.
The vampire woman stared at her in stunned silence, then nodded slowly and turned away with newfound energy.
Her home was far—several long roads away—and it took her over two hours to carry her load and return. Her steps were slow, dragged by age. In that time, Eira remained, breaking wood after wood. Her palms grew raw, aching. Thin trails of blood marked her fingers, but she didn't stop. The work grounded her.
Autumn was mild—the air neither cold nor hot—but sweat still poured from her skin. Her once-tidy hair, pinned neatly that morning, had fallen loose and clung to her damp face. Strangely, the sight only heightened her beauty, not dimmed it.
After nearly two hours, Eira had formed tidy stacks of firewood and stood upright to stretch.
Crack.
Her eyes widened. The sound came from her lower back—a painful protest from staying hunched so long. Every part of her body screamed in ache.
Just then, the old woman returned, drenched in sweat and clearly overworked from the journey. Seeing her state, Eira couldn't bear it. She insisted the woman wait for a carriage, that she shouldn't walk again. But in all that time, no one—no carriage, no traveler—had passed. Eira hadn't noticed until now, but the road had been hauntingly still.
A chill ran through her. What if someone had taken her? Kidnapped her? Or worse…
After waiting another half hour, the faint sound of wheels finally echoed in the distance. Her heart leapt with hope—but only one carriage appeared.
She was torn. She, too, was exhausted, aching, lost. She didn't even know the way back to the palace. But the woman's home was still far, and her body weak.
With a sigh, Eira made her choice.
"Please," she told the woman, "take the carriage. You need it more."
The woman hesitated, reluctant to leave her behind, but Eira's kind insistence won out.
And so, the carriage rumbled away, leaving Eira alone on the road, surrounded by silence.
She waited. But no one came. No carriage. No soul.
With no other option, she began walking—limping down the path until the horizon bloomed with life. A city. Crowded and bustling.
There, she spotted a carriage pulling away from a station. She boarded it quickly and returned to the palace.
Her body cried for relief. She sought out a physician, someone who could give her something to numb the pain in her aching muscles. But before she could reach him, she collided with something—or rather, someone.
Before she could apologize, his hand shot out and grabbed hers. Not in greeting. Not in affection.
Eira froze in surprise at his sudden approach..then she caught sight of his eyes
When did vampire have this kind of eyes ––she thought in confusion.
But more importantly "could he let go of my hand; she thought"
She tried to pull away—but his grip tightened. His face lowered to her palm. He inhaled—her blood.
Suddenly, he yanked her closer, pressing her head against his chest. His eyes flickered between deep gold and red, with hints of ocean blue trying to resurface.
Eira's heart pounded—loud, frantic. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her entire body ached from earlier, her palmd bloodied, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs.
For the first time in her life, Eira felt something foreign: real fear. And rage.
Fear that he might bite her.
He held her tight, too tight. His scent was cold and foreign, his grip iron. His eyes flickered—gold, red, with ocean blue,deep enough to drown her in.
And in that moment, with her body aching and her mind fraying at the edges, she felt it:
Terror. Rage. Confusion.
But most of all… something she didn't understand.
But his touch terrified her.