The morning came far too early, the sun was casting its harsh rays on Jett's face as he dragged himself out of bed. The previous training - and his late night analysis of the Gargoyle fight - had left him even more exhausted than usual. But he knew he couldn't let the fatigue win. He had to get to Brenda's place.

  He made a quick breakfast. The jerky and nuts were going to be a no-go, and so he settled for a bowl of cereal. After cleaning up - he grabbed his sling bag - and Murk.

  "Time to go again," he said to himself.

  He was at Brenda's apartment, and the door opened.

  "Come. Begin."

  Her voice was monotone, as usual.

  He stepped inside, and Brenda was already in the training room. Her violet eyes were fixed on him. The familiar scent of the room filled his senses - it was of stale air and the memory of his first training session. Murk scurried out of the bag and hid in the corner.

  "Good morning, Brenda. Or should I say, 'Begin'?"

  Jett asked, with a forced grin.

  Brenda ignored his attempt at humor.

  "Stance," she said, her voice was clear. "We will review the fundamentals. Again."

  Jett sighed. He took a deep breath - and assumed the position, feet shoulder width apart - knees bent, center of gravity low. The cycle began anew, repeating the motions.

  "Too tense," she stated. "Relax your shoulders."

  He followed her instructions - but he knew that he was still lacking. He was getting stronger - but he was still far from mastering the basics.

  The hours ticked by as they repeated the exercises, each movement was analyzed - critiqued - and corrected. He was focusing on his footwork - on the intent behind every strike - on the rhythm of combat.

  He continued to focus.

  [ Somatic I: 60/1000 ]

  As they continued, Jett's curiosity - and the exhaustion - began to intermingle. He was already tired. The constant practice was taking its toll. He needed to learn - but more importantly, he needed information. He knew so little.

  "Brenda," he said, pausing in the middle of a stance - "How did you…become a vampire? And Myrna?"

  Brenda paused. She had been moving with speed - and had been demonstrating a new block.

  Her violet eyes met his. "Why do you ask?"

  "I'm just curious," Jett admitted.

  "You guys are like the experts, and I'm the new one. I'm still trying to figure out all this stuff. So I thought. Maybe it was normal."

  He shrugged. "It's a new life for me. I want to learn everything there is to know."

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  Brenda stared at him for a moment, then spoke again.

  "It is a long story. One we will discuss another time."

  "Myrna said that you are sisters. Is that correct?"

  Jett asked - trying to keep the conversation going - and also still trying to practice his steps.

  She nodded. "We are related by blood, yes."

  "So, you guys are old vampires?" Jett guessed.

  "Yes. Older than you can imagine."

  Jett frowned.

  "So, how did it happen? Did someone bite you? Did you make a deal with the devil? Did a bat infect you?"

  She seemed to pause for a moment - thinking.

  "It is…more complex. We were born. Not made."

  Jett's eyes widened.

  "Born? You mean…you were vampires since birth?"

  Brenda nodded again.

  "The first ones were born. Before there was a Court. Before there were rules. Before…the Iron Crown."

  Jett's mind reeled. He had thought Vampires were all bitten - like the ones in the movies. But vampires were born. This made no sense - and a lot of sense.

  "So…you mean that vampires are born - and they can be passed down? It's a bloodline?"

  Brenda smiled.

  "Not all. Many vampires are created. But those with the essence - the ability to be a vampire, are born. And the gift…is not passed down."

  Jett continued. "So you - and Myrna - were born with the vampire thing."

  "Yes."

  "So, that's how vampires work."

  "No. There are many types of vampires."

  "What types? And why are there types?"

  Brenda sighed.

  "This is a complex topic. There are many different…categories - lineages. Each with unique abilities - weaknesses. And you are a Veschar—"

  "We have a few more hours to work. Time is short, and your training must continue. We will discuss the details…later."

  They continued to work for several hours. Jett tried to focus on the exercises, but his mind kept drifting back to the story.

  He thought about the long centuries of living - the power, the hardships - the loneliness. He couldn't relate - but he could certainly see the appeal.

  As the afternoon wore on, Jett felt himself improving, even if only slightly. His movements were becoming more fluid - his strikes were gaining power - and his reflexes were starting to become more responsive.

  "Good," Brenda said, she was finally speaking to Jett. "Your form…is improving."

  The voice appeared.

  [ Somatic I: 61/1000 ]

  Jett grinned.

  "I can feel it," he said. "I'm getting stronger. I can't stop practicing."

  Then, the training session ended. They had worked hard. The sun was setting, he was tired. Murk was still safe in the sling bag.

  "You may rest," Brenda said. "Tomorrow…we will continue."

  -

  He kept his bike at his side as he made his way toward his apartment through the quiet streets. He kept practicing the new movements - but it was a struggle.

  "Okay," he muttered, forcing himself into the basic stance.

  "Feet shoulder width apart…knees bent…center of gravity."

  He tried to throw a punch - slow at first - then faster. He knew it was going to take an endless amount of time.

  "Gotta keep my mind clear," he reminded himself. "No thinking. Just reacting."

  It was harder than it sounded. His mind was always a maelstrom of thoughts - fears - and doubts. He kept thinking about the Black Hand - the Iron Crown - the potential dangers that were now lurking in his new life.

  The thought of the future made his palms sweat, which always ended up ruining his mood.

  "Just…focus," he told himself. "On the now."

  He threw another punch - trying to focus on the feeling of his fist connecting with the air - on the muscles in his arm - on the rhythm of the motion.

  [ Somatic I: 63/1000 ]

  The numbers went up again. He kept trying to maintain his balance - to keep his focus - to push away the fear and the fatigue.

  He was nearly home, his apartment building came into view. He was about to take a turn, until he saw a strange person.

  She was in the middle of a small - well kept garden in front of a building. She was young - no older than his early twenties. She had short, brown hair - and was wearing a simple white robe - with a stark black cross emblazoned on the front. But the most striking feature - was her eye.

  She had one eye - and it was a vibrant blue.

  "Huh.."

  Jett said out loud, he was surprised to see someone in this neighborhood with such a particular appearance. He paused - and then, his curiosity - and his persistent anxiety - kicked in.

  "I need to talk to her. Get out of my head. Maybe that'll help."

  He walked towards the woman - trying to project an air of confidence.

  "Hey there!" he called out. "Nice garden. Are you a…gardener?"

  The woman looked up, her blue eye met his brown. She smiled, and her expression was serene.

  "Indeed. I tend this garden. And I am…a gardener. What brings you here?"

  Jett walked closer, he gestured towards her robe.

  "J-just…curious. You're wearing the robe. Are you religious?"

  The woman nodded. "I serve the Light."

  Jett blinked, wondering if he should ask the question.

  "Do you know how I can…become normal?"

  He suddenly realized how insane that question sounded. He wanted to take it back.

  "Sorry. Never mind. I was just…walking by, and you had a pretty garden."

  She smiled again.

  "It is a pleasure to meet someone with a genuine appreciation for the beauty of nature. You are welcome to observe at any time. May I help you?"

  "I'm Jett," he said - extending his hand, hoping he didn't look as awkward as he felt.

  She took his hand and shook it. "I am Alis. It is a pleasure to meet you, Jett."

  "So you're a gardener? Is that all you do? What exactly is the Light?"

  Alis smiled at his questions.

  "The Light is a source of balance, of goodness. And I am its humble servant. It's a long path. You'll do better to focus on small things."

  Jett paused. "What did you mean by that? You look like you're going to tell me to focus on getting to the point."

  "Perhaps I have. Are you going somewhere?" She asked.

  Jett nodded. "Yeah, just…home. Thanks for the chat."

  "You are welcome, Jett. May the Light be with you."

  He smiled and nodded at her - before resuming his walk with his bike in tow.

  He kept practicing his punches - his feet shoulder width apart - knees bent - center of gravity low - his movements were becoming a little bit less stiff - a little bit more fluid.

  He had a feeling. It wasn't just the practice - it was something else. He couldn't quite define it - but he knew he was starting to change.