Maria couldn't sleep. She y in her bed, staring at the ceiling, Gabriel's words echoing in her mind. Vampires weren't demons sent by the Light—they were humans changed by accident. The world wasn't the simple pce she'd believed it to be.

  But one thing troubled her most of all: Gabriel's library. All those books, all that knowledge she couldn't access because she couldn't read. How many answers y within those pages? How many truths had she missed?

  Dawn was approaching when Maria made her decision. She would learn to read. If everything she knew might be wrong, she needed to find what was right.

  She waited impatiently for a reasonable hour, pacing her room as sunlight gradually filled the windows. Finally, when she heard the household staff beginning their morning routine, she left her room and headed toward Gabriel's study.

  The door was closed. Of course—vampires slept during the day. Maria hesitated, then knocked softly. There was no answer.

  "He's resting, miss."

  Maria turned to find Rebecca standing behind her, a stack of fresh linens in her arms.

  "When will he wake?" Maria asked.

  "Not until sunset," Rebecca replied. "Vampires can't stay awake in daylight. Is there something I can help you with?"

  Maria frowned. "I want to learn to read. Father Gabriel has books. I need to understand..." She trailed off, unsure how to expin the turmoil in her mind.

  Rebecca's expression softened. "The Viscount mentioned you might want to learn. He left something for you in the library. Come, I'll show you."

  Maria followed Rebecca down the corridor to the library. The room looked different in daylight—less mysterious, more inviting. On a small table near the window sat a wooden box.

  "He prepared this st night," Rebecca expined, setting down her linens to open the box. Inside were wooden blocks with letters carved on them, sheets of paper, and a small book.

  Maria picked up one of the blocks, running her finger over the carved letter. "A," she said softly. She recognized a few letters from their discussions.

  "The Viscount said to tell you he'll begin proper lessons tonight, but that you might want to practice with these today," Rebecca expined. "The book has simple words with pictures." She opened it to show Maria.

  Maria stared at the book in wonder. It was clearly meant for children, with rge letters and colorful illustrations, but to her, it seemed like a key to a locked door.

  "Thank you," she whispered, sitting down at the table.

  Rebecca smiled. "I'll bring you some breakfast. Would you like to eat here while you practice?"

  Maria nodded, already arranging the letter blocks before her.

  The day passed swiftly as Maria familiarized herself with the letters. She practiced writing them on the paper, making crude, shaky lines at first, then steadier ones as she gained confidence. The children's book became her companion, its simple sentences gradually making sense as she connected the letters to the pictures.

  When sunset approached, Maria's anticipation grew. She had questions—so many questions—and now she had a way to find answers.

  Gabriel found her still in the library, surrounded by papers covered in practice letters. He paused in the doorway, watching her concentrate on forming each character carefully.

  "You've been busy," he said softly.

  Maria looked up, startled. She hadn't heard him approach. "I need to learn," she said simply. "If everything I know might be wrong, I need to find what's right. And the answers are in books."

  Gabriel smiled. "Not all answers are in books, Maria. But many are. May I join you?"

  Maria nodded, moving some papers aside to make room. "I know some letters now. And small words." There was pride in her voice.

  Gabriel sat across from her. "Show me."

  Maria carefully spelled out a few simple words with the blocks: sun, moon, book, light. "This one is hard," she said, pointing to "light" in the children's book. "But important."

  "Very important," Gabriel agreed. "You've learned quickly."

  "I need to learn more," Maria said firmly. "Hard words too. Words about... vampires. And the Light. And everything."

  Gabriel considered her for a moment. "Learning to read takes time, Maria. But if you're willing to work hard, I'm willing to teach you."

  "Every day?" Maria pressed. "I can learn fast."

  "Every evening," Gabriel corrected gently. "I still sleep during daylight."

  Maria nodded, accepting this limitation. "How long will it take? To read the big books?" She gestured toward the shelves of theological texts.

  "Those are challenging even for experienced readers," Gabriel cautioned. "But perhaps in a few months, you could begin with simpler passages." He studied her determined expression. "You really want this, don't you?"

  "Yes," Maria said firmly. "I need to know the truth. All of it. Not just what I was told."

  Gabriel nodded, a mixture of admiration and concern in his expression. "Knowledge is powerful, Maria. It can also be painful. Some truths are difficult to bear."

  "I've lived in blood farms," Maria said quietly. "I know about pain."

  Gabriel acknowledged this with a respectful nod. "Then let's begin. We'll start with proper letter formation."

  He took a fresh sheet of paper and demonstrated how to hold the pen correctly—something Maria had been struggling with all day. His hand guided hers gently, showing her the proper strokes for each letter.

  "Writing and reading are two sides of the same skill," he expined. "As you learn to form the letters, you'll recognize them more easily when reading."

  Maria concentrated intensely, her tongue between her teeth as she practiced. When she finally completed a retively neat line of letters, she looked up with such triumph that Gabriel couldn't help smiling.

  "Good," he said. "Now let's practice some simple words and their meanings."

  As the evening progressed, Gabriel patiently guided Maria through basic vocabury. Each time she mastered a new word, her confidence grew. But her questions weren't limited to reading.

  "This word—vampire," she said, carefully spelling it out. "Tell me more about them. About you."

  Gabriel hesitated. "What would you like to know?"

  "Everything," Maria replied. "How you live. Why you need blood. Why you sleep in daylight."

  Gabriel considered how to expin complex concepts in terms she would understand. "Vampires need blood the way humans need food," he began. "Our bodies can't make blood of our own anymore, so we must take it from others. Sunlight hurts us because the virus that changed us makes our skin too sensitive to light."

  "And you were a priest," Maria said, watching him closely. "A real one. Before."

  "Yes," Gabriel confirmed. "I served a small parish. When people started getting sick and changing, I stayed at the hospital to comfort the dying."

  "Do you miss it?" Maria asked suddenly. "Being human?"

  The question caught Gabriel off guard. For a moment, his carefully maintained composure slipped, revealing a profound sadness. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "Every day."

  Maria absorbed this, her expression thoughtful. "Is that why you kept your priest clothes? And your books about the Light?"

  Gabriel nodded. "They remind me of who I was—who I still try to be, despite everything."

  "Can I ask about Subject 23?" Maria ventured. "The first vampire?"

  Gabriel hesitated. "What would you like to know?"

  "Is he still alive? Where is he?"

  "No one knows," Gabriel replied. "Some say he was destroyed in the early days. Others believe he still exists, hiding somewhere. He's become something of a legend among vampires—the First One, the Progenitor."

  Maria considered this, then returned to her letters with renewed focus. For another hour, they worked on basic reading skills, Maria's determination never wavering despite her obvious fatigue.

  When she began to yawn, Gabriel gently closed the book. "Enough for tonight. You need rest."

  "One more word," Maria insisted, stifling another yawn.

  "Tomorrow," Gabriel promised. "We'll continue tomorrow, and the day after, and as many days as you need."

  Maria reluctantly agreed, gathering the scattered papers with her practice letters. "I want to keep these," she said. "To look at tomorrow before our lesson."

  "Of course," Gabriel replied. "And I'll find some more suitable books for beginners."

  As they walked toward Maria's room, she asked one final question. "The Light... what do you believe about it now? After becoming a vampire?"

  Gabriel considered his answer carefully. "I believe the Light exists in all beings—humans and vampires alike. I believe it calls us to compassion and understanding, not hatred and fear. And I believe it works in ways we cannot always comprehend."

  "Even through vampires?" Maria asked skeptically.

  "Even through vampires," Gabriel confirmed. "Even through those who don't realize they serve it."

  They reached Maria's door, and she paused, clutching her papers. "Thank you," she said simply. "For teaching me."

  "Thank you," Gabriel replied, "for wanting to learn."

  Maria entered her room and closed the door. She sat on her bed, spreading the papers before her. In the flickering candlelight, she traced the letters she had learned, whispering each sound.

  A new world was opening to her—a world of knowledge beyond what she had been told in the blood farms. It was frightening, confusing, even painful to question everything she had believed.

  But as she carefully spelled out "L-I-G-H-T" with her finger on the paper, Maria felt something she hadn't expected: freedom. The freedom to learn, to question, to find her own truth.

  She would learn to read, no matter how long it took. And then she would discover what the Light truly meant in this complex world—not just what she had been told to believe.