"What am I?" I asked, the last remnants of my anger and frustration draining away. It was pointless to keep holding onto them now. I needed clarity, and I wouldn’t get it by letting my emotions cloud the questions I had to ask.

  Puck let out a low chuckle. "Come now, you've already made the correct assumption while perched up in that tree, like some sort of hairless orangutan."

  I wasn’t about to let him bait me into another round of his infuriating mockery. I had bigger things to focus on.

  "Nah, see," I shot back, my tone sharp but calm, "the agreement we made was that you'll answer any questions about my nature. This one counts, so I want to hear it from your mouth".

  Puck sighed, rolling his head dramatically, then shrugged, clearly playing for effect.

  "Very well. The Sinborn of Pride, or Vampires, as you younger races call them, can only perpetuate their species via infection with the Curse of Pride. The Curse resides within the blood, and thus, the Vampire must drain the victim nearly to death, replacing most of their blood with the vampire's own."

  He paused, eyes twinkling with an unsettling gleam. "A simple bite is not enough. No, it's a deliberate, and often very messy, process. Only once that's done, does the Curse take hold and transform the victim into a Vampire—into a Sinborn of Pride."

  “Yeah, well I didn't get the feeling that little miss… Baronette whatever the hell her name was… wanted to do that”.

  Puck nodded and pointed at me.

  “And that, my dear boy, is one part of what makes you an anomaly. Your turning from human to vampire is a product of both circumstance and happenstance.

  The vampiress almost bled you dry, ergo exsanguination.

  Then you, in a very brutal and gruesome display that I simply must applaud, did the unthinkable. You bit a Vampire and ingested her blood. Quite a lot of it, might I add. Ergo, the replacement of your blood with the Vampire's own.

  All quite a sight to behold”.

  I grimaced, the memory of that struggle and my desperation at that moment flowing back through me.

  “I didn't want to drink it. Honestly… I just wanted to... dunno... just thought that if I was gonna die, might as well do my level best to take her to Hell with me”.

  “A spiteful, petty reason. Bravo. But irrelevant, in the grand scheme of things. Your intention does not matter, the result does” the Fey scoffed.

  “The result being that I am a vampire” I murmured.

  Puck clapped his hands and nodded emphatically.

  “Yes. A full-fledged, bona-fide vampire, with all the bells and whistles inherent thereof”.

  I nodded, letting the weight of his words settle in. The confirmation of my assumption hit harder than I expected. Part of me had hoped, foolishly, that when Puck called me an anomaly, it meant I was something in between—maybe a half-breed, a Dhampir, or something like that.

  It would’ve been comforting, in a twisted way, to know that half of me was still... human.

  “No such thing” Puck said.

  “The Curse of Pride does not deal in half-measures. Once it infects the blood it spreads into the body, changing both structure and anatomy into that of a Sinborn of Pride. A vampire. Irreversibly. You, my incompetent fresh fledgeling, are no longer a human, you are a vampire, and will remain as such until someone puts you out of your misery”.

  “Stay the hell out of my mind” I snarled.

  Puck tittered in exaggerated glee.

  “May as well. Quite cramped in there with that other you, lurking about”.

  My eye twitched. This bastard knew everything.

  “We'll get to the questions I got about him…”

  “You” Puck chided and tapped his stick-like finger against my chest.

  “He is you and you are him”.

  “...later” I interrupted Puck with a forceful growl.

  “We'll get to THAT later. For now, tell me, how much of our knowledge and folklore on Vampires is equivalent to the Vampires of your world”.

  “OUR World now, young man” Puck snickered.

  “As for your question, surprisingly much. There are a great many things that your world deemed as fantasy that simply exist as reality in ours. But now that our two worlds have collided and melded, they are simply reality, I would surmise”.

  I sighed and nodded again. It was hard not to want to ask more about what Puck was hinting at. The “melding” of worlds. But I knew it was only a way for him to goad me into asking questions outside of the agreement. And lose valuable time.

  “Alright, yeah, then tell me what are the similarities and differences between the fantasy we know, and the reality of vampires”.

  “Bah…” Puck scoffed “...come now, surely you do not expect me to give you a point-by-point of…”

  I wagged my finger, mimicking his gesture with a malicious smile.

  “The agreement, remember? All questions answered regarding my nature”.

  “There is commerce to be done everywhere, I was hoping we could keep this short” Puck growled.

  I raised one arm toward his wooden mask, my movements sluggish but purposeful. The tar-like blood had stopped leaking from my wounds, but the damage remained—deep trenches and jagged craters marred my body, flesh still raw and torn. It was a haunting sight, but beneath the pain, I could feel the eerie process of regeneration working its way through me, the edges of the wounds slowly pulling together as if the body itself was determined to undo the damage, no matter how grotesque the process. Filaments of tissue, like darkened muscle fiber were spreading, pulling the wounds closed or otherwise crisscrossing like fleshy cobwebs to fill the holes.

  “By the rate it's regenerating, I'd say I still got a good hour or two until I'm back to normal. So yes Puck, I got time. Time to hear every little detail. Down to the last insignificant tidbit”.

  A sound burst from the featureless mask, something like a high-pitched rumble. The malicious, spiteful part of me smirked as I realized it had been a groan.

  Good. After all those words he'd just spewed in my direction, a little bit of inconveniencing the Fey was a small win I would gladly take.

  “Very well, boy” Puck snarled.

  “I will humor you. Allow me a moment to refresh my knowledge”.

  Without waiting for an answer, Puck swung his head back and drew a deep, sonorous breath, “tasting” the air once more.

  “Mmmm…. Very well” Puck purred and slowly moved his blue orbs on me.

  “As I already said, surprisingly similar, but with fundamental differences”, he began, holding up two spindly fingers.

  “You are a vampire, to use your kind's nomenclature, a quasi-immortal.

  Immortal, because you will never grow decrepit with time, you will never wither and die. Disease, be it external or internal, will never touch you and the worst poisons and toxins are insignificant to you. Your body is no longer that of a human, but a predator. Faster, stronger, infinitely more durable. And with every year, with every throat you tear open and every action you take in improving your prowess, your body will only grow stronger over time. Time, which as stated before, you have an infinite supply of”.

  He crooked one finger down.

  “Quasi, because unlike the Feyvolken, you can still very much be killed. Burn you to ash, tear your head off and heart out, or simply fling you into a wood chipper, either of these options will work. A general rule, do your best to keep your head or heart intact. As long as you do that, with enough blood and time, you can regenerate your body, regardless of the wound”.

  “What about the vampiress, she still had both…”.

  “We will get to that, child. Now quiet down and listen” Puck rumbled.

  “I presume even you, cursed as you are with the subpar intellect of the younger races, have noticed a certain shift in your… dietary proclivities?”

  I nodded, purposefully ignoring his snide remark.

  “Delightful. Then, to make it clear, blood is EVERYTHING to you. It is your bread, your butter, your water, your opium, it is the only thing that will satiate you and feed your power. Choose to ignore it, purposefully abstain from it, and your own body will betray you. Your entire existence will be reduced to that of a rabid, hungering beast.

  So, little fledgeling, if there is one piece of advice I can give, is feed whenever you get the chance. Otherwise, well…”

  Puck reached out and tapped my forehead.

  “... your mind will be the first to sunder. And every time it happens, prying it back from the Animal’s jaws will become harder and harder”

  “The Animal?”

  “I thought I’d told you to be quiet and listen”.

  He shook his head in over exaggerated exasperation and continued.

  “That is around where the general similarities end and the differences begin. More specifically those regarding your weaknesses.

  The more folkloric weaknesses of vampires are not something you should concern yourself with. You can cross running water, enter homes uninvited, and no, someone throwing a handful of rice in front of you will not force you into an uncontrollable need to count them.

  Holy Icons, well, there is magic in Faith, regardless of its denomination, and being that you are a Sinborn, you will be able to feel that trace of magic in any icon. But they will not burn you to dust or smite you”.

  I instinctively drew a hand to my chest, pressing on the spot where that tiny wooden cross still hung around my neck. It still didn’t burn or sizzle my skin, but just like before I could feel that “force” around it.

  I really wanted to ask, but I knew he wouldn’t answer.

  Puck sighed as if exasperated by my constant interruptions and answered the unspoken question.

  “Faith, boy, is as fundamental and intrinsic to existence as Aether. You younger races, in your perpetual idiocy, may pervert, categorize and then war with one another over the myriad denominations, but that doesn’t detract from it. Now IF I MAY CONTINUE?” he concluded, punctuating the last four words with venom.

  I nodded.

  “Holy Icons, by themselves, may not harm you, but when wielded by the few possessing true, genuine Faith, well… suffice it to say, I recommended you steer clear of their line of fire if you’re dumb enough to raise the ire of someone of that caliber”.

  “What about the Sun? In our folklore, the Sun, silver, oak stakes, those are also vampire weaknesses” I asked, doing my best to commit every single word he said to memory.

  “Ah, yes, herein lies the main difference. Stakes, avoid them to the skull and heart, but no more efficient against you than a claymore to the same tender spots. Silver, a powerful catalyst for magic. It will disrupt your flesh and cause monumental pain, but no more than that.

  And lastly, the Sun. It will not burn you, but by the nature of your new anatomy, its unfiltered rays will hurt and weaken you. Profoundly so, in fact, as I am sure you have noticed”.

  I winced, reminded of the sickness I’d felt when the direct light of the Sun had hit me.

  “And that leads us to the answer for your first rude interruption. The only reason you managed to kill your progenitor, the Vampiress Erzebeth de Coutlierre, was because you tore out her throat under the full light of the Sun”.

  I nodded, finally starting to piece things together. All those many questions I’d had were finally getting the proper answers.

  “But she still kept some of her strength, even under the sun. She was half my size but still able to fight back, even overpower me”.

  Puck tilted his head, taking another breath, “tasting” the air again.

  “Ah, yes, very well observed. The woman was an old vampire, centuries old in fact. Not the oldest, not by a long shot, but old enough. For your kind, age equates to strength. A vampire with enough years under their belt, so to speak, can resist some of the effects of the Sun”.

  Puck tapped a finger against his temple.

  “Emphasis on the some. Her age may have allowed her to keep a small amount of her exceptional strength and durability, even under the unfiltered light of day, but it did not change one simple reality of your anatomy. All that monstrous vitality, all that exceptional regeneration that your kind possesses, gone. As easy to kill as a human”.

  I closed my eyes for a long second, processing the information. A little detail had latched on.

  “Unfiltered. I doubt you’re using that word without a reason. Does that mean that if I were to, say, take a walk under full daylight covered head to toe so that not even an inch of skin was exposed, I could circumvent this weakness?”

  Puck shrugged.

  “I suppose. Though, it would feel like taking a walk through a heated oven. But, go ahead and try it. It would be fun to witness, at the very least. If you screw up…” he clapped his hands with brutal finality.

  “Express trip to the hereafter”.

  “So, general rule of thumb, avoid sunlight” I muttered.

  Puck clapped again, mockingly.

  “Such a bright young lad you are!”

  “Right, right, now what about that Animal you were talking about?”

  As soon as I mentioned it, Puck’s entire demeanor changed. That underlying feeling that he was toying with me dissipated like morning dew, leaving behind only a cold, oppressive sense of pure hostility.

  “Yes. The one that you were speaking with when I got here”.

  I arched an eyebrow at his shift.

  “Anything I ought to be made aware of?”

  Puck placed a hand under his chin in a contemplative gesture, muttering as he lolled his head from side to side.

  “Hmmm…. Yes….hmmmm….. Allow me to be clear and frank once more, boy”.

  The Fey rose from his crouch with a fluid, almost unnatural motion, crossing his arms behind the small of his back. He looked down at me, gaze dripping with open hostility, as though my very existence was a nuisance too large to ignore.

  “See, I truly hate, and I mean HATE, your kind. Out of all the Sinborn, you of the Pride, you are bar none the most singularly irritating lot”.

  The Fey turned and began to pace, launching into a rant.

  “The Sinborn of Gluttony may be a bunch of undisciplined swine with all the culture of a brick shithouse, those of Envy may be lowest of the low and those of Wrath may be a braying bunch of barbarian brutes, but at least they are true to themselves. Honest.

  They are what they are and make no attempt to pretend to be anything but that.

  But your kind? Vampires?

  Your kind are guilty of that most disgusting of character traits. You lie to yourselves. I’ve seen this pattern in my world, over and over again. Every time one of your kind gets laid low and ready to be executed, they all do the exact same thing”.

  He turned his head toward me, blue orbs glowing with an unsettling intensity and when he spoke, it wasn't his voice at all, but a twisted chorus of male and female voices, all layered together, each one pleading, pitiful, desperate.

  “It was not my fault”

  “The Animal made me do it”

  “I didn’t mean to do it”

  “Please, I’m as much the Animal’s victim as you”

  “Help me, I’m not at fault”

  The words bled into each other, a maddening cacophony that clawed at my mind, each voice drenched in guilt, fear, and the unmistakable scent of a lie.

  Puck popped out of existence and reappeared right in front of me. His hands shot to either side of me, long fingers digging into the wall like tissue paper, those orbs of light blazing with a crimson red light, his white supple fur standing on end like a hound ready to bite, voice morphing once again into that deep, guttural growl.

  “Hypocrisy. Deflection. Self-Victimization. Disgusting and despicable.

  If you’re gonna be a monster, fine.

  If you’re going to murder, despoil and blaspheme anything and everything you touch. That. Is. Fine.

  But own up to it. Embrace it. Embrace your own perfidy and when it’s time to pay the piper, go to the Hell that awaits you without complaint. But do your kind do that? No, no, no, no, of course you don’t”.

  He pulled out one hand from the wall and tapped a claw tipped finger against my forehead.

  “You blame THIS! That voice in your head. The Animal.

  So hear me and hear me well, boy, lest you fall prey to that same delusion all your kind fall to.

  The Animal is not a separate entity, not a different ‘you’. The Animal is you. It’s every single brutal thought you’ve ever had, every single violent action you’ve never taken, every single throat you’ve wanted to throttle but CHOSE not to, when you were a human. It was always a part of you.

  And CHOICE is the right principia here, because that’s all it ever is.

  A CHOICE.

  The Curse of Pride magnifies that voice, but it forces you to do NOTHING.

  It always is, has been and will only ever be your choice”.

  Despite myself, my fangs popped out at his show of hostility and hate, in a reflex action.

  “That thing didn’t give me a damn option when it forced me to fight the Orcs!”

  “WRONG!!!” Puck roared, his voice splitting the air with an intensity that made the very walls tremble and struck the wall with a force that cratered the concrete, sending cracks spiderwebbing across its surface.

  The thumping from outside grew louder as rotbloods, drawn by the noise, closed in on the door. Puck whipped his head toward the sound, eyes igniting with a fiery red glow that was pure malice.

  *CRUNCH!*

  The sickening sound of something snapping, something breaking, and the rotbloods fell silent, their presence suddenly gone. The fleeting surge of defiance I’d felt deflated in an instant, replaced by a cold, suffocating realization of just how outmatched I was.

  Whatever the Laws that governed the Fey were, they didn’t seem to include rotbloods.

  Slowly, Puck turned back to me, his movements deliberate, and closed the distance between us, until his featureless wooden mask hovered inches from my nose, monstrous and alien presence pressing down like an inescapable weight.

  “Choices are not supposed to be easy” he began, voice hoarse and filled with… something I couldn’t quite place.

  “They are not supposed to be simple. And the only reason the Animal was able to make it for you, force you into fighting the Orcs, was because you were too weak to choose otherwise.

  You should have forced your way out of that room, crawling on your hands and knees if you’d had to. But you didn’t.

  And allowed a choice to be made for you.

  In spite of you”.

  Puck retreated slowly, raising himself back up, voice returning to normal, but that glint of red still remaining in his eyes.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “The Animal will only drive you further on its path, with every inch you allow it. It will justify, excuse and find ways to slither deeper into your mind, convince you of its decisions, until it will burrow so deep that you will no longer know where you begin and the Animal ends.

  You will become an aberration, your own humanity reduced to pitiful little afterthought, screaming uselessly, lost somewhere in the depths of your own fractured mind”.

  He leaned down, blazing blue eyes drilling into mine with such intensity that it felt like they were peeling back the layers of my mind. The dark impulse, that twisted thing hiding deep within me, shrieked and howled, cowering in the farthest corners of my thoughts.

  “All the while, retaining just enough sanity to play pretend,” he sneered, voice a venomous whisper, “like you’re just a victim of circumstance.”

  I held the Feyvolken’s gaze for a long time, letting his words sink in.

  “So what is it then? You trying to convince me not to stray from my own humanity or something?”

  Puck stood stock still for a few moments more, then bent over at the waist in a bellicose laugh, all trace of red gone from his eyes.

  “Ahahah….ahaha…aaaha…. oh you little bastard, that was funny… ahahaha….

  Oh… no, no, m’boy, I don’t partake in that petty joke you younger races refer to as… morality… I don’t much care whether you retain your humanity or merge with the Animal.

  No, the thing I am trying to impress upon you is to embrace whatever path you want with your full conviction.

  You want to become a bloodthirsty beast who can think only of your next kill? Do it.

  You want to keep the Animal at bay and make your own decisions in spite of it? Do it.

  You want to play pretend that you can become some uppity, sanctimonious paragon of… what is it you call it, good?... Well, that would be boring, but do it.

  Do, whatever it is you want to do, but do it wholeheartedly, and then accept the consequences of your actions when it is time to. Because there is nothing more boring than a hypocrite”

  Letting out a long, weary sigh, deciding that trying to understand Puck's mercurial mood swings was an exercise in futility, I replied flatly, my tone as dry as the air in the room.

  "I see. If you’ve gotten that out of your system, mind if we move on to the next question?"

  Puck once more took that crouching position in front of me, chin resting on his interlocked fingers.

  “Proceed”.

  “How am I an anomaly?”

  Puck took a few seconds before answering, tilting his head from side to side again. A gesture I’d come to associate with him considering something.

  “Hmmm… a number of things, starting with the 'how' in how you've become a Sinborn of Pride.

  See, the Sinborn of Pride have a general ‘modus operandi’ as it were. All those turned, have been done so via their own choice. The Crimson Kiss, the act of transforming a mortal into a Vampire, was offered and accepted, and in doing so, the turned was tied to their Sire, blood-bound in loyalty.

  You have deviated from the aforementioned ‘modus operandi’ in that you've taken the Blood, never given a choice on the matter. That has never happened before. In doing so, there is no blood-bond between you and your Sire”.

  “Considering I tore her throat out, I wouldn't expect there to be a bond”.

  Puck snapped his fingers and pointed at me.

  "Yes, exactly that," Puck mused, his voice smooth but tinged with a dark amusement. "Normally, the bond is such that the fledgling spends decades at their Sire's beck and call, drawn in, almost addicted to their Sire's whims, moods, and needs. It’s a subtle thing, you know. Insidious."

  He paused, watching me, a cold glint in his eyes.

  "Over time, that bond begins to fray. Eventually, the Offspring will try to break free—attempt to fight for independence, murder their Sire, or both. But those rarely end in success. The only real option is to escape, sever the ties, and pursue their own ambitions. Of course, that’s usually the most successful course of action...if you can manage it."

  “That's… really brutal” I stammered out.

  “Oh yes…” Puck continued.

  “Vampires are monumentally possessive and domineering creatures. To a Sire, their Offspring is no more than an extension of their authority and ambition, a tool. What right does a sword have to leave their wielder's hand? None, of course.

  And to an Offspring, their Sire becomes the monumental shadow cast upon them, the hurdle that prevents them from fulfilling their own ambitions and wants. So when the Offspring escapes, they search for another to turn, thus…”

  “...repeating the cycle over and over again” I finished the sentence.

  Puck applauded.

  “Exactly. Monumentally mediocre and boring, no? And that's where the deviation begins, you see. This cycle has stood unbroken from the very beginning. And by your actions, you have broken it”.

  “So what's that mean for me? Am I stronger than a normal vampire?”.

  Puck laughed.

  “Oh no, no, dear boy, I've already told you, you are no more special, stronger or faster than any other fledgeling before you. It just means you are your own Sire, thus you have no dominating presence to keep you bound to their wants or whims for the next fifty to a hundred years”.

  I sighed.

  “Well, silver lining, that's still a good thing. At least I'm my own man”.

  Puck snickered again.

  “Your definition of a ‘good thing’ is a very amusing one”.

  I leaned my head back against the wall, tapping it lightly with a hollow thud, and exhaled sharply through clenched teeth.

  "Fantastic," I muttered, voice thick with sarcasm. "By all means, Puck, do tell me—what fresh, succulent Hell awaits me?"

  “You, my dear boy, are your own Sire, and thus sovereign of your own destiny. That is the good part.

  You are also a fledgeling without the protection of a Sire. Thus, you have no one to protect you as you grow in age and strength, no one to teach you the finer points of your vampiric nature, no one to instruct you on how to properly manipulate Blood”.

  “Protect me? From what you’ve said Vampires aren’t the protective kind”.

  “Correct for the most part, my boy, they are not. But as I have said, an Offspring is the belonging of their Sire, and no self-respecting Sire would allow one of their valuable tools to be broken.

  Vampires, you see, despite their many, many, many advantages are, by the nature of the Curse of Pride, monumentally arrogant and isolationist. For your average vampire, being in a group, in an organization, well that’s simply untennable. It implies that they set their own ego, ambitions and plans in lieu of a greater purpose.

  And what could ever be greater to a Vampire than their own ambition?

  Nothing.

  As such, with very few exceptions, a Vampire Sire will only have their Offspring and a smorgasbord of human thralls in their territory, and tolerate no other Vampire in their domain. Thus, as a fledgeling with no protection, your fate, should you ever knowingly or unknowingly, encroach on another Vampire’s domain will be one of two”.

  Puck once more held up two fingers.

  “One, should you prove yourself in having potential, the Vampire will force their own blood down your throat, enthralling you into the blood-bond.

  Two, you will have your arms and legs torn off, get skinned alive, literally, and spit on a pike to cook in the daylight for at least a week, depending on the Sire’s mood. Then, they will chuck you into a pyre and send you screaming into the hereafter”.

  I grimaced.

  “Fucking... delightful”.

  Puck brought his hands across the blank space where his mouth should have been, as if to stifle a laugh.

  “I know right? This is so fun to watch. But, silver lining as you like to say, chances are you will be killed before having the misfortune of meeting another Vampire”.

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Puck”

  The Feyvolken gave me a short bow.

  I scowled, pushing down the urge to flip him off.

  “Alright. Then let’s get back into it, putting our little tangent about Vampiric society aside, you did say that ‘how’ I was turned is only part of why I am an anomaly”.

  “Correct. A fundamental part, but otherwise inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. No, dear boy, if it had been only that, you would not have been interesting enough for me to waste good time talking to you here, when I could be making profit somewhere else.

  No, the reason why you are such an anomaly has infinitely more to do with who you are”.

  I arched an eyebrow.

  “Who I am? I'm a nobody, remember? You said it yourself”.

  Puck nodded emphatically and pointed two fingers at me.

  “Exactly. You are a nobody, son of no-one-worth-considering and who-gives-a-damn.

  And THAT, right there makes you an anomaly. You are the furthest type of person from the ideal candidate for the Crimson Kiss. It’s in the name, after all, Pride, the Cruse of Pride, the Sin of Pride. If there is ever any one adjective to describe the average Vampire it is Pride.

  Disgustingly, abrasively, excruciatingly proud. A Vampire will not just turn any fool of the streets into an immortal. Lineage, pedigree, heritage, all this and more is considered when a Sire searches for a candidate to turn into an Offspring.

  It is in the nature of the Sinborn of Pride to settle for nothing lesser than the best”.

  I could feel the scowl on my face deepening.

  “Hold on! So what you’re telling me is that all Vampires are a bunch of nobles and hoighty-toighty blue-bloods?”

  Puck nodded firmly.

  “Yes!”

  The silence stretched out, thick and suffocating, as we sat there, neither of us speaking for what felt like an eternity. Then, without warning, I couldn’t help myself. I burst into a fit of laughter, the sound sharp and almost manic.

  “Oh boy,” I gasped between laughs, shaking my head. “You’re right. I’m the furthest damn thing from that there could ever be!”

  Puck joined in.

  “Right? Right? You are basically a walking abomination in their eyes. If they ever found out that some gutter-born became a vampire, their entire kind would probably have a collective aneurysm”.

  In all honesty, I couldn’t really explain why I was laughing. For all intents and purposes, everything Puck had said had been one bit of bad news after another, with only one small silver lining: I was immortal now, and pretty damn hard to kill.

  But something about the whole situation? The fact that I, of all people, had stumbled into this highly exclusive little "club" because of nothing more than being too stubborn to let myself die?

  It was nothing short of cosmic irony.

  And it was hilarious.

  Or maybe I'd completely lost my mind for a few minutes. Probably a little bit of both.

  “So, this is what makes me an anomaly”

  Puck gasped for air, holding his stomach.

  “Phewww. Yes. From that simple fact branch out every anomalistic trait you have, m’boy. Picture this, if you would…”

  He shifted closer, spreading his hands out, like a master storyteller, making ready to regale me with a narrative of superlative theatricalism.

  “You are born into nobility, le creme-de-la-creme, your blood so blue it rivals the clear sky, a silver spoon shoved so far up your rear-end you can hear it smack the back of your teeth.

  You can trace your lineage back to the most exceptional kings, queens and heroes that your country boasts of.

  You are prim, proper, educated and by nothing more than the fact that you were shat out from between the right pair of thighs, you are heir to so much. Land. Fortunes. Authority.

  And then, one night, through the stain-glass windows of your chambers, he enters.

  He is like you. Of perfect pedigree and lineage, of exceptional mannerism and bearing all the soft, subtle intricacies of the most upper-class gentry. But he exceeds you. Because, unlike you, he is perfect and immortal. And then he offers it to you.

  The Crimson Kiss.

  You too can become like him. Perfect and Immortal. If you would only bow to him. You accept. After all, you are special, are you not? A noble. A genius. So far above the common chaff. So far above even your peers.

  You will bow. For now.

  The decades pass and you come to understand.

  Lands? Fortunes? Authority? You deserve these things not only by right of birth, but by divine right. You deserve everything. You deserve the world itself. At least, that’s what the voice in the back of your head tells you every day.

  Those mortals screaming and begging as you drained their struggling children before their eyes? They did not understand the privilege of sacrificing their worthless blood in the name of your eternity. That’s what the voice tells you.

  The atrocities and blasphemies you commit? They are works of art. Nothing less than masterpieces. That’s what the voice sings in your dreams.

  And with every year, you grow stronger, beautiful, perfect.

  The voice is right. It was always right. Pride is not a curse. Pride is your natural state. Why should you not be Proud?

  You are Perfect and thus, you and you alone, have the right to be Proud.

  You are Perfect and thus, you and you alone, have the right to the world.

  You are Perfect and thus, you and you alone, have the right to do as you see fit”.

  Puck smacked his hands together.

  “And that, my dear boy, is how most vampires think. To be a Vampire is the essence of Pride.

  And then there’s you.

  The aberration.

  The walking anomaly.

  You bear no lineage worth mentioning, your pedigree is that of a mutt, your self-worth is only that which you have made for yourself, and you know better than anyone that you are entitled only to what you’ve gained with your own effort. The Animal has nothing subtle to latch onto, and thus tries to work only upon that one thing you know so well.

  Survival instinct. Predation. The fight to live another day. None of which are subtle.

  And that means you’ve heard it before it’s entrenched itself too deep.

  That, right there, is the true anomaly. You HEARD it. And thus, you separated it”.

  “Hold on, something doesn’t add up” I interrupted.

  For once, Puck didn’t seem bothered by it, instead he seemed genuinely interested in what I was about to ask.

  “Yes, m’boy?”

  “The Curse’s intent and how it manifests are kind of… contrasting. The Curse, the Animal, it latches on to their perceived sense of… being the elite, right? But the way it changes the mind and the body, doesn’t that make them… I dunno, more primitive?

  I mean, there’s nothing high-class about someone who's a slave to their impulses, and from what you’ve told me, the Animal is all basic impulse. The pure predator, right?”

  Puck didn’t answer immediately, but moved in closer until that featureless mask was beside my ear, and whispered.

  “There’s a reason it’s a Curse of Sin, m’boy. All Sinborn are walking contradictions. Thus, while they live, they can never find any form of peace".

  As quick as thought he moved back to his original position, his hand now under his chin as if pondering.

  “Now. Anything else?”

  I opened my mouth, only to immediately close it. It seemed like an idiotic question, some inane thing born of self-doubt that didn’t really have a place in this reborn world of pragmatism and survival.

  More than that I knew the answer, but I simply wanted to hear it. Get that extra confirmation.

  If only for my peace of mind.

  “In my world’s folk and fantasy, Vampires are described as undead corpses, moving husks. I know you said Vampires aren’t undead, we’re just another form of life but…”

  I hoisted myself up off the ground and stared into those cold, blazing lights of Puck’s eyes.

  “Do I still have a soul?”

  Puck didn’t answer right away. Instead, he held my gaze, piercing eyes never wavering. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he reached out with one of his spindly fingers and tapped it gently against my forehead.

  “Do you still think?” he asked in an impassive, level voice.

  I blinked as the question, so simple and clear, hit me.

  “Yeah”

  “Do you still feel?”

  “Yeah”

  “How about sorrow and happiness? Compassion and spite? Hope and doubt? Courage and fear? Do you still feel any of these things since you’ve become a Vampire?”

  “Yeah”

  “Then why pose such an inane question, you stupid brat? Are those not the markings of sentience and thus, the markings of a soul? Of course you still have a soul, you fool. You are the same soul you were, when you had a mortal body”.

  I just nodded and smirked, more than happy with the answer.

  “Yeah. Thanks Puck”

  Puck just shrugged with the exasperation of a mathematics teacher explaining basic arithmetic to a particularly dull child.

  “You should really consider listening to me when I talk. Either that or take notes. I’ve already said it once, did I not? There is no magic or curse that can touch upon the Soul. Only your own actions either clean or stain it”.

  I nodded, pushing against my lower back to pop my spine. The conversation had dragged on for what felt like an eternity, but in that time, my wounds had almost fully healed. Here and there, faint indentations remained where the damage had been deep, but they were slowly filling in. When I tried to open my left eye, I could see little more than a half-formed white orb where it should’ve been, but most of the damage had faded, and the left side of my face was completely restored.

  “Muscle and flesh regenerate easily. Eyes are more difficult, they take longer” Puck muttered with the same indifference.

  I grimaced and rubbed my stomach. "It’s fine. I can work with this. Problem is, I can feel myself getting hungry".

  I was still in control, but it was starting to nag at me—the hunger was creeping in, just enough to make me uncomfortable. If I had to describe it in human terms, it was like going 24 hours without food. I wasn’t at the point of full-blown starvation, but I definitely wasn’t enjoying the tight, gnawing sensation in my gut.

  “Blood is your fuel. When you empowered yourself to fight against the horde, it cost blood. Closing the wounds. Regenerating your flesh, it all costs blood.

  Your regeneration will slow down since your body recognizes that it’s no longer in immediate danger”.

  I scratched at the sides of my head.

  “Right, yeah… One more thing before we end this, any advice? Specific to my nature I mean?”

  Puck turned to me and gave a curt nod.

  “Your body will now naturally gravitate over time towards becoming the perfect predator. Muscle will grow, bone will harden, excess flab…” his orbs shifted towards my prominent gut “... will be burned. All this will come naturally as you infinitely age.

  However, you can hasten the process.

  Seek out conflict. Overcome adversity. With each battle won and each throat drained you will gain valued combat prowess.

  More than that, train your body. You will find that its proclivity towards perfection will make your results quite obvious and immediate compared to when you were human. You need only be willing to put in the effort”.

  “Are… are you telling me to hit the gym?” I asked, dumbfounded at how sensible and simultaneously mundane the advice was.

  Puck drew another sonorous breath, “tasting the air” once again.

  “No pain, no gain, brah” he answered in the most gym bro voice I’d ever heard. I would have laughed if the weird Feyvolken’s mood swings weren’t so volatile. Was he dangerous? Friendly? I had no clue.

  “One more piece of advice, free of charge” Puck added, holding up a finger for my attention.

  “And I give this only in the hope that you purchase it from me when you have the Aether Stones, considering that I am investing in you. A Class. Get it as soon as you can. Specifically, the Vanguard class”.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “How much is it?” I asked, expecting an outrageous price. Was it an attempt from him to get me to buy something unnecessarily elaborate?

  “100 Aether Stones” Puck answered nonchalantly.

  “Wait! Back in the amphitheater you said that the cheapest Class Marks cost 100 Aether Stones. Aren’t the more expensive ones better?”

  “Correct and correct”.

  “Then wouldn’t it be better to save up for a more expensive one?”

  Puck shrugged nonchalantly.

  “Very fair. You could. Nothing would stop you from saving up and purchasing the Archmage Class for 3.700 Aether Stones, or the Field Marshall for 3.000.

  But, you asked for advice. And my advice is Vanguard, priced at 100 Aether Stones”.

  I stood there, trying to read between the lines, to discern some hidden reasoning behind the words.

  “Yeah. Alright, then that ought to be about it…”

  *THUNK*

  My instincts kicked in, and I dropped into a crouch, tensing in preparation for whatever was coming next. The noise had caught me off guard, echoing in the quiet like a warning bell. For a split second, I thought the rotbloods had returned, pounding against the door, or that something even worse was lurking in the room.

  As the clatter of a jar lid rolling across the floor subsided, I scanned the area, gaze tracking the lid’s erratic path as it finally settled near the large cardboard box under the desk.

  And that’s when I saw it—a glimmer of movement, a hint of wild, dirty-white fur. Just behind the box, the eye-hole of a palm-sized, featureless wooden mask stared back at me.

  A Feyvolken, just like Puck, but no bigger than a five year old child.

  A miniature Fey.