Milo gritted his teeth as he drove the blade deeper into Simon's chest, twisting it cruelly. Blood pooled around the wound, yet Simon didn't flinch. His charred skin, still recovering from the flames, slowly began to mend itself. It was unnatural, almost taunting.
The moon hung high above them, casting an eerie silver glow over the grim scene. It was the kind of night that would have been beautiful—peaceful—if not for the battle of life and death taking place beneath it.
Milo tried again, yanking at Simon's chest, fingers clawing to rip out his heart. But no matter how hard he pulled, nothing gave way. Simon's body refused to break.
Frustration clawed at him. Why won't you just die?
A sudden noise made him snap his head up. The door creaked shut, and Milo turned to see Nora standing there, her expression unreadable as she took in the sight before her.
"He's not dying, no matter what I do," Milo muttered, kicking Simon's limp body in frustration. The lifeless form shifted slightly, but still, the healing continued.
Nora's brows furrowed as she stepped closer, kneeling beside Simon. "Turn him over," she ordered, her tone sharp.
Milo hesitated but did as she asked, rolling Simon onto his side. The moment his back was exposed to the moonlight, Nora's eyes widened. A beautifully intricate crescent moon shimmered on his skin, glowing faintly under the night's silver light.
She stumbled back as if burned. "Have you lost it?" she hissed, shoving Milo away. "Do you even realize what you've done?"
Milo scowled, not understanding. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"He's a Blood Crest," Nora spat, voice thick with disbelief. "The most powerful vampire bloodline to ever exist. His clan is untouchable. He cannot be killed—not by blades, not by fire, not by ordinary means. The only weapon that can end him…" she trailed off, her gaze dark.
"…is with the Devil."
Milo's breath hitched. The weight of her words settled over him like a curse.
"Then what do we do?" he asked, his voice colder now.
Nora straightened, dusting off her hands. "Drain him," she said simply. "Every last drop of his blood. Bury him in a reinforced grave so strong he can never claw his way out." She sighed, tilting her head. "Shame, though. Such a handsome man, wasted."
She turned on her heel to leave, but just as she reached the door, she paused.
A slow smirk curved on her lips as she glanced back.
"Actually… I've had a change of heart."
Milo arched a brow. "What now?"
Nora's smirk deepened. "Let's take him to the swimming pool."
Without a word, Milo lifted Simon's still body and carried him away, his grip tightening. Whatever Nora had planned, he knew one thing—this was far from over.
"Are the salt bags still there?" Nora asked, her voice sharp with urgency. Without waiting for an answer, she began peeling off her clothes, her movements quick and deliberate.
Milo gave her a sharp look before nodding. Without a word, he grabbed the heavy salt bags stacked against the wall and began tearing them open, dumping their contents into the pool. The salt mixed into the water, clouding it momentarily before dissolving into an eerie stillness.
Nora, unfazed by his presence, continued undressing, her movements fluid and unhurried. The moonlight cast a silver sheen on her bare skin as she stepped forward, her toes curling over the pool's edge. Then, without hesitation, she dove in.
The transformation was instantaneous.
Her legs fused together, morphing into a sleek black tail, its scales shimmering like onyx beneath the dim light. Delicate yet razor-sharp fins sprouted along her spine, moving with a grace that belied their deadly nature. Her eyes turned into endless pits of darkness, her lashes lengthening into fine, blade-like edges. The only thing she left unchanged were her hands—she still needed them for what came next.
Simon's body floated motionless in the water, his wounds slowly knitting together, his skin still unnaturally pale.
Nora swam toward him, her movements slow, predatory. She cupped his head, her claws tracing along his scalp as she began to whisper. The ancient words rolled off her tongue like a melody laced with poison.
The water around them pulsed.
A strange energy crackled through the air as the pool's surface shimmered unnaturally. Dark tendrils curled around Simon's form, snaking up his limbs, coiling around his chest.
The intricate tattoos that once adorned his skin—marks of power, identity, and binding—began to fade. The swirling ink patterns on his arms and chest disintegrated into nothingness, vanishing as though they had never existed. Even the death bond, the most unbreakable of all, dissolved beneath the weight of her magic.
Nora smirked, feeling the raw energy coursing through her veins. She was tapping into something deeper than just magic—this was darkness itself, bending to her will.
The water around them pulsed violently before stilling, leaving only the eerie silence of completion.
Nora pulled back, admiring her handiwork. "It's done."
Milo, watching from the pool's edge, frowned slightly. "Are you sure?"
She let out a breathy chuckle, pushing herself up onto the ledge. "He won't remember anyone," she said smugly, flicking the water from her sharp nails.
She glanced at Simon's bare skin, now unmarked, untouched by the past.
The man he once was had been erased.
"Now, bury him."
Milo wordlessly hauled Simon's body from the pool, his grip firm, his expression unreadable.
Nora wrung out her hair, then, as if just remembering something, turned to him. "By the way, where's your friend?"
Milo adjusted his hold on Simon. "In his room."
A slow, knowing grin spread across Nora's face. "Good job, Milo. Everyone believed the fake body was Simon's. They even buried it properly." She laughed softly, amused at how perfectly their plan had worked.
Nora giggled, her dark eyes glinting with satisfaction as she stretched, completely unbothered by her nakedness. The air was thick with the scent of salt and dark magic, the evidence of what she had just done lingering in the atmosphere.
Milo watched in silence, his jaw tightening as he glanced at Simon's lifeless, unmarked body. The man who once bore a name, a past, and power had been erased—nothing more than an empty shell now.
But Nora? She was reveling in it.
With a final amused glance at Milo, she flicked her wet hair over her shoulder and turned toward the hallway.
"Well," she purred, running a hand down her still-damp skin. "I think I deserve a little fun after all that effort."
She giggled, her laughter light yet dripping with something almost cruel, before disappearing into the dimly lit corridor.
Milo didn't respond. He simply tightened his grip on Simon's body and walked outside.
There was still work to do.