The forest was never silent.
Even here, far from roads and villages, the night hummed with life—the endless rustle of insects, the creak of branches, the distant cry of beasts hunting in the dark. Blaze had grown used to it. His new senses made the smallest movements feel near: the twitch of a hare in its burrow, the flap of an owl's wings, even the steady thrum of Kael's heart beside him.
But tonight, something was different.
Blaze crouched in the underbrush, Kael a shadow at his side, both watching the flicker of firelight down the slope. The camp belonged to merchants, two wagons pulled into a rough circle, the men and women huddled near the flames for warmth. Their voices carried faintly in the stillness.
"…swear by the Light, they said it was a vampire."
Blaze's body went taut.
The man speaking was old, with a thick gray beard, his hands trembling as he warmed them. "Down in the canyon. A hunter came running through the outpost, said he saw glowing eyes, a beast that drank blood. Said it moved faster than arrows."
The woman beside him made the sign of the sun over her chest. "The gods forbid. Vampires were purged in the last crusade."
"Then why," the old man muttered darkly, "did the bishop send paladins east not two days ago?"
The group fell silent. Fire popped. The old man leaned closer, voice lowering. "Mark me. If a vampire's truly risen again, the church will scour these lands clean. They won't let one live."
Blaze listened without moving, his throat dry though not from hunger. He should have expected it. If the world had taught him anything so far, it was that nothing concerning vampires remained hidden for long.
Beside him, Kael shifted faintly, his voice low enough that only Blaze could hear. "They are quick to fear. Always were. My tribe spoke of how even a rumor of the blood-born would bring torches."
Blaze didn't reply. His gaze remained fixed on the fire below, the merchants huddled together as though mere words could summon his kind from the shadows. He felt the tether of the ring stir at their fear, as though urging him forward, telling him to embrace what he was.
He clenched his jaw until the hunger dulled. Not tonight. Not them.
When the camp finally settled and the fire burned low, Blaze and Kael melted back into the trees, moving soundlessly. Neither spoke until the camp was long behind them.
"Rumors spread faster than fire," Blaze said at last. "One man swears he saw eyes in the dark, and suddenly paladins are marching."
Kael glanced at him. "You knew the church would come."
"Yes. But not so soon." Blaze's fists tightened. "They'll hunt me, Kael. Not for what I've done. For what I *am.*"
---
The proof came two days later.
Blaze caught the scent before Kael did—sharp, acrid, burning like oil poured onto flame. He froze mid-step, nostrils flaring, his stomach twisting.
"Holy wards," Kael muttered when he smelled it too.
They followed the trail cautiously until the first sign appeared: a wooden charm nailed into the trunk of a tree, carved into the sunburst sigil of the church. Ashes lay scattered at its base where incense had burned.
Blaze stared at it, unease crawling across his skin. The closer he stepped, the more the charm seemed to itch against his senses. His throat tightened, his fangs aching as though the very symbol rejected him.
"Paladins," Kael said quietly. "Marking their path. They sweep land this way when hunting. The wards weaken the unholy."
Blaze bared his teeth at the charm but forced himself to step back. "So it begins."
They pressed deeper, and the signs multiplied: charms dangling from branches, circles of ash etched into the soil. By dusk, Blaze's skin prickled with constant irritation, as though the light itself disapproved of his presence.
When night finally fell, they found the hunters.
---
The paladins camped at the forest's heart. Four of them sat in gleaming silver plate, their tabards stitched with the radiant sun. Their fire burned unnaturally bright, flames tinged faintly with gold. Even from the shadows, Blaze felt its sting on his skin.
He crouched low, Kael beside him, both hidden in the treeline.
The knights ate little, spoke little. They prayed instead, their voices murmuring in unison, words that seared Blaze's ears even though he couldn't understand the ancient tongue. The firelight caught on their blades, polished to a mirror shine, resting within easy reach.
Blaze's teeth ground together. The sight of them filled him with equal parts rage and unease. Every part of him screamed to strike, to rend, to taste their blood. Yet every instinct of survival warned otherwise.
Kael leaned closer. "Four only. Low order. Their aura is weak."
"Even weak ones burn me," Blaze muttered, his skin crawling the longer he stared. His body felt heavier just being near them. His hunger, usually controllable, grew into a gnawing ache.
One of the knights rose suddenly, gaze sweeping the trees. Blaze and Kael melted deeper into the brush, barely breathing.
The knight frowned, muttered a prayer, then returned to the fire.
Blaze exhaled slowly. Too close. Far too close.
"We leave," Blaze whispered, pulling Kael with him. "Not tonight."
---
Later, far from the glow of the holy fire, Blaze sat cross-legged on a rock, his fists clenched against his knees.
The humiliation burned worse than hunger. He had wanted to fight them, to prove he wasn't prey. But the truth was clear: he wasn't ready. The holy aura had almost crushed him without a single blade drawn.
"They'll find us eventually," Kael said, sharpening his broken sword. His voice held no fear, only fact. "The church never stops."
Blaze looked down at his hands. Stronger than before. But not enough.
Unless he learned to hide.
He closed his eyes, focusing inward. The bond, the hunger, the pulsing rhythm of the ring—it all radiated outward, a field of pressure he hadn't noticed until now. Like the stench of blood calling predators, it announced him to the world.
If he could feel it… could others?
He forced it down. Clenched every shred of willpower into smothering the hunger, quieting the thrum of power that leaked from his chest. For a moment it worked. The forest grew quieter in his perception, the air lighter.
When he opened his eyes, Kael was staring at him, brow furrowed. "Your presence… it vanished."
Blaze exhaled slowly. Sweat ran down his back. "Good. Then I can control it."
He gestured at Kael. "You try. Push it down."
Kael closed his eyes, expression tightening in concentration. Minutes passed, then he opened them again, faintly surprised. "It is… less. Harder for me. But possible."
"Then you'll master it," Blaze said sharply. "We both will. The church hunts what it can *smell.* We'll give them nothing."
---
The next night, they returned to watch the paladins again.
Hidden in the treeline, Blaze tested his control, suffocating his aura until his body trembled with the strain. The knights prayed, ate, spoke softly of their orders.
"Bishop said to sweep the canyon," one muttered. "Some fool swore he saw a vampire."
Another snorted. "Probably a starving ghoul. Still, if it is a vampire, we'll burn it to ash before dawn."
The first chuckled. "A shame the bishop didn't send us to the capital instead. They say heroes from another world were summoned. One of them a useless bastard who got tossed out already."
The others laughed, shaking their heads.
Blaze's nails dug into the earth until blood welled. His vision swam red. Useless. Bastard. Tossed out.
Kael shifted beside him, hand on his hilt. "Say the word, master, and I'll cut their throats."
Blaze's breathing steadied, the rage cooling into something sharper, colder. Not yet. Not until the time was perfect.
"No," he whispered, eyes locked on the firelight dancing over silver armor. "We watch. We learn. And when I strike… none of them will laugh again."
The words were not loud, but in the silence of the forest, they felt like a vow carved into stone.