The paladins had routines. Blaze learned them in silence.
He and Kael had shadowed the group for three nights now, never striking, only watching. Blaze noted everything—the way they prayed at dawn and dusk, the order they rotated watches, the length of their patrol routes.
Patterns. Predictability. Even holy men bled in rhythms.
It was the youngest knight who interested him most. His armor was polished but poorly fitted, his shoulders tense, his steps too loud in the underbrush. He muttered his prayers like he was reminding himself of the words. And most importantly—when it was his turn to keep watch, he always wandered too far from the fire.
A novice, eager to prove himself. Or perhaps simply foolish.
Kael noticed it too. On the third night, crouched beside Blaze in the treeline, he whispered, "This one is prey. Easy prey."
Blaze's red eyes never left the young knight as he paced alone through the trees, torch in hand. The golden light cast him in halos, his sword catching glints like a shard of dawn. Blaze's lip curled. That light scorched his skin from even this distance.
"Not easy," Blaze murmured. "But alone."
Kael's grin showed teeth. "We take him now?"
Blaze's gaze flickered once toward his spawn. The wolfish hunger in Kael's expression was familiar, almost reassuring, but also dangerous. Reckless eagerness got vampires killed.
"No. I take him."
Kael blinked. "Alone?"
"Watch. Learn," Blaze said simply. His voice was a blade of ice. "This one is mine."
---
The forest breathed around them as Blaze slipped into the shadows, keeping low, keeping silent. The novice paladin walked ahead, torch swaying, armor clinking faintly with each step. The holy aura radiating off him pressed against Blaze's skin like needles, sharp and irritating, but tolerable compared to the campfire's blaze.
Step by step, Blaze drew closer. The night seemed to fold around him, his hunger pulling taut, urging him to strike.
The paladin paused suddenly. His head turned, ears pricking. He sensed something, perhaps a rustle too sharp or a breath too long. He raised his torch higher, squinting into the dark.
"Who's there?" His voice wavered, more fear than command.
Blaze let silence stretch. Then, softly, almost conversationally, he answered.
"Your gods sent you hunting."
The paladin jolted, torch flaring as he swung it wildly. "Show yourself, creature!"
Blaze stepped forward, just close enough that the torch's edge caught his face in pale flickers. The paladin gasped, stumbling back, his free hand grabbing for his sword.
"You—your eyes—"
"Red," Blaze finished for him. He smiled without warmth, showing fangs. "Like the devil stories they frightened you with as a child?"
"Unholy abomination," the paladin hissed, steel rasping free. "In the Light's name, I smite thee—"
"Do you believe that?" Blaze interrupted, his tone deceptively mild. He stepped closer, unhurried, every movement deliberate. "That a word makes you strong? That a god will come running to save you?"
The paladin's grip tightened, knuckles white. He raised his blade in trembling hands. "The Light—"
"—isn't here," Blaze whispered.
And then he struck.
---
The world blurred. Blaze closed the distance in a single surge, faster than the paladin could blink. His clawed hand slashed, sparks ringing as steel caught against it. The holy blade burned like fire where it touched his skin, searing black marks into his flesh.
Pain flared, sharp and blinding—but beneath it, exhilaration roared. His body sang with every movement, every clash, as though the ring itself exulted in the fight.
The paladin shouted, swinging wildly, torchlight flaring golden against the trees. "Light guide me!"
"Your god can't hear you," Blaze snarled, driving a fist into the boy's chest. Armor dented, breath left him in a wheeze. He staggered back, sword barely held aloft.
But the aura around him flared brighter now, the faint glow of divine blessing struggling to push Blaze away. Every time Blaze's claws came near, they sparked and hissed against invisible resistance, leaving his skin blistered.
"Faith won't save you." Blaze's voice was a low growl, predatory. "It will only make your blood sweeter."
The paladin screamed and charged.
For a heartbeat, Blaze let him. Let the boy think he had courage, that the Light strengthened his arm. Then Blaze flowed aside, faster than thought, his claws snapping around the knight's wrist. Bone cracked. The sword fell.
The paladin cried out, torch tumbling into the dirt. Darkness swallowed them both.
Blaze's eyes glowed in the black. "Now," he whispered, "you're just a man in the dark."
He sank his fangs into the knight's throat.
---
The first rush of blood was ecstasy. Hot, divine-tainted, thick with the taste of sanctity. It burned down Blaze's throat like molten metal, scorching and intoxicating all at once. His body screamed both pain and pleasure. The holy blessing in the boy's veins clashed with the curse of the ring, fire against shadow, agony against rapture.
And Blaze drank deeper.
The paladin writhed, weakly clawing at Blaze's arms. His voice broke into gasps, prayers disintegrating into whimpers. Blaze held him fast, feeding, feeding, until the body sagged against him, limp and empty.
When at last he pulled away, blood dripping from his lips, the forest was silent save for his ragged breathing. His wounds were already sealing, skin knitting faster than before, muscles burning with new vitality. His senses sharpened, colors brightening, every sound magnified.
The ring pulsed. A voice, faint but undeniable, coiled through his skull.
*Stage Two.*
Mist curled faintly around his feet though the night was dry. His limbs thrummed with strength. And when he exhaled, the hunger that had always gnawed at his gut felt—contained. Not gone, never gone, but manageable.
Blaze stared down at the corpse at his feet. Once a knight of the Light, now nothing more than a drained husk.
He expected triumph. Instead, he felt a slow, steady coldness.
Not guilt. Never guilt.
But inevitability.
This was the first. Not the last.
---
Kael emerged from the shadows, eyes gleaming as he beheld the corpse. "Beautiful."
Blaze glanced at him, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Help me drag him."
They hauled the body into a shallow ditch, covered it crudely with earth and branches. Blaze knew it wouldn't hold. The others would notice by morning when their comrade failed to return.
But that was the point.
He crouched at the grave, pressing one claw against the dirt as though writing into it. His voice was low, a promise meant for no ears but the dead man's.
"You were the first," he whispered. "But not the last. Tell your god I am coming."
Kael watched him, head tilted. "So the war begins?"
Blaze stood, eyes burning like coals in the dark. "The war began the day they called me useless."
He turned toward the campfire glow in the distance. Already, the knights laughed, unaware one of their number would never return. Already, their laughter scraped like knives against his ears.
"From now on," Blaze said softly, "they hunt me no more."
He bared his fangs in something too cold to be called a smile.
"I hunt them."