The beast lunged.
Emma moved.
The red string yanked tight between them as she dragged Cecilia out of the path of gnashing jaws, the serpent-tail striking where they had stood a breath before. Venom sizzled against the stone, eating pits into the earth. Cecilia stumbled, clutching Emma's arm, her heart pounding so hard it drowned out her thoughts.
Emma didn't look at her. Not once. Her blue eyes fixed on the beast, sharp as steel, her expression unreadable as if this wasn't danger but routine. Her hand slid to her blade with the ease of muscle memory, the assassin in her awakening.
"Stay still," Emma ordered.
The Chimera roared, goat head bleating in madness, lion's teeth bared as it charged again. The ground trembled beneath its weight. Cecilia gasped, wanting to scream, to run, to do anything but be beside Emma. But the assassin didn't flinch.
In a blur, Emma stepped forward.
Her movements were too fast, too precise, each motion cutting through the chaos like a dance only she knew. The blade flashed once–only once–and the beast's roar turned into a chocking gurgle. Blood sprayed across the stone as its massive body collapsed at their feet, lifeless before it even understood it had been struck.
Silence fell.
Cecilia's trembling fingers clutched the red string between them, her chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. Her eyes darted from the beast's lifeless body to emma. A chill raced down her spine–not from the monster, but the stranger bound to her, the one who had slain it as effortlessly as if swatting a fly. It it wren't for the string... Cecilia shook her head, refusing to imagine what might have happened otherwise.
A low groan from the man snapped her back to reality. She leaned toward him, instinctively wanting to help, but recoiled in horror as his body twitched unnaturally, veins darkening across his neck in a pattern she had never seen. He tried to sit up, and Cecilia's stomach dropped. His abdomen had been punctured, as though a ball had driven through him. He collapsed back with a pained hiss, teeth gleaming unnaturally sharp in the pale moonlight.
Emma moved forward, blade raised in defense.
"He's hurt," Cecilia whispered, her voice trembling. Yet despite, the danger, she stepped closer, ignoring her own safety. "He's dying!" she cried. Panic clawing at her chest. She had nothing–no cloth, no supplies, nothing to help hiim. "We can't stand here, Emma! We have to do something?"
"We will do nothing," Emma said flatly.
"But–"
The man's chest rose and fell in ragged, uneven bursts, each breath rasping out of him like broken glass. A guttural groan escaped his throat before his head lolled toward Cecilia. Slowly, his eyes flickered open–crimson light bleeding faintly through the dark, fever-bright and inhuman.
"Please.." he rasped. "Blood. Just a little. Or I... I won't.." His words flattered, his body curling tiger in agony.
"Emma, please," Cecilia begged, desperately cracking her voice. Their eyes met for a heartbeat–hers pleading, his calculating.
Emma's jaw tightened, her expression unreadable. After a long heavy silence, she crouched slightly, blade still poised. "Answer me this," she said coldly. "If I give you blood–enough to pull you back from the edge–can you control yourself?" Her voice is all steel, devoid of mercy. "Or will you lose it and tear us apart?"
The man swallowed hard, trembling. His crimson graze lifted weakly to meet hers. "I can... I can hold it. I swear it." His fangs glinted as he whispered, horse and desperate. "Please."
Emma's stare lingered on him, weighing his words like a judge at trial. Finally, she exhaled a sharp breath and turned slightly toward Cecilia. "Bear with it. It'll hurt."
Cecilia's eyes widened. "Wait—what do you mean—"
Emma drew a dagger a swift, fluid motion and pressed the blade to her own palm, slicking a clean line across her skin.
Cecilia gasped, a shapr cry tearing from her lips as fire lanced across her own hand at the same time. She clutched her pal, breath stuttering as blood welled where no blade had touched her.
Blood streamed from Emma's hand, rich and warm. She didn't flinch, didn't even glance at Cecilia's mirror wound. "Instead, she held her hand out toward the wounded man, voice deadly calm. "If you lose control for even a second, I'll kill you where you crawl."
To Cecilia' s shock, the man's nostril flared, his body shuddering at the scent. His restraint seemed impossibly thin, teeth glinting unnaturally in the pale light as he whispered, "Yes... please."
Cecilia tried to convince herself none of this could be real, that it was some twisted dream–but the pain in her hand, the warmth of blood, the ragged breaths of the wounded man before her... it was all too real. Nothing in her world behaved like this.
Emma's eyes hardened. "Then feed."
"Cecilia's knees nearly buckled, the throb in her palm radiating up her arm.
The man dragged himself closer, trembling, eyes locked on the blood in Emma's hand. His lips parted, and with guttural hunger that made Cecilia's stomach twist, he sank his teeth into her wrist.
Cecilia still couldn't believe everything she was seeing despite experiencing everything so far from the appearance to the string. She stared at the scene. Those eyes. The way the wounded man's flesh was healing. The way he was feeding off from Emma. The man was a monster, a blood sucking monster, a vampire.
Emma didn't move. Her face was impassive, fingers locked in the vampire's hair, forcing him to obey her pace. "Don't take more than you need," she ordered, voice low and unyielding.
The man groan in relief, drinking greedily. Color returned to his face, the broken tremors in his body easing as Emma's blood filled him.
At first, it seemed controlled–measured, almost reverent. But the longer he drank, the more frantic he became. The soft sounds of swallowing turned into wet, desperate gulps. His fingers tightened around Emma's wrist, nails digging into her skin.
"Stop..." Cecilia whispered, her voice trembling. The air felt thick, humming with something feral.
The man's shoulders shook as a guttural growl tore from his throat. His eyes, once haf-lidded, snapped open–glowing red, wild and unseeing. His pressed closer, lips dragging against Emma's hand, teeth sinking deeper as if he couldn't control himself.
"Emma!" Cecilia gasped.
In a single movement, Emma wrenched her wrist free and seized her blade, its ede flashing silver in the moonlight. The blade's tip found the hollow of the man's throat before he could lunge again.
"Enough," she said, her voice low but deadly.
The man froze, chest heaving. A thin lone of blood beaded where the blade kissed his skin. His gaze flickered between the weapons and Emma's cold, steady eyes–fear wresling with hungary in the depths of his crimson stare.
For a moment, no one moved. The night hung frozen around them, broken only the vampire ragged, uneven breaths. Gradually, the tremors in his body subsided. His iron grip slackened on Emma's arm, his fangs sliding behind his lips as he sagged forward–weak, spent, but no longer feral.
Emma didn't lower the blade. "Next time," she said, her voice slicing throught the stillness, "I won't stop at your throat."
Only once he had fully stilled did she step back. With the same calm precision she used to wield her sword, Emma tore a strip of cloth from her waist and wrapped her bleeding wrist. Then, without a word, she moved to Cecilia and ripped another piece of fabric free, pressing it gently into her trembling hands.
Cecilia stared, tears spilling from her eyes uncontrollably. She could still feel it–the wet, sickening puncture of fangs breaking her skin, the hot pull of her blood being drawn out in greedy, desperate gulps. The memory alone made her stomach twist.
But what terrified her even more wasn't the creature who had fed from her. It was the stranger standing before her.
Emma had shown no fear–no shock, no hesitation, not even pain. She wore a straight, unreadbale expression through the entire ordeal, as of she were the one in control... even while she was the one being fed on. The cold composure, that frightening calm, unsettled Cecilia far more than the fangs ever could.
"Ah!" Cecilia gasped as Emma pressed the cloth harder.
"Stay still!" Emma ordered. "Not unless you want to bleed to death."
She pulled Cecilia's hands closer, binding the cloth around the wound with quick, practiced movements. Cecilia winced as Emma tightened the fabric, her breath catching–but she didn't dare pull away.
"Doesn't it hurt?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it.
"Pain isn't written in my job description."
Cecilia's eyes rolled to the side until she caught a groan. The vampire, who had looked dead moments ago, was no startingly alive. He appeared young—youthful, with warm brown eyes and messy dark hair. His pale skin was almost flawless, and he might have passed for a superstar... if it weren't for the ripped hoodie who was supposed to have a punctured hole but it was fully intact with flesh like he had never been injured before, not even a scratch.
He let out a long sigh and stretched, his movements fluid, almost casual.
"Thank you," the vampire said."And I can't thank you enough." His voice was lighter now, almost gentle. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name's Brian, a vampire as you can see. May I know the name of my saviour?" He glanced and gave a slight blush before looking away from Cecilia since she was only in an oversized jacket revealing her upper thighs and had nothing else.
"Names aren't necessary," Emma replied, her tone flat, unyielding.
"My name's Cecilia."
Emma turned, frowning, her gaze cutting into her, "Somebody your honesty will kill you."
Cecilia shot Emma a sidelong glance at her icy silence, waiting–hoping–for even a flicker of reaction. But Emma remained unmoving, an expression carved from stone. No words. No tension. Nothing.
Cecilia exhaled softly and turned back to the vampire instead.
Brian studied them carefully, the easy grin on his face failing to fully mask the sharpness in his eyes. He lifted both hands slightly, as if surrendering.
"I don't mean to intrude," he said. "But from your scent alone, it's obvious–you two don't belong here."
Cecilia stiffened. "We don't?"
Brian shook his head firmly. "Not a chance. You smell like surface-worlders... humans. Almost.'
His gaze drifted to Cecilia, lingering with an odd, cautious curiosity. "Though you... you're a little different. Not in a bad way. Just... not something I've scented before."
Cecilia's fingers tightened around the cut of Emma's coat. "Different how?"
Brian shrugged helplessly. "Can't say. I'm not a witch. But I do know someone who can figure that out."
"Look... I have a friend," he continued, swallowing hard. "She runs a magic workshop. She works with old spells, healing marks, rare enchantments–things no one else can do. If anyone here can help you understand... or get you back home... it's her."
His gaze landed on Cecilia again– guilt, fear, and sincerity all tangled together. "And since you saved my life tonight," he added quietly, "the least I can do is take you there myself."
Cecilia looked at Emma. Finally, the assassin moved. She stepped forward, just enough to force Brian's head to tilt up to her. "Take us to her," she said. "But if you make one strange move..." She raised her blade a fraction, moonlight along its cold edge. "I'll silence you before you finish blinking."
Brian's throat bobbed visibly. "U-understood."
Cecilia reached for Emma's sleeve, giving it a gentle tug–an anchor, a reminder. "It's okay," she murmured. "Let's just go."
Emma breathed out, slow and controlled, her jaw loosening. She gave one curt nod. "Lead," she commanded.
And so they followed him.
Alfheim at night was unlike anything Cecilia had ever imagined. At first glance, it looked like a familiar Canadian city–the same streets, the same snow-dusted rooftops, the same quiet lamplight. But there was something... different. The signs on the shops shimmered briefly with unfamiliar letters. Shadows moved too fluidly along the walls, twisting without reason. Every so often, a streetlamp bent slightly, like it was observing them.
The stone path curled through a quiet district breathing with silver mist, the fog rolling around their ankles like soft, sentient ribbons, Lanterns perched on iron posts glowed with pale–blue flames that flickered without warmth. The entire place felt ancient–enchanted in a way that hummed along Cecilia's skin.
Brian walked a few cautious steps ahead, speaking over his shoulder. "Alfheim isn't a single kingdom," he explained. "It's made of supernatural clans. Old bloodlines, old grudges. Some creatures avoid humans..." His voice dropped. "Others hunt them. Stay close."
Emma shifted subtly, angling her body between Cecilia and the darkest edges of the road. Her hand hovered near her dagger. Always ready. Always watching.
Cecilia's attention was stolen by something perched above them. An owl sat atop a lantern–except it wasn't solid. Its feathers shimmered like frost-chased moonlight, its body faint and translucent, as though sculpted from mist. Cecilia could see the glow of the lantern flame right through it.
The owl turned its head in one slow, unnerving smooth motion. Then–blink. Its body dissolved into drifting particles of silver light, scattering upward and disappearing into the night sky.
Brian jumped slightly, then tried to play it off. "Th-that was a spirit owl. Just like birds fly in your world–ours are just... more unique."
Emma didn't relax. Her sharp gaze roamed rooftops, alley mouths, every shifting shadow. Ready to kill.
Cecilia instinctively moved closer to her, brushing against the edge of Emma's coat. Alfheim was beautiful–but terrifying. Filled with old magic and unseen eyes. But with Emma beside her–steady, fierce, and unshakeable– Cecilia felt safer, especially since their life was genuinely tied together.
They reached the small cottage Brian had promised. Smoke curled from the chimney, scented with herbs that seemed almost too vivid for an ordinary heath. Warm, golden light spilled through the windows, casting soft reflections on the snow-dusted sidewalk.
From the doorway, a small figure emerged. At first, Cecilia thought she was just a child, maybe ten, dressed in a too-large nightgown. But then the slit green eyes caught her attention. Scales shimmered along her forearms, glinting like living emeralds.
"Brian!" the girl squealed, rushing forward. "Mama said very special guests would be coming tonight!"
Cecilia trend her gaze to Emma upon hearing that but Emma's face remained sculpted, unreadable.
Brian's eyebrows shot up. "Lily... you're still up?"
"I couldn't sleep!" she replied, bouncing on her heels. "Mma said to wait for them!" Her eyes darted to Emma and Cecilia, slits narrowing in fascination.
Emma's hand stayed near her blade, her gaze unwavering. Cecilia pressed closer, touching her sleeve for reassurance.
Brian exhaled softly. "All right, Lily... let's not keep your mother waiting."
The little girl's grin widened. "Follow me! Mama's workshop is awake tonight. She's been expecting you."