Chapter 26: Join the Guild, or Die (Part 2) — The Vampire and the Choice
I camped in the forest that night, fifty miles north of Ladislau.
I ate dried spicy meat and tried not to think about pork stew.
My horse kept shifting, ears angled toward the dark like it could smell trouble.
By my calculations, I'd reach the Wilder-East in four days.
I told myself that was enough time.
Then the chill ran down my spine.
Not cold air.
Not wind.
A warning.
My horse neighed and kicked the ground.
I stood, listening.
Nothing.
No footstep.
No branch snap.
Just that feeling—like eyes were resting on my neck.
The fire began to die.
Not naturally.
Too fast.
The flames shrank. The wood stopped glowing. Smoke vanished like it had been swallowed.
Then darkness fell hard, because the clouds hid the moon.
I whispered to my horse, "I'm getting on you. When I do, you run."
I swung into the saddle, kicked, and hissed, "Run."
Too late.
The fire flared up again—and a man in a black cloak stood beside my horse with one hand raised.
My horse froze.
Not afraid.
Dead still.
No breath.
No movement.
I hurled my knife.
The man vanished.
The knife struck dirt.
I jumped down, drew my sword, and spun—"You are too slow," a cold voice said behind me.
I slashed.
Nothing.
My pulse hammered.
"Oh no," the voice said softly. "You're not going crazy, Leno."
My blood turned to ice.
"How do you know my name?" I demanded.
"Your thoughts are loud," the voice replied. "I can hear them a mile away."
I threw my knife again.
It hit a tree.
"I asked you a question!" I snapped, forcing my breathing under control.
The man appeared in front of me as if the air had decided to give him shape.
He lowered his hood.
Middle-aged.
Pale skin.
Dark lips.
And fangs long enough to make my stomach turn.
"I'm not a hallucination," he said calmly.
"Sounds like something a hallucination would say," I muttered.He smiled wider.
"Oh, but I'm no man."
I stepped forward and touched his shoulder.
Warm.
Solid.
Real.
I staggered back.
"Who are you?" I asked again.
"Humans would say I'm your father," he said.
"Cut that," I hissed. "What's your name?"
He tilted his head like names were a childish game.
"I'm a vampire. Vampires don't keep names unless they live among humans."
I snorted. "Vampires are a myth."
His eyes didn't blink.
"Then the Guild wanted you dead as a baby," he said. "They tried to kill me too. Fire. I regenerated after it died out. I was the first vampire born a vampire."
I stared at him.
Then I stared at my horse.
My horse dropped like its strings were cut.
Rage snapped through me.
"You killed my horse."
"No," he said, appearing farther away. "I proved my point. They've caught your scent. You either come with me to the Guild… or they will come for you."
"What do you want with me?" I shouted.
"Either you're with us or against us," he said. "Choose."
I tightened my grip on my sword.
"Join a Guild of monsters?" I spat. "So I can fly around looking for virgins to bite?"
His lips twitched with irritation.
"You're half-vampire," he said. "Half-sorcerer. I can smell it."
"I'm nothing of the sort," I snapped.He glanced at my blade again, like it offended him.
"And that sword," he murmured. "It has magic in it. Magic I doubt even your mother understood."
My throat tightened. "Who was she?"
"Lana Beleagard," he said. "A gifted sorceress."
"Was?" I repeated.
"She died over a century ago."
I laughed—sharp, ugly. "Do I look over a century old?"
"Your mother could bend time," he said simply. "She moved you. Hid you between years."
My mouth went dry.
Something in me wanted to believe him just so I could hate him properly.
The vampire stepped closer.
"I'll raise you as a vampire," he said softly. "Come with me."
I put on my helm.
Then I smiled behind it.
"I'll pass."His eyes narrowed.
And suddenly he moved—not vanished.
Moved.
Too fast to follow.Claws scraped my breastplate, searching for a gap.
My armour held.
He hissed, frustrated.
"What are you wearing?"
"Something I made," I said, and my voice steadied. "That's what happens when you let a blacksmith live."
He came again.
Again the armour held.
And with every strike he threw, my body learned his rhythm.
Not magic.
Practice.
Adaptation.
I began to sense where he would appear.
A pressure shift.
A wrongness in the air.
I threw my knife into that wrongness.
It struck his chest.
He screamed like a dying bird.
He ripped it out, panting, eyes burning.
"How did you know?" he snarled. "How did you get faster so quickly?"
"By chasing someone faster," I said. "Simple."
He stopped playing.
His body twisted.
Skin darkened.
Arms lengthened.
Talons grew.
Wings tore out as if his bones were opening.
A monster stood where the man had been.
"Join the Guild," it grated, voice no longer human, "or die."
I swallowed.
Then I lifted my sword.
"I'll take my chances with death."
We clashed.
He was faster.
But he was angry.
And anger is a rhythm you can learn.
When he tried to trap me among branches, I did something stupid.
Something I didn't even know I could do.
I closed my eyes.
Focused on the heat in my blood.
Imagined myself at the fire.
And the world snapped—I stood by my dying coals again.
The monster froze.
"What… how?"
I didn't answer.
I grabbed a burning branch and threw it.
Fire caught his torn breeches.
He screeched, stumbling back.
I ran in, and this time I didn't hesitate.
One cut.
His head fell.
His body didn't stop moving.
So I did what a blacksmith does when something refuses to die.
I broke it down into parts.
Arms.
Legs.
Distance.
Then I fed the fire until there was nothing left but ash and stink.
When the sun began to threaten the horizon, I exhaled and called to the energy inside me again.
I thought of my horse.
And the world snapped—I was in the saddle.
My horse was alive.
Breathing.
Calm.
Like death had been a bad dream.
I rested my forehead against his mane.
"You don't mind if I nap on you, do you?" I whispered. "Be gentle."
Because I was too tired to hold on tight.
"That guy won't die, but judging by his speed of regeneration, it should take him two weeks to get back to his peak."
That's enough time for me to finish my business with the Hunters.