The vampire homeworld of Tilrigen was in chaos, with fear and panic pervading through every layer of society, and it was never clearer to see than in the royal castle at Riogven. There was a sense of doom surrounding every vampire, from the members of the aristocracy that had gathered anxiously in the main ballroom down to the servants preparing their meals in the kitchen.

The aura of hopelessness lay thickest outside the king's chambers, where a small group awaited news with pure trepidation. Thilda sat crying on a bench, Lannetta hugging her in comfort. Maxim paced nearby, threatening to wear a line down the carpet, while his father Lex stood still, so still in fact that one would have thought he was carved of stone. Of the king's twelve generals, six were dead. Duke Brennus was alive but currently dealing with the aftermath of the attack on Earth along with two others, and the other three were now fretting in front of the door to the king's bedroom.

Inside, Mathias stood solemnly by his father's bedside, staring at Gaius' charred body, disfigured beyond recognition. Not an inch of skin was spared. If it were not for the shallow rise and fall of his father's chest, Mathias was certain the silhouette on the bed could not be a living person.

Barely speaking above a whisper, he addressed the only other person in the room, the royal doctor, "How bad?"

She sighed tiredly in reply, and Mathias's heart sank to the floor. The doctor had just spent hours carefully cleaning the burns and applying healing salves. "Your Highness, I will not sugar-coat the truth. The king cannot heal from this. His body is falling apart."

Just as the doctor said this, a dark speck floated away from the king's arm to land on the white sheet below. Ash. Mathias steeled himself. "Is there nothing you can do?"

"I am no Healer, and most unfortunately, none of the descendants of Lucius Bloodreign have inherited the Talent to heal. On his own, His Majesty's body cannot reverse the effects of this much sun damage. It is just too much." The vampire lowered her head. "I am truly sorry, Your Highness."

Mathias remained stoic. "Tell no one of this. Should the generals ask, tell them the king is in critical but stable condition." The doctor nodded unquestioningly and departed. The moment he was alone, Mathias crumpled at his father's bedside, tears sprouting in his eyes. He quickly blinked them away. "Father," he called out, but the king remained motionless.

Knowing that the others were awaiting, Mathias got up slowly and headed out. Thilda sprang from her seat to stand in front of him, clutching at his hands, "I want to see Father!"

"I am sorry, sister, but he is gravely ill. We must wait a while more before visitors are allowed."

"How is His Majesty's condition?" One of the generals asked gravely.

Mathias downplayed his father's condition, "He is critical but stable. My father is a strong man. I believe he can get through this."

"My Prince," the general said, "while the king recuperates, the duties of the kingdom now fall to you. How should we proceed with the enemy now that they have such a dangerous weapon to use against our greatest weakness?"

"Reconvene tonight to discuss this with me." The generals bowed and left. Mathias looked around at those who remained.

"Tutor Orlov, could you see to Thilda's safety for me?" The older man complied, taking a distraught Thilda with him. Now only Lannetta and Maxim remained. "I need you to guard this door. Let no one in," Mathias told Maxim, who nodded grimly. Lannetta and Mathias headed back inside before the prince turned the lock on the door with an audible click. Lannetta gasped, standing frozen in place near the door when she saw their father. Mathias remained silent beside her.

"Father cannot survive this," she said in a whisper, seeing through the lie.

"No, he cannot. Not without a Healer. But no one else knows this yet." He paused to let the words sink in. "Emi is a Healer."

Lannetta turned her head so fast he half-expected her to suffer from whiplash. Her sharp gaze held his own. "Will she willingly step foot onto vampire lands?"

"Yes," he said simply.

"Then go to her."

Emi was still at the cave when Mathias came. She ran to him, wrapping him tightly in her arms as relief washed over her. Hours had passed by without her knowing if Mathias was safe, fear and anxiety eating away at her sanity. "I was so worried!" She spoke into his shoulder, the words sounding muffled and hollow.

"Emi..."

She looked up at him, seeing the look of pain on his face. "My father is dying." He said no more, but she immediately understood his silent plea. "Take me to him, and I will do what I can."

They travelled back to the king's bed-chamber, where Emilia saw the king and gulped. Never had she had to heal someone so severely injured before. Emilia noticed Lannetta standing by a corner and nodded at her.

"Can you help him?" The princess asked.

Emilia sat on a chair beside the king's bed. "I will try."

Mathias and Lannetta stood side by side, holding hands, as they watched the witch begin her healing. At first, nothing seemed to be happening. Emilia was exerting much energy, judging from the way beads of sweat began to line her face, yet the king's condition showed no changes.

Mathias was beginning to lose hope when Lannetta suddenly squeezed his hand. She eagerly whispered, "Look at Father's feet!"

The soles had begun to change colour, from charred black to a raw pink. Mathias could see similar changes happening on Gaius' fingers and scalp. With bated breath, he let himself hope once more. Emilia continued healing for another two hours before finally leaning back in her seat, exhausted. "This is all I can do for your father," she said weakly, swaying in her seat.

Mathias picked up the little witch and held her tightly in his arms before glancing at the king. He was no longer charred, the skin now various shades of pink with delicate veins of red and green showing through. "Thank you, Emi."

She did not reply, having fallen asleep in his arms. Mathias opened a portal directly to her room and warily stepped through. Luckily, it was empty. He hurried over to the bed and gently laid her down, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead and pulling the quilt up snugly around her before returning to the castle. Lannetta sat by the bed with an expression of relief as she stared at the king. "This much, he can recover from," she said confidently.

"In due time," Mathias replied realistically, knowing it would be a long while before their father fully recovered. Sun-related injuries were tough on vampires.

Mathias told Maxim to stay with Lannetta before hurrying off to meet the generals. He was dead tired, his body forced to heal from sun damage himself, but he could not afford rest. Luckily for the prince, no trace of blistered skin remained since his wounds were not deep.

In the situation room, the remaining three generals had not been idle, drawing up various plans to protect Hjem. Mathias took charge, working with them late into the night and smoothing out any kinks in the plans until he was satisfied.

As the meeting drew to a close, Mathias said, "One last thing. I will don my father's armour when we ride out to battle. My Talent and Father's are both fire attributes, so it will be easy to pretend to be the king."

He looked at each vampire squarely. "The enemy must not find out that he is injured," he said, much to the disagreement of the rest. "Your Highness, you should stay here. You are the last heir to the throne," one of the generals voiced in concern.

"I have my sisters. They carry the Bloodreign name, yes?"

The general rephrased, "As the only male heir...."

Mathias scoffed. "Generals, do you not think it is time for us to ignore such a rule? By right, Lannetta should have been the one to govern our people. I will be the first to admit she is far better than I am at this," he gestured to the maps and papers on the table, "and even Thilda shows great aptitude for governance. I know many of you think so too in your hearts, and I hold no ill will against you for it." The generals were quiet, not denying what he had said. He tiredly dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

Finally alone, Mathias sat down at the table with his head in his hands. So much had happened so quickly, leaving him little time other than to deal with the aftermath of the attack, but now that he had a moment to himself, there was time to reflect.

Various emotions were trying to outdo one another in his mind, but the winner, by far, was regret. 'I should never have kept my Talent a secret. I was such a fool to think I could keep the impasse going. Of course, the witches and wolves were tirelessly doing the opposite! I am so stupid. And now, Father suffers in agony, Hjem is under attack, and countless vampires are dead. How am I not to blame for this?'

Guilt was the runner-up to regret. Mathias held himself culpable, vowing not to make the same mistake twice. As Mathias lifted his head from his hands, the once bright, hope-filled eyes were replaced by something darker, taking on an icy hardness that matched his hardening resolve. The pacifist in him was dead. If the witches and wolves wanted all-out war, he would give them what they desired. This time, he would not hold back.

*****

At the Feronia Manor in Onirique, a group of human servants were gathered together in the kitchen. Silently, the head servant held out a fist of sticks for the others to draw lots. The other five servants made their pick, and the one with the shortest stick let out a yelp of despair.

"You unlucky bugger," one of the servants said sympathetically while the others took turns patting the sandy-haired man on the shoulder. The head servant handed the unfortunate man a tray prepared for afternoon tea. Reluctantly, the man accepted it before heading toward the library. Standing before the large hardwood double doors, he took a deep breath, said a silent prayer to whichever god was listening and knocked before entering.

Seated at a long oval table was the young mistress of the house while her father paced about the table, a muscle ticking violently on the right side of his neck. As he hurried to place the tray on the table, the sandy-haired servant tried but failed to shut out Paul Feronia's angry conversation with Emilia.

"—are avoiding our attacks! It is as if the globes vanish into thin air! Bloody vampires! I should have known they had an ace up their sleeve. And we still have no clue as to the whereabouts of our missing soldiers! What have those bloodsuckers done to them?!" Emilia repressed a shiver as she poured her father a cup of tea while he continued his rant, "There must be a weakness we could exploit. If only we could figure out a way to remove those bloody clouds that cover the city! So what if an act of self-sacrifice was involved in making them?! There must be some way of blowing them away!"

Paul raked a hand through his hair, "Even worse are the ambushes that have hit us over the past days. Already our losses are in the hundreds. The werewolf army casualties are even worse than us."

Tea splashed onto the oval table's surface as Emilia's hands trembled at this sudden revelation, leaving her utterly thunderstruck. She quickly wiped the mess using the tea towel lining the tray before her father noticed. 'Hundreds of witches dead?! Mathias, why?!' The last she had seen Mathias had been a few days ago when she healed the king. How could it be that in this time, Mathias had struck back, killing so many?

Paul took the cup from his daughter, sipped the drink, grimaced in disgust and then flung the cup and its contents at the retreating servant who had just reached the door. The cup hit the hardwood, shattering into pieces, some of which hit the young man in the face. Almost immediately, blood began trickling down the shocked man's left cheek as he stood in place, too afraid to move.

"You call that tea?! A dog's piss would taste better!" Paul shouted as Emilia rushed towards the poor servant. "Father, enough!" She grabbed the man by the hand and left, pulling him down the corridor until they were some safe distance from the library.

"Hold still," she ordered before placing a hand on his cheek to begin healing. A few seconds later, the wounds were healed; all that remained as evidence of the unfortunate incident were the dried blood streaks down his cheeks and a droplet or two staining his sandy hair.

"I apologise for Master Paul's outburst," she told the man, who nodded mutely before softly asking, "May I be excused, my Lady?"

Emilia smiled awkwardly before nodding. She watched as the man scurried away, on the verge of breaking into a run. Sighing, she turned back to the library. 'If he keeps this up, soon there will be no one else left working for us.'

After pacifying Paul for another hour, Emilia snuck out to the cave, thankful that her father was too preoccupied with Committee matters to notice her absence, while at the same time hoping Mathias would show up. Fortuitously, her timing was perfect. Just as she entered the cave, a portal appeared, and Mathias stuck his head through. "Come with me," he said. Emilia hurried through the portal, finding herself back in the vampire king's bed-chamber.

King Gaius looked the same as before, although his breathing seemed deeper, more regular. Pleased with the minor improvement after checking on her patient, Emilia turned to Mathias with a grin, "I missed you."

Mathias wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Me too," he answered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Tucked into his shirt, Emilia unexpectedly inhaled a familiar smell. While wrinkling her nose, she pulled back abruptly, "Why do you smell of something... charred?"

Instead of answering, Mathias let go and crossed over to a plush armchair before collapsing on it. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Emilia followed to stand before him. She had not noticed earlier, but the young vampire looked haggard, with dark circles prominent under his eyes. His normally neat hair was greasy and tangled in some parts, a very unbecoming sight of the ordinarily pristine youth.

Remembering Paul's earlier outburst, she exhaled slowly before asking tentatively. "Have you been using your Talent to kill witches and wolves?"

At her words, Mathias's eyes snapped open, intensely fixing on her. They say all it takes is one significant experience to change a person. After all, was it not true that past memories tended to influence present actions and shape future choices? Facing each other, Emilia could see the changes in the man she loved, and it was like a stab in the heart. The light in his eyes seemed to have faded, letting unknown shadows in.

He answered her calmly, "So what if I did? The enemy trespassed past our borders. We are rightfully defending ourselves."

Emilia's jaw fell open. She was struck silent for several minutes. What shocked her was not the acknowledgement of his actions but that he had done it so nonchalantly. When she finally found her voice along with her anger, she forcefully said, "I did not warn you of the attack just so that you may do the same to the witches and wolves!"

Mathias exploded in a fury, his voice loud and harsh and raw. "And what would you have me do, Emi?! Sit around while my city is obliterated? Do you know how many vampires are dead because of this attack? Just because they are now nothing but dust does not mean their lives are meaningless!"

Emilia's shock grew evermore. Never before had she seen him filled with anger. And never once in all their years together had he yelled at her. In a daze, she replied, "I never said vampire lives are unimportant. All lives are important. Witches. Werewolves. Vampires. All of them. The killing must stop." She drew a shaky breath, "I only want to end this pointless war."

He stood up abruptly, "And you think I do not? I have tried! For years I have done all that I could, but it is all for nought because the witches and werewolves are right by my doorstep, waiting to exterminate everyone in the city! Am I supposed to welcome them in for the slaughter?" Rage made his voice unsteady. Overflowing anger made him pick up a chair and fling it against the far wall. It was smashed into a cloud of splinters and wood shavings instantly. Emilia's shocked breath escaped in a harsh-sounding wheeze.

Mathias was a mess of emotions. It was as if a crack had formed over his heart, and feelings he had thought were repressed, hidden away from the surface, now seeped through like blood from a deep wound. The hurt had to be released, and Emilia was the only one around to witness it.

He rounded on her, blue eyes ablaze, "Do you know what I hated the most about losing my mother? Not being able to see her one last time. All that was left of her was some ash, barely enough to fill a child's fist. Everything else was blown away by the wind. After this attack that nearly killed my father, all I saw was ash littering the ground, even beneath my boots, and I could not help but think, 'I now stand upon what is left of someone else's loved one'."

In all the years she had known him, Mathias never spoke about his mother. 'Not even once,' the witch realised with a start. Emilia took a step forward, "Mathias—"

"We were foolish to think we could change the course of history," he interrupted her. "I blame it on youthful naivety, but no more. I no longer want peace. If it is blood that the enemies want, then I will gladly bleed out every last drop from their bodies!"

The witch flinched, choking back an anguished cry. "Please, Mathias, this is not the way." She stared at him imploringly, crying out in her heart, 'My love, my heart, do not repeat the mistakes of those before us. Do not give in to the hate!'

Behind her, a portal opened. Mathias said, "Go home, Emilia. Go back to Onirique." Emilia's shoulders drooped with the weight of his words. He was dismissing her.