I had thrown myself into a few more flights before finally abandoning my craving for any semblance of sparring. The brawls had left me unsatisfied; the blows I'd taken were hardly more than a nuisance, a few gashes and cuts marrying my face—wounds that a few sips of blood would mend within hours. Frustration simmered within me as I ascended the cold, unyielding concrete steps from the subterranean chambers below, emerging into the world above through the heavy front door.

I paused at the entrance, casting my gaze up and down the deserted street. I wasn't searching for anything in particular, merely savouring the rare solitude. The pale morning light washed over the cobblestones, casting long shadows and bathing the world in a soft glow. The sun's presence ensured that most vampires remained in their sanctuaries, making these early hours my own personal haven of peace. There was a strange comfort in these quiet moments, a feeling I could hardly put into words. Being able to stand here, to feel the breeze on my skin and hear the distant hum of a waking city, stirred something deep inside me.

For centuries, I had dwelled in the darkness, hidden away as the world above evolved and shifted, leaving me untouched and unchanged. The sun was our greatest enemy, its touch a burning agony that seared our flesh. The uncontrollable thirst for human blood was another. It had once been said that vampires could live among humans, but that notion had proven more a fantasy than reality. Long ago, when many of our kind still held power, wealth, and influence, we had established hidden enclaves beneath the earth—secret havens where we could exist beyond the reach of sunlight and temptation. As human awareness of our existence grew, so too did the danger, forcing us deeper into our underground refuges. There, we became shadows, performing monotonous tasks, far from the curious eyes of the humans who had come to fear us.

It was a ceaseless cycle, this dance between light and shadow. When we were free beneath the sky, we longed for the safety of our dark abodes. Yet, when entombed beneath the ground, we yearned for the touch of the sun, the feel of the wind, and the sights and sounds of the world above. We were creatures caught between worlds, forever desiring what we could not have.

I found myself wandering into a small, tranquil park nestled in the heart of the city. This serene oasis had often been transformed for city celebrations, a place where laughter and music mingled under the open sky and people gathered to listen to the passing mayor's remarks. Even now, remnants of past revelries lingered—delicate strings of fairy lights hung from the tall, bare trees, a whimsical touch from the last festival that still whispered of joy long gone.

I moved slowly, my gaze fixed on my feet as I traced the familiar path. Above me, the sky unfolded in a breathtaking display of reds and pinks, casting a warm blanket of light splendour over the city. The sharp, skeletal branches of the trees reached skyward, silhouetted against the vivid colours, their starkness a stark contrast to the beauty above. They stood as silent sentinels, allowing the colours to bleed into my mind, filling me with a fleeting sense of peace. The darkness of night had relinquished its hold, retreating before the oncoming dawn, making way for the day to take its rightful place.

My steps faltered as I stumbled through the fresh snow that had blanketed the ground overnight, the paths we had carved out now lost beneath a pristine layer of white. The sky, seemingly mocking, promised more snow to fill the tracks I was making, erasing my presence as if I had never been. The first rays of the sun crept over the horizon, flooding the sky with a blaze of light. As the sunlight climbed my body, a shudder ran through me—a reflexive reaction I hadn't entirely shed. Though I had been safe from the sun's searing touch for a long time, the memory of its agony lingered, an invisible scar that would remain etched into my mind until my existence eventually came to an end.

Before the emergence had swept through the city and before the witches had retreated into their hidden sanctuaries, severing all ties with the rest of us, I sought the immunity we all desperately craved. The sun was one of the few remaining threats in this world, a relentless adversary that could bring even the most powerful among us to our knees. Central, the ruling council, had branded us as "crimes against nature," taking a perverse satisfaction in the sun being the last loyal knight standing in their defence. To them, the sun was a righteous guardian; to us, it was nothing short of a death sentence. A vampire exposed to its light would be paralyzed in agony, their flesh burning away in a slow, excruciating death that we all feared.

It had taken countless attempts, endless rituals performed by witches I had forged alliances with, but finally, I had been granted the immunity I so desperately desired. Yet, it was not just any witch who succeeded; it was her—the one I loved beyond reason, the one whose presence had once brought light to my darkened existence. If only I could find her now, perhaps I would feel whole again, no longer a shadow of myself. She had given me the gift of walking freely beneath the sun, of savouring its warmth without fear, and in doing so, she had granted me a piece of humanity I thought lost forever.

But we were forced to let each other go, torn apart by the emergence that left witches abandoning everything. Despite the passage of time, the pain of our separation still lingered, a wound that refused to heal. I tried to bury my longing for her, to ignore the ache in my chest, but the desire to see her again was a constant whisper in my mind, a desperate urge I struggled to silence. In those rare moments when I felt the sun's gentle caress, I could almost forget the centuries of darkness, could almost believe I had not entirely lost my soul to the venom that had tainted it. Yet, even in the light, my thoughts always turned to her, the woman who had risked everything for me, the one I would have died for, the one I still loved with a ferocity that defied the ages.

"Nika," a somewhat unfamiliar voice broke through my thoughts, forcing them to a halt. "How interesting to find you here." The voice persisted, its tone sly and coaxing, compelling me to turn and face its owner. I hesitated for a moment, then turned slowly, just in time to catch her arm, preventing her from stumbling to the ground.

As I steadied her, I realised the voice wasn't as unfamiliar as I had first thought. Just forgettable.

"Hello, Imogen," I greeted her politely, offering her the bare minimum of courtesy, a courtesy she rarely deserved. We'd crossed paths a few times over the past couple of months, but that wasn't unusual. I had met plenty of higher-ups from different bloodlines, each one vying for power and influence. Imogen, however, had a different approach—more direct, more reckless. She was a dark-haired beauty with disarmingly sweet grey eyes that belied the ruthlessness beneath her surface.

I'd been indulging in everything Ruby had to offer—jugs of potent alcohol, willing necks to feed from in shadowed corners, and the intoxicating atmosphere of a place where people came to lose themselves. Giorti was my refuge, my club of choice, where I could drown out the noise of the world and bask in the chaotic revelry. That night, however, Imogen had ruined everything. She stormed into Giorti, her presence like a sudden chill, and made her way to the bar. I watched as she leaned over the counter, her lips curling into a smile that held no warmth, and asked Roy, the bartender at the time, for a recommendation on who might be up for a good fight.

Roy's eyes flicked to me, his disdain obvious, before he snapped them back to her, rolling his eyes. "I'm not helping, Imogen," he said flatly.

She didn't take kindly to his refusal. I should have known she wouldn't. It was barely a minute later when one of her lackeys leaped over the bar, driving his fist through Roy's chest. I saw it unfold as if in slow motion, the glint of malice in the lackey's eyes, the sound of tearing flesh, the look of shock on Roy's face. I was too late to save him, but not too late to exact revenge. I ripped the heart from the lackey's chest, a savage, instinctual response. If I hadn't done that, maybe Imogen wouldn't have kept her eyes on me. But then again, if it wasn't her, it would have been someone else. I was seen as an asset by many bloodlines, a weapon forged from the extensive spells I'd sought from witches over my long life. My natural abilities, combined with those spells, made me a force to be reckoned with.

After the war, I'd chosen to pursue the quieter pleasures of life, seeking moments of peace rather than power. I had fought for a world where survival was almost certain, rather than a world where survival was a constant struggle. It was a subtle difference, but one that meant everything to me.

Imogen moved with a predatory grace, her every step measured, as though she had all the time in the world. With a hand adjusting her wide-brimmed hat, she closed the distance between us in a few large, graceful strides. She recovered from the near fall with such elegance that I couldn't help but think it had all been a deliberate ploy to draw me closer.

"I've come to offer you a proposal," she said, her words tumbling out so quickly they nearly overlapped, even for what was clearly a well-rehearsed speech. Her eyes were fixed on my back as I subtly pulled ahead of her, uninterested in slowing down. I wasn't surprised that those were the first words out of her mouth—Imogen had never been one for pleasantries or idle chatter.

When I ignored her statement, she quickened her pace to catch up. The snow began to fall again, soft flakes drifting from the sky, and I noticed her steps becoming more unsteady, as though the cold was seeping into her bones. She'd once mentioned hating the cold when she was human, but this seemed like something more. Her movements lacked their usual fluidity, as if she were dragging herself through each step.

I'd recently learned of her latest schemes to capture my attention, and I knew she wouldn't succeed this time either. Especially now, as I wasn't exactly dressed for a winter stroll. I'd discarded my jacket and boots for lighter attire after returning from the blood run—just a t-shirt and thin-soled shoes, hardly suitable for the heavy snowfall if not just for the sheer inconvenience.. Imogen, on the other hand, was bundled in a thick winter coat and sturdy army boots, her figure wrapped tightly against the cold that neither of us should feel. Her aversion to the cold was curious, and I couldn't help but find it suspicious.

Clearing my throat, I offered her my arm, which she took eagerly. Her grip was tight, her fingers digging into the skin as if to anchor herself. We walked together, her steps falling in line with mine, but the usual skip in her stride was absent. "Go ahead," I prompted, knowing she would not be here without a purpose.

It didn't seem to be a coincidence that Imogen would be here. The girl was blushed in the face as though she'd been running around with purpose, and with the limited blood supply she had this was even more obvious. Her eyes were fixed on me, but she was struggling to find the words to start the conversation she wanted to have. I sensed this would be a long walk.

"We've discussed this before, Nika," she began, her voice holding a hint of urgency. "We've heard from so many sources that you have the perfect assets to lead a successful revolution. Even without a formal title, people look up to you, they admire your presence. And then there are those who speak of your strength, your ability to take on anyone. We'd be fools not to try to recruit you quickly," she continued, smiling a smile that I did not return. The very mention of another revolution made my skin crawl for many reasons. The first was the memories it brought of the man I'd been during the last one. That man had sewn chaos, left a trail of bodies, and thrived in the turmoil. Those were actions I'd prefer to leave buried in the past, the memories fading like smoke as time passed.

The second reason, only slightly less important, was the thought of Ruaidhri's reaction. He'd never forgive me if I became entangled in another conflict like the first, much less if I played a part in igniting it.

"A revolution? How tedious," I replied, my voice dismissive as I guided her away from a fire hydrant her eyes had been too preoccupied to notice. She shifted closer, her other arm reaching out to rest on my chest, halting my steps. Her hands moved to sit on my shoulders, looking up at me cautiously.

"You were a crucial part of the first revolution," she pointed out as I lifted her hat to get a better look at her face. Her eyes held a familiar fire, but I knew better than to be drawn in. I took her hands in mine, gently but firmly moving them away, dropping them to her sides as I resumed walking. "An instigator, in fact. What made you so unhappy then that no longer does now?" Her voice dropped to a murmur, perhaps unintentionally impressed by my past. I was vaguely surprised by her knowledge of events that had taken place before she'd even been turned.

"What makes you unhappy now?" I asked, genuinely curious. I understood the transition hadn't been easy for many, but I would always choose the freedom to walk under the sun over spending eternity buried underground. What use was immortality if it meant living in the same darkness one would find in a grave?

"Some vampires aren't happy with the peace we've made with the werewolves or the humans. They demand more—they want to take it all," she said, her voice rising with every word, a crescendo of frustration. "Their numbers are growing, Nika. They're angry because the blood supply isn't enough to sustain us anymore. Just last month, they 'forgot' to feed fifteen vampires. What happens when they forget more? What then, Nika?"

The way she had spoken the last line sent a shiver down my spine. The word forgotten began to echo in my mind, resonating like a warning bell. Her tone seemed carefully crafted to conceal something, as if she knew more than she was letting on, but didn't want me to realise it. Even her shifting weight, moving subtly from one foot to the other, seemed to beckon me to ask more, to probe deeper.

It didn't take me long to decide I wasn't interested in whatever response she had. There was nothing appealing in her cryptic games. "What we have up here is a far cry better than down there, Imogen," I said, my voice steady, dismissive.

"No, it isn't," she shot back, her voice rising with a raw edge. "I dreamed of coming back up here, of living a real life, Nika. I didn't realise it would be a life where I'm kept like a pet in a cage. This isn't living." She gestured wildly to the snow-dusted walls around us, her frustration spilling over. For the first time, I found myself agreeing with her.

In those early days, it had felt like we'd only swapped one cage for another, its bars invisible but just as confining. That feeling had only begun to fade when the borders between Eastern and Central opened up, allowing some semblance of freedom.

"People were dying underground, Imogen. I was dying down there. At least up here, there's a hope of survival," I countered, my voice growing firmer. I thought of the vampires who had refused to leave the safety of the underground, who shunned feeding on humans out of fear or some misplaced morality, wasting away until they were forced to feed or died trying. The only alternative had been feeding on werewolves, a dangerous game that often ended in death for one party or the other.

"Hold onto your doubts, Nika. Something tells me you'll need them," she said, each word slow and deliberate, her eyes narrowing with unspoken meaning. When I tried to brush past her, she pushed me back, her hand firm against my chest. She leaned against a lamppost, arms crossed, her face a mask of defiance and scorn.

"You had me in the first revolution, Imogen. You won't get me in the second," I told her, my voice flat, my expression cold. I looked past her, fixing my gaze on the sun, wishing its light could burn away her presence.

She was silent for a long moment, her eyes glistening as she thought, the tension between us thickening the air. The silence was a bitter relief, a small reprieve that almost allowed me to imagine walking away, leaving her and her schemes behind. Then she grunted, breaking the quiet.

"We shall see!" she spat, her voice dripping with disdain as she shoved past me, her movements sharp and angry. If those were her parting words, I couldn't say I'd be disappointed.

The moment she was out of earshot, I found myself back at Seventeen. The other vampires wandered the halls in a blood-drunk haze, their movements sluggish and aimless. Below, I could hear the grunts of those still venting their aggression in the sparring rooms, their sounds of combat travelling through the floors, tempting me to join. The urge to fight tugged at me, a familiar itch, but another need overrode it.

A burning pain radiates up and down my arms, pulling me toward the lounge. There, I found Kara sprawled on a worn couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her fingers clawed at her skin, her eyes glazed, her lips stained a darker red than I remembered from the night before. The sight made my stomach twist, and I wondered where our blood supplies were, how much we had left.

Without thinking, I pulled her up and wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. She mumbled incoherent words, her voice a shaky whisper until she managed to form a question. "Where have you been?"

I considered lying, brushing off her question, but found myself spilling the truth instead. I told her about Imogen, about the whispered talk of revolution. As I spoke, her nails dug into my skin, her grip tightening. I thought it was anger, the idea of another uprising crawling under her skin as it did mine.

But then she spoke words I hadn't expected, words that froze me in place. "You should join."

Such a simple sentence, yet it shattered every impression I'd held of her. Kara, who had only recently embraced this cursed existence, was choosing to lean into the darkness, letting her vampiric nature overshadow her humanity.

I ignored her words, letting her rest her head against my chest. I hoped it was just the lingering effects of her blood high, a temporary madness that would fade. By tonight, I prayed, she would have forgotten what she'd said.

Hopefully.