IT FELT AS IF I WERE ALIVE AGAIN. Dark, thick liquid trickles down my arm from the open cut. I stare at my blood-soaked hands that shook as I held the blade that I had forced into my flesh. My hunger for blood has become unbearable—gut-wrenching—to the point where I had dragged my own dagger across my skin to drink my own. It was extremely unpleasant, however, but it released some of the fiery pain deep in my stomach.

I shook my head back and forth slowly, throwing the dagger to the ground, suddenly disgusted with myself. I hated to drink my own blood. Well, I’m not even sure if it’s considered blood that much. It’s black liquid that has venom in it, which is harmless to me.

Interrupting me in mid-thought, the blade made a puff of dust enter the atmosphere when it hit the dirt. The particles danced in the air delicately around me, making me smile slightly. But it didn’t last long.

Crazed and thirsty, I tossed my blanket of dried-blood hair over my shoulder harshly as I slammed my arm to my mouth to swallow the warm flow of liquid.

I felt a sense of energy charge its way through my veins when I drank, making me hungry for more. I cringed at the taste it left in my mouth even though I needed more; desired for more. My lips parted from my flesh as I felt my skin heal over quickly beneath.

Without thinking, a low growl ripples from down in my throat as I throw myself forward into a full-blown run. It felt good to feel my strong muscles moving and flexing with my bones.

As I sprint at the speed of light, the florescent glow of the full moon that hung high in the sky cast a long black shadow in the night air, making my figure seem eerily slender and exquisite.

The feeling of the wind weaving itself through my thick hair made me pleased, for I loved the sense of speed.

But, when I was not alone, I would have to hide myself from them, for I do not know if my Lord is back.

The creature who had changed me was hunting me, thirsting to get his hands on my soul, to destroy my eternity on this Earth. He had changed me over five hundred years ago, at the age of twenty five.

His name was Shiva; The Destroyer. I grew up believing him as my true God, but only as I had gotten older, I learned the real truth of him. I loved him in my childhood as a Reckoner—what we vampires call humans - and still do, even though he is vile. I curse myself for loving his ways, obeying his commands he escorts me too, and following them. But I am so close to him, sometimes I feel as if I were his wife or soulmate. Every time I become wild or raged, I think of him, and he calms me instantly. He is the only thing on this world that will. It puzzles me often.

I remember the foul odor that lingers onto his skin to this day; musty and burnt-like. But his exquisite beauty makes up for it. His long, shallow cheek bones made his pale skin seem as if it was stretched over his delicate features. His long, dark hair that falls to his shoulders swishes in the lightest breezes. His black, pit-less eyes – a sign that he was in fact immortal – shone each moonless night, making all of my nightmares seem to come alive and haunt me. He is often seen garlanded with a snake, and wears elephant, tiger, or deer skin. Also, he bears the crescent of the fifth moon on his forehead. Most times I have seen him; he has a small drum called a Damaru that is shaped like an hourglass that hangs off a string tied to his neck. He also is smears ashes all over his body, and has three lines of ash on his forehead.

The night he changed me plays back in my mind very clearly whenever it crosses my mind. He made me follow him into a dark forest on a gloomy night when the moon was only a small crest, soon having me sit down on the cold ground next to him. He said we had to wait until it was pitch dark, or the humans would seek us out. I was confused by this, and asked him what he meant by this multiple times, but he would not answer. He said I would learn soon, that I would figure it all out on my own. I believed him for a short time and went along with it unwillingly, until he started to transform me.

I cried at the top of my lungs as he opened one of his thick veins in his wrist with a single long, sharp finger nail. The blood welled up and slowly progressed down his arm. I thrashed my arms and legs around to try to escape, but he only pinned me down to the ground and covered my mouth, muting my cries for help when doing so. He shoved his wrist into my mouth and forced me to drink it. I choked on it as it simmered in the back of my throat, only soon entering extreme pain throughout my entire body. It felt as if I were being electrocuted with extreme volts, my body shaking from its force.

The date of my changing was October 17th, year of 1510. I shall never forget that date.

I got deathly afraid of him after the experience of the changing. I decided to keep my distance from him for a while, but he would not stay away. He would constantly be near me with a grievousexpression on his face. I did not understand why he did, and still don’t.

            As I was deep in thought about my creator and nearly flied across the forest, I saw a dark figure flash past me. I skid to an immediate halt and whip my head around to see where it may be headed.

Another Sorcerer? I thought, sudden panic flooding my emotionless black eyes. Only an immortal could travel at speeds such as this.

I had not seen others of my kind in over three centuries - except for my creator, and I knew for a fact that he had died long ago. Or perhaps he did not.

The stranger was gone as soon they had appeared - in less than a quarter of a second.

Shiva was the only one of my kind at the time of my changing, so he and I would have to be the only vampires. Of course, unless, there are others of my kind out there that I do not know about?

But, see, creating a Sorcerer a vampire - is not what the humans think it is. It is a fairly complicated and precise procedure, and takes a lot of strength to complete.

Firstly, it does not take a simple bite in the neck. As explained earlier, you must open your veins that pump black liquid – venom filled blood, but it is harmless us vampires if we must drink it – and the Reckoner must consume it, drink it. It makes them dizzy and disoriented; having them not know what is soon to come of them. They soon encounter extreme pain throughout their body, screaming in agony from the stinging sensations. It lasts for at least an hour, and soon their body gets used to the venom flowing through their system, setting them free of the pain. Then, alas, they have been changed for eternity.

            I scan the wilderness with my amazing eye sight that can see a tiny pebble from a mile away perfectly, for any signs of the intruder; nothing. I snort loudly and narrow my eyes, growing suspiciously impatient.

I could feel my blood hardening quickly to my arm, freezing from the cold air. My breathing was hard and uneven, forming a puff of smoke near my blood-coated mouth.

I slowly picked up the knife that I threw to the ground earlier, examining the blood that soaked it.

The blood was still warm, even though it was on the ground for only a few minutes. I was puzzled by this, for the night air was frigid and chilling, the wind blowing at a strong force, making my hair fall from my shoulders and into the wind. It danced on my face and tickled it slightly.                                                                                                                               

            I look up from the blade after a few moments and hear a loud swooshing coming from the darkness around me. I immediately go into alert mode, freezing in place like a statue, readying the blade in my hand.

Suddenly I hear a voice in the back of my head scream, Kali, run, it’s him! I knew instantly who my conscious was warning me of: The Destroyer.

My hands trembled in fear, the dagger still in grip. I was surprised because of this though; I did not get scared easily; for I frighten others and they run off the instant they set eyes on me.

My eyes shot back and forth in the darkness, though I could see perfectly in the shadows. I could not see anyone, just hear them. I strained my vision as far as I could go; at least two miles into the woods; still nothing.

I sneered in annoyance and threw the knife at a tree. It slices its way through the bark, shooting out the other side from my extreme strength. The large tree falls to the ground with a loud crash. I couldn’t help but smile sheepishly at this sight. I loved to test my strength.

Well, another blade down the drain. I thought, disappointed in myself. I always would throw my knives all over the place at objects to see what would come of them from my strength. It always ended badly, loosing it, leaving me with having to find or buy another.

I was too immature for myself at times, too childish. I guess it may be because I miss my childhood, my true life. Though I do not mind being an immortal, having to be stuck at the age of twenty-five for the rest of eternity, never to age and get withered and look like a raisin. Yet at the same time, I would not mind it. To be able to grow old and weak, get rid of the strength that I am so used too. Feel what humans do. To cherish the time I had left of this blasted Earth. To cherish the ground I myself walk on for once in my long lifetime.

Though I knew that could never happen. Even if I prayed three days straight to Lord Shiva, he would never be able to transform me back…