Leaning against a half-open window overlooking an ocean of blue sky, a young woman closes her eyes and sighs softly. She takes advantage of the fresh, invigorating wind blowing through her golden hair, tousling her hair as she goes, while her fox ears twitch to the sound of the surrounding air. Her gaze fell on the grate separating her from the thick winter coat covering the ground below the tower, but that was no longer important to her. A smile spreads across her beautiful face, just at the thought of the happiness that awaits her and that she has longed for so long. It's there, within her grasp, within their grasp.

As she slowly came back down to earth, she noticed two concubines whispering behind a screen not far from her. Despite her acute hearing, she couldn't make out the content of their conversation, but being familiar with the atmosphere of this very particular milieu, she could only imagine the kind of gossip that could be circulating about her. When they stare at her a little too intently, the vixen simply gives them her best snide look. And it doesn't fail: the whispers get louder and the blonde silently gloats. The young woman's long copper ears turned towards the door of the harem, when she heard voices echoing in the adjacent corridor.

The moment she's been waiting for, for the last eight months, has finally arrived. Her gaze focused on the huge, ornate door, which despite its beauty was the last obstacle between her freedom and herself. The fox's heart stopped for a moment as the clanking of the lock, followed by the sliding of the latch as it retracted, reached her ears, only to be revived when one of the precious wooden doors opened to reveal the panicked face of her lover. With a flutter of her eyelashes, her enthusiasm vanishes and her smile fades.

/ Oh no... /

A cold sweat broke out at the base of her neck, running up and down her spine, bristling from the tips of her ears to the tip of her tail. What's going on? Does the lord know about their plan? Or is it just a guard in the wrong place at the wrong time? But it was impossible for her to read anything on the face of the young man rushing into the room.

"Sharëss! This way, quickly!" he shouted.

The fox regained her senses when she heard her name, rushed into the adjacent room, and emerged with her leather bag, and four other women. Like most tynluk, Sharëss's followers are not human, but the one who stands out the most is undoubtedly the young elf who is pregnant to the eyeballs. It was on her that the tall dark-haired man's disapproving gaze fell, before quickly returning to his lover.

"I hope you're joking! You had to be the only one to escape!" he growls through his teeth.
"I'm sorry Thakal, I can't leave them here... You promised me to..."
"Yes, I promised to get you out of here, and I intend to honour that promise, but right now..."

The concubine's long, fluffy ears droop, she knows fully well she's asking a lot of him, but for the other tynluk, this will almost certainly be their one and only chance to regain their freedom. The vampire mutters a few words, seeming to reflect on the situation in order to come up with the best plan. Knowing Sharëss, the vampire quickly resigns himself: she won't change her mind no matter what arguments he might put forward.

"Tsss... Come on, it's agreed!"

He beckons the small group to follow him, returning to the corridor they had come down in the other direction. The young women moved as discreetly as possible, the mats on the floor muffling the sound of their footsteps, and tried to keep pace with the man leading the way. In their flight, they pass many windows, allowing them to see and hear what is happening outside the castle, something that was impossible for them just a few minutes ago.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

Below the citadel walls, a large crowd of poor people and workers in rags has gathered outside the gates. Brandishing pitchforks, sticks and any other potential weapon, they wait for their lord to justify himself, amid shouts and protests.

"Give us back our grain! We've got nothing left to eat!" shouted a disgruntled peasant.
"You're taking everything from us! Food, materials, how are we going to survive this winter?" shouted an elderly woman, barely able to stand due to the movements of the angry crowd.
"You're letting our children die! While you're fattening yourselves up like pigs!" shouted a father, embracing his weeping wife.

The pot-bellied nobleman, surrounded by his personal guard, tried in vain to calm the furious peasants by waving his arms and hands to make himself look more intimidating.

"Listen, I assure you that the current situation pains me as much as it does you, but as your lord, I have a duty to manage the resources of the estate as best I can and..."
"In any case, you're managing the resources you're gobbling up well!" shouted a young man armed with a makeshift club.
"That's for sure! The chubby one is easier to roll than to carry!" exclaimed another man a little further away, triggering laughter from the assembly.

The Marquis, as best he could, tried to hide the fiery anger that was building up inside him as the laughter spread through the crowd. How dare these lowlifes take advantage of him like this? To assert his authority, he beckoned the head of his guard to approach him.

"They need to learn respect due to nobility. Get it into their... heads, if you know what I mean."

The soldier nodded, and with a glance, deployed some of his troops into the crowd, causing a panicked mob to disorganise and scramble. To restore order, the soldiers attack the nearest prey, spilling blood on the cobblestones of the city, under the almost inexpressive gaze of the lord. Some of the more valiant peasants even tried to throw themselves at the tyrant, but to no avail, as his remaining bodyguard easily allowed their master to leave the scene unscathed. The chaotic crowd dispersed as the paunchy nobleman withdrew to his castle, arms behind his back, whistling. He was about to pass through the wide gates of the walls when a column of flames erupted from one of the windows on the second floor of the citadel, shattering the others nearby with just the blast of the explosion.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

The air in the room, quickly heated by the fire blazing through the tapestries in the corridor, carried with it a pungent, metallic smell, followed by that of charred flesh. Thakal, growling in agony, held his badly burnt left arm. He had managed to deflect the blazing spell, but at what cost... Despite the deterioration of his nerves, the pulsing of his own blood in his veins is blistering him with pain, but the girls are unharmed, that's the main thing. At the other end of the corridor, a man in his fifties is playing with the flame in his palm.

"What do I see? It seems that the doves have escaped from their cage, helped by a common bat. You didn't really think it would be that easy to steal our lord's property, did you? To stop the birds from flying away, you need a few little measures..." sneered the magician.
"I had my doubts, but you did put a tracking spell on them, didn't you?" growled the vampire
"And yes! I must admit I'm proud of this little stratagem. Wherever you go, whatever you do, you'll never be able to escape my gaze."
"We'll see about that" replied Thakal calmly, motioning for the women to move back.

They did so without a word, though Sharëss remained in front of them just in case, ready to step in if the need arose, hands close to her heart and looking worried. She knows he's a good fighter, even if she's never seen him in action; but his opponent, if he's who she thinks he is, is going to give him a hard time. The vampire drew a dagger from his belt and sliced open his palm, which had already been badly damaged by the flames, causing ruby-coloured blood to flow from the wound, but instead of continuing its course towards the ground, it condensed into a small, slowly growing ball. Before the mage could react, Thakal began to draw crimson glyphs in the air, which, as soon as they were finished, turned into blades that flew straight at his opponent, splitting the air with a sinister hiss. The old man, caught off guard and by reflex, raises his hands to the sky, at the same time raising a wall of fire to protect himself from the attack, but his age and the lightning speed with which the projectiles arrive in his direction prevent him from blocking everything, and one of the bloody spears hits him in the side. He quickly recovers and with a twirl of his staff, transforms his spell into a myriad of glowing balls that he directs towards the vampire.

"Nice try, but your magic is useless if you have no blood to use!" exclaims the mage, discreetly cauterising the wound inflicted earlier.

With supernatural agility, Thakal seems to evaporate in order to dodge attacks, like a mist that uses air movements to move effortlessly. But only the red glow in his eyes betrays his true nature, and that sends shivers down the spine of the pyromancer. One of the burning spheres narrowly missed the face of one of the concubines and crashed into a wall tapestry, which immediately burst into flames.

"Aaaah!" she screamed, cowering in fear.

The vixen tried her best to reassure her, but the cries of terror would soon alert other guards, they mustn't delay, and this fight, as well as not being to their advantage, was wasting precious time that they didn't have the luxury of wasting.

"Oh, it looks like I'll have to restrain myself a bit more, I nearly damaged the lord's possessions..." lamented the middle-aged man.

The vampire took advantage of his opponent's brief respite to draw a new glyph, materialising a single blade of blood but longer than the previous ones, which he ignited thanks to the damage inflicted by the mage in the corridor, before sending it hurtling straight at him. The old man condensed his flames into a shield that he brandished to withstand the assault, but distracted by the concubines, he misjudged its power and the projectile managed to pass through, wounding him in the shoulder.

/ Damn it... /

The pyromancer, grimacing in pain, quickly applied pressure to the gaping wound, which he cauterised again using the heat. But despite the emergency treatment, he was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his concentration, which is vital for someone with magic. Whether or not the girls were injured was of no importance to him, he had to get rid of the bat no matter what. He raises his staff with difficulty, tightening his grip on the wooden handle to relieve the drowsy feeling caused by the blood loss in his arm, while gathering the surrounding ether. He used the flames already present around him, gathering them in front of him in a veritable vortex of destruction, fuelled by the air around him and growing rapidly, and with a little impulse, set it in motion towards the fugitives, his eyes displaying unfailing determination.

Sharëss, who had been watching the fight without intervening too much up to that point, tensed up: the mage's attitude changed when Thakal inflicted this new blow, and the fox's hair suddenly stood on end. As she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm the pounding of her heart, driven mad by the stress of the situation, everything became clear: the ether! It was almost like a cold shower when she realised that the mage had already put his plan into action, so she didn't hesitate for a moment, reaching out her hand in the direction of the vampire and shouting:

"Yoroï!"

Responding to this call, a majestic tiger appears before her and the concubines, proud and dignified. Its black stripes take on an iridescent hue and, with a mighty roar, a shield of the same hue rises up between the vampire and the fiery vortex. Then comes the fateful moment, when impact is inevitable: the fiery mass crashes against the spiritual wall, scattering the crackling flames all around it, protecting Thakal and the concubines. The heat produced is intense, but the vixen holds firm, her determination determining the power of the feline standing up to the pyromancer, and when her gaze meets that of the vampire, she smiles tenderly, but he seems perplexed. He didn't know she was capable of such magical prowess, and the feline's mysterious arrival only rekindles the many questions swirling around in his mind: who is she really? For as long as he can remember, and despite the physical proximity defended by the nobleman who owns the harem, she has always kept a distance from him, only briefly mentioning her past... He even comes to wonder if he really knows Sharëss, but he has no time for that: the vortex does not weaken, unlike the concubine whose coppery skin quickly becomes covered in sweat from both the effort and the burning air of the corridor. Realising that his wound was not going to be enough to power his magic, he decided to open the veins in his wrist, rendering his left hand useless, but significantly increasing his haemoglobin supply. His opponent, out of breath, maintains his spell as best he can, but the sudden arrival of the tiger and the flow of magic he detects in the air make him hesitate: a concubine with magical power could be a great asset to the harem. His thoughts lead him to wonder why a pregnant elf would seek to flee, and he comes to the conclusion that it is her who possesses this gift, and that she is looking for a way to free herself from the lord's control. But lost in his thoughts, he fails to notice the crimson sword forming in the extension of Thakal's wrist, vibrating to the rhythm of the vampire's heart and lengthening as his blood flows. He leapt across the shield, through the vortex and, in one swift movement, brought his blade down on the mage who, with his mind elsewhere and his body tired, was unable to protect himself. The sword smashed into the old man, shattering his last good arm with a sinister crack. With a cry of pain that echoed through the corridors of the castle, the pyromancer collapsed, powerless, his magic flickering before dissipating, he had lost. His agony is such that he is unable to concentrate enough to create even a single fireball. Thakal, wounded but victorious, turns to Sharëss who rushes towards him as she tears off a piece of her dress and ties it around her lover's bruised wrist. He thanked her with a tender smile, and tucked one of her blonde locks behind her ear. But his baser instincts take over again when the smell of his adversary's spilt blood tingles his nostrils, and the vampire turns towards his prey, a red animal gleam in his eyes. The old man, sensing the bat's predatory aura, rummages with difficulty in his satchel and pulls out a small bundle, dropping a dagger in the process, which he hastily unlocks. A fine powder of plant comes out, which he collects in the palm of his hand before applying it to each of his wounds. An inexperienced person might take this as a desperate attempt to heal his wounds, but the fox is not fooled, and her keen sense of smell does not deceive her.

"Thakal, no! Don't drink his blood!"
"Oh, what a cultured dove!" enthused the mage. "Unfortunately for you, you won't be able to use me as a pantry, and given your wounds..." The pyromancer coughed.

The pyromancer coughed up a little blood, but was delighted to be able to admire the disgusted look on his opponent's face, caught off guard and deprived of such a precious resource...

"You've lost, vampire..."
"Fuck off!!!" growled the vampire ferociously, decapitating the mage on the spot with his crimson blade.

The effect of the lack of blood, coupled with the anger of having been tricked, made Thakal extremely nervous, and in a rage he threw the severed head out of the nearest window to vent his frustration. Sharëss watched the scene, wondering how they were going to get away. The mage was no longer an obstacle, but their fight could not have gone unnoticed. Stress began to overwhelm her, and she tried to rationalise, telling herself that the vampire's wounds were not so serious, that the diversion outside had had the desired effect, but nothing helped, and she imagined the worst. One of the concubines approaches the vixen:

"We should search the body, there might be a key or something useful." she hesitates.
"Hmm... yes, you're right."

The blonde then approached the corpse, slipping her fingers into every pocket, every fold of his clothes, but apart from his staff, his dagger and a small sachet of plants, he had nothing of interest. In doubt, Sharëss took it all, slipping what she could into her leather satchel hanging from her belt, and after a moment's thought, handed the elf the magic weapon to help her move around despite her rounded belly.

The group was startled to hear the lord's voice echoing down a corridor not far from them, accompanied by the metallic clanking of heavy armour in motion.

"Find them all! None of them must leave here alive!"

The concubines, though distraught, felt the heavy, omnipresent presence that had been hovering in their minds disappear with the last beat of the old man's heart. They were freed from the tracing spell, but there was no relief, only a sense of emptiness. However, the rapid approach of the soldiers' heavy footsteps brought them back down to earth, and their gazes turned towards the two lovebirds. Thakal gathered his strength and set off again in the opposite direction to the hubbub, inviting Sharëss to follow him. She did so, taking one last look at the lifeless body on the ground and wiping her newly-acquired dagger with a piece of her red dress.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

When the nobleman reached the second floor, he passed the harem and saw that the doors were wide open. With a quick glance, he surveyed the premises, looking for the sheep that had run away.

/ Four... I'm missing four... /

He began biting his nails in stress, thinking over the situation and considering all the possible scenarios; it was impossible to get four women out of the palace without being immediately arrested, so the only solution left to them was to use one of the secret passages... One of the soldiers arrived in a hurry:

"My Lord! Archmage Elyias is dead!" he cried.

The sovereign exclaimed loudly.

"Where is he?"
"In the corridor leading to the east wing."

A small light went on in his mind: of course! The underground library! At that moment, he almost curses himself for having mentioned it to one of the fugitives, in a pillow confession. He quickly gave his orders, sending some of his soldiers after the fugitives, while he led the remaining troops towards the north exit. They must be intercepted before they cross the bridge, because once they reach the forest, they will be almost impossible to find.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

As they approached the balustrades overlooking the main hall, the small group stopped dead in their tracks behind a large stone column when Thakal held out his good arm to block the way. A quick glance over his shoulder was enough for the fox to realise: a dozen guards were gathered in front of the main door, preventing any escape. A sombre look came over the vampire's pale face as he searched his mind for another way out of the castle. Sharëss approached him and whispered in his ear:

"What do we do now?"
"I don't know... I hadn't anticipated that the demonstration would be cut short so quickly..." he sighed.
"There must be a solution" began Sharëss, before being interrupted.
"The solution would be easier to find if it was just the two of us!" he growled through his fangs. "That's a different matter altogether!"
"I'm sorry..." Sharëss replied softly, lowering her ears.
"Being sorry isn't going to get us out of this mess!" he raged.

He ruthlessly pushed away his lover's soothing hand as she tried to calm him down. Already overwhelmed by all that had happened in such a short space of time, the fox couldn't prevent tears from welling up in the corners of her azure eyes as her lover turned away from her, not wanting to break down at the look of devastation on the face of the woman he had sworn to protect from everything. The tall, red-haired elf then approached the lovebirds and placed a delicate hand on her colleague's bare shoulder.

"Excuse me for interfering" she says softly "but I may have a solution."

Everyone turns to her with hope in their hearts. Seeing that she has their full attention, she continues:

"There is a secret passage in the lord's private library."
"Impossible, I don't..." began the vampire.
"Are you sure, Minyë?" asked Sharëss.
" Certainly" she said, "this way."

The lovers glanced at each other in surprise, but they weren't about to spurn such a wonderful opportunity. So the little troupe set off again, following the redhead as she leaned on her staff to save her strength, almost miraculously dodging all the patrols looking for them. At the bend in a corridor, the immense wooden door decorated with intricate patterns stood majestically before them, but there was no time to dwell on the beauty of the place. The elf turns the latch, which unlocks the magitech mechanism, and the doors open of their own accord to let the visitors through. Then she hurriedly made her way to a specific row of books, with a tapestry of the lord's family tree hanging against the stone wall.

/ When he told me about the passage, he implied that the hidden button to open the passage was linked to someone very important to this family... Minyë thought, gathering her memories. /

She runs her slender fingers over the rough, weathered fabric and presses on the name of the very first Marquis, but nothing happens. She thinks about it some more, then lightly presses on the previous marquis, known for having brought glory to his family during the Great War, but again, no reaction. The elf begins to get annoyed, wondering if the lord of the manor had been playing games with her that day, and in frustration, she punches the square of her son's progenitor... And suddenly, an entire shelf starts to move, revealing a tunnel dug into the rock on which the citadel had been built. The concubine can't help but laugh nervously at the grotesqueness of the situation.

/ He really does have an inflated ego... /

But the joy of the others behind her is so infectious that her face lights up in response, a gentle smile running across her lips. Only Thakal doesn't seem to be enjoying himself: all the excitement is causing the young women's hearts to race, which in his condition makes self-control very difficult. He loses his nerve when the elf beckons them to follow her into the gap in the passageway, the fresh wind from outside carrying with it the scent of perfume... and of the mage's blood still on the stick she is resting on. In a split second, the vampire's eyes turned red and he lunged at the pregnant redhead, claws and fangs out. Sharëss, reflexively sensing the murderous aura emanating from her lover, uses all her strength to wrap her arms around him, stopping him in his tracks. He struggles fiercely, but the daylight and his wounds weaken him enough for the vixen to contain him and give the other women time to escape.

"Go on, hurry!" Sharëss shouts to them in panic.

The concubines make no bones about it, and rush into the wall, led by Minyë, who casts one last worried glance in the direction of her friend in the grips of a man turned animal. The vampire continued to struggle like a madman, inadvertently scratching the vixen's arm, but in the rush of adrenaline, she didn't notice. Surprised that he stopped trying to free himself, as if he'd lost all his strength in a snap of his fingers, the young woman finally released her hold and came to stand in front of her lover to observe him more closely.

"Thakal?"

Still lethargic, he didn't respond to the call of his name, staring into space... when suddenly, the red glow that had disappeared reappeared and the vampire's fangs protruded, ready to pounce on his prey. He tackles Sharëss to the ground, holding her by the shoulders, his claws digging into the concubine's thin, tanned skin, and she simply turns her head away to clear the way for his neck.

"Blood..."

She stiffens slightly as she feels the warm breath on the back of her neck before tensing as her lover's fangs dig into the vixen's tender flesh. A tear beaded and trickled down her cheek as she felt her vital energy slowly drain from her body, for that is what a vampire seeks, the life contained within its host. After a few minutes, with Thakal still not releasing his bite, Sharëss began to struggle a little.

"Thakal... Please stop..." she pleads softly.

But only a growl answered her, as she felt something enter her mind. Normally she'd have no trouble fighting off this intrusion, but the loss of blood and the emotional state she's in at the moment make it almost impossible.

She is transported into a memory, a sweet moment of well-being as she lies in the vampire's arms, lulled by the warmth and pleasant crackling of an open fire. Her lover places a kiss on her shoulder, making her shiver. She giggles as she gently pushes his face away with one hand while holding a beautifully crafted book in the other. When he brings his lips close to her ear to whisper "I love you", she can smell the musky scent of his perfume, and sighing with relief, she closes her eyes and surrenders to the infinite tenderness of this embrace.

During the concubine's waking dream, Thakal continues to drink her blood, and the effects it has on the bat continue to grow, stimulating her baser instincts. Not being able to reason, he lets one of his hands roam over the vixen's body, sliding slowly from her arm to her chest, passing under her crimson clothes, and greedily feeling the tender, silky flesh before him. But that wasn't enough, he needed more, much more... He left her breast and tore the belt holding the kimono in place with his claws, giving him full access to the tanned skin of his prey. His caresses move slowly downwards, passing over the ribs, close to the navel...

In Sharëss's mind, the scene becomes blurred; the touches her body sends back to her, the damp smell and the cold floor, none of it corresponds to what she is experiencing in her trance. It takes her a few moments to manage to channel her thoughts and her psyche, to leave the mental hold the vampire has over her. Her previously glassy eyes regain their azure hue as she regains control of her body, becoming paler and paler as her blood is drawn away.

"Thakal... That's enough..." she begs again, but there is no answer.

Her lover did not seem to hear her, his face buried in her neck and his hand sliding ever lower down her anatomy. Moving her arm to halt the inevitable descent of the caresses, her fingers graze the mage's dagger, which she had slipped into her leather satchel, the pommel protruding from it. The contact was like an electric shock to the vixen, her mind reawakening on the spot, and without thinking twice about it, she took hold of the cold metal handle in her palm and, with one swift movement, stuck the blade into her lover's thigh. With a howl, he unhooked his bite from the young woman and stepped back slightly to see the damage. Sharëss, still trembling, watched as black blood poured from the wound, and reality hit her with the force of an icy waterfall. Silent tears stream down her cheeks, and as she tries to crawl closer to Thakal, he tries to stumble away, his leg no longer responding.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." she says, her voice shaking with sobs. "I didn't... I didn't mean to..."

She had wiped the dagger poorly, so that it had come into contact with the pyromancer's blood, impregnated with a substance deadly to all beings of the night. Her heart broke with every passing second, helpless as she was at the fate awaiting her lover. The vampire's pale skin is covered in sweat, the agony he is in is so trying, so slow and intense. In the end, he can no longer move, breathing heavily as he leans against one of the library shelves.

"Sh... Sharëss..." he pleads, his gaze wavering.

In a final burst of tenderness towards the man she loved, she places her lips on Thakal's, holding his face with her hands, in a final farewell kiss in which the vampire's last strength is sucked out, restoring the fox's faint colours. The vampire's artificial breathing slows, his pulse fades, and the black blood stops flowing from the wound in his thigh. Sharëss stood up, arms flailing and eyes blank, in front of the lifeless body lying on the cobblestones. At that moment, nothing existed for her apart from the throbbing pain of her broken heart and the guilt that washed over her like a tsunami crashing on a heavenly beach. It's all her fault, if she hadn't wanted to run away, if she hadn't had the courage, if she hadn't become attached... Once again, she watches helplessly as death strikes down those closest to her, like a curse that follows her wherever she goes, whatever she does. What's the point of living, of loving, of just wanting a little happiness that can't be taken away? At that moment, she thinks about ending it all, looking at the dagger that has fallen to the ground at her knees. She can hear the rapid footsteps coming from the corridor, as well as the bursts of voices from the guards, but nothing helps, she remains motionless, lost.

"Sharëss?"

One of her ears swivels at the call of her first name, and recognising a familiar tone, she turns her head in the direction of the secret passage where Minyë is hiding.

"Where have they gone?" shouts one of the soldiers arriving near the library. "Catch up with them!"

The elf had turned back when she realised that the vixen and the vampire had not followed them, and the scene she was witnessing upset her so much that she couldn't help shedding a few silent tears. Sharëss came to, batting her eyelashes to wake her eyes that had been open too long, and stood up.

/ No, I'm not alone... The girls are counting on me, I can't let them down now, not this close to the goal. /

She dries her cheeks with a flick of her sleeve, and after one last pained glance in the direction of her lost lover, she rushes into the dark, damp tunnel, the air from outside tickling her nose, and follows the mother-to-be, determined to keep her promise of a bright future for her friend.