The Most Beautiful Taste in the Makai

Some time later—or perhaps no time at all, for the hours had lost all meaning in that twilight wood—we walked on. The oppressive feeling of being watched had not subsided; on the contrary, it had intensified, becoming a suffocating presence. It was a thousand unseen eyes, a silent, collective malice that clung to us like a shroud. It seemed, for a time, I could feel the forest itself holding its breath, waiting.

A sudden, violent rustling in a thicket of thorns to our left broke the silence. The shadows beneath the gloomy trees, which had been still, now seemed to writhe and stretch with an unnatural life. We stopped as one—

Before any of us could draw a weapon or utter a word, the attack came. The forest itself fell upon us. With a sound like the cracking of a great bone, the very branches of the crooked trees and the thick, thorny vines upon the ground erupted into violent, purposeful motion.

A thick, wood-like tendril, strong as iron, wrapped around my waist and hoisted me from the ground. I was lifted high into the air, dangling helplessly, the rough, living bark scraping against my clothes. I saw Ashley, for her part, slammed back against the trunk of a great tree, a web of writhing vines pinning her limbs, her struggles as useless as a fly caught in a spider's web. For the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine alarm in her scarlet eyes.

Xiao Ru fought with a desperate, anguished fury, her luminous bow knocked from her grasp. But the branches were too numerous. They draped around her legs and torso, dragging her backward into the deeper shadows of the wood, her struggles growing weaker with every clawed piece of earth.

And then, through the chaos, my gaze found Lalika. The living branches, which had bound the rest of us with the furious arithmetic of a dissonant chord, became suddenly melodic around her. They moved about her not with violence, but with the gentle, inquisitive logic of a climbing vine exploring a beloved statue. Yet she, for her part, moved with the choreographed panic of a stage actress, a pantomime of distress in a circle of impossible calm.

Her face, which I had dismissed as vacant, now held a superficial fear to it, or so I surmised. My eyes widened, the disparate, unsettling pieces of her character—it was the final click.

My hand, shaking, found the familiar, cold weight of the pistol in my jacket. With a clarity born of desperation, I took aim. The roar of the pistol was a violent thunder, surely startling my companions if they took to notice in their peril.

The bullet tore through the main branch dragging Xiao Ru, which convulsed as if in agony. It was not enough to remove them all, but… with a fierce cry, she ripped herself free, a blur of motion as she somersaulted through the air to where her luminous bow lay. In an instant, an arrow of pure light was nocked, drawn, and released. It struck the branches holding me aloft, which withered and turned to black ash, dropping me to the mossy ground.

But our reprieve was but a fleeting breath. A low, guttural groan seemed to issue from all around, and the entire forest pulsed with a malevolent, green light. The branches, now twice as numerous, contorted and surged toward us.

A sharp, agonized scream tore from Ashley's throat as the vines constricting her tightened, their thorns digging into her flesh. "Her blood!" she shrieked, her voice thin with pain, her eyes wild and fixed on me. "Mei-Ling, you fool, drink her blood!"

I stared at her, my mind reeling. Drink her blood? The thought was a monstrous violation, an act of supreme betrayal.

"Just do it!" Ashley screamed again, her voice cracking.

My gaze snapped to Xiao Ru. I gulped, the question dying in my throat. She stood before me, her face pale but her violet quartz eyes filled with a fierce, unwavering trust. She gave a single, succinct nod.

In that moment, time itself seemed to stop, as all sound fell deaf. With a steady hand that belied the terror in her heart, Xiao Ru reached up to the collar of her white kosode, and pulled the fabric aside, exposing the pale, slender column of her neck.

My mouth went dry. My hand, trembling uncontrollably, rose and grasped her shoulder to steady myself. With my other hand, I brushed a single, stray lock of raven hair from her milky skin. The warmth of her, the scent of her… my breath hitched, a warm mist against her cool flesh. My heart, the dead and useless organ in my chest, began to pound with a savage, demanding melody—or at least as much as a vampire’s feeble heart could. The thirst, the insatiable, all-consuming urge I had fought to suppress, rose like a black tide, drowning all thought, all reason—all friendship.

I leaned in, a low growl escaping my own throat. And then, I sank my fangs into the soft, supple skin of her neck.

A sharp, pained yelp escaped her lips, and her hand flew to the back of my head, her fingers tangling in my hair, holding me there.

As her life's blood touched my tongue, a shock of exquisite sweetness, a flavour of spun sugar and wild blossoms, entirely unlike the coppery tang of the dead, flooded my senses. It was a taste of pure, vibrant life, and it was a pleasure so… so joyous it bordered on agony. Delicious, yes, but a word so mundane it was an insult to the divine nectar I now consumed. So delicious.

Her skin, beneath my touch, radiated a sudden, feverish heat. She did not push me away, but instead seemed to melt against me, her body wrapping around mine in a desperate, clinging embrace. Her nails, I dimly registered, were digging into the flesh of my back, her fingers clenching in my hair in a gesture of pure, instinctual surrender as a low whimper escaped her lips.

And then, a pulse. It was an echo from the blood I drank, a wave of terrible power that washed through my entire body. A feeling of supreme, god-like clarity descended upon me. My very flesh seemed to thrum with a faint, inner luminescence, a stolen vitality.

I withdrew my fangs from her throat, a single, perfect crimson droplet clinging to my lip. She looked at me, her face flushed a deep and beautiful scarlet, her amethyst eyes wide and luminous with a strange, longing adoration. It was an expression of such innocent and absolute devotion that it struck me as the most beautiful, the most cute, the most precious thing I had ever witnessed in either of my lives.