Shadows at the Border

The forest was so dense that one could barely see ahead, a forest that humans did not usually venture into unless they had an important need, such as that of two siblings who walked carefully in the middle of the night. An older brother holding his sister's hand, careful that she not trip over the smallest stone or branch.

The two siblings walked in silence; they knew what was happening, they knew that they only had each other, that the world was their enemy and that the only option for them was to keep going. To keep fleeing from what they had left behind.

"We're almost there, sister; beyond those mountains, over there is the border city of Vaelyria."
"Beyond it lies only the savage unknown of the continent's interior."
"It's a good place; we can stay here for a while."

"Do you really believe that, brother?" asked Rory, her voice trembling slightly. She adjusted her hood with pale fingers.

"Don't worry, I've told you before, and I'll keep saying it as many times as needed."
"You trust your brother Caelen, everything will be fine."

"And the Holy Knights?"

"There's no established chapter in Vaelyria. The nearest one is three days' journey away in Ravenmoor. We'd have more than enough time to... to relocate if necessary."

"Time," Rory repeated.
"You always talk about time, brother. As if we had all the time in the world."

"....."
"That doesn't matter right now."
"Come, we have to continue the journey."

Both siblings continued the journey on foot, through the forest and the darkness, with only the moon to guide them, but without stumbling along the way, with agility among the trees, without tiring from walking. Until the younger sister broke the silence.

"Do you hear it?" asked Rory, stopping abruptly.

Caelen paid attention to his sister's warning, looked around, and focused on his hearing. Several steps. Trying to be stealthy and failing miserably.

"Yes."
"It seems we have company."

He had barely finished speaking when they emerged from among the trees like badly drawn shadows: six figures armed with knives and clubs, tattered clothes, faces hardened by a life that Caelen recognized all too well. Bandits and thieves looking for easy money in exchange for a little liquor.

"Good evening, travelers," said the one who seemed to lead them, a burly man with a scar that crossed his face from eyebrow to chin.
"Nice night for a stroll. Too bad you'll have to pay a toll."

Caelen assessed the situation in an instant. Six men. Rudimentary weapons. None seemed to have formal training. None seemed to be a real threat.

It would be an easy battle.

"I'm very sorry, sir, we don't have anything with us."
"We're just a couple of poor travelers trying to find a better opportunity on the frontier."

"Very funny," growled the leader, taking a step forward.
"Poor, you say? Just look at the clothes the girl is wearing; they're expensive and adorned."
"I have no interest in what your story is, thieves, nobles in disgrace, idiot merchants."
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way."
"Give me your bag, give me the girl, and maybe I'll let you walk away with all your teeth."

Caelen felt Rory tense beside him. He extended a hand, a subtle gesture to calm her.

"You know?" said Caelen, and his voice was friendly.
"I should thank you."

The leader blinked.

"What?"

"You've come to us. That saves me the trouble of looking for you."

Before the man could process his words, Caelen moved.

It wasn't fast, not exactly. It was fluid, like water running downhill, as if violence were his natural state and everything else were the anomaly. In three seconds, three of the bandits were on the ground, their weapons scattered among the leaves. In five, the other three had joined them, groaning, clutching arms and legs that moved at wrong angles.

Caelen had not drawn his sword during the entire fight.

"Damn you!" spat one of the criminals from the ground, bleeding from the mouth.
"You think you're a damn hero for catching us! The town guards are our friends!"
"In a couple of days we'll be free again!"
"And then we'll come for you and your sister!"
"You'll never have a safe place again!"

Caelen crouched in front of him, his green eyes meeting the man's. In the moonlight, his pupils seemed to glow with an unnatural hue.

"I think you're a little mistaken."
"I'm not a hero," he said calmly.
"And I wasn't planning to take you to the city guards."
"I was just looking for dinner for my sister."

The leader opened his mouth to scream, to curse, to do anything. But then Rory stepped forward, and the hood fell, and what emerged from the shadows was not a frightened girl.

"Thank you very much for the food," the girl said calmly.

The moonlight revealed her alabaster-toned skin, her delicate features, and crimson eyes that glowed in the darkness. Her lips parted, revealing sharp fangs that defied mortal nature.

The screams of horror from the bandits soon echoed through the forest of Vaelyria, fading one by one as the night devoured their echoes.

Caelen stepped aside, turning his back. He didn't need to see. He knew those sounds all too well.

When she finished, Rory wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes, still glowing with a crimson hue, found her brother's.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"I... I didn't want to..."

"You don't have to apologize," said Caelen, trying to calm his sister.
"We have to keep going."
"A little farther ahead, to the east, I heard of a place we can use as a refuge."

The siblings left the bodies in the forest. The animals would probably take care of them before dawn. It was easy to hide a drained body among several mangled ones. There was no need to give the Holy Knights more reasons to look for them.

The next day, the sun shone with dazzling intensity over the cobblestone streets of Vaelyria.

Caelen walked among the crowd with his head held high, letting the sunlight caress his face without causing him more than a slight warmth, just another traveling adventurer, a bounty hunter in search of the next villain to defeat, or at least that was his public facade. As a Dhampir, the sun did not possess the power to burn him to ashes like pure-blooded vampires; for him, the light was simply a bearable nuisance, a minimal price to pay for the freedom to move among the living.

The town was exactly what he was looking for: a frontier settlement full of lumberjacks, passing merchants, and bounty hunters. A place where people didn't stare too long at scars or ask about origins.

At the notice board in the center of town, Caelen looked at the wanted posters. He ran his fingers over the names of various local criminals, memorizing the faces. It was the perfect facade: a lone adventurer doing the dirty work that the local militia ignored.

No one would suspect that the money he earned cleaning up the roads ended up buying silence and supplies to keep his younger sister hidden in the shadows of the ruins of Castle Goetia, the ancient noble bastion abandoned on the outskirts of the valley.

No one must ever know that the surname they both bore—Gremory—held the memory of a millennial betrayal, a war against the Emperor, and a cursed pact signed with the dark god Anvoka. To the world, the Gremory were an extinct plague.

And Caelen was willing to reap as many lives as necessary to keep the world believing that.