Chapter 3: Rebirth
1809words
Moonlight filtered through the trees above, revealing the ravine where the werewolves had discarded me. How long had I lain here? Hours? Days? My throat burned with thirst unlike anything I'd ever experienced—not the familiar discomfort of my "defect," but a new, primal hunger that clawed at my insides.
I pushed myself to sitting, expecting agony from my wounds. Instead, I found smooth skin where the ritual dagger had cut. Only dried blood remained as evidence of my ordeal. I touched my arm in disbelief, tracing the unmarked flesh where silver chains had burned.
"Impossible," I whispered, my voice rough from screaming.
A small movement caught my attention—a field mouse scurrying among the rocks. Before I could process what was happening, my body moved with inhuman speed. I caught the creature in one fluid motion, my fangs extending instinctively. Without the burning resistance that had plagued my entire life, I drank deeply, the warm blood flowing easily down my throat.
Only when the mouse went limp did I realize what I had done. I dropped the tiny corpse, staring at my hands in shock. All my life, I had been unable to feed directly from living beings—the very "defect" that had made me an outcast among vampires.
"My defect... it's gone."
The revelation should have brought joy, but instead, confusion and fear washed over me. What had changed? Was it the ritual? Luke's betrayal? Or something deeper, awakened by my brush with death?
I forced myself to stand, my legs trembling with weakness despite my miraculous healing. I needed shelter, safety, time to understand what was happening to me. The memory of Luke's betrayal burned fresh in my mind, fueling my determination to survive.
I climbed slowly out of the ravine, each movement deliberate as I tested my recovering body. The forest stretched in all directions, but instinct pulled me eastward, away from werewolf territory. As I walked, I caught small animals—rabbits, squirrels, even a fox—drinking just enough from each to sustain myself without killing them.
With each feeding, my strength returned incrementally. More disturbing, however, was the strange awareness blooming within me—a sensitivity to the blood flowing around me, the ability to sense heartbeats from impossible distances. When I rested my hand against a tree trunk, I could feel the sap moving beneath the bark like a distant cousin to blood.
Three nights passed as I made my way through the wilderness. On the fourth night, I crested a hill and froze at the sight before me. In the valley below, torches moved in organized patterns—search parties combing the forest methodically.
Werewolves.
I dropped to a crouch, my newly heightened senses straining to gather information. Voices carried on the night breeze, fragments of conversation reaching my ears.
"—must find the vampire's body—"
"—princess grows worse by the hour—"
"—prince says her blood is the only cure—"
A cold satisfaction settled in my chest. So Lydia suffered from the blood she had stolen. Luke's perfect plan had backfired spectacularly. But why search for my body? Surely they believed me dead.
The answer came as I observed the search parties more carefully. They carried not just torches but special containers—vessels designed to collect and preserve blood. They didn't seek me for burial; they wanted whatever blood remained in my corpse for a second attempt at their ritual.
Rage flared within me, hot and unfamiliar. All my life, I had accepted mistreatment, believing myself defective. Now, knowing I had been used for my blood—blood that apparently held power beyond ordinary vampires—the injustice burned like acid.
I retreated deeper into the shadows as the search parties drew closer. Though stronger than when I'd awakened, I knew I couldn't fight an entire werewolf pack. I needed to move, to put distance between myself and—
A twig snapped behind me.
I whirled, coming face to face with a young werewolf scout who had circled behind the hill. For a heartbeat, we stared at each other in mutual shock.
"I found her!" he shouted, lunging forward.
Instinct took over. My hand shot out, and to my astonishment, the blood in my palm coalesced into a crimson whip that lashed across the scout's chest. He fell backward with a cry of pain, clutching the bloodless gash across his torso.
I stared at my hand in disbelief. The blood had responded to my will, forming a weapon I hadn't consciously created. Before I could process this development, howls erupted from the valley as the search parties changed direction, racing toward my position.
I turned to flee, but more werewolves appeared, cutting off my escape routes. Within moments, I was surrounded, a dozen werewolves closing in with silver chains and specialized blood containers.
"Take her alive," ordered their leader, a grizzled warrior with scars crisscrossing his face. "The prince wants whatever blood remains in her."
"I'm not a blood bank," I snarled, surprising myself with the venom in my voice.
The werewolves hesitated, clearly expecting the weak, defective vampire they had discarded, not this defiant creature I had become. I felt something stirring within me—the same power that had healed my wounds, now responding to my anger.
"Stay back," I warned, feeling blood rushing to my fingertips.
When they continued advancing, I acted on pure instinct. I thrust my hands forward, and blood erupted from my palms in a crimson wave. The werewolves nearest to me were thrown backward, their skin blistering where my blood touched them.
"What magic is this?" gasped the leader, genuine fear replacing confidence.
I didn't answer. I didn't know myself. The power flowing through me felt ancient and familiar simultaneously, as though I had always possessed it but never known how to access it. With each passing second, the blood responded more fluidly to my will, forming shields and weapons as needed.
The werewolves regrouped, more cautious now but still determined. They circled me, looking for weaknesses. I stood my ground, blood swirling around my hands like living gauntlets. The standoff might have continued indefinitely if not for the sudden parting of the werewolf ranks.
Luke stepped into the clearing, his face a mask of disbelief as he beheld me standing defiantly before him. Gone was the charming prince who had seduced me with promises of acceptance. In his place stood a desperate man, dark circles under his eyes and tension radiating from every muscle.
"You're alive," he said, the words half accusation, half wonder.
"Disappointed?" I replied coldly.
Luke's expression hardened. "You don't understand what's happening. Lydia is dying. Your blood—it's poisoning her somehow."
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "How unfortunate for you both."
"This isn't a joke!" Luke snarled, taking a step forward. "Whatever power is in your blood, it's killing her. You have to help reverse it."
"Help?" My voice dropped dangerously low. "After you lied to me, used me, and left me for dead? Your princess stole my blood. Whatever consequences come with it are hers to bear."
Luke's facade cracked, revealing the desperation beneath. "Please. I'll do anything. She's everything to me."
"As I was nothing," I finished for him. "You should have thought of that before you betrayed me."
Something shifted in Luke's eyes—the realization that persuasion would fail. He nodded subtly to his warriors, who tensed to spring.
"Then I'll take what I need by force," he declared.
The werewolves attacked from all sides. In my previous life, I would have been overwhelmed instantly. But something had fundamentally changed within me. Time seemed to slow as my blood responded to danger, forming a protective cocoon around my body.
When the first werewolf reached me, my blood lashed out like a living entity, wrapping around his throat and throwing him into his companions. More attacked, and more fell before my newfound power. I moved with grace I had never possessed, my body and blood working in perfect harmony.
Luke watched in horror as his warriors fell one by one, unable to penetrate my blood defenses. When only he remained standing, he drew a silver dagger—the same one used in the ritual—and charged with supernatural speed.
I met him halfway, my blood forming a crimson blade that clashed against his silver. For a moment, we stood locked together, faces inches apart.
"Your blood is killing her," Luke hissed. "What are you?"
"I don't know," I admitted, surprising myself with my honesty. "But I'm beginning to think you chose the wrong vampire to betray."
With a surge of will, my blood blade pushed Luke's dagger aside. Before he could recover, I placed my palm against his chest, directly over his heart.
"Your princess took my blood without consent," I said, my voice eerily calm. "Now I leave you with a gift in return."
A drop of my blood seeped through my palm, entering Luke's body. He gasped, staggering backward as the crimson droplet disappeared beneath his skin.
"What did you do to me?" he demanded, clutching his chest.
"I've left a piece of myself with you," I explained, understanding my actions even as I performed them. "A reminder. Every time your princess screams in pain, you'll feel an echo. Every time she weakens, you'll share her suffering. My blood is now part of you both—a bond you cannot break."
Horror dawned on Luke's face as he felt the foreign blood moving within him, settling near his heart. "You've cursed me."
"I've given you exactly what you deserve," I corrected. "The consequences of your betrayal, to be carried with you always."
Luke fell to his knees, overwhelmed by the implications. "There must be a way to reverse this."
"Perhaps," I conceded, though I had no idea if it was possible. "But that knowledge dies with me."
I turned to leave, my point made. But the exertion of the fight, coming so soon after my near-death experience, had depleted my recovering strength. The world tilted suddenly, darkness encroaching on my vision. I fought to remain conscious, but my body had reached its limit.
As I collapsed, I heard Luke shouting orders to his remaining warriors. They would take me now, in my weakened state, and complete what they had started.
Through dimming senses, I perceived a new presence entering the clearing—a cold, powerful aura that made even the werewolves hesitate. A shadow moved with impossible speed, and werewolves fell like wheat before a scythe.
The last thing I saw before consciousness fled was a tall figure standing protectively over me, elegant hands stained with werewolf blood, and eyes that glowed like rubies in the darkness.
"Sleep, little royal," a velvet voice murmured. "You're safe now."
