Ch. 15

“Madling”

Little bat — that is what he has called me for what feels like the hundredth time. I grimace at the thought. A nickname. Ugh. I have only had a handful of nicknames in my insignificant life, and I’ve hated every single one. This one, though, might just top the list.

The irony doesn’t escape me either: a bat, as if I’m meant to glide fearlessly through this forest, my eyes keen on every shadow. If only Zanir knew how tightly I grip the tether around my beast, how cautious I really am, even more so in a place like this.

Little bat. The word curls in my mind like a bitter aftertaste.

I sit perched in a tree, feeling the rough bark press against my back as I settle deeper into the branches, watching and listening. The forest below hums with low murmurs of life, creatures moving in the undergrowth, tree branches rustling in the wind, feet squishing in the mud, and now and then, a distant roar that melts into a wail, sounding like a whisper on the wind. The breeze rustles through the leaves above me, creating a gentle, rhythmic hiss that mingles with the occasional snap of a breaking twig in the distance.

The moon has long passed behind the jagged mountain range, casting the forest into a darker shade of night. Shadows stretch longer as dawn teases the horizon, the cool night air gradually softening with the promise of daylight. The fire below, once blazing with warmth, now flickers weakly. Only a faint orange glow seeps from beneath the burnt, crumbling sticks, casting the faintest warmth and leaving the once-bright clearing in a dim haze of ash and ember.

My mind wanders, like it likes to do. Time seems more like a curse than a gift when the past is just a jumble of fragments, a perpetual puzzle missing too many pieces. As I stare into the darkness beyond the fire’s dying glow, I’m reminded of the fragments scattered in my own mind — memories that come back in flashes, vivid yet incomplete. It’s as if own past hides in the past hides in the shadows, waiting for a rare moment when I let my guard down to pounce and piece itself together in fragments.

The thought haunts at me, confusing. What parts have I lost? I wonder if Zanir ever feels the same, weighed down by centuries of fading recollections. I shuffle uncomfortably, as if to shake off the phantoms of memories just out of reach, unwilling to let them pull me further into the dark recesses of my mind.

Imagine all the things once could do with so much time — the good and the bad. I wonder what it must be like to nearly forget one’s past, only to relieve faded memories as if they were whispered echoes. Watching Zanir, a mortal vampire, sitting by a fire, fishing as if it were any ordinary night… and yet he has centuries behind him, choices as I glance toward the moonlight filtering through the branches, casting fleeting patterns on the forest floor.

How would it feel to have so much history, memories bound together in one continuous thread? I turn my gaze back to the fire, feeling a tightening knot in my stomach, the unease of not knowing where my own story truly begins or ends. Time feels like a curse rather than a gift when your past is a jumbled puzzle of fragments, slipping through your fingers like sand.

My stomach tightens more, twisting like a serpent as I watch Zanir, a shadow of centuries unfurling before me. How I longed to taste the freedom of his time, to experiences painted in vibrant colors as the painter and not the brush.

Zanir is curled around the edge of the fire circle, his body rising and falling with each sleepy breath. I twist my wing, inhale deeply, and exhale smoothly. A small bundle of fire falls toward the fire pit to keep the flames going a little longer. Some of the remaining sticks fall from the force with a small thump. Zanir stirs, moving his arm, but the repetitive movements of his chest stay the same, rising and falling.

My stomach growls, a hollow ache echoing like a mournful song, reminding me with my poor aimed fire, that I am but a withering husk if I don’t clench my hunger soon. I can almost feel my control over my powers slipping, draining away like the last remnants of a waning moon. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought, and I push it away, unwilling to dwell on the cost of my own existence.

I fly down from the tree as quietly as possible. A soft grumble of my stomach breaks the silence of nightfall, and I whisper a curse into the night. I need to find something to eat.

I land next to Halfy, with his watchful golden ginger eyes, always find me, even in the thick of the darkest woods. His steady warmth grounding me, his presence a tether to a world less fraught with shadows. A beast who never truly sleeps, his duty to me knows no limits, even when sleeping, and the god Hypos trying to drag him to slumber.

His ears droop slightly, and his head tilts. Halfy, you are a good boy. I reach out, brushing my wings against his fur. The warmth of his body calms me, a tether that reminds me I am not alone. His warm breath brushing against me, battling the coldness that pumps through me. I glance at Zanir and then back to Halfy, noticing how his ginger golden eyes gleam with understanding.

I reach for my satchel that lies beside Halfy. I must have forgotten about it after noticing the breadcrumbs earlier. I can’t help but admire Halfy’s cunning side. He always seems to know what I need before I do.

I will be right back. I promise. I mumble through our bond, hoping he feels the sincerity in my words. I sense Halfy tense as his eyes shift toward Zanir’s sleeping form like a predator sizing up its next meal.

Be nice or… don’t. I add with a shrug and a smile. Just make sure he can still speak. 

I feel my nose wrinkle at the thought. Zanir talks more than necessary — or at least more than I would like already. Still, he seems to know things I don’t. What’s that saying? Curiosity killed the cat…or bat, in this case. Expect this bat is still kicking, sort of.

I will be back soon. I promise. I reassure him through our bond. My heart lightening despite the uncertainty of what I am about to do, clouds the racing constant thought firing off in my mind. Halfy grumbles in response, as my normally closed-off mind is leaking into our bond. His sound, deep and comforting, even if is a response with a hint of annoyance.

I fly a short distance down the lake’s edge, navigating through the canopy of trees. The night sky moves with me, cleaved only by occasional moonlight that filters through the branches. As I approach a clearing by the lake, I glance back from where I came, the faint glow of our campfire wavering in the distance. Despite the forest’s overall ominous vibe, this moment feels oddly serene, like a sanctuary amidst the confusion that is going on within me, and from the mysterious century-old mortal vampire sleeping peacefully.

I land gently at the water’s edge, the cool breeze ruffling the thin membrane of my wings. The gentle lapping of water softens the shoreline, which is scattered with dusk-colored sand and half-submerged logs. I look around and then I bury my satchel under a pile of leaves near a large, moss-covered rock that is shaped oddly, almost like a sentinel keeping watch over the lake.

As I inhale the fresh, crisp air, a sense of calm washes over me as I exhale. A feeling that recently only comes from a pause and take a moment to remember where I am, and how I got. I left and came here. I am in control. I take a deep breath, letting it slowly leave my lungs, again. The surrounding air stills, and I feel the invisible shell forming around me, a mixture of the wind, fire, and ice, all wielded by me. Like a cloud, it forms until it connects, blocking me from any lingering eyes or ears. Within this protective shield, my body begins to come back to life.

My arms expand from the wings they once filled, and my legs stretch out fully. My toes dig into the sand beneath my feet. My eyes adjust back to their ordinary vision, making the world grow darker and more overcast than before. My hair tumbles down my back, with a few strands falling across my face and shoulders. A shiver runs through me as I take another deep breath, exhaling slowly.

I close my eyes and retreat to an area that brings me such dread. I approach the wooden door in my mind with apprehension, its surface scarred and battered from previous attacks by the beast I keep imprisoned within. Holes tarnish the once-sturdy frame, remnants of desperate struggles that echo in my memories.

Every time I open this door, the same cold fear slithers down my spine, a reminder that what I let loose may never fit back into the dark space I have carved for it. The beast lays just beyond, it’s a presence a low, steady pulse in my mind. I must open it once more, to draw upon the beast and replenish the life force that was drained from me. My trembling hand reaches for the door, and with a reluctant push, I force it open, bracing myself for the inevitable noises, terror, and fury that will soon follow. But a meet with his silky smooth voice that makes my skin crawl. Just how he likes it.

Hello Lady Mihaela… He purrs through my mind but stops, and then falls silent. I refuse to speak or satisfy the beast’s blase demeanor, as if we were ever friends — like that would ever happen. It’s been awfully dull in here without you. The others are never quiet, and honestly, they aren’t as entertaining as you. Then it purrs, again this time through clenched teeth. You almost let me through. Your door is unstable, with that vampire—or should I say, not-vampire now?

I snarl, trying to mask the unease curling in my chest. You are not in control. Remember that.

Claws drag across my mind, reminding me that at any moment I could lose the control I am so desperately trying to keep under lock and key.

Oh, Lady Mihaela, the beast purrs, I am well aware I am not in control. You seem to have forgotten that — or perhaps you can’t recall — that you are the one in control…always… and always will be. But let’s not overlook that vampire. He might prove quite charming, don’t you think? He could be just what you, both of us, need.

His voice, a low, rumbling vibration of the beast beneath me, sent a shiver through my spine no matter how hard I practiced steeling myself against his velvet-grading voice.

I hiss, barely containing my starting-to-boil frustration. I am not in the mood for your stupid mind games, Kiza. The sound escaping like steam from a boiling cauldron, barely masking the irritation simmering beneath the surface. I clench my teeth against my cheek, and feel the blood move across my teeth.

I feel nauseous suddenly. My heart races, and I swallow hard, feeling a cold sweat break across my brow, and it cuts as it falls from my freezing skin. My body trembles at the mere mention of his name. The fear is almost palpable, mixing with the gnawing hunger in my stomach that seems to claw at me, demanding something — anything — to quench the desperate craving. 

We both need to fill what I lost, but remember, I will shut you out again and I will gladly lock every lock behind me. My voice is sharp and determined, unlike the doubt that was just at the edge of my words, because I am putting more faith in locks that may not hold at all.

I feel a roar inside. See, Lady Mihaela… That’s why you are more fun.

Through my shield, the faint wisps along the lake vanish, and even the moonlight seems to retreat further behind the mountains as if they sense what is coming. They know what is about to be released. They know what I am about to become. They know what I truly am a part of — a long discarded beast hidden behind my true form’s mind, lying in wait to pounce and take me over completely.

The beast’s presence outside my mental door furors my mind, a promise of uncertainty and chaos. Every pulse of power that seeps through the holes in the door feels like a beckoning, an invitation for the beast to seize control.

My heart races, gripped by the fear of losing myself, of becoming a vessel of untamed rage. Yet, as the power flows and ice runs over me, I remind myself of my strength. I am the one in control. The beast may purr and twist my words into a game, but I am the anchor that holds against the tempest. My powers are mine to wield, and I am resolute in my command. No matter how fierce the struggle within, I will not surrender to it. Fear does not define me.

With a deep, shuddering exhale, I feel my body change again. Bones snap and reform, growing into new shapes. Claws replace my delicate fingers, digging into the sand. Fangs stretch into the smirk that once played on my lips. Hard plates rise across my back like spikes, their tips fading into a fog of plum-colored clouds. My body becomes little more than a shadow in the night — visible but fading at the edges, much like how humans describe spirits or ghosts. My ears elongate to catch the softest of sounds. Black fur with a purple hue reminiscent of my true form’s hair covers me, with black swirls running across my new shape, matching where tattoos are inked on my turn form. Another bond that connects me to this beast, unfortunately — is a different, divided bond, unlike the one I share with Halfy. The only remnant of my true self is my lavender eyes. My shield suddenly collapses and as it does, the world floods in — its smells, sounds, and tastes overwhelm my heightened senses.

Where to, Lady Mihaela? The beast purrs impatiently inside my skull, its tone tinged with restless eagerness. His voice moving through my skull like silk, laced with a greedy hunger, like a predator pacing in a cage.

To hunt. I growl, raising my newly formed head, large and powerful. Smells fill my nostrils with each breath. I remind myself I am only doing this because I have to and I remain in control. But there is a scent — an irresistible lure that ignites an immediate urge within me. I have to find it and track it down.

It differs from Halfy, the trees, the lake, and even Zanir. I can smell him from this distance — the earthiness mixed with pine, the crisp purity of lake water, faint traces of mint, dried sweat, and the stale tang of old blood where the branches of trees ripped at him. But there is no power in his scent, no bitterness creeping through the forest. Other than my own, that lingers at the end of my snout, and something else — an exotic, thrilling scent. It fills my nose, richer and more delicious than anything else. Prey. Instinct flows within me, driving me forward, demanding I follow. I have to find it.

I move silently through the trees, each step measured and smooth, my body low to the ground like a predator on the hunt — because that is what I am. The forest blurs around me, but every detail stands out. My nose guides me, the scent wrapping itself around my senses, pulling me forward with profound focus. My eyes scan the timbers as I follow the trail, the scent beckoning me deeper into the forest.

Even out here, as my senses guide me, my mind still races. The unknown of what may lie ahead for me. Going back to the castle, traveling with someone, something I barely know, and even the beast that calls my name behind a beaten and bather door.

My eyes narrow as I scan the area ahead, and there, partially obscured behind a cluster of ember-colored trees, my eyes lock onto a deer, rigid and frozen. I crouch lower to the ground, never breaking my stare from the deer as it checks the area, and my smell creeps in. I stay perfectly still, my breath held in my lungs. The deer is a decent-sized buck, its broad antlers proudly crowning its head. A meal any scout would be proud to claim — one that could probably feed a good number of people back at the castle. Or at least one haunting creature — like me.

The scent of the buck is a command as powerful as any spell, and my muscles tense as if called to spring forward. The buck lowers its head to graze, and before a second thought can form, my body moves. My paws thunder across the ground, my form blurring at the edges as I close in. The buck barely has time to lift its head before my jaws sink deep into its neck. I feel my fangs rip through its hide, tearing through layers of skin, tendons, and muscles with savage force. Warm blood gushes over my tongue, dripping from the corners of my mouth as a low snarl rumbles from my throat. With each brutal bite, I drive deeper. The crunch of bones echoes in the air, and the buck’s body goes limp, hanging in my jaws as I relish in the violent, primal moment.

—

Moments pass, and all that remains is a pile of bones and the antlers that once crowned the buck. Its meat, its essence, its very soul, now fills the void left within me, the space carved out when I used my powers against Zanir. I am full, nearly, whole. My body trembles, each breath coming in ragged, exhilarated gasps. The thrill of it — the hunt, the freedom beyond the castle walls, the ability to fly, to shift, to simply exist — surges through me.

Until next time, Lady Mihaela. Kiza’s purrs, the echo lingering just a little too long.

The beast knows I won’t let him out permanently. I only did this because I needed him, his powers, to absorb the life force back into my body. MY BODY. My mind races frantically to grab hold of my sanity and control that is slipping through my fingers like weed lost in the breeze.

Our power, Lady Mihaela. Kiza chimes.

I slam my mental door shut with a resounding crash, the sound moving through the void of my mind. A distant claw scapes against the weakened barrier, the sensation sends an instinctual shiver down my spine. I snarl, the moment fueling my irritation.

With the beast’s influence momentarily subdued, I move my focus to the world around me, the world outside of my skull. My form remains, but the animalistic beast, the instinct, the drive, is silent now, other than the echoing of claws on my mental door. I raise my head to the sky, watching the clouds drift above and the moonlight wanes. The scent of sweat, mint, lake water, and earthiness fills my nostrils once more. Blood still drips down my face and fangs, and as I turn, the warm red liquid splatters on some nearby trees.

I scan the area as I move back through it, carefully navigating past trees, shrubs, and rocks. One tree catches my eye — it seems out of place. Unlike the others, it’s covered with moss at the top rather than the base, and its branches lack the autumn colors. I narrow my eyes, but quickly, a new smell takes my attention elsewhere — tangy, bitter, and strong, like scorched earth mingling with something sour.

I freeze and lower myself to the ground, blending into my surroundings. My focus moves from the strange tree to the source of this new, unfamiliar smell, which nearly makes my eyes water.

In the distance, I spot what appears to be an older-looking woman, and I am sensing a trend in this forest. She has long hair that is matted close to her skull, and her fingers splayed in unnatural directions, each tipped with pointed claws. Her face is grotesque, twisted, and malformed, with her mouth crooked and seemingly about to melt away. A fire-like glow drips from her lips, illuminating the tattered fragments of her clothing that barely conceal her sunken, skeletal frame. The creature floats eerily above the ground, gliding toward something. I follow her path and, in the distance, see the dim glow of a fire — our fire.