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The moment it touched my tongue, my face scrunched. It was thick, too thick, with the texture of congealed blood. The taste of bitter oil and paint thinner. It hit my system like a furnace, heat rushing through my ears and shoulders, setting my veins alight. I forced myself to swallow, suppressing the violent urge to spit it back out. “Gods,” I groaned, clutching my stomach. “That’s worse than I imagined. Bomani was right. That’s some fucked blood.”

Kleitos was already laughing, his glass halfway refilled. “Trinty is the best,” he said through chuckles. “Only the finest. But as you said, we have forever. You’ll grow to appreciate it.” Pouring again, the red-black liquid swirled into his glass like ink. “Did you ever drink back in the human realm?” he asked, genuinely curious.

I shook my head, still recovering. “Never had the urge,” I admitted, wrinkling my nose at the glass in my hand. “But from what my friends said… it probably wasn’t far off from this.” I managed to make a faint smile and took another sip, smaller this time, less self-destructive. The burn didn’t sting quite as sharp. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment to your world or an insult to mine,” I added dryly, earning another laugh from him.

The effects were immediate. My mind swirled into a featherlight tornado behind my eyes, clouding any righteous judgment. Even holding the delicate cup to my lips felt like a strain, as if my limbs had grown heavier, lulled by the creeping grip of lethargy. My eyelids drooped under the drink’s weight, and a hiccup bubbled up from my stomach, forcing me to pull the glass away with a startled wince.

"You have no tolerance," Kleitos chuckled, setting his empty glass down. "I should say I’m proud you’ve abstained for so long, but you also deserve to let go now and then. A little fun never hurt."

Tilting my head in partial agreement, I took another swig, smaller this time, bracing for the burn. It still scorched my throat, but beneath the heat, I began to taste it. The thickened blood held an almost sweet, woody note. Nutty in places, rich in others. I sighed and placed the now-empty flute down beside his. The smeared remains glistened in faint crimson streaks along the glass. “Believe it or not, I did have fun once,” I said with a faint laugh. “I was on the football team. My first year of university. People liked me, and I had friends. No girlfriend or anything serious, but there was one girl I had my eye on.” A wistful smile crept across my lips. “She was beautiful, with dark skin, braids down to her hips. I never even learned her name.”

In another life, I would’ve been on a field right now, maybe mid-practice, maybe heading to a post-game party. Maybe that would've been the night I tried my first drink. Maybe I’d have found the courage to talk to her. Ask for her name.

But that version of my life felt like it belonged to someone else now.

Somehow, I didn’t mourn it. Not really. My future had become something so vast, so extraordinary, I could hardly fathom it. That alone brought peace.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Kleitos said, pouring himself another drink with practiced ease, “you did find your Velsera. And that’s far more precious than any goddess wrapped in virtue.” Leaning back, his shoulders softened from their usual poise. Sliding deeper into the chair, he took another swig of his glass. The drink didn’t seem to affect him in the same way it did me. For him, it was a slow exhale. “You didn’t have to wait lifetimes for a flicker of soul-fire,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Whatever fate lies ahead for you, it knew. It knew you’d need her. That you’d need the spark.” He sipped again, slower this time, savoring it with his eyes closed.

I smiled to myself at the way he described her. She had been the spark to my soul. My gravity. Too long away from her, and I felt like my heart might give out entirely. I exhaled, leaning back, cocooning myself in the blanket again as a small yawn slipped from my lips. “You called her my Velsera… what is that?” The word rolled off my tongue like a charm, like a promise. It felt right, even if I didn’t know what it meant.

“It’s what we call a fated bond,” Kleitos explained softly. “It means your souls were created as a pair, divinely matched. The gods made you for each other, with the intention that one day… you’d find your way back.” He paused, taking another drink before continuing. “If you’re lucky enough to find one another, it’s supposed to feel like breathing. Natural. Unspoken. Your bodies and minds speak their own language.” He shrugged faintly. “I always thought it was just legend. Most don’t find their true pair. They settle for what the mind thinks love is.”

Nodding, I finally felt the full effects of the liquor. My words began to slur under the influence of the Trinty. “That… hmm, means you ne-never really found… your one,” I mumbled through a string of hiccups that jerked from my chest I didn't see his expression; my eyes had already closed, as another yawn tore its way free. The infused blood had worked fast, lulling my once-alert body into something warm, mellow, and slow.

If he replied, I didn’t catch it.

Somewhere between that breath and the next, I felt myself being lifted gently from the chair. Strong arms cradled me like I weighed nothing. Lowering me into the comfort of a bed, I curled into the pillow, no longer worried about the world. The softness of it all swallowed me whole, cocooning me in a dreamless sleep. Each kiss of blood pounded through my skull, trapping me inside an echo chamber.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Was it hours or moments that had passed?

Opening my eyes felt like a punishment, one I would’ve gladly avoided. I had no real choice. The plans for the night swam back into focus like a flood of unwelcome memories, and I let out a low grunt as both eyes finally fluttered open. Propping myself up on one elbow, I sank into the softness of the bed as I scanned the room for Kleitos.

He was already awake and dressed, perched near the table like he hadn’t drunk an ounce of that god-awful Trinty. His outfit was new. He wore a fitted black tunic that clung to the lines of his body, subtle but tailored, paired with dark blue slacks tied with a drawstring at the waist. His boots were a matching shade of soot, sleek and polished. The look was simple, but it gave off an air of quiet command.

Another yawn gripped my core as I stretched across the bed. After my legs stopped seizing, I hauled myself upright. The warmth was tempting, but it had to be shed. “My head feels like shit,” I muttered hoarsely, rubbing the side of my face with the heel of my hand. My muscles were stiff, and my throat felt like sandpaper. It was parched and bitter, craving anything to soothe it.

A dozen crimson blood bags were scattered across a silver platter at the table’s center. Underneath, four tea-light candles flickered quietly, their small flames warming the metal plate from below. Sinking into the chair across from Kleitos, my eyes dragged hungrily over the sight before me. Without hesitation, I grabbed one like my survival depended on it.

My fangs slid down instinctively, piercing through the bag’s seal. The first pull of warm liquid coated my throat like velvet fire, soothing the parched ache that had built up overnight. My entire body relaxed beneath the rush. The pounding in my head dulled to a manageable throb, and the soreness in my neck dissipated in waves.

“Drink up,” Kleitos encouraged, already tearing into his own. He poured the contents into a dark mug beside him, then placed it directly on the metal plate, letting the warmth soak into the glass. “You’ll feel better soon. How many of these have you been drinking a day?”

I gave a half-shrug, still swallowing. “I don’t know… maybe one? Every once in a while? I’ve never felt the thirst as strong as Lord Draco described it.”

“That makes sense,” he replied thoughtfully, watching the liquid settle in his cup. “You’re in the newborn stage. Your body’s adjusting. The thirst hasn’t matured yet, but it will. Best to be proactive.” Leaning forward, he nudged another bag toward me. “How about you drink four before we head out? You’ll need your strength.” Kleitos rose to his feet, brushing down the front of his tunic. “I’ll go check on our friend Bomani. See if he’s joining us. I asked Angelique to bring him some breakfast.”

His fingers curled around the handle as he brought it to his lips. He sipped once, gave a satisfied nod, then turned on his heel toward the door. I watched in silence as he strolled out with effortless grace, the fabric of his tunic catching the firelight as he moved. The door clicked softly behind him, a whisper of sound that left me alone with nothing but the flickering candles and the growing hunger stirring inside me.

Finishing the first blood bag, the synthetic skin crumpled like silk in my palm. There was something oddly comforting about the texture. It was soft, pliant, warm from the heat of my hand. But the blood… the blood was something else entirely. Every swallow pulsed through my veins like stolen fire, jolting me awake and alert, strength coiling in my limbs like a predator stretching for the first time.

Without hesitation, I reached for the next bag Kleitos had slid me. My fingers glided across its surface, no longer tentative or hesitant, but craving. My fangs sank in effortlessly, and I tore through the contents like a man starved, drinking not for survival but for the intoxicating thrill of it. It felt like indulging in something forbidden, something that whispered of power and pleasure in the same breath.

Warmth bloomed in my stomach, a comforting balm to the lingering ache from the Trinty. The thick blood coated my throat, easing the dry sting I hadn’t even noticed was still there. I barely detected when I finished. The third and fourth disappeared just as quickly, greedily consumed one after the other until nothing remained but emptiness and a rising sense of satisfaction.

Leaning back in my chair, I felt a surge of strength settle over me, a low hum in my chest. Whatever tonight would bring, I was ready.