▪︎ Chapter 137 ▪︎ “You came all this way just to see me?”

Seraphina drummed her fingers against the tree trunk to her left, the gentle rhythm almost playful as she regarded the human lying some distance away. 

The forest surrounding her was unusually beautiful, its trees crowned with leaves in varying shades of crimson, scarlet, and dark burgundy. 

A few drifted lazily through the evening air, settling over the man's clothing and the remains of his weapon. 

His gun lay several feet from his outstretched hand, its barrel snapped cleanly away from the rest of it.

The human stared at her with an expression of undisguised terror. Seraphina returned his gaze with a warm smile, her long pastel-pink hair stirring faintly in the breeze. 

Her crimson eyes, entirely devoid of pupils, followed the movement of his fingers as he struggled to gather himself.

"You came all this way just to see me?" Seraphina asked, her voice carrying an intimate warmth that made the question sound almost like a private invitation. 

"I'm flattered. Though I do wish you'd found a more pleasant way to introduce yourself. Breaking into a vampire's home in the middle of nowhere is rather an unusual choice, don't you think?"

The man clutched at his side, his breathing ragged. His gaze darted toward the broken gun, then toward the trees behind her, before settling on the knife strapped to his belt. 

Seraphina watched the progression with mild interest. She could hear his heartbeat hammering, each frantic contraction accompanied by tiny changes in his breathing and posture. 

He was frightened enough to run, but greed was an astonishingly effective restraint on common sense.

He found the knife's handle and dragged himself upright.

"That castle doesn't belong to you!" he spat, raising the blade with a trembling hand. "You monsters just moved in and took whatever you wanted! Once I kill you, I'll be rich!"

Seraphina lifted her fingers from the tree and rested one hand against her cheek. 

Her expression softened into something approaching concern, although the look she gave him was one usually reserved for someone whose grasp of reality had become questionable.

"You're still thinking about killing me?" she asked, sounding almost impressed. "How persistent. Although I have to wonder what you expect that little knife to accomplish when your gun couldn't even make me flinch."

Her smile widened slightly.

"Or were you hoping I'd let you get a little closer?"

"Shut up!"

His shout sent several birds scattering from the branches overhead. He charged before their wings had finished beating, knife raised and teeth clenched. 

Seraphina made no attempt to evade him. She simply watched him approach, her smile remaining in place even as the blade plunged into her stomach.

The scent of peach and honey sharpened around her.

Dark red blood rolled down the knife, slipping over the man's fingers and dripping onto the leaf-covered ground. 

Seraphina glanced down at the weapon embedded in her abdomen, then back at the human holding it. 

His expression had changed from furious determination to bewilderment. He had expected resistance, perhaps a struggle, perhaps a desperate attempt to escape. 

Instead, the little vampire merely sighed.

"Well, you've certainly gotten close enough now. Was it everything you hoped for?"

She placed a hand against his chest and shoved.

The man vanished backward with a startled cry, his feet leaving the ground before he struck the earth and began careening through the fallen leaves. 

He bounced once, rolled violently, and continued for nearly forty feet before slamming into the trunk of another tree. 

The impact shook its branches, sending a shower of crimson foliage over his crumpled body.

Seraphina looked down at the knife still protruding from her stomach. 

She wrapped her fingers around the handle and pulled it free, examining the bloodied blade for a moment before tossing it aside. 

The puncture in her dress closed as the fabric repaired itself, and the wound beneath it vanished almost as quickly.

"I really wasn't planning to spend my evening entertaining you," she remarked, her tone remaining pleasantly conversational. 

"Although I suppose I could turn you. You'd become much prettier, and I do have a weakness for pretty faces."

She tilted her head, considering the possibility for a moment before a faint sigh escaped her.

"But I wonder if I'd enjoy knowing the person you used to be."

After all, the transformation would produce another beautiful vampire, and Seraphina was hardly opposed to the existence of more beautiful women. 

The difficulty was that beauty alone couldn't excuse everything. Even she had standards, despite what certain people might eventually insist.

She disappeared.

The distance between them ceased to matter, and she reappeared beside the fallen human, crouching gracefully among the leaves. 

He was still conscious, though only barely. Blood trickled from his mouth, and his left arm rested at an angle that suggested several bones had broken. His breathing was shallow, punctuated by occasional wet coughs.

Seraphina leaned closer and prodded his ribs with one finger.

He screamed.

"That sounded painful," she observed, moving her finger a little farther down. "And here I was hoping you might still be able to hold a conversation."

Another pained sound escaped him.

"Several broken ribs, I think. You've really made a mess of yourself."

He attempted to recoil, but the movement only made him groan. 

Seraphina withdrew her hand and rested her chin against her palm, considering him with an expression of gentle disappointment.

"I wouldn't dislike the vampire you'd become," she told him. "Quite the opposite, probably. But I think I'd find it a little difficult to forget that you came here intending to murder someone for money. You didn't even know whether you could win."

The man stared at her, struggling to focus.

"And then there's everyone else." Seraphina glanced toward the distant castle, her lips curving with quiet amusement. 

"Imagine what they'd say if I brought you home. I'd never hear the end of it. They'd think I was willing to take absolutely anyone."

She laughed softly, a musical sound entirely unsuited to the condition of the person before her.

Her awareness extended beyond the trees, beyond the castle, and into something she had only recently begun to understand.

A vast red expanse existed somewhere beyond ordinary perception, and within it she could sense others like herself. 

There were innumerable distant presences, delicate and luminous, and six extraordinary focal points that stood apart from everything else.

The sensation was marvelous.

Seraphina hadn't yet met the other Princesses, but the connection alone was enough to stir her curiosity. 

She could feel their existence with a certainty that needed no explanation, as though some long-neglected part of herself had finally awakened.

And there were so many vampires.

So many lovely possibilities.

Her smile grew a fraction brighter before she returned her attention to the human.

"I think I'll leave you here," she said, lightly patting his chest. "If you manage to get up and find your way out, I won't stop you. You can even tell everyone you met me, if you'd like. Just try to make it an interesting story."

He made an indistinct noise.

"Though perhaps leave out the part where you stabbed me. It wasn't a particularly memorable experience."

Seraphina straightened and brushed a few leaves from her dress. She spared one final glance at the man, who remained sprawled against the tree, and then turned away.

Whether he could actually stand was another matter entirely.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn't a beautiful woman, and Seraphina found it exceedingly difficult to summon much interest in his continued well-being. 

She had offered him the opportunity to leave. What he did with that opportunity was his own concern.

Humming pleasantly, she wandered deeper into the forest.

Crimson leaves rustled beneath her shoes, and the evening air carried the fragrance of damp earth and unfamiliar flowers. 

The enormous trees rose around her like pillars, their branches forming a canopy through which the dim light of the Diverged Lands filtered in reddish fragments.

Seraphina stretched her arms above her head and sighed contentedly.

What a delightful world.

She had a castle, an abundance of beautiful scenery, and the prospect of meeting six other Royal Vampires. The last possibility was especially appealing. 

Even without having seen them, she felt a peculiar certainty that they would be wonderful.

She reached toward the Blood Sea again, allowing her awareness to brush against the distant presences gathered within it. 

The connection was unlike hearing a voice or seeing another person's face. 

It was more intimate than either, an awareness of belonging that seemed to exist beneath thought itself.

Somewhere within that crimson immensity, the other six Princesses shone with the same extraordinary significance she possessed.

Seraphina smiled to herself.

"Six of you, and I haven't had the pleasure of meeting a single one." Her voice softened into something almost wistful. "I wonder which of you will let me steal a little of her time first."

Her laughter followed her through the red forest, while far behind her, the human struggled to remember how to breathe without pain.

───

The silver shackles fell open with a metallic click.

Helena Strauss carefully removed the first cuff, then the second, placing both on the table beside her before taking a seat opposite the slender vampire. 

The restraints were thick, their inner surfaces discolored by the prolonged contact with flesh that could neither tolerate silver nor remain permanently damaged by it.

Beatrix made no attempt to attack.

Instead, she brought her hands close to her chest and began rubbing her wrists, her expression fierce enough to suggest she would have happily torn the shackles apart if she possessed the means to do so without touching them again.

The scent of strawberry and toasted marshmallow gradually returned to its usual pleasant intensity as the injuries healed. 

Helena watched the process with an attention she couldn't entirely suppress, even after everything she had witnessed since the Divergences began.

The damage had been appalling.

The skin around Beatrix's wrists had been repeatedly burned and destroyed, the underlying tissue suffering injuries that would have left an ordinary human permanently disabled. 

Yet the moment the silver was removed, regeneration proceeded with extraordinary speed. 

Damaged flesh restored itself, angry discoloration disappeared, and within moments her wrists looked untouched.

Helena lowered her gaze to the restraints.

There was no scientific justification for keeping them on continuously. 

Even from the perspective of someone determined to study vampire regeneration, the repeated observations had long since ceased producing meaningful information.

Their continued use served another purpose.

Control.

Beatrix seemed to arrive at a similar conclusion. She glared at the woman across from her, then pushed herself to her feet and began pacing.

"I'm tired of this place," she announced sharply. "I'm tired of the room, I'm tired of the people who keep coming in here, and I'm especially tired of those damned things."

She gestured toward the shackles.

"I understand," Helena replied.

"No, I don't think you do."

Beatrix crossed the room in three quick strides, turned, and marched back toward the table. 

Her short, light-blue hair shifted around her face as she moved, the pale strands contrasting with her dark skin. 

She was dressed in the white clothing the Institute had provided, an outfit that looked painfully ordinary compared with the gothic garments vampires usually wore.

"I've been stuck here long enough," Beatrix continued. "Every time someone tells me they're going to make things better, I end up right where I started. So forgive me if I'm not particularly interested in another explanation."

Helena watched her pace for several seconds.

"I would very much like to release you," she said eventually. "Unfortunately, doing so would give the people above me an excuse to repeat this elsewhere, under conditions where I couldn't interfere."

Beatrix stopped.

Helena continued before the vampire could interrupt. "As things stand, I can restrict access to you. I can challenge requests for additional procedures, delay certain investigations, and prevent some of the more unreasonable proposals from being approved. If you disappear from this facility, those responsible won't simply decide the experiment was a mistake."

"They'll find another vampire," Beatrix said.

"Yes."

"And do the same thing to her."

"Possibly worse."

The answer hung between them.

Beatrix's expression darkened, and then she moved.

Helena barely registered the motion before the vampire stood directly in front of her. 

One slender hand hovered a few centimeters from her throat, its nails beginning to extend into sharp points.

Beatrix leaned forward, her solid crimson eyes fixed upon Helena's tired human ones.

"Why aren't you afraid?"

Helena remained seated. She could feel the slight movement of air against her face from Beatrix's sudden approach, but her expression barely changed.

"Because I don't believe you're going to kill me."

"That's a pretty stupid thing to believe when I could tear your throat out before you blink."

"You're correct about the difference in our speed," Helena acknowledged. "I couldn't keep up with you, much less defend myself if you genuinely decided to attack."

"Then why?"

"Because I'm your current lifeline, Beatrix. And because you understand that I'm trying to prevent this situation from becoming worse."

Beatrix stared at her.

The vampire's hand remained suspended near Helena's neck for another moment before her fingers curled inward. Her nails retracted, and she stepped back with a dissatisfied click of her tongue.

"You're awfully confident."

"Not especially," Helena replied. "I simply think you're more reasonable than the people who put you in those shackles."

Beatrix gave a humorless laugh.

"Really? You don't think humans should be doing this? Studying us, finding ways to get an advantage over the scary monsters before it's too late?"

Helena's gaze drifted toward the paper lying on the table.

"That's a complicated question."

"Then give me a complicated answer."

For the first time since entering the room, Helena seemed faintly amused.

She reached for a pen, uncapped it, and drew a straight line across the page.

"Let's say this represents humanity."

Beatrix looked at the line, then at Helena.

"That's humanity?"

"For the purposes of this explanation, yes."

"Not particularly impressive."

"Give me a moment."

Helena placed the pen at the beginning of the line and dragged its tip slowly toward the other end.

"This is human history. Thousands upon thousands of years of civilization, development, discovery, and progress. Everything humanity accomplished before the Divergences."

She paused, then began scratching short marks across the line.

One after another, the marks accumulated.

"War," she said, drawing another. "Another war. Conquest. Persecution. Slavery. Massacres. Another war. Genocide. Political violence. Atrocities committed for wealth, territory, ideology, religion, or simply because someone possessed enough power to inflict them."

Her pen continued moving.

The once-clean line disappeared beneath an increasingly dense collection of intersecting strokes.

Beatrix watched in silence.

"And all of this," Helena continued, "occurred when humanity believed itself to be the only intelligent species on the planet."

She added several more marks, then finally set the pen aside.

"The existence of vampires didn't create humanity's capacity for cruelty. Neither did werewolves, witches, or elves. We were perfectly capable of finding reasons to harm one another without any of you."

Beatrix folded her arms.

"That's a pretty miserable picture of your own species."

"It would be, if that were the entirety of our history."

Helena turned the paper slightly.

"The line also represents cooperation. Medicine, agriculture, art, literature, scientific discovery, and people choosing to help strangers they'll never meet again. Humanity is capable of extraordinary kindness. Unfortunately, that doesn't erase our capacity for extraordinary cruelty."

She leaned back in her chair.

"So long as two humans exist, there's a meaningful possibility of conflict between them. Adding other intelligent species to the world doesn't suddenly make conflict inevitable. It was already possible. It was already happening."

"Then you think humans should just trust vampires?" Beatrix asked.

"I think humans should stop assuming the worst before they've bothered to understand what they're looking at."

Helena glanced down at the page.

"Although I suppose that instinct to identify potential threats is part of why humanity became the dominant species on the planet in the first place."

Beatrix regarded her for several seconds.

Then she leaned forward, bringing her face close to Helena's.

"You keep saying 'humanity' like you're talking about someone else."

Helena met her gaze.

"That's because I am."

Beatrix blinked.

"What?"

"I'm not human."

The vampire stared at her, searching her expression for some indication of a joke.

Helena merely nodded.

"I wasn't particularly trying to hide it from you."

A faint cracking sound interrupted the room's quiet hum.

It came from Helena herself.

Beatrix recoiled slightly as the woman's appearance began to change. 

The familiar features of the Institute's Director shifted, her hair losing its human coloration as pale blue spread through the strands. 

The transformation proceeded with a series of subtle, unsettling sounds, as though something beneath her skin were rearranging itself.

Her face softened into an entirely different beauty. Long, light-blue hair spilled over her shoulders, and her irises darkened until no whites or pupils remained.

Within moments, the woman seated before Beatrix was unmistakably a witch.

The transformation ended as abruptly as it had begun.

Beatrix stumbled backward several feet.

"What the hell?!"

Helena—no longer resembling the human Director Beatrix had known—looked down at her hands, flexed her fingers, and returned her attention to the startled vampire.

"I suppose that's a rather reasonable reaction."

"You're a witch!"

"Yes."

"How did you—" Beatrix stopped, looking her up and down. "How did a witch manage to pretend to be human? You were sitting there looking completely normal!"

"An application of Witchcraft," the woman replied. "Not one I particularly enjoy maintaining, but it has its uses."

Beatrix continued staring.

The contrast was remarkable. The tired, middle-aged human Director had disappeared, replaced by a beautiful blue-haired witch whose empty black eyes were every bit as unnatural as Beatrix's crimson ones.

And yet her manner remained unchanged.

She sat with the same composed posture, her shoulders carrying the same quiet exhaustion, as though the transformation had altered everything except the person beneath it.

"My name is Melisande," she said. "Helena Strauss is the name you knew me by, and I haven't entirely abandoned it. But Melisande is who I am now."

Beatrix slowly lowered her hands.

"Melisande," she repeated.

"That's right."

"And you've been walking around the Institute pretending to be human?"

"Yes."

"With all those people who'd probably lock you in a room next to mine if they found out?"

Melisande's expression became slightly rueful.

"That possibility has occurred to me."

Beatrix stared at her for another long moment before shaking her head.

"You're insane."

"Perhaps."

"Why?"

Melisande tilted her head.

"Why what?"

"Why risk it? Why stay here?"

The witch regarded her quietly.

"Because there are people here who need help," she answered. "People like you, Beatrix. People who were unlucky enough to fall into the hands of individuals who see them as opportunities rather than living beings."

Her gaze briefly moved toward the discarded silver shackles.

"I can't undo everything that's happened. I can't simply open every door and expect the consequences to resolve themselves. But I can interfere where I'm able, and I can try to make certain that fewer people suffer."

Beatrix's expression shifted.

She glanced at the shackles, then back at Melisande.

"Wouldn't that put you in danger too?"

"Certainly."

"No, I mean it." Beatrix crossed her arms more tightly. "If someone figures out what you are, they'll come after you. And I don't know what witches can survive."

Melisande said nothing.

Beatrix continued, her voice losing some of its earlier hostility.

"I'll heal no matter what they do to me. Those cuffs were awful, but the moment you took them off, my wrists were fine. They could break my bones, cut me open, whatever, and I'd recover."

She looked toward Melisande's pale-blue hair.

"But I don't know if you can do that. I don't know if witches heal like we do. So why would you put yourself in that position?"

For several seconds, Melisande simply looked at her.

Then she smiled.

It was a small expression, but genuine, and the first smile Beatrix had seen from her since she'd entered the room.

"How remarkable," Melisande murmured.

Beatrix frowned.

"What is?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes." Melisande's smile lingered. "You're being held against your will. You've been subjected to treatment that no one should have to endure. I've just admitted that I'm concealing my identity while attempting to help you, and your immediate concern is whether doing so might hurt me."

Beatrix looked uncomfortable.

"Well, obviously."

"Not everyone would find it obvious."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Melisande folded her hands on the table.

"Humans have been very quick to describe vampires as monsters. Dangerous, predatory, incapable of genuine consideration for others. Yet here you are, worrying about someone else's safety when you have every reason to be concerned with your own."

Beatrix's expression tightened.

"Don't make it sound like I'm some kind of saint."

"I'm not."

"Good."

"I'm simply impressed."

Beatrix clicked her tongue and looked away.

Melisande continued gently. "A human in your position might have demanded immediate release, regardless of what happened to the person helping them. Some certainly would. Yet you understand the consequences well enough to recognize that my situation matters too."

"Some humans would worry about you too," Beatrix muttered.

"Of course they would," Melisande agreed immediately. "And some vampires might demand their freedom without considering anyone else. I'm not suggesting kindness belongs exclusively to one species."

"Then what are you saying?"

"That it's rather difficult to call an entire species monstrous when one of its members is sitting in front of you demonstrating exactly the qualities people insist it lacks."

Beatrix stared at her.

Then she scoffed.

"You're making too much of it. I'm not some stupid person who can't understand what's going on."

"I never suggested you were."

"I know you can't just let me walk out," Beatrix continued. "If you could, you would've done it already. And if you get caught, then whoever replaces you might be one of those bastards who thinks silver cuffs are a wonderful idea."

Melisande inclined her head.

"That's a fair assessment."

"So I'm not going to demand you throw yourself into a cell just to make me feel better."

The vampire moved back toward the chair opposite her. She sat down without making a sound, folding one leg over the other before examining her healed wrists again.

Her expression remained fierce, but some of the tension had left her shoulders.

"Doesn't mean I like any of this," she added.

"I wouldn't expect you to."

"And I still want out."

"I know."

"And I want those things gone." Beatrix pointed at the shackles. "Permanently."

Melisande followed her gesture.

"I'll see what I can arrange."

Beatrix narrowed her eyes.

"That's not a promise."

"No," Melisande admitted. "It isn't."

The vampire considered that for a moment, then leaned back.

"At least you're not lying to me."

Melisande's gaze softened.

"I'd prefer not to."

For a while, neither spoke.

Beyond the room's reinforced walls, the Institute continued its ordinary operations. 

Footsteps passed in the corridor, equipment hummed somewhere overhead, and distant voices discussed matters neither woman could clearly distinguish.

Beatrix listened to those sounds with the effortless awareness of a vampire. She could hear the heartbeats of the humans beyond the door, the rustle of clothing, and the occasional metallic clatter of someone moving equipment.

Melisande, meanwhile, sat quietly across from her, her long blue hair resting against the back of her chair.

Eventually, Beatrix looked up again.

"So, Melisande."

"Yes?"

"Are you going to keep pretending to be human?"

"For the foreseeable future."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It can be."

Beatrix studied her for a moment, then gave a small, reluctant smile.

"Well, don't get caught."

Melisande returned it.

"I'll do my best."

And for the first time since her confinement began, Beatrix found herself sitting across from someone in the Institute without wondering when the next painful procedure would begin.

Seraphina,