Chapter Three

Mother slept in late the next morning, long past the summer sunrise she enjoyed basking in like a cat warming its fur. She could sit on the window sill and stare outside for hours. All one could see were vast trees and swaying wheat stalks. A single path led through them, seemingly endless.

We lived on the outskirts of town due to my reputation with the locals. The peace was kind but the loneliness was not. I placed my empty mug into the water basin, leaning against it with a sigh. 

Our guest was due any minute. If she weren't so sick, Mother would be fretting about our compact cabin. Straightening my patchwork throw across the sagging couch I slept on most nights. Putting out hand-knit placemats on our rickety kitchen table. Refreshing the fire with wood and lighting the lavender candle she saved for important visitors.

I dared to glance over my shoulder, eyes tracing picturesque surfaces covered in a layer of dust before landing on the empty fireplace. Still tidy, but not warm or inviting. Shame filled my lungs, seizing the air. This wasn't a home anymore. It was a sick bay with an empty waiting room.

A hard knock echoed through my skull like a gong. I smacked my chest, finally sucked in a deep breath, and moved to open the door. Doctor Quinton stood on the stoop wearing a wide grin; his wrinkles forcing me to return the favor. There was something about sorcerers and their great capacity for the essence of life. He burned with energy so serene wisps stretched out to touch those around him.

The mana stored beneath his skin rivaled that of our sister country to the south—Trellia. Such power was rare here where vampirism reigned. The village touted how grateful they were for his assistance at an affordable rate. Yet, no matter how cheap, a twelve-year-old with no prospects couldn't hope to earn silver or gold, let alone spend it.

Mother's free treatment drew me to the contract with the High Priestess. I didn't care what it took to save her when I accepted the position. She's the only person in my life who truly cared about me.

"Doctor," I greeted. "Please, come in. She was asleep ten or so minutes ago, but I can wake her."

"No need, I can assess her condition without disturbing her physical form."

I raised a brow. "You're full of surprises. Hearing more about your training would be fascinating."

He nodded, clasping my shoulder despite being a foot shorter. "My boy, I would be delighted to show you. You need not hide your yearning for power from me."

I almost stumbled before catching myself and straightening my spine. Did he have to be so direct? The flush of my cheeks felt unbearable.

"Only to—"

"Protect yourself and those who cannot do so themselves."

I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. Why did this feel embarrassing to admit? Needing power for an admirable reason stood differently than that which was taken... Right?

"Yes."

He smiled again, and it was blinding. "You're a good kid, Eren. The world needs more vampires like you."

"Oh, I'm only half, and most people don't even know it. Look, my teeth are dull!"

I lifted my lip, and the doctor leaned in, peering at them. "That's true, you don't resemble a full-blood."

Of course not. My sire conceiving me was a mistake, one I had been sure he'd forgotten about. If I didn't know better, I'd wager the power of his ill will kept his genes locked up tight. Even so, Mother and I made certain to live a quiet life. So how did the capital know of my existence and why would they allow a halfblood to inherit anything?

Vampires who live within Cruor must have two full-blooded parents to qualify for court citizenship. I've never seen the capital nor did I want to. The tragedy of being summoned there haunted the back of my mind.

"I'm my mother's son," I replied, needing to hear it.

"Yes, but you are your father's child. Do not underestimate vampirism. It manifests in humans differently."

Before I could question his meaning, we arrived at Mother's door. The doctor pushed it open, slipping inside and striding to the end if the canopy bed. His steps were silent as a grave. Shear linens fluttered in the late afternoon wind. Doctor Quinton lifted his hand, fingers spread wide and palm flat, to hover over the bed. His eyes slid shut.

I waited, forcing my body to still despite the wild urgency to pace.

We'd been battling this sickness for so long my jagged emotions were par for the course. Her symptoms worsened day by day. I couldn't stand by and pretend they weren't.

Every breath tore out of Mother's lungs. Her skin, dotted with age spots and early wrinkles, sat right up against the bone. Solid food hadn't been an option in years, so medicinal broth and sorcery were our last bet.

Death loomed in the room. One could feel it so acutely you'd glance from corner to corner. Today, I didn't, keeping my eye on the verdict.

Doctor Quinton slowly blinked back to awareness. Then he returned to me in the same manner as he'd left, without hurry and pensive. I opened and closed my mouth several times, gaining and subsequently losing the courage. This news was everything.

"Eren," he said, voice grave. "It may be time."

I swallowed hard, wringing my hands.

"It's progressed?"

He nodded.

"The growth has metastasized to her heart and lungs. She's struggling to take even a shallow breath and experiencing great pain. Removing my assistance would be merciful."

I nodded, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes.

"She's been sick for a long time. We knew this was coming."

"Yes."

"I can't recall the last time I heard her speak."

"That would've been one to two months past."

"I can't live with myself if she's not here."

"You can, and you will."

I dropped my arms, eyes stinging and my vision blurred with shadows. "How are sorcerers always so sure of the answer?"

The doctor turned back toward the bed, face impassive. "We're not. Nature will out. I'll start now."

I clasped my hand around his wrist with urgency. "Wait!"

"For what? We have been delaying this for long enough. Nature will out."

"Stop saying that! I don't give a damn about the natural order."

"You should," he replied, eyes locking with mine. They were a razor-sharp blue. "You play a large part in it."

"Again with the vague statements. You need not hide things from me," I parroted.

He frowned. "Don't be childish. I cannot discuss your future with you, that defeats the purpose of fate. All humans fight it the moment they know the outcome. Just as you're doing now."

"You make it sound like free will doesn't exist. Fate warps, you're the one who told me that. I can change mine, even if what you've seen is awful, I still have time."

"But your mother does not."

The words were like an arrow to the heart. I staggered back a step while a single tear slid down my cheek. I refused to wipe it away.

"Nature will out."

Doctor Quinton nodded while twitching toward the doorway as if pulled by invisible strings. "Forgive me, I must step out for a moment to relieve myself."

Then he was gone. I blinked, a fresh wave of salty wetness coating my cheeks. The floodgates were open now. A hiccup caught in my throat and I coughed, the sound echoing across the room. Heels followed it.

"Ah, I had to accelerate his bowels just to give you some peace. Sorcerer or not, giving loved ones time to grieve is essential. Are you alright?"

She stepped into my sight between one blink and the next, the air filling with the heady scent of lilacs and hot honey, a combination that could only belong to the High Priestess. Her outfit, though unconventional for her position, hugged her curves in a way that commanded attention and respect. Those thigh-high ebony boots, adorned with silver clips, added a touch of sensuality to her divine aura.

"I-I'm fine," I lied, wiping at the tears across my cheeks. "He's right, nature will out."

"That doesn't make any of this easier."

"She deserves rest. I need to let go."

She stopped beside me, standing at the same towering height of six-foot-two. We stared at my mother together, and I kept glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. Her ethereal looks went beyond beauty to intimidation. We'd known one another for ten years now, so I was aware of her good character, but at first glance, people will feel one of three things. Envy. Awe. Contempt.

I felt nothing but gratitude.

"You've grown up a lot," she sighed, dropping her arm around my shoulders to pull me into her side. "Don't leave me behind when you move out, give me your future address."

"You started joking rather quickly. I suppose that was all the emotion you had capacity for today."

I turned to see the doctor standing in the doorway, arms crossed and face pinched with annoyance. Priestess Minora glanced at him with a laugh, fluttering her fingers.

"I must keep things light, Doctor Quinton," she replied, her voice like a soothing balm. "It helps ease the pain, even just a little."

He grunted in response, unfolding his arms and moving back into the room. His presence was a pillar of strength yet also a harbinger of finality.

I straightened my posture, forcing myself to steel against the sorrow threatening to overwhelm me. The High Priestess squeezed my shoulder gently before stepping away, her gaze shifting to the bed where my mother lay, her breaths now shallow and labored.

"I will perform the rites," she announced, her tone soft yet commanding. "To guide her spirit on its journey beyond."

I nodded wordlessly, unable to form a coherent response. As the Priestess began her ritualistic chants, the air in the room seemed to shift, carrying with it a sense of solemnity and reverence.

Doctor Quinton moved to stand at the foot of the bed, hands clasping Mother's ankles. He began chanting in sync with Priestess Minora, their voices rising and falling in a haunting lyrical. My breathing picked up when she shuddered, taking on the full weight of her pain. Tears leaked from her closed eyes.

A strange sensation washed over me. It was as though invisible threads were weaving through the air, connecting all of us in that moment of shared grief and acceptance. I could feel the energy shifting around us, swirling and pulsating with power.

The High Priestess's voice rose above the doctor's, her words ancient and otherworldly. I watched in awe as a soft golden light began to emanate from her hands, enveloping my mother in a warm glow. Doctor Quinton's chanting grew more intense, his eyes closed in deep concentration.

And then, it happened.

A soft sigh escaped my mother's lips as her body relaxed, the lines of pain smoothing away. The room seemed to hold its breath as the radiant light swelled, wrapping around her like a cocoon. And then, with a final burst of radiant energy, the glow dissipated, leaving behind a profound stillness. My mother lay peacefully on the bed, chest still and soul gone. It was official.

I was alone in this world.