Chapter 3: Vampher’s Brood Awakens
In a castle that no cartographer could place — because it kept moving slightly to the left — Vampher Darquez awoke to the sound of choral harmonizing.
Which was strange, since he lived alone.
Well. Alone-ish.
"🎵 O Vampher, our blood-soaked lord, eternal sire of dusk and decorum, blesseth thy flock— 🎵"
"Not again," Vampher groaned, pulling a pillow over his head.
"🎵 May thy darkness drip like wine and— 🎵"
"NOPE."
He sat up, his black silk sheets sliding dramatically off his perfectly disheveled hair. The chandelier above him flickered sympathetically. His coffin-shaped bookshelf trembled.
"They found me," he muttered. "Again."
Downstairs in the Crimson Hall
The great doors of Castle Darquez had been flung open, and the Brood had entered.
Dozens of them. Pale, regal, unnecessarily melodramatic vampires — each one styled with more flair than sense. They all wore matching black and red cloaks and spoke in unnecessarily loud whispers.
One, a young vampire noble with glimmering fangs and glowing eyes, bowed before an empty throne.
"Sire! We have found thee again!"
Another stepped forward and dropped to one knee. "Thou hath abandoned us in our hour of darkest fashion crisis! For shame!"
A third wept into a lace handkerchief.
Vampher descended the stairs like a man forced to attend a wedding where he was also the groom, priest, guest, and sacrifice.
"Right," he said. "No."
The entire Brood gasped as one.
"SIRE?!"
"You heard me. No. No to the throne. No to the worship. And absolutely no to the song titled 'Blood is Thicker Than Moonlight'."
"But Sire—"
"I don't even drink blood! I drink apple juice."
Another collective gasp.
One of the vampire nobles fainted.
Vampher rolled his eyes. "Look. I made you people 2,000 years ago because I was bored. I needed people to play cryptic word games with. I did not mean to start a cult."
The vampire duchess stood, eyes sparkling. "So you admit it, Sire. You are our progenitor! Our true vampire god!"
"I also once created a talking chair that yelled at guests for not wiping their feet. Does it count as a demigod?"
The vampires paused.
"Actually, yes," said one. "We've been praying to it as the Seat of Judgement."
Vampher stared. Then sighed.
"I'm leaving again."
"SIRE, NO!"
He turned to go.
"If you follow me," he said calmly, "I will send a fruit basket to Dee Megus with a note saying you asked him to explain 'mana topology' while sober. Do you understand the doom that invites?"
The Brood collectively shivered.
He vanished in a swirl of mist and frustration.
Outside, In the Evening Mist
Vampher reappeared on a quiet hilltop. The sun was dipping low, casting amber threads across the sky.
He breathed in.
Peace.
No chanting. No dramatic bowing.
Just trees, wind, and—
"VAMPHER!"
"ARGH!"
He spun, expecting monsters. Or worse — fanboys.
Instead, Hiro ran toward him, arms full of glowing berries.
"Look! Dee said these are highly unstable and possibly radioactive! I made pie!"
Behind him, Dee Megus stepped calmly through a shimmer of light, holding a very long spoon and a flask marked "DO NOT DRINK UNLESS YOU WISH TO PHASE THROUGH HISTORY."
"You didn't eat the pie, did you?" Dee asked.
"...Define 'eat,'" Hiro said.
Vampher pinched the bridge of his nose. "I faked my death once to avoid people. I can't believe I'm considering doing it again."
Evening, Beside the Fire
They camped together that night.
Dee studied the stars, Hiro burned the fish just slightly less than usual, and Vampher sat with a cloak wrapped around his shoulders, staring into the fire.
"I miss them sometimes," he said softly.
"Who?" Hiro asked.
"The Brood."
"You sure?" Dee murmured. "They sang to a chair, Vampher."
"I liked the chair. It had good taste."
Silence.
Then Hiro passed him a mug.
"It's not blood," he said. "It's apple juice. Fresh."
Vampher took it.
Smiled. Just a little.
And somewhere, watching from the folds between threads, a presence unseen pulled back a rusted line that would've led the Brood to them again.
The fire crackled.
Peace, for now.