Killian
“Why was Leseldh Idthraki mauling his so-called Resonant in the Theatre Enthique last night when he should be mourning her fucking Ending?” Drachen’s eyes deepened to blood-red as he bore down upon his Broodling.
“I’m working on it.”
“Are you? From what I’ve seen, you’re either in here slinging your knives around, or banging on Eryn’s coffin like it’s going to set her free.”
“Don’t be so hasty, Drachen. You keep saying she’s Leseldh’s Resonant. I know you crave his destruction more than anything. You want her Ending to hurt him, right?”
Drachen narrowed his eyes at Killian but nodded slowly in answer to his question. Killian slowly crossed the room to throw the knives once more. His kept his stare fixed on Drachen as he launched each knife. They hit the boards with a solid thunk.
“Why don’t we make it hurt?” Thunk. “Why don’t we let them get close? Let them think that she’ll make it to her Ascension. Give them hope.” Thunk. “And right when they think they’ve succeeded, when it will hurt the most,”—thunk— “I strike.”
Killian glanced over at the three targets. Each one had a knife lodged in the centre of its circle. He slowly dragged his gaze back to Drachen’s, another smirk on his lips.
“You’re stalling.” Drachen gave no indication that he was impressed by Killian’s plan or his display. Undeterred, Killian collected the knives again. As he returned to his throwing position, he tossed one into the air, catching it by the handle.
“I know you want your revenge now. But how much sweeter is it going to taste when Leseldh suffers in the same way he did when Malia Ended? With time, I can give her an Ending that will make you weep.”
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. This time, the centre target received all three knives. They landed so close they were almost touching. Drachen watched Killian’s movements, silently processing the offer.
“She must be Ended before her Ascension. If you want to draw it out, make it beautiful. But know this, Killian. If you fail me, there will be consequences.” Drachen’s words hung thick in the air as he turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Killian stared at the closed door and blew out a frustrated breath. He’d been busy since the encounter with Ivy at The Silver Sluice. One of the lesser Idthraki clans had gone on a spree, creating several Fledglings for him to hunt.
He’d attempted to hunt Ivy on several occasions, but he was stymied by the protective efforts surrounding her.
His two failed attempts on her life meant that her forays outside of Veldmoor were now under the watchful eye of Leseldh, Voresta, or both.
Worse still, her visits to Lunarian and The Silver Sluice had ceased, so he no longer had the luxury of cloaking himself within the roiling masses of clubbers.
Killian was stalling. He had some strategising to do, but part of him also wanted to savour the hunt. Unlike most of the targets he was assigned, this one exhilarated him. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason, though—sure, Ivy was attractive, but all Vampires were.
While he eagerly anticipated their next clash, Killian also felt trepidation. He remembered the way his control disintegrated when he caught the scent of her blood—he’d been unhinged like that once before… but that time was much, much worse and held lasting consequences.
He remembered a blinding hunger that took control of his mind, body and soul.
A gaping void within him that demanded blood, and the need wasn’t satiated until a pile of bodies laid at his feet.
It was a madness borne of a decade-long punishment.
As the memories flashed through his mind unbidden, he found his feet propelling him down to the basement of their own volition.
Drachen’s basement was cold and dark, and the smell of rot and decay clogged the air.
Like the rest of Drachen’s house, it was made entirely of stone, and the scattered fragments of broken floor tiles littered the ground.
The space was barren except for a stone bier that stood at waist height, with a coffin resting atop it.
The coffin was made of hardwood from Cevoria, whose unique stone-like properties made it indestructible.
This made it the perfect vessel for the cruellest punishment a Vampire could endure: the Living Death.
The coffin became a Vampire’s tomb for a duration of the punisher’s choosing.
The occupant was locked away with their hunger, their thoughts and their loneliness, all of which would drag them to the brink of madness and push them over the edge with a brutal shove.
Any duration of time in the Living Death was unbearable.
Killian served a ten-year sentence in a similar coffin not long after his Ascension, and it resulted in a psychosis so consuming that it took him decades to claw his way back to sanity.
But the current occupant of the coffin before him had endured 112 years, and Killian felt the weight of that time crushing the air from his lungs.
Eryn, Killian’s Broodmate, was a pawn in Drachen’s game of control.
Killian’s defiance of Drachen began as a Fledgling, and his Living Death was an early attempt to break him to Drachen’s will.
Killian’s resulting madness was an unforeseen consequence that brought with it its own complications, and Eryn’s entombment was Drachen’s coup de grace.
His demand was simple: Help me rise to triumph, and Eryn will be freed.
Defy me, and her punishment will continue.
So, Killian became the Hunter, and despite all the Endings he’d given the Fledglings of Noctis, Eryn remained in her coffin.
Drachen’s aim was to surpass the Idthrakis, and Killian knew that Ivy’s Ending was the first domino in the line that had to fall before Drachen would fulfil his promise.
With the end close in sight, he couldn’t afford to fail now.
A mournful expression lined Killian’s features as he approached the coffin.
Since his return to Clerlet, he spent hours trying to break the coffin open each night.
He knew it was a pointless endeavour. Eryn remained resolutely silent within her wooden tomb, as she had for decades, but Killian had faith that she was alive.
What he didn’t know was just how broken Eryn would be when he finally released her from her purgatory.
He maintained his vigil beside the bier long into the night.