They both pulled back from the kiss, panting softly, breaths mingling in the air between them as they licked the lingering blood from each other’s lips—slow, deliberate, almost reverent.
Crimson eyes shimred under the flickering firelight, glinting with sothing ancient and primal—desire, hunger, and sothing that might just be affection.
[Condition: Deepen your bond with your progeny (50%)]
’Really? A kiss is only halfway?’
Corven let out a breathless laugh, raking a hand through his damp hair. Strands clung to his forehead, sweat and blood drying under the night breeze.
’It really likes to rush things, huh...?’
Rose tilted her head, still catching her breath, eyes narrowing with amused curiosity. "Thinking about sothing else...?" she asked, her voice light but probing.
Corven gave a small smile, his eyes dancing with mischief. "It’s nothing..."
"Liar," Rose said flatly, grinning. "I know you have that... odd voice in your head."
Corven raised a brow. "Did my blood tell you that?"
"Well, duh." She gave a short, lodious chuckle. "Your blood’s practically a cheat sheet."
She leaned in closer again, eyes sharp with intrigue. "What’s it asking this ti?"
Corven sighed, then replied, "To deepen our bond. That’s it."
Rose blinked. "And the kiss wasn’t enough?"
"Only halfway," Corven chuckled, a dry edge in his tone. "Apparently, romance has milestones now."
Just as the teasing died down, a sudden shift in the wind alerted them—movent. A shadow walked across the very path they had used just monts before.
Their bodies reacted instantly, vanishing into the darkness behind a nearby tree. They watched in utter silence, breath halted.
A lone figure appeared beneath the moonlight, cloaked in immaculate white robes, the symbol of a lit lantern etched in gold across his chest. His armor glead with moon-silver polish, pristine and ceremonial, yet clearly used for war. A heavy sword hung at his hip, and a silver-plated shield was strapped across his back.
A paladin.
His attention wasn’t on them—yet.
He knelt near a dark pool staining the earth—blood, thick and old, still glistening in places. His expression twisted slightly in disgust.
"It reeks..." the man muttered, his voice low but clear as his gaze turned toward the campfire, still crackling in the distance. His steps were thodical as he approached the carnage.
There, he saw them—the bandits. Dried husks, drained completely, sprawled in unnatural positions like discarded dolls.
Corven and Rose remained utterly still. Their instincts scread in unison, blood whispering warnings that were more ancient than thought.
Stay hidden. Avoid him. Do not engage.
The paladin didn’t draw his weapon.
Instead, he knelt.
"Either a vampire or a werewolf attack..." he muttered. "The world’s gone to hell, I say."
He removed his helt slowly, revealing short, ash-blond hair matted slightly from sweat. His face was lined with fatigue, not fear.
And then, with a reverence that surprised even Corven, the paladin placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head.
"May the rcy of Lernia be with you..." he whispered, offering a prayer to the dead.
Corven’s eyes narrowed.
He knew.
The paladin knew they were there. There was no doubt.
But he didn’t move to strike. Didn’t even turn his head.
He let them be.
Corven’s thoughts spun like a storm.
’Hell if I care why he won’t approach us, but I’m not wasting this chance!’
Without hesitation, he grabbed Rose by the wrist and pulled her along. Silent as ghosts, they retreated into the shadows of the forest, weaving between trees with supernatural grace—predators in flight.
They followed the dirt path, but only loosely, staying just out of the moonlight’s reach.
"He noticed us..." Rose whispered, breath steady as she kept pace beside him.
"I know," Corven replied, his tone clipped. "But we don’t need to know why. Can’t overthink it." He barked a short laugh. "Not with the sun on our tail."
Ahead, the black horizon began to blush with hints of orange—dawn.
The stars faded one by one, chased away by the creeping light of morning.
"Oh great, just our luck."
Corven glanced around, mind racing, eyes glowing faintly as he strained to hear, to sense—anything. He tuned into the whispers of the wild, his vampiric senses honed to the edge of instinct.
Then—a sound. High-pitched, rhythmic.
Squeaks. A cluster of them.
A colony of bats.
Corven’s head snapped toward the noise—just a few kiloters off the path, hidden deep in the underbrush. Risky. Unpredictable.
Perfect.
"A few kiloters," he muttered under his breath, "that’s a stroll for us."
He turned to Rose, nodding toward the direction of the cave. "Co on. We’ve got our shelter."
To a vampire, a cave wasn’t just shade—it was sanctuary.
A fortress.
A throne.
And with dawn rising behind them, it was their only salvation.
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