Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Angel’s Share felt like a place full of secrets: dark oak wood, mirrors that only showed the truth from certain angles, and shelves lined with bottles that glimmered in the dim light. The sign on the door said CLOSED by Dawn, but everyone who mattered knew it meant sanctuary until the sun sinks a blade into you.

Diluc worked behind the counter with his sleeves rolled and his hair pulled back into a ponytail. The crimson of his hair stood out like a sign, a proud symbol of his family lineage. He moved with quiet efficiency, opening bottles, undoing corks, and pouring blood into glasses. The work was a way to distract himself, all the while listening in on his patrons gossip.

Tonight’s crowd was a familiar mix. Fledglings who were wrapped in eye-catching diamonds to attract attention, ancients who valued their youthful appearance more than any accessory, and humans who were following their masters with jeweled collars around their necks. Rivalries between the Seven Houses lingered here in hushed voices, softened by blood and drink.

Every House had its own cellars, its own servants to feed from. But the Ragnvindr tavern offered something no other house did: enhanced vintages. Blood mixed with rare herbs, aged in silver casks, cut with spices that awakened subtle flavors: cinnamon bark, bitter clove, crushed citrus peel, among many. The kind of touches humans used for food and wine, elevated into something intoxicating for vampires. Diluc also served plain unenhanced blood, but everyone knew the enhanced bottles were what the elite came for.

After all, even the most unappetising human’s blood could be made into a delicious drink with his touch.

“Ragnvindr” slurred a vampire leaning too heavily against his table, the House of Fontaineau sigil on his jacket gleaming under the dim light of the tavern, “Pour me something that tastes divine.”

Diluc poured from a silver cask, the liquid shining red as it fell down into the glass. He placed it down with a calm demeanour.

“You must get bored.” the vampire sneered. “Serving, polishing, and counting coins. Meanwhile, the rest of us-” He gestured vaguely towards the other patrons sitting around, where invisible games of power were quietly being played.

Diluc’s gaze flickered towards him. “Your tab,” he said, “is not bored.”

The vampire burst into a ripple of laughter. Respect, not agreement, but it was enough.

When the bell above the door chimed, heads began to turn.

Kaeya stepped in.

He had been coming here for a month, always at the same hour, always for the same purpose: to collect sealed crates for his master. The patrons had grown used to him, but not enough to ignore him. He wore the easy grin of a man who didn’t fear monsters because one already owned him. Around his throat shined a thick collar stamped with the Gunnhildr crest. Jean’s mark.

It was both protection and prohibition. Jean drank from Kaeya herself, her own private source. Yet she still came to Diluc’s bar for his blends, because the enhancements elevated the blood to delicacy. Her servants could sustain her, but this place gave her something more.

And Kaeya, collared and untouchable, walked among the predators no one else would dare. But that didn’t stop the whispers.

“Smells sweet tonight.” someone muttered.

“Sweet and wasted.” another answered. “Jean always keeps the best ones for herself.”

Kaeya heard them, of course. He always did. He smiled as if their hunger amused him (it did) and slid onto his usual stool. “Good evening, Master Diluc.” he said, his single uncovered eye bright as it met Diluc’s own.

“You’re late.” Diluc said, already reaching for the ledger.

“I’m consistent.” Kaeya leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “That’s worth something, isn’t it?”

“You’re here for the order.” Diluc dismissed him and set a small crate before him, three sealed bottles glowing faintly under the lamp. “Unenhanced.”

Kaeya pushed the crate closer but didn’t lift it right away. “Not the fancy ones?”

“Your master asked for plain.” Diluc folded his arms.

Kaeya chuckled. “Plain keeps her sated but I know she prefers the ones you mix with your… secrets.” He gestured towards the silver casks gleaming behind DIluc. “Tell me, what is it tonight? Rosemary for that sweet sting? Clove for heat? Or something more exotic like… juniper. Maybe to remind her she’s alive?”

“Trade secret.” Diluc said. It wasn’t the first time Kaeya would try to pry the answer out of him.

“Of course.” Kaeya smiled, but the edge of curiosity in his gaze lingered. “You know, I think she comes here as much for the mystery as the taste.”

The remark hung between them, much to Diluc’s annoyance. While his enhancements made the blood more delectable, the resulting taste was mostly dependent on the blood that made its base. Blood from a human with… less than favorable blood, while enhanced, would make it taste similar to the blood that is of higher quality than the base.

Thus Diluc made sure to taste test his products, only accepting the best of all the blood types. However, at certain times when high quality blood is sparse, one has to do with what they are given.

Down the bar, the same vampire from before sneered. “Ragnvindr, your pet smells better than your blends. Does it bite?”

The bar’s attention turned towards him.

Kaeya touched the leather at his throat with two fingers, his smile confident. “Pets bite when they’re cornered. But lucky me, I’m already owned.” He traced his fingers against the jewels of his collar, silently provoking the patrons whose eyes lingered on that alluring tanned neck.

Diluc’s eyes narrowed. “If you’ve got business,” he said to the patron, “bring it. If you’ve got opinions, take them outside.” Anyone entering the tavern was a customer, be it human or vampire, as such they would be treated as any guest would.

The vampire grumbled, turning to drink in silence.

Kaeya turned back, lowering his voice and smiling a soft smile, “Thank you.”

“I didn’t-”

“You did.” Kaeya’s lips curved further, his beautiful blue eye lingering on Diluc, “And I’ll remember.”

Unsure how to respond, Diluc turned back to the glass in his hands, polishing it as if the task could anchor him. Yet the distraction proved too difficult beneath Kaeya’s presence. The human sat in silence, his gaze slipping between Diluc and the patrons he studied through the mirror behind the bar, each glance as subtle as it was deliberate.

The whispers and casual conversation would continue, but every so often Diluc would catch a different patron sneaking a look at Kaeya, hungrily looking at him with their noses flaring before their attention would return to their own collared humans. To remind themselves that Kaeya was spoken for, to not tempt temptation when they already had their own collared humans.

Kaeya was a beautiful human, none could deny that. His long navy hair framed skin kissed by the sun, a warmth no vampire could ever claim. A single blue eye shone bright beneath the lashes like moonlight, its pupil shaped like a star in the night sky. The other lay hidden beneath an eyepatch. Diluc never asked what had happened to it, but the whispers among the patrons painted their own story: that a vampire once dared to bite him and paid dearly for the attempt.

Diluc would never know what it was like to live under hungry eyes, to have predators watch your every step as you went about your chores. To live as property, to be used as food whenever your master grew thirsty, your very blood belonging to them.

He thought to himself that he must be one of the few vampires who still took pity on humans. And so, tired of the stares, he attempted to distract both himself and Kaeya. He had a bottle of crushed grapes, the liquid pressed and strained with care. It was a blend he often mixed into blood, tempering sharpness with richness until the taste turned unexpectedly lovely. Of all the concoctions he had crafted, this remained Diluc’s personal favorite.

Instead of adding blood, Diluc poured the liquid as is into a glass and set it in front of Kaeya.

The bar went quiet for a beat too long. Offering collared humans a drink was not illegal, but it was laughable. A kindness that looked like a weakness, not that Diluc cared.

Kaeya’s single eye went wide and he picked it up with theatrical awe. “For me?”

Diluc didn’t answer but returned to his previous task of cleaning the dirty glass he was polishing.

Kaeya’s lips curved as he lifted the glass and drank, throat working, and then set it down with a little sigh. “Delicious.” The action didn’t go unnoticed by a few patrons who watched the movement of Kaeya’s neck as he drank. As soon as they made eye contact with Diluc, however, they looked away.

“Don’t make it a habit.” Diluc said.

“Of drinking?” Kaeya’s mouth tilted. “Or of coming here?”

“Either.”

“That would be difficult.” Kaeya confessed. “My master’s appetite keeps me busy.”

“At this hour?” Diluc asked. “She feeds late.”

“Busy vampires forget to eat.” Kaeya’s eye slid towards the mirror, where he could look at the reflection of the patrons again. “Or they pretend to, until someone reminds them it’s necessary.”

Jean was notorious for being a busy vampire. That is why he didn’t find it surprising to hear that she often forgets to eat. But no matter how long she starved herself, the craving always found her in the end… inescapable, demanding, until she had no choice but to indulge.

Kaeya finished his drink, wiped a drop from his lips, and rose from his seat. He lifted the crate but paused at the door as he was about to leave, “One more thing.” Diluc watched him curiously.

“Tonight’s order isn’t for Jean. It’s for someone else. Someone who is… ill.” Diluc hadn’t asked but the words stuck anyway, sharp as a thorn. Humans grew sick but vampires didn’t.

Kaeya’s expression softened, just a fraction. “Even vampires aren’t invincible.” he said, and the bell chimed as he left.

The bar filled again with laughter, but Diluc’s mind kept circling back to the empty stool. He finished the night’s work: glasses cleaned, wood polished, silver casks locked away, but when the last patron left and silence settled, the quiet came with a heaviness.

The mirror caught his reflection beneath the Ragnvindr family crest, the owl sigil looming above him like an ancient judge. His crimson eyes lifted towards it, as though daring it to expose his flaws. Yet even as he held himself still, his wrists betrayed him. One hand clutching the other to mask the tremor that would not cease.

He reached beneath the counter for a bottle he kept aside for himself. It was plain unenhanced blood, and without bothering with a glass, he tipped it back and drank deep. The liquid slid down his parched throat, rich and metallic, restoring the strength he had drained in a long day of tending the bar.

The tremor in his hand ceased, though not entirely, just enough to be hidden if one wasn’t looking too closely. Diluc clenched his teeth, the edges of his fangs pressing against his lip as frustration tightened his fists. His gaze lifted once more to the owl crest, its unblinking eyes fixed on him, judging his weakness.

He thought of the Seven Ancient Houses.

House Jinshi of Liyue: with its contracts, endurance, commerce, and prosperity.
House Raiden of Inazuma: with its might, honor, order, loyalty, and martial discipline.
House Darshan of Sumeru: with its knowledge, wisdom, tradition, and discovery.
House Fontaineau of Fontaine: with its elegance, justice, judgement, artistry, and innovation.
House Teyocan of Natlan: with its passion, vitality, diversity, and freedom.
House Fatui of Snezhnaya: with its resilience, worship, and intrigue.
And House Ragnvindr of Mondstadt: the oldest name, weighed down by reverence and expectation.

The Ragnvindr serves drinks while the rest of us grow stronger.

Diluc’s jaw tightened. He had heard the whispers often enough, lingering in his tavern like smoke that refused to clear. It clung to him, curling close, unwilling to let him breathe freely.

He told himself that it wasn’t true, that tending the bar was enough. He told himself that pouring grape juice for Kaeya meant nothing. That there was no weakness, not that, nor the faint tremor still lingering in his hand.

He ignored the ache in his fangs, a pain unlike the simple hunger for blood. He ignored, too, the throb in his legs as he made the slow walk back to his mansion, the sky already paling with the threat of dawn.

✦✦✦

The Ragnvindr mansion was finally within sight when Diluc noticed her.

A girl stood in the middle of the path, a human with blonde hair catching the faint glow of dawn, her skin pale as porcelain. Her golden eyes lit up the instant she saw him, and she lifted a hand in a small, almost playful wave.

Diluc’s brow furrowed. Her sudden appearance was strange enough, but what unsettled him more was the bare skin of her throat. No collar. No crest. No sign of ownership.

Unclaimed humans existed, yes, but they were few, rarer still this close to the estates. More often, an uncollared human was bait. A distraction while a hidden vampire struck with a stake.

With rumors of his weakness spreading like smoke, he could not dismiss the possibility. Still, she stood squarely in his path. To veer aside, avoiding a frail mortal, would be an indignity unbecoming of the Ragnvindr heir.

So he walked on. Carefully.

When he drew within an arm’s reach, the girl’s lips curved into a bright smile. “Would you be Diluc of House Ragnvindr?”

His crimson eyes narrowed, scanning her hands, her sleeves, her posture. Searching for any kind of weapon. “That would be me.” His senses stretched to the treeline, catching the faint ripple of another presence. They were hidden… and watching.

The girl seemed unbothered. Her smile widened. “A pleasure, your lordship.” She dipped in a mocking little bow, skirt lifted by one hand. “On your way home?” Her gaze flicked toward the horizon where light began to edge the sky. “Morning approaches.”

Diluc remained silent, a beat too long, confusion settling beneath his skin. At last, he asked flatly: “Where is your master? I don’t see a collar.”

At that, the girl laughed. It was a bright, careless sound, as though he’d told her a joke. “You’re a funny one! As if I’d let myself be a vampire’s slave. I’d sooner die!” The words should have weighed heavy, but she tossed them out with such lightness. That contradiction unsettled him more than her defiance.

“You…” Diluc shifted a step back, angling toward the safety of his mansion. “Who are you? And why don’t you tell your friend in the woods to come out.”

Her golden eyes gleamed. “Ah, you noticed.” Tilting her head, she giggled, amused by his wariness. “Could it be you’re scared, Ragnvindr? So uncharacteristic of one who’s supposed to be the strongest of them all. And here I am… a puny human.” She touched her bare neck as though daring him. “Or perhaps you’d like to claim me. Not that I’d let you.”

She straightened, eyes fixed on his. “I mean you no harm, rest assured. I only came because I heard whispers. And I thought… perhaps I could help you.”

A human offering him help? Absurd.

Irritation flared. He turned away, stepping toward the estate grounds. The sun’s rays pressed harder at the horizon, and all he wanted was a darkened room, a heavy curtain, silence, and sleep. Not this… whatever this was.

“Whatever it is you want, I have no interest. Leave before I change my mind and collar you both.”

She hummed, but he ignored her and continued on.

“Rejection was expected,” she called lightly after him. “I can wait for you, Ragnvindr. Oh by the way, my name’s Lumine.”

He turned, but the path was empty.

The girl was gone. So was the presence in the trees. No scent, no sound, no trace they’d ever been there.

For a moment, he wondered if exhaustion had conjured the whole encounter. The whispers had gnawed at him all day, and now even his legs trembled, refusing to keep him upright much longer.

Adelinde stood waiting at the doors, bowing as she pulled them open. He greeted her briefly, then passed into the mansion where other servants murmured their welcomes. He spared them no words, retreating into the solitude of his chamber.

At last, he shut the door behind him.

He needed rest.

✦✦✦

Angel’s Share was quieter tonight but the silence held no kindness.

Diluc felt it the moment he stepped behind the counter: the stares that lingered too long, the conversations that dipped when he passed, the laughter sharp as glass.

Weak.
Falling behind.
The Ragnvindr heir, pouring drinks while the rest of us sharpen claws.

The whispers had always been there, but lately they circled like vultures. Rival Houses flaunted new strength in duels, ceremonies, and hunts. But him? He tended bottles and polished glasses. Old pride weighed heavily when measured against new cruelty.

“Shame.” murmured a vampire with blonde hair, trying to keep his voice low. “Ragnvindr blood once led the Seven. Now it runs like watered wine.”

“The bar is fine work… for a servant.” his companion added.

Diluc’s jaw clenched as he poured their drinks and then settled the glasses on the table with a little too much force. The two vampires flinched at the sound, shrinking back as he turned and walked away. The anger coiled in his chest, lingering just under his skin and threatening to burst. But he reigned it in, unwilling to be taunted by lowlife vampires.

The bell above the door chimed and Kaeya entered like clockwork. The regulars looked up as they always did, gazes moving to linger on the leather collar as Kaeya’s lips curved and he moved to slide onto his stool at the bar, as though the place was built around his presence.

“Good evening.” he greeted courtly. His voice was warm, edged with amusement as his single blue eye met Diluc’s, “Or is it good evening? You look stormier than usual, Master Diluc.”

Diluc set a glass of grape juice in front of him and Kaeya raised a brow in surprise. He recognized it from the night before, “How kind of you, Master Diluc.” He smirked and lifted the glass.

He drank with deliberate slowness, taunting the vampires around him as he usually does. Diluc would have found the display annoying, but he can’t say he feels the same tonight. “Careful, Master Diluc.” Kaeya lowered the glass, finger tracing along the rim, "People will think you like me.”

Diluc turned away, busying himself wiping the counter. But Kaeya’s gaze followed him, catching the slight tremble to Diluc’s hands.

“They say you’re weak.” Kaeya murmured, voice pitched low enough that only Diluc could hear.

Diluc stilled.

“They say the Ragnvindr heir plays the servant while the other Houses rise in power, drinking only the finest human blood, while you waste your time enhancing the dull.” Kaeya’s smirk softened, but his eye gleamed sharp. “Do you believe them?”

Diluc set the rag down too hard. “What I believe doesn’t matter to vultures.”

“But what do you believe about yourself?” Kaeya tipped the glass, liquid catching the lamplight. “That matters.”

The words scraped at something raw inside, something Diluc didn’t want to confront. He turned away, pulling a bottle from a shelf. The rack was nearly empty. “We’re low.”

“I’ll help.” Kaeya said instantly, rising from his stool a bit too eagerly.

“You don’t belong behind the bar.” Diluc grumbled but couldn’t stop the human as he slipped past the counter with elegant grace.

“And yet… here I am.” And before Diluc could throw him back to his stool, Kaeya swiftly slipped past the door and to the storage room in the back. With a grumble, Diluc followed. The storage room was cooler, lined with shelves of casks and bottles. The air was thick with copper and spice, the fragrance of enhanced blood aged with cloves, citrus, and herbs.

Kaeya leaned against the doorframe, examining the room. “So this is where you keep your secrets. The little touches that make Jean sigh when she drinks.”

Diluc ignored him and tugged a crate forward. His body was tense, every moment sharper than it needed to be. Amid the ache, he noticed that Kaeya’s scent was sharper here, cutting through the air now that the cloying mix of blood from patrons’ glasses was gone. In this room, where blood lay sealed in crates instead of spilling open in cups, the human’s presence was impossible to ignore.

Kaeya’s steps were quiet as he moved closer. His scent curled further into the room… warm, intoxicating, just a little too sweet. “I could get used to this.” he murmured as his eye examined his surroundings. “You and me, tucked away, fetching bottles while the rest of the world whispers.”

“Stop talking.” Diluc muttered, voice low.

“Why?” Kaeya asked, smiling as he stepped closer still. “You’re far too interesting for silence.”

Diluc turned with the bottle in hand and nearly collided with Kaeya who stood close enough that the brush of his breath stirred the hair at Diluc’s temple. The grin on Kaeya’s lips was slow and deliberate. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like having me here.”

The restraint in Diluc snapped.

He pressed forward, one arm braced beside Kaeya’s head, pinning him against the wall. Their bodies were so close he could feel the heat radiating off Kaeya’s skin, the sweet scent flooding his senses.

Kaeya tilted his head back, exposing the line of his throat above the collar. His pupil was wide, his grin wicked. “Careful, Master Diluc.” he whispered. “If you lean any closer, someone might mistake it for hunger.”

Diluc’s fangs throbbed. He could taste the phantom of it already… the rush, the fire, the forbidden sweetness. For a single dangerous heartbeat, he wanted it. Wanted the blood of another vampire’s slave. A human wearing the collar of another.

But he didn’t bite.

Diluc exhaled, ragged and harsh as he pulled back. Eyes lingering on the crest of Jean’s house on Kaeya’s neck. “You’re playing a game you don’t understand.” His voice was low.

Kaeya laughed softly, the sound brushing warm over Diluc’s skin. “On the contrary,” he said, pushing off the wall with unshaken grace. “I understand it perfectly.”

He reached past Diluc, fingers grazing his sleeve, and plucked his delivery crate from the shelf. His movements were casual, but the air still cracked between them. “Wouldn’t want the mighty Ragnvindr heir to strain himself.” Kaeya teased, stepping back towards the tavern.

Diluc’s fists clenched until his knuckles ached.

This was a dance he and Kaeya had been locked in since the day they met, and Diluc refused to be the one caught in the human’s palm.

He composed himself, trying to ignore Kaeya’s lingering scent as he walked back to the bar where Kaeya drained the last of his grape juice with exaggerated delight and set the glass down. The human licked his lips, “You’ll make me another tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Hmph. It’s not an obligation for me to serve it to you.” Diluc folded his arms as he watched Kaeya gather Jean’s order with a taunting smirk. The bell chimed, cold wind blowing inside as Kaeya’s lingering scent slowly began to fade and the human left.

The whispers filled the void of Diluc’s mind again.

Weak. Falling behind. Tamed.

Diluc stood behind the counter long after, staring at the empty glass Kaeya had left behind. The scent lingered still, sweet and sharp, like temptation bottled and uncorked.

And the voices of his House’s rivals gnawed at him, louder than ever.

✦✦✦

Tonight, the tavern was restless.

The whispers clung to the corners like cobwebs. Diluc heard them even when he tried not to. The Ragnvindr heir is fading. Voices laced with amusement and joy at his rumoured downfall. He knew very well that some of his patrons tonight had come to see for themselves if the rumors are true, if the Ragnovir heir truly is as weak as they say.

Diluc knew they feared him when he would meet eyes with them, his crimson eyes shone bright with the ferocity to kill, a man fed up with gossip that questioned his family’s strength.

Yet even though they’d cower in fear, as soon as Diluc turned and walked back behind the bar, the whispers would continue. It was never ending.

When the door opened and Kaeya stepped in, Diluc almost sighed with relief at the familiar disruption of his routine. But tonight Kaeya wasn’t alone. Diluc’s eyes moved onto the figure beside him: Jean Gunnhildr.

She walked towards him with grace and elegance, her confidence attracting the attention of others. The hum of the tavern changed immediately. Conversations dropped to respectful silence, then resumed in higher, more careful tones. Jean’s presence carried weight, none doubted that. As the head of the Gunnhildr line, the strongest vassal house under the Ragnvindr name.

“Good evening, Master Diluc.” She greeted, before sliding onto a stool.

“Jean.” Diluc inclined his head. “What brings you here?”

“I’ve come for a drink.” She said as Kaeya slid onto a stool beside her. “And a conversation.”

Diluc raised a brow. Jean didn’t have to go through the effort to come all this way. She could have sent Kaeya like she does regularly, but instead she chose to visit herself. Glancing over at the human, Diluc began to wonder if Kaeya had a hand in this. If he had told his master more than he should have about the two of them.

The said human leaned on the counter, an easy smile on his face. “Don’t look so surprised, Master Diluc. Everyone comes here eventually, you’re irresistible after all.”

Diluc rolled his eyes and deigned it better to ignore him. He placed two glasses on the bar and asked “Enhanced or unenhanced?”

“Enhanced.” Jean hummed in appreciation. “With cinnamon please.”

Diluc nodded as he began making the drink, mixing Type A+ blood that he knew Jean preferred and adding cinnamon to the mix. He didn’t miss Kaeya’s knowing smile, aware that it was his master’s favorite.

Diluc didn’t miss the way Jean’s eyes lingered on him, with a kind of calm that made him restless. He wasn’t sure why she had come, but he knew he would find out soon enough.

“Master Diluc.” She began as he set the drink before her. “I heard… the rumors. Whispers that have spread not only to me, but across many Houses. The Vassal Houses are restless. Rivalries are sharpening and your name is on too many tongues.”

Diluc’s shoulders stiffened. He could see a few of the other patrons sparing glances at them. “Gossip.”

“Perhaps.” Jean swirled the crimson liquid in her glass. “But rumor is often the edge of truth.”

Diluc gritted his teeth as he placed down Kaeya’s glass of grape juice, careful not to use enough force to shatter it in his hand. The human noticed, a smirk lingering on his lips. Kaeya sipped leisurely, his eye glittering as it flicked between the two vampires.

Jean raised a brow when she noticed Kaeya being served but didn’t comment on it. Instead she turned back to Diluc. “They say you’re growing weaker Diluc. Falling behind. That the mighty Ragvindr family are mere tavern owners now.”

Diluc’s jaw clenched tighter. “They say many things.”

“They do.” Jean agreed softly, sparing worrying glances at Diluc’s stiff form. He looked paler than usual and it made her wonder if Diluc had eaten recently. “And while words cannot hurt us, perception can.” She set her glass down. “You don’t have to let them see you this way.”

Diluc frowned, unsure where his conversation was leading and what exactly Jean wished to say. “And what way is that?”

Jean’s lips curved faintly. “A man fighting alone.”

The tavern listened with its too many ears and curious crimson eyes of vampires. Diluc hated the weight of their attention.

Jean rose smoothly from her stool, her glass now empty. “Walk with me.” She asked, and while normally Diluc would decline because he was still on the clock, it was late at night and the tavern was about to close soon. But more than anything, he wanted to sate his curiosity of Jean’s offer.

He signaled Charles to take over the bar, then walked over to Jean and Kaeya. Kaeya moved to hold the door for them, the bell chiming. “After you, masters.”

✦✦✦

The Gunnhildr estate was large. Not as large as his own, but vast enough to command respect, befitting the mansion of a Vassal House. It smelled of polished wood and candle wax, the air heavy with silence. From the moment they entered, Diluc had been greeted with human and vampire servants alike. That, in itself, was not unusual. But what gave him pause was the balance. For every human attendant, there was a vampire counterpart, their numbers equal in a way he had rarely seen.

As heir of the Ragnvindr House, Diluc was accustomed to seeing more human servants in the great Houses than among their Vassals. Humans were the rarer commodity, after all.

Each human wore a leather collar stamped with the Gunnhildr family crest, the same kind Kaeya bore. All taken and untouchable to any other vampire, unless they wished to anger the Gunnhildr house.

“This way, if you’d please.” Jean gestured toward the staircase, leading the three of them upstairs. They passed along a long corridor adorned with fresh flowers and framed family portraits. It was when Diluc passed a painting of Jean and Barbara together, that he began to wonder how Barbara was faring.

“I heard Barbara is ill.” Diluc asked, the words catching Jean by surprise.

“Ah, yes.” Her crimson eyes flicked toward Kaeya, displeasure clear that he had spoken of something meant to stay within the family. Kaeya, however, didn’t seem apologetic. A smirk tugged at his lips as he let his gaze wander over the portraits lining the corridor, feigning distraction.

“Barbara fell gravely ill. The doctors feared she wouldn’t survive.” It was clear that it was a fragile topic for Jean to talk about.

“If it makes you uncomfortable talking about it, I under-” 

“No, it’s alright.” Jean assured him. “I don't mind sharing it with you.” She remained quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts before speaking again. “Barbara’s illness is… one that even we vampires are not spared from. As you know, Master Diluc, it is a sickness no vampire can survive, and that no human blood can cure. It eats away at our immortal bodies from within, until it eventually kills us.”

Jean paused before a door, her hand resting briefly on the frame. “Perhaps it’s best I show you Barbara’s condition before I reveal why I brought you here.” She resumed her walk, stopping just two doors down to stand before a closed door.

“Barbara was going to die.” Jean admitted with a shaky breath, “But I wasn’t going to allow it. I swore I would save her, no matter the cost.” She pushed the door open gently, and the sight that greeted Diluc was that of Barbara’s bedroom. The younger sister lay deathly pale against the sheets, tended to by two maids who hovered close at her side.

The maids bowed as soon as Jean entered, then stepped aside so as not to hinder their mistress or her guest. On the bed, Barbara lay asleep, her small hands clutching the sheets at her sides. Her brow was furrowed, her face drawn with pain and yet a faint flush of color still touched her cheeks. Her lips parted and a fragile murmur escaped. “Hnng… I-I’m… sister.”

“I’m here Barbara.” Jean knelt down next to the bed, reaching out to hold one of Barbara’s hands. Suddenly her eyes opened, panicked, but as soon as her eyes found Jean she relaxed.

“You’re here? I-If… may I have more? Please Jean, I n-need it.” Barbara’s voice trembled, her face twisted with discomfort, but not the kind of pain that spoke of imminent death. Diluc’s brow furrowed as he stared, confusion flickering in his gaze. Beside the bed, Jean tightened her hold on her sister’s hand, her expression taut with restraint.

“I’m sorry Barbara. You’re okay now, you’re cured.” Jean whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her sister’s face. “Soon this hunger will fade, I promise.” Her voice softened, though the worry didn’t leave her. Then she turned to one of the maids, “Bring a blood bag. It will help with the pain.”

A maid bowed before slipping out of the room to retrieve the blood. Barbara gave a low, feral growl, her hands clutching harder at the sheets as her sister’s words washed over her. “But I can’t! I-I need… please. Blood, I need it Jean. I need it!.” Her voice rose into a hoarse cry, breath coming faster and sharper, each inhale heavy with desperation.

Jean cooed softly, murmuring words of comfort in an attempt to calm her sister. But Diluc could only watch as Barbara’s trembling grew worse, her body wicked with shivers. Her eyes flushed deeper, crimson bleeding into them until they burned with hunger that clawed for blood.

Only when the maid returned with a blood pack did Barbara’s frenzy ease. Jean lifted it towards her lips, but the younger girl was too impatient to wait. Before her sister could even tear it open, Barbara sank her fangs straight into the plastic, puncturing it with a desperate hiss. Dark blood spilled as she drank greedily, her trembling subsiding with each swallow.

It was when the blood pack ran dry that Barbara finally began to settle. Her eyelids dropped, drifting back into the fragile state she’d been in before they entered. Yet the slight tremor in her hands remained, her body twitching faintly even as she lay still against the sheets.

“That’s not the right one.” Barbara whispered as the last of her strength seemed to drain away. “Jean I need-Please, please, please. The blood… the blood, blood, blood…”

“I know sister, I know.” Jean sighed in partial relief, turning to meet Diluc’s crimson eyes. Rising from the bedside, she turned to the maids with quiet authority. “See to her, please. I have matters to discuss with our guest.” The maids bowed in unison as Jean, Diluc, and Kaeya stepped out, the door closing softly behind them as they left Barbara to rest.

Once the door was closed, Diluc felt comfortable to ask. “Jean, is that-”

“Let me show you.” Jean turned, gesturing toward the door she had paused at earlier. They crossed the corridor together, and when she pushed it open, the scent of iron met them at once. The chamber beyond resembled a storage room, though it bore a more private air. It was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls. At its center stood a sturdy desk, and around it open cupboards lined the room, each shelf filled with neat rows of vials, the dark liquid within glinting faintly in the low light.

On the desk itself stood three vials of blood. The liquid inside shimmered black-red, thicker than wine, each glowing faintly as though they pulsed with their own heartbeat. Diluc could feel the power radiating from them, a slow, steady beat that seeped into the room. It was alluring, dangerously so, calling to him with a whisper only he seemed able to hear. The scent reached him the moment he crossed the threshold, sweet and intoxicating, curling through his senses until his fangs ached in his jaw.

It made his mouth water with need, and Jean didn’t have to explain why. He knew exactly what it was.

“Demon blood.” He said, trying to keep his voice even.

Jean nodded, “Correct.”

Kaeya leaned lazily against the wall, arms folded, his posture casual but his smile thinned to something sharper. His eye tracked Diluc, lingering on him as he drew closer to the vials.

“Why are you showing me this?” Diluc demanded.

Jean’s hand clenched at her side as her gaze fixed on the vials brimming with power. “Because I will not see the Ragovir House fall. Your bloodline has stood, since the beginning of time, as the protectors of this land. I will not allow anyone to sully it, or taint it, with whispers and rumors. But above all else…” Her voice softened for a moment. “... it is to save you.”

Diluc clenched his jaw, anger a companion crawling under his skin, but weak to override the senses that were too focused on the blood in the vials to think about anything else.

“Demon blood is dangerous.” Jean continued. “But it is also powerful. One sip and your strength will surge beyond what you have known.”

Diluc’s fists curled at his sides. “I don’t need this.” Yet even as he spoke, the blood tempted him, its whispers sweet, promises of power sweeter still. He swore he could resist.

Jean studied him with careful eyes. “Don’t you?”

Kaeya’s voice slipped in, coaxing. “Imagine it, Master Diluc. The way their faces will change when you walk into the tavern and the air bends to your presence again. No more whispers. No more doubt.”

Diluc turned a sharp glare on him. “And what would you know of it?”

Kaeya only smiled. “Nothing of course, my lord.” He bowed slightly in apology.

Jean lifted one of the vials between two fingers, the black-red liquid catching in the candlelight. “I don’t offer this lightly, but Barbara’s life was worth my bargain. And I believe yours may be worth this as well.”

“You signed a contract with a devil?” Diluc’s voice cut through the air, edged with disbelief. Given Barbara’s condition, he could understand why Jean might have been driven to such desperation, but even so, the thought chilled him. Devils were not to be trifled with. Their power was immense, their bargains never without ruinous cost.

If vampires preyed on humans, then demons preyed on vampires. For all their charade of power and pride, even the strongest of Houses could not stand against a devil from hell. It was an unspoken rule among their kind: when a vampire saw a devil, they did not fight… they ran. Otherwise, they would surely die.

Devils slaughtered vampires without remorse, hunting them for sport if some unfortunate soul crossed their path when they emerged from hell. It was a small solace that such beings were rare in the mortal realm, their presence sustained only by the binding of a contract. And the greater the devil’s power, the less interest it had in simple slaughter. Not when contracts offered far richer rewards. But even then, the terms had to be accepted by both parties, sealed in blood and will.

Diluc had heard it said that those who contracted demons, whether vampire or human, were always the desperate ones. They risked their lives for the sake of what they desired most, for what they could not bear to lose. His own father had been one of them, and it was by a demon’s power that he met his end. The thought of that fate burned hot within Diluc’s undead body, hatred searing through him at the memory.

“I did.” Jean confirmed without hesitation. “I had to save Barbara.” Her crimson eyes locked onto Diluc’s. “I have no regrets. The terms of my contract were clear, and they posed no danger to my own life. With such an offer before me, I would have been a fool not to accept.”

“And what were those terms?” Diluc asked, his voice low, curiosity edged with venom.

“My apologies, Diluc. The terms of the contract are for my ears, and my demon’s, alone.”

As expected. Diluc exhaled, his gaze drifting back to the vial in Jean’s hand. He knew well the effects that blood carried… and the cost of its lure. Addiction. Now he understood why Barbara writhed and begged as she had. She was bound, enslaved to the taste, carving more and more until the hunger consumed her whole.

Yet Diluc also knew there was only one way to cure such an addiction. Barbara would have to surrender her life force to the demon in return. Drinking a demon’s blood was no different from stealing its essence, and for balance to be restored, the demon would demand a price. It would drink her life in turn.

“Did Barbara…?”

“No. The demon refused to claim her essence, so our only option is to let the blood run its course. In time… ten years, perhaps… she will be free of it.” A decade was nothing in the span of their immortal lives, but for Barbara, it would be a long season of hunger and chains.

Diluc could imagine all too well how different the situation would be if Barbara were ever allowed to indulge freely in the demon’s blood.

“I won’t drink it.” Diluc finally said, his voice low and firm.

Jean didn’t press him. Instead, she stepped closer and pressed the vial into his palm, her fingers curling his hand shut around it. “Then keep it.” She said softly. “For when you change your mind.”

The weight of it burned against him even before he touched it with his gloved hand. 

Weak.
Pathetic.
Inadequate.

The whispers of his patrons rang in his ears and for a moment he wondered if it was the blood whispering it to him.

He shook his head and slipped the vial into his pocket. He swore upon his father’s grave he would never drink it, but still, he wanted to keep it. Demon’s blood was a rare find, and he could not bring himself to refuse Jean’s gift.

“I accept your gift, though, I won’t drink it.” he turned to Jean, whose gaze softened at his words. She didn’t argue. Instead, she inclined her head in a quiet farewell.

“I won’t force you into anything Master Diluc. It is your choice of course. Should you need anything, please know that I’m here to help.” She turned to Kaeya, “Kaeya, ensure Master Diluc is safely seen to the door.”

“Of course.” Kaeya pushed himself off the wall and lingered by the door, waiting for Diluc to join him before the two made their way back toward the entrance. He was uncharacteristically silent, his eye flickering to Diluc again and again as they walked.

“What?” The vampire grumbled, his hand brushing his pocket to ensure the vial was still there.

“Nothing.” Kaeya said simply. "I hope this has been of help to you, Master Diluc.” Of course, as he suspected, Kaeya had a hand in arranging this meeting. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to be angry with him. For all his games, Kaeya’s intent had been a rare kindness, a gesture to aid him, when everyone else seemed content only to whisper of his downfall.

Kaeya opened the entrance door, the faintest silver creeping into the sky as dawn pressed near. “Take care, Master Diluc.” he said, bowing low as Diluc stepped past him. Outside, the night air before dawn felt colder, heavier than before, as though it carried the weight of what had transpired. Alone on the path, Diluc walked in silence, the vial in his pocket burning against him like a fire.

He told himself he would never use it. That he was stronger than this. That the Ragnvindr name was not so desperate.

Even as silent whispers followed him back home.

✦✦✦

Thick black curtains were drawn over the window, blocking any light that would dare enter inside the room. The Ragnvindr mansion was as pitch black as it would be during the night, as it always is. Silence was thick as dust and shadows deep enough to drown in.

Diluc sat at his desk instead of his bed, the vial glinting in his hand. The demon blood inside it pulsed faintly, black-red like a gem struck with firelight. It looked alive, and Diluc could still hear its heartbeat as he sat: thump-thump, ba-dump, lub-dub. Each time he turned it upside down, the liquid clung to the glass before sliding down in a slow stride, leaving trails like veins.

He should have been sleeping. His body demanded it, heavy with exhaustion from the night before. But his eyes kept finding the vial. His thoughts kept circling back to Jean’s words.

One sip, and your strength will surge beyond what you have known.

His jaw tightened. He told himself he didn’t need it, that he was strong enough. He told himself the Ragnvindr heir had no use for borrowed power. He told himself that weakness was temporary, even as he felt his tired body protest at the thought.

But still, he held it.

The glass was cool against his palm, but the temptation was hotter than flame.

With a sharp exhale, Diluc set the vial down and pushed to his feet. He stripped off his clothing before walking over to the bed and letting himself fall into the soft sheets. He exhaled tiredly and finally closed his eyes, where even under his heavy eyelids the image of the vial burned.

✦✦✦

It was early in the night, when the last traces of sunset still clung faintly to the horizon, that Diluc saw her again.

The human girl, Lumine.

She stood in the middle of the path as though she had been waiting, hands clasped behind her back, humming softly to herself while her golden eyes followed his approach. It unsettled him. That she could be so carefree with night upon them, when for an uncollared human, it was nothing short of a death sentence.

“Ah Ragnvindr.” She greeted him brightly, as though they were old friends. “A beautiful sunset, isn’t it?”

“Leave.” He dismissed her, brushing past without slowing. He had known from the first moment she was trouble. Something about her rang false. Her easy smile, her lack of fear. No human, least of all an uncollared one, should behave so carelessly in the presence of one of the Seven.

But Lumine only smiled wider as he walked away. She did not follow, nor did she falter. “I hope you have a good night, young Ragnvindr.” She called after him, voice amused.

When he turned, she was gone.

Not a sound. Not a trace.

For a moment, he wondered again if she was nothing but a phantom of his weary mind, conjured from exhaustion and whispers. He pushed the thought aside. Surely, if she was real, she would grow bored soon enough and leave him be. Before he truly did collar her, and remind her who she was daring to toy with.

Shaking off the thought, Diluc continued towards the city. His steps were unsteady, but he masked it well enough. By the time he passed though the gates, his focus was fixed ahead.

He headed straight for Angel’s Share.

The tavern was as it always was: patrons murmuring to one another, human pets at their masters’ feet, and bards singing to amuse their lords. The air was thick with blood and woodsmoke, laughter bubbling here and there as the patrons enjoyed themselves.

Diluc didn’t expect the night to be any different as he slid behind the counter. He picked up a glass and began cleaning it, his preferred way of keeping himself busy when he had nothing to do. Still, when he straightened, a shadow of weariness tugged at his shoulders, quickly hidden by the easy rhythm of pouring and wiping. He told himself it was nothing, just the heaviness of too many nights like this and the lack of sleep he got during the day. Even so, there was a dull throb at his temples that was a companion he’d long learned to ignore.

The patrons noticed little, or if they did, they didn’t speak it. They never did. They were too wrapped in their own rivalries and whispers, their petty power games diluted with blood. Yet a few sets of eyes lingered on him longer than usual, sly with curiosity.

Diluc kept his head down, listening for any useful information himself. What he managed to catch was that House Fatui was planning a rebellion against the Vampire Queen. The news was so unbelievable that Diluc doubted its validity. After all, who would dare challenge the mother of vampires? Of their ruler?

The whispers also told him how the Fatui heir was travelling. For what, they didn’t know, but they spoke of him being in the area. Diluc’s hand that held the rug paused, stiffening for a moment.

Childe was an unpredictable vampire, same as the House he comes from. They were ruthless and uncivilised vampires who didn’t care for rules and order, instead doing as they pleased to achieve their goals. What their goal was, Diluc didn’t know, but he supposes it could be the little rebellion they were planning.

It makes Diluc huff in annoyance. It was ridiculous.

He reached beneath the counter for his bottle of unenhanced blood, pouring a measure into his glass before taking a slow sip. The liquid slid down his throat, but it brought him no relief. The vintage was of high quality, delectable, even, but it did nothing to dull the ache burning in his arms, chest, or head. Tonight, the pain was particularly insistent, refusing to be drowned. Judging from the murmurs drifting through the tavern, he could only hope it would subside when his expected visitor arrived.

He knows Childe will visit tonight. Whispers of him were too loud for him not to.

Diluc is proven right when the door opens and the bell chimes. Not the familiar calm chime of Kaeya’s entrances, but a harsher one with more force used behind opening the door. It wasn’t particularly loud, but it cut cleanly through the chatter of the tavern. Heads turned, the bards stumbled for half a beat before picking up their tune again. A chill of silence followed the figure who entered, quick steps ringing sharp against the floorboards.

Childe had arrived.

The crest of House Fatui shone on his shoulder, bold as the man himself. His smile was easy, almost careless, but his presence was a blade unsheathed, impossible to ignore. He moved like a predator that had never once doubted its own strength, and the room seemed to tilt towards him as he strode for the bar. Patrons shrank back, some with hidden glances, others with open glares. Even the pets seemed to draw closer to their masters, sensin the tension in the air.

Behind the counter, Diluc’s hand tightened just slightly on the rag he held. He set it down carefully, deliberately, his expression neutral. Yet a flicker of fire passed behind his eyes before vanishing into calm.

Childe came to a halt at the counter and leaned forward with the ease of a man who believed every space belonged to him, his grin sharp and unbothered.

“Diluc Ragnvindr.” Childe greeted, voice pitched just loud enough to carry across the tavern. A dozen conversations cut short around them. “Of should I say…” he let the pause drag, savoring it, “...bartender?”

Laughter followed, cruel and eager, as if they’d found fresh prey.

Diluc’s eyes narrowed, his stillness sharper than any retort. “What do you want, Childe?” His tone was flat, but even his calm carried a warning.

Childe only leaned against the counter, lounging against the surface. He smiled, his blood red eyes meeting Diluc’s own. “I’ve heard whispers. That you’ve gone soft. That the heir of one of the mighty Seven can’t even bare his fangs anymore.”

A murmur rippled through the tavern as Childe’s smile widened.

“Rumors.” Diluc said, cold and collected, through something flickered in his gaze, but he smothered it before it reached his face.

“Then prove them wrong.” Childe’s grin widened, eyes glinting in amusement. He tilted his head, voice coaxing and mocking all at once. “Here. Now.”

The tavern shifted around them, anticipating the response to the challenge issued. A fight between heirs was rare, dangerous… and irresistible. The air thickened with the weight of it, a hush that was louder than noise.

Diluc did not want this. His body still ached and there was heaviness in his bones. His head pulsed with a quiet throb he had no patience for. But Childe’s smirk, the way every eye in the room fixed on him, waiting… no, daring him to refuse, made retreat impossible. To step back now would be to admit the rumors were true.

He moved, slowly at first, stepping out from behind the bar with the deliberate grace of someone who had spent centuries in battle. The crowd drew back, chairs scraping against the floor, leaving space that felt more like an arena than a tavern.

Childe’s lips curved as Diluc clenched his fists.

Diluc struck first, not wasting the time, his every blow calculated. His fists were fast as he moved with precision and ferocity. But Childe met him like water, laughing even as he moved. He deflected each blow with infuriating ease, his counters smooth, unhurried, and almost playful. Precision met fluidity: discipline clashed against unpredictability. And for every strike Diluc landed, Childe twisted it, turned it, flung it back at him with mocking grace.

The crowd was silent now, breathless, as they watched every movement. The scrape of boots against the floorboards, the crack of impact, the harsh pull of air between clenched teeth. Every sound was magnified.

Then, too quickly, it was over.

Diluc found himself on one knee, breath harsh and heavy, a sharp ache pulsing at the edge of his chest. Childe’s hand clamped down on his collarbone, firm and humiliating, pressing him down with the easy strength of someone who hadn’t even begun to sweat.

There was silence.

Did he… lose? Diluc lost?

Then laughter erupted throughout the tavern.

Weak. Falling behind.

It was the most humiliated Diluc felt in all centuries of his undead life. His cheeks burned red in embarrassment from the blood he consumed moments before, his fangs clenching to the point they almost shattered.

Diluc shoved Childe off him with a sudden surge of fury, his hands trembling with the effort to keep steady. He rose, silent, his jaw clenched, fire burning hot beneath his skin. But the laughter drowned everything. The rage… the humiliation… the ache in his bones.

He didn’t look at Childe again. Refused to see the way his lips curved in mockery and eyes that looked down on him in humiliation. Instead he turned back to the counter, voice low, each word sharp as venom. “Charles. See to the bar.”

And without another word, he left.

The laughter echoed behind him.

✦✦✦

The night air was cold with a fog that clung to the streets like a shroud. Each step Diluc took seemed to echo against the cobblestones, the laughter of the tavern still ringing in his ears long after he had left it behind. The city was silent, but it was no comfort… it only made the whispers louder.

Weak… Soft… A shadow of the Ragnvindr name.

“I’ll show them.” Diluc clenched his fangs, “I’ll-” A cough made him stumble to lean his hand against a wall next to him. He let himself cough into the other: hard, deep, and heavy. When it ceased, Diluc straightened himself up and saw… blood.

His eyes widened as a gasp slipped past his lips. Blood? Impossible. There was no reason for it unless… Diluc froze, his feet stuck to the ground under him as the realization hit him. Now all the puzzle pieces came together and fit so perfectly well that it made him even more ill.

The reason for his muscles aching and his head throbbing. The reason blood rarely sated his hunger, his tastebuds no longer registering unenhanced and enhanced blood. The feeling of his body slowing him down despite getting enough sleep that it reasonably shouldn’t be happening.

Black Death.

The same sickness that plagued Barbara. The one that drove Jean to contract a demon, and that had already claimed the lives of many vampires.

And now its next victim was Diluc.

It was at this moment that he felt an emotion he hadn't felt in millenia: fear. Pure and unfiltered fear. An emotion foreign to powerful vampires such as himself, an heir to one of the Seven.

His eyes focused, the fog heavy around him as he attempted to steady himself. He took a step forward, and then another, until he was walking again. Humiliation and fear now clung to him tightly, and he knew of the only way to fix it.

Phantoms trailed after him, seeping into the marrow of his bones. He lengthened his stride, as though he could outpace them, but they followed with relentless persistence.

By the time he reached the Ragnvindr estate, his shoulders felt tense. The great house loomed before him, every window dark, every corner heavy with memories that pressed on him like judgement. For centuries it had stood as a monument to power, to the unyielding strength of his line. Tonight it felt like a great tomb, waiting to seal him in. The owl’s eyes on his family crest seemed to watch him as he opened the door, and this time, Diluc felt a flicker of fear beneath its gaze.

The study door slammed behind him, the echo loud through the house. Some books and ledgers lined against the walls fell down from the force, but Diluc paid it no mind. The weight of failure filled the room until he could scarcely breathe. His hands shook as went to his closet and reached into his coat and pulled free the vial.

It gleamed faintly in the candlelight: glass cradling liquid that pulsed with life. Blood… special blood.

Diluc stared at it, his jaw tight and his breath ragged the longer he looked at it. Fury and shame twisted together inside him, a knot he could not untangle. He could still feel Childe’s grip on his collarbone, the humiliating force pinning him down. He could still hear the laughter of the Houses, sharp and merciless, shredding his pride to ribbons.

It was the fear, however, that was more potent than the embarrassment itself. Blood was dripping down from his lips, no matter how many times Diluc tried to wipe it against his dark sleeve. His body, the weakest it had ever been, found it hard to stand on his own two feet.

How could he have been so blind to his plight? To ignore the whispers that caught a sniff of his plague even before he did.

Black Death was a silent killer. It penetrated the body and destroyed it from inside out. Even with all their strength and power, no vampire could escape it no matter how old. Perhaps he refused to admit that he had become one of its victims. Ignored the symptoms that were there.

Had Jean known? Did she, seeing the same happen to Barbara, put two and two together to offer him salvation he didn’t know he needed?

The vial trembled between his fingers.

He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, that he would be powerful enough not to need to rely on the strength of a devil, yet here he was. With no other option left.

Desperate.
Dying.

Slowly, almost against his own will, he pulled the cork.

The scent burst into the room at once: rich, dark, intoxicating. It clung to the air like velvet, thick and irresistible, bringing Diluc’s taste senses back to life. This was no human blood, thin and mortal. No vampire blood either, with its iron tang. It was heavier, sweeter, metallic and burning all at once. His throat tightened, his fangs throbbed in his jaw, and for the first time in decades, his hunger roared.

He lifted the vial to his lips.

The first drop seared across his tongue like molten metal. His body jerked, muscles locking and vision flaring white. A sound escaped him, half gasp, half growl, as heat erupted through his veins. It rushed to his fingertips, coiled tight in his chest, burned sharp behind his eyes. It was fire and ice together, pain so exquisite it was almost pure pleasure.

He drank again.

The taste consumed him. Every swallow was lightning, every drop a storm that ripped through him, breaking and remaking him in the same heartbeat. His breath came hard, desperate. His hands clutched the glass with white knuckled greed.

Again… and again…

The vial emptied too quickly, every last drop claimed, dragged down his throat in a fevered rush. He could not stop until it was gon.

Then silence.

Diluc staggered back, chest heaving. His vision sharpened so suddenly the room seemed new, as though he were seeing through fresh eyes. New… Reborn… Shadows split and deepened: the candle’s flame gleamed with unnatural clarity. His muscles thrummed with power, coiled tight beneath his skin, a strength he had not felt in decades: strength he thought forever lost.

The whispers in his skull silenced.

The laughter was gone.

Instead it was replaced with a new voice, one craving for more.

For the first time in too long, he felt unstoppable.

The empty vial slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor with a dull clink. He pressed his palm flat to the wood, grounding himself as his breath came fast, the taste still thick on his tongue. His body hummed, alive with energy that bordered on frenzy.

It was… delicious.

And it wasn’t nearly enough.

The thought struck him like hunger, a new voice in his skull asking for more, more, more. His throat still ached, his fangs sharp against his lips. He wanted more… the burn, the rush, the fire that promised to scour away weakness until nothing remained but strength. To sate the voice in his head.

His eyes dropped to the empty vial. Such a small thing, yet it had undone him, remade him anew.

And somewhere in the dark of the silent house, he knew one vial would never be enough.