He stopped at the top of the hill. There it was. It was the first time he had seen Runehaven Academy in person.

  The first time he had seen Runehaven Academy, and he hoped it would be the last—in person, to be more precise. It was hard not to have at least seen the artwork and heard people talk about it. The image he’d formed of the Academy wasn’t so different from reality.

  Three school halls. Three main towers, pointed like lances at the heart of the sky. Then the faculty building in the middle, the very beating heart of the facilities. On the outskirts stood the guild building that managed student missions—everything that came and went, be it money, experience points, or more exotic goods.

  Objectively, there was nothing wrong with the place. Unfortunately, it was full of human beings. He pushed his hair back with one hand and sighed deeply.

  “She’ll listen to me,” he said, “even if it’s the last thing I do.”

  It was more like he was trying to convince himself. It was a matter of time, he supposed. Yes, they had been apart for too long. Even a couple of months was a long time, considering how they—how the whole family—had lived before. He wondered how she might have changed, while at the same time telling himself that was impossible.

  In any case, he was wasting time thinking about useless things. It didn't matter how much she had or hadn't changed; it didn't even matter what she wanted. He had to get her out of here before it was too late. He had to fix his poor, stupid sister’s mistake.

  An impenetrable darkness, horrid and cold. It chilled him to the bone. He could barely see his own body. His surroundings were nothing, just a black smudge, except for the person in front of him. Though he could hardly see her, it was obvious.

  Mom!

  Yes, there she was, right in front of him, her hands on his neck, squeezing. Again, distantly, he recognized this was a nightmare—that it couldn't be anything else. It wasn't the first time he’d dreamt of this, and it wouldn't be the last. But it wasn't so easy to escape a nightmare’s clutches, even when vaguely aware that he was only dreaming. He didn't wake up, not even when fear made his heart leap into his throat, not even when his chest began to ache. As he ran out of oxygen, he ran out of oxygen. Of course, his chest didn't just ache for that reason; it ached because he felt betrayed. As much as he had been the first to betray, that's how he felt, and he needed an explanation.

  Something deep inside him screamed for it. The explanation wouldn't sanctify anything, wouldn't make the pain or fear disappear, but he needed it all the same.

  “So, why are you doing this?” he demanded. “You think I'm satisfied? Well, I'm not. But what else could I have done? I would have died in that town.”

  The truth, simple and direct, and spoken mysteriously, without trouble. Despite the constant pressure and lack of oxygen—it’s a dream, just a dream. So wake up, wake up, wake up.

  His mother answered him with another question.

  “What am I doing?”

  “Choking me.” There was a hysterical indignation in his voice, and a little disbelief.

  “You must believe that, but you are doing this to yourself.”

  Of course I am, because it’s a dream, he thought, but that wasn't what she meant. They were underwater now. He realized now that they had been the whole time, and that his mother’s hands weren't responsible for the pain or the lack of oxygen. Maybe, after all, she had even been trying to drag him back to the surface, to pull him to safety.

  The horrid darkness filled with a strange voice, but it had to be his mother's. Though his vision was fading, they were the only two people there, and he could see her lips moving. He saw it clearly, no matter how strange the voice was.

  In any case, she said:

  “Sooner or later, you will die far from home, alone.”

  He rarely had a quiet night, but since they’d returned from that damned city whose name he’d rather not recall, it was the same thing every night: nightmares. And extremely specific ones at that: the darkness. His mother's half-formed face and her hands strangling him, or at least he always thought they were. It usually ended like today's. The suggestion that he was drowning himself, that he might not deserve it, but he had brought it upon himself.

  He was in no position to interpret dreams; he wouldn't know where to begin. In fact, he wasn't sure they meant anything. If they did, it was by chance, and in any case, the truth was he just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to wake up in the morning and feel, for fuck’s sake, that he had actually rested, even if only a little. He was in too much of a hurry; it hadn't even been a full week since their return. He knew that. He knew things like that weren't gotten over so easily. But that didn't stop him from wanting to bury those dreams, once and for all. He would have preferred a thousand times over not to dream at all, or at least not to remember it, as if he were simply switched off all night, or dead. That was a thousand times better.

  As he progressed, it was inevitable that the trials and obstacles would become tougher. It was only a matter of time before he ran into a situation that even a real Knight—not necessarily an exceptional one, but a mediocre one—couldn't handle. In that sense, he was doing it to himself. You could say he was slowly drowning, sinking into the depths, but he felt it wasn't that simple. He felt that if dreams meant anything in the first place—and it wasn't just about humans, desperate to retroactively assign them meaning—he felt there had to be something more. And that no, this had started after the incident in that city, for some reason. If it were just about the fears he had just described, well, he could have had this specific nightmare since his first day at Runehaven. After all, he had been in a situation a real Knight couldn't handle from minute one.

  I don't know, he thought. All I know is I just woke up. He finished getting dressed for the day's classes. And I don't want to think about any of it. Not a fucking thing.

  The three of them left the room, heading to their first class of the day. The week was finally ending. Friday, and then freedom. With time, the incident would become less painful. The nightmare, more distant and blurry, might stop altogether. In any case, it was a matter of time. There was nothing else he could do.

  Mid-morning. On the way to the dining hall, a student crossed their path. Vincent tensed, expecting a fight. Expecting insults, threats, cruel jokes. It turned out to be even worse.

  Ayame arched an eyebrow.

  “What do you want? Spit it out.”

  A few students had stopped to watch what was happening. Instead of continuing to the dining hall—which was foolish, of course, they could do both. Watch and eat. Those who were already at tables with their plates of food were also watching. Not all of them, but a good number.

  Well, he thought, I guess they wanted front-row seats.

  The boy, whose name he didn't remember at all, looked like a first-year, but his face wasn't familiar either.

  “I don't know how to say this, so I'll just get to the point.” The boy's cheeks were red. Not now, Vincent thought, you’ve got to be kidding me. “You're a very beautiful girl, Ayame. And I'd like to get to know you better. I'd like you to give me a chance.”

  “Are you talking about dating?” said Ayame.

  “Yes, but nothing serious. Necessarily. Just as friends, and we'll see. If you think you wouldn't mind giving me a chance to impress you.”

  He was trying to sound sweet and even harmless, despite his thuggish appearance and the fact that he was, after all, a man. But he couldn't fool Vincent; if only because at the very end of his confession, his eyes locked onto Ayame's tits, and Vincent felt the urge to punch him. But well, he restrained himself, in the end.

  If he hadn't missed it, neither had Ayame.

  “Well, what do you say?” the boy insisted.

  “You haven't even introduced yourself, but either way, no.”

  “No? You could at least say you'll think about it.”

  “I might have given you a chance,” Ayame admitted, “if you hadn't insisted on making a public spectacle of this. I'm not an idiot. Confessing like this puts me under pressure. If I reject you, I look like the bad guy. A heartless bitch. As if it's a humiliation, as if it's my fault you put yourself in this position. I've been around, but that much is obvious. So, no.”

  Ayame crossed her arms.

  “Besides, you're not my type.”

  And just like that, the boy who, by the way, still hadn't bothered to introduce himself, made a rather ugly face, ironically.

  “And what is your type? That broomstick with a troll’s face?”

  He was ugly. He wasn't exactly a broomstick, but he couldn't say the boy was wrong about that, either. Vincent clenched his fist. Still, he took a step forward. He didn't have to intervene, however.

  Ayame's voice echoed down the hall, colder than he had ever heard it.

  “Any chance you might have had just vanished like mist. Get out of my sight, boy. Because the next time I see you, I’m going to blind you. Maybe then you’ll learn what’s truly beautiful and ugly.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  “Don’t act so tough, you vampire whore,” he said, but he fled with his tail between his legs, saying no more.

  “What a stupid son of a bitch,” Vincent said.

  Their meal was also interrupted, unfortunately, in a highly unpleasant way.

  “Ayame.”

  A man’s voice. Vincent noticed something in it that made him lift and turn his head, looking away from Ayame.

  Unlike the previous guy, who had been neither ugly nor a model, this one was drop-dead gorgeous, but that wasn't what worried him. It was the pallor of his face, the fangs, and the color of his eyes. A fucking vampire.

  To be sure, a part of him had wondered if there were other vampires at Runehaven and had felt a certain pity that Ayame was all alone, without any of her own kind. But it seemed he had been completely wrong; there was at least one other vampire at the academy.

  Oh no, he thought. This isn't going to be so easy.

  But he shut his mouth and waited.

  “Get lost. What are you doing here?” Ayame asked.

  Her vehemence surprised him, as did the fact that she seemed to know him.

  The boy—one thing, at least, the two admirers had in common: neither had bothered to introduce himself. He suddenly grabbed her by the arm, digging his nails in hard.

  “Come with me.”

  “No,” Ayame said, firm.

  Vincent had been ready to lose his temper the moment he dared to touch her, but when he noticed the tremor in her voice, well, now he really couldn't answer for himself.

  Vincent grabbed the other vampire's arm with surprising strength, pulling it away.

  “Who do you think you are?” Vincent snapped.

  “Her brother.”

  Vincent looked at Ayame.

  “Is that true?”

  Though reluctant, she nodded slowly. Vincent's muscles relaxed; the murderous intent vanished in an instant.

  “So, you’re her brother, huh?” he stammered. “Glad to meet you. Would you like to get something to eat, too? My treat.”

  Ayame looked at him as if he had grown a second head and was in the process of shoving it up his own ass.

  “I like this better,” the brother said as Vincent let go of his arm.

  He felt ashamed that he hadn't been able to make a good first impression with her family. Fuck, how he had screwed up.

  “What are you doing here?” Ayame insisted.

  “I think I've been quite clear. I want you to come with me, to come home.”

  “No,” she replied without a second thought. “This is where I choose to be. End of story. Get lost.”

  Maybe he shouldn't try to kiss Mr. Brother's ass. It seemed they didn't get along. That would definitely make things easier for him. He decided to observe a little more before making a decision.

  The vampire grimaced, still standing.

  “I don't understand why you insist on this. Everything is better at home, safer. Yes, don't look at me like that. You think I don't know what happened in Davenport? What almost happened?”

  “In the end, nothing happened.”

  “In the end, yes. But how many times can you get away with it? Let me explain it to you: it doesn't matter how many times you succeed, only the first and last failure, because there's no coming back from that.”

  He felt very uncomfortable. A mere spectator in a private, family conversation. He didn't like this sense of distance from Ayame, not with how he felt about her and how well he thought he knew her.

  “It's my decision,” Ayame answered simply. “I have the right to make my own decisions, to fall, to get up, and to make mistakes again, if necessary.”

  “I just want to protect you.” The boy clicked his tongue. “Like a good older brother, nothing more.”

  “You just want to kill me,” Ayame replied. “I’ve lived more in these last couple of months than in the rest of my life.”

  The vampire reacted as if she had slapped him.

  “Have you become that stubborn? You’d go so far as to insult me, to insult us, just to stay here?”

  “I don't want to insult anyone, but it's the truth. What can I do?”

  The vampire bit his lower lip with a fang. Soon his own blood flowed, as red as any human's, just as vulnerable.

  “Judai,” Ayame said. “Go home. Leave me alone. I’ve never asked you for anything in my entire life.”

  “You’ve never had to.”

  “Whatever. All the more reason to listen to me.”

  “Leave me alone. Let me live, if it’s true that you love me.”

  Judai bowed his head, thoughtful, but in the end, he shook it, firm.

  “I have to protect you, even if you don't understand it yet, even if you hate me for it. It's my duty, as a good older brother would.”

  Ayame shot up from her seat and slammed her clenched fists on the table.

  “You're not listening to me, as usual. Do you think it's going to be that simple? Do you think you're capable, physically and mentally, of beating me up and dragging me back home?”

  “Mentally, I don't know, but I have to try.”

  The guy assumed a combat stance, as if fighting in the middle of a fucking school dining hall was the most normal thing in the world. Ayame stared at him for a while. Finally, she clicked her tongue.

  “Not here. And not with me.”

  “What did you say?” Judai asked.

  “You heard me. Not with me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave, but only if you defeat my champion in battle.”

  “Your champion,” the older brother repeated, incredulous. “You've grown that fond of one of these disgusting bags of shit? I don't understand you, but fine. This simplifies things a lot. Who is your champion?”

  Ayame pointed at him, naturally.

  “There you have him,” she added. “Right in front of you.”

  “This has to be a joke.”

  “We're talking about my life and my future. About having one or having nothing, to be more precise. Why would I joke? You're the only one taking this as a joke.”

  Judai looked away from his sister, probably under the pretense of examining him. There was some shame in those eyes, not just anger. It was protective, he supposed it didn't matter. He was here with the intention of taking Ayame away; in the end, he was the enemy. It didn't matter what he felt, only his ability to crush him.

  “Do you really think he could take me? It would be easier to just walk meekly behind me.”

  “Oh, really? Well, he's the one who prevented what almost happened from happening,” Ayame said, smiling in a way that was self-satisfied, to say the least. “He's my Knight, my protector, and I wouldn't hesitate for a second to entrust my fate to him.”

  Vincent didn't weaken his friend's position by asking something like, Are you sure about this? Not like this, not now, but he really wanted to. Fuck yes, he did. On the other hand, he felt proud. He felt as if it were the first time he had breathed truly pure air in his life.

  “Well, as you wish. When I crush this human easily, don't say I didn't tell you so. And I'll do you the favor of keeping him more or less in one piece, I suppose, if you're so fond of him.”

  “It’s not just fondness,” Ayame said. “It's faith. It's knowing. If I weren't one hundred percent sure he would defeat you, I would fight you myself.”

  Judai grimaced but took a step back.

  “Alright, I suppose it doesn't matter, as long as I get what I want. Besides, what you're saying is interesting. I'd like to test it myself. If not here, when and where?”

  “Tonight is a full moon,” Ayame said. “You are free to fight him there, under the light of the full moon, with no disadvantages.”

  “Do you want me to kill him? There are easier, and less confusing, ways to ask for that.”

  Ayame laughed.

  “You still don't get it. I want you to go home with your tail between your legs, and I want to be sure you won't try this again. That you won't have excuses like you weren't at one hundred percent, the conditions weren't ideal, and you deserve a rematch. No, I want to end this, in one fell swoop.”

  Judai frowned but finally nodded.

  “You have too much confidence in him, but I suppose that's for the best. If I break your trust in the human you've grown so fond of, I doubt you'll be eager to leave the tower again.”

  The tower of a palace, Vincent supposed. At least he hoped he hadn't just heard that Ayame used to be locked in a tower, just like that, like a fairytale princess. He really hoped not.

  “I'm getting tired of repeating myself, so I'll only say this once more,” Ayame replied. “Vincent is going to crush you. You just wait and see. But wait somewhere else. I was eating with my team.”

  Judai grimaced. For a second it looked as if he was going to lunge at her and try to drag her out of the academy by force, despite everything, but it didn't happen. He simply turned and walked away to wait for the duel, to kill time.

  Ayame sat down again.

  “What a prick,” Tara said immediately.

  “Hey,” Vincent said. And yet…

  “I couldn't agree more.” Ayame didn't laugh. It was no joke; it was the hard truth.

  “I didn't know you had a brother,” Vincent said.

  “You didn't ask, either,” Ayame replied, shrugging. “Besides, I prefer not to talk about him. Our relationship isn't exactly a walk in the park.”

  “I can see why,” Tara said. “I don't have any brothers, but suddenly I'm grateful. Another arrogant prick who doesn't know how to listen. Well, he’s a man, after all. Present company excluded, of course. You're great at listening, Vincent.”

  “Thanks, thanks.”

  “He's a prick,” Ayame admitted, “but he's my brother.”

  Yes, there was the problem. Well, that and the suicidal fight she had set up for him, which he still didn't understand. Since they were on the topic, he could ask for details.

  “Ayame, why did you offer him that deal? Are you really sure I should fight him?”

  Ayame met his gaze, staring. She nodded.

  “Of course.” There wasn't a trace of doubt in her voice or her eyes. “If I didn't believe it, I wouldn't have said it.”

  “We're talking about your future, about having one or not having one,” he repeated, more or less. “Yeah, I get it.”

  Ayame nodded.

  “I'm glad.”

  “I could barely save you from those thugs, and even then, I had help. Really, I know it's for real, but what makes you think I can beat your brother?”

  “That I believe in you and you have me on your side? It may be a one-on-one, but I can equip you with everything you need to win.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His stats, his skills. I can tell you everything as it was. It won't be exact to the day I left, but hey, it’s a close enough approximation.”

  “You'd do that?” Tara asked. “Undermine your own brother?”

  “I don't want to, but he's forcing me. I'm not going to choose anyone, least of all him, over myself. I need to be here.”

  “I'll do what it takes,” Vincent said, suddenly stiff as a statue.

  “I'm sure you will.”

  They had to sit through the other half of the morning, of course. They tried to excuse themselves, even tried to tell the truth—that they wanted to prepare for a sort of family meeting—but it didn't fly.

  Once they were back in their room, Ayame explained everything, drawing it on a piece of paper: her older brother's stats, his level, and his abilities. At least, as they had been before she left home.

  It wasn't as if he was constantly fighting, and deep down, not that much time had passed, so reality was probably not too different from what was on the piece of paper, which was a relief, certainly. A huge relief.

  He was scared. He'd have to be truly insane not to feel fear. The opponent was superior to anything he had faced so far. Unlike in other fights, moreover, where they had gone in a bit more blind, now he knew exactly how much the enemy outmatched him. He knew him inside and out.

  He felt the urge to vomit. It didn't matter. He couldn't back down.

  “This is everything I know,” Ayame said, setting the pen on the table.

  “It's enough. Thank you.”

  “I'm still not sure this is a good idea,” Tara said. “Couldn't you beat him, Ayame?”

  Vincent had accepted without complaint, but he'd be lying if he said that question hadn't crossed his mind. Part of him trusted Ayame, trusted that she had a good reason, even if he didn't know it yet; that she wouldn't ask him to risk himself this way if there were another option, any other alternative whatsoever. The other part was simply proud. She had chosen him, after all. She had called him her Knight. The danger of fighting the vampire was a triviality, deep down. Just like when they first met, Vincent was simply happy to be chosen.

  “I could,” Ayame admitted easily, to his surprise.

  She leaned back, sitting on the edge of the table, her hands gripping the edge so tightly it looked like she wanted to hurt herself. “But I don't think he would accept it. In any case, it would make things worse.”

  “What do you mean?” Tara insisted.

  “A vampire defeating another, especially during a full moon, is nothing special. What he's worried about is my safety. To him, that would just be proof that the people around me aren't capable of protecting me. That he's right to want to drag me back home.”

  He supposed he could understand the logic. Vincent, in any case, couldn't say it was something he wouldn't do if he were in her position. And he supposed that was enough.

  “Now I get it. But still, you're putting Vincent in unnecessary danger. You don't have to convince your brother of anything. Just say no. Sooner or later he'll leave, and he can't make a huge scene. He wouldn't risk it.”

  Vincent shook his head slightly. This wasn't the time to argue amongst themselves. They never had, and they shouldn't start now. Besides, he had faith that this was necessary. He believed it from the bottom of his heart. So…

  “It's okay,” he said. “I can do it.”

  “It's not that I don't think you can do it, but you shouldn't have to.”

  Vincent grimaced. An important distinction, no doubt.

  “I don't like it either,” she said, “but…”

  “You don't have to explain. I'll shatter his will. I promise.”