The Bloodsoul's Rebirth

CW for SA, abuse, and suicidal thoughts.

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They say that life out in the free towns is hard. Those hard times create strong people. Strong people create good times. Good times create soft people, then those soft people create hard times. 

In Kiran's experience, that was utter bullshit.

Kiran stared out at the ocean, watching the tides roll in. Hard times didn’t create strong people. They just made people miserable. They created a broken, tiny little town, miles south of the City of Sin, where a vampire could assault a woman, leaving her with the kind of mental scars that ran deep. A town where there was no doctor to help her, to grant her the freedom to not bear a son she hated. A town with only a midwife with barely enough magic to ease the pain of childbirth. A town with no mind healers or mentalists to assist with the trauma.

Oh, sure, they got their glorious freedom. The Church of the Primes was sure to remind them of that every damnable Cretday. How fortunate they were that they didn’t have to live under the whims of someone with the power to tear a city apart, who could restructure the rules of government on a whim, and who everyone was forced to bow and scrape before just in order to get by.

The Minister even told him to be grateful. That if his mother had been in the territory of the great powers of the world, he wouldn’t exist.

His hands were balled into fists, and he didn’t even know it. 

Grateful? He should be grateful that he was a powerless speck raised by a mother who spent half their money on cheap booze, never worked the fields, and ? No. He wasn't fucking grateful. He was angry, angry at her, angry at himself, angry at the father who'd drifted into town, taken her like a toy, and drifted out. He'd rather he didn't exist than have to live like this.

And it wasn't like it was going to get better after today. He might be coming of age, but he wasn't excited. While every other child in the village that he'd grown up with talked about their hopes for getting a legacy to improve farming, to fend off the slaughter spirits that wandered into town, or push back the beasts of the night, Kiran was just afraid.

He knew, deep down, that he was going to get a vampiric legacy. He’d have it announced in front of the town, everyone would go quiet, people would take off their hats, and his mother would say nothing. Then she’d drink herself under the table, the anger would set in, and she’d start throwing things, striking him, or burning him again.

For a long moment, he considered just walking out into the ocean and letting the waves take him. Perhaps there would be some monster near the shores that would be able to eat him and end this all.

But no. For all that it was tempting, he wasn't going to do it. It was too permanent. Maybe he'd get lucky, and he would have a normal legacy. It could be useless, or even straight up detrimental. Just so long as it wasn't vampiric. He bent his head and began to compose a prayer to the Primes for mercy.

His head bowed as he prayed, and for a moment, thought he saw something glinting among the stone and sand. Even the sand was ugly. It wasn’t some pristine white sand beach. It was dull and gray, with stones mixed. It was probably one of those stones that had caught his eye.

He sighed as he glanced up at the sun. He really should be going. If he didn’t show up, it would be even worse than if he did. His mother had already screamed at him when he had missed the ritual of his sixteenth year, and he wasn't entirely certain that she wouldn't kill him if he missed this year too.

He trudged his way into town, passing the wooden buildings, headed to one of the only large stone ones. Out front, the Church of the Primes had set up the elaborate ritual, with the solidified fourth gate knowledge mana piled up in the corner to fuel the spell…

For a moment, Kiran eyed the mana. If he somehow managed to steal that pile, it could pay for his trip all the way to the City of Sin, and probably even for a few weeks at a room there. He could make a new start for himself. 

He dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came. There was no way that he’d be able to take it all, and even if he did, he had no way to carry it, let alone hitch a ride out of town. While a handful of the wandering merchants might not just rob him, plenty would, and the ones that wouldn’t would probably make him return it. 

No, the only way out was through. 

He watched as the minister took to the wooden stage in front of the church and cleared his throat.

“Welcome, welcome! I won’t dally with words for too long, I know that all of you are excited to see your magic and legacies, and how you can contribute to our ever growing family!”

Kiran held in a snort of resentment at the words 'family'.

“But first, let me say a quick word of thanks to magic. It’s fourteen arms reach deep into the well of our hearts, to keep us safe from beasts – both the beasts who prowl the forests late at night, who seek to eat, and the far worse threat!”

There was a murmur through the crowd at his words.

“Those beasts in human form, who see us, living in the free wilds and say that it is we who are savages!”

The minister thrust his hand in the air.

“Those beasts who believe that personal power makes a ruler! That see the horrors brought into the world by Nightflock, by the Storm King, by the City of Sin, by Kijani, by Elohi, and forgive them!?”

There was an uproar at that, and the minister lowered his hand, waiting for the crowd to quiet. Once they had, he spoke in a quiet, soft tone. 

“Not us. We will not give up our freedom, not to them. Not to anyone. And so it is with great pride I welcome our next generation of warriors, poets, farmers, and dreamers on stage.”

There was another massive roar of approval, and Kiran shifted uncomfortably.

“Bethany Bridges!” the minister called out. The girl walked forwards, standing in the center of the ritual circle. Light surged through the spells as formulae spun and scanned, and a moment later, the minister announced the results.

“Physical mana, with a legacy that allows livestock she raises to be healthier than normal! A wonderful farmer – we can show you some tilling spells, if you wish? Force constructs for farming?” 

The line continued on for some time, before…

“Kiran Khatri!” 

Kiran slogged up on stage and watched the light spin around him. 

“Abnegation mana!” the minister cried out, and for just a second, for the merest moment in time, Kiran allowed himself to hope. 

“Something else? But nonstandard. One moment…”

The minister studied the enchanted apparatus for a long moment, deciphering something Kiran couldn't see or understand, before he spoke, his voice quieter. But with the crowd entirely hushed, it was more than enough to carry through the town.

“Your legacy is that of a Ren-Dhampir. Your second mana gate is that of a Ren Vampire. Your ability to recall names is flawless, and you may work Names into your spellcasting.” 

The minister’s face screwed up in disgust. The look was only there for a second before the man's face was once again a smooth, professional mask, and he clapped Kiran on the shoulder consolingly.

“Bad luck, but hey, at least you’ll never forget someone’s name, aye? We can get you some basic wards, perhaps? We can always use more defenses against wild beasts and slaughter spirits."

Kiran just mumbled a ‘yeah’ and shuffled off the stage. He didn’t go to his mother, though. A single glance her direction was enough to see the miasma of revulsion and hatred plain on her face.

The worst part was he couldn’t blame her. 

With nothing left to do, he shuffled through town for a while. He bought a pint of cider, even though he didn’t really have the money for it, and then made his way down to the beach.

He stayed there for a long time, staring out at the ugly gray ocean and rocks. His cider was gone quickly, and he just stared at the ocean, contemplating walking out into the waves, and leaving all his problems behind. As the sun began to set over the waves, a glare caught off the rocks and into his eye. 

He shifted, then glanced over. The rocks weren’t gold, and the light had been. It might have been the sun, but he’d seen something this morning as well…

Seeing nothing, he clambered off the boulder he was sprawled on and started to run his fingers through the sand near where the glare had come from. If someone had dropped something, maybe he could sell it? Jewelry sometimes washed ashore, and it could be worth a fortune.

His fingers snagged on something half-buried, and he pulled it up, out of the sand, then rinsed it in the cold gray water. 

It was an earring, with a simple stud to put in, but a golden dangling chain that fell for two inches, then clasped around a briolette cut gem. It looked like a ruby, or maybe a garnet. whatever it was, the gemstone was huge, almost as long as the gold chain, and thick too. It had to be worth… 

Kiran didn’t even know. A lot, certainly. Maybe even enough to get a ticket to the nearest wandering trader who passed through town on their way to the City of Sin or Delitone.

Had his luck finally turned around? 

He allowed himself to grin, for just a moment, then turned to see if the general store was still open.

The moment he was away from the water and rocks, a massive, jerking pain shot through his body as his soul was shoved to the side. He his body lurched to the side and he nearly fell over, but barely caught himself on a tree.

Something slithered out of the earring, and into his body. It poured into him, and pressed his soul aside, crushing it down like trying to fit two loaves of bread into one bread box. 

“Hah, of course,” a dry, crackling voice said. It had the texture of old leather, tough but broken, and strangely, it rang only in his head. “The first body I get picked up by since Primes know how long, and of course it’s a boy. Tell me, child. What year is it?” 

“It’s, uh… Do you want it in Orthodox or Mossford?” Kiran asked aloud. The response was almost by rote, as his mind was still reeling, leaving him to answer without thinking.

“Keep your voice down,” the voice in his head snapped at him. “And Orthodox, obviously. What does a pint-sized nation on the other side of the world have to do with anything?”

“It’s the dominant power..?” Kiran thought, mentally noting the year, and where they were on a map. “Other than the City of Sin, but the minister says that’s just where Mossford’s elite go to party.”

There was a long, long stretch of silence. 

“Miss?” Kiran thought. He didn't know what she was, or what was going on, but being polite to the woman currently doing what felt like crushing his very soul seemed like a very good idea.

“Satya,” she responded, her mental voice sounding a thousand miles away. "Shit. I knew I’d run afoul of fortune, but not like this. Over a hundred and twenty years, gone. Trapped in an earring on the sea floor with nothing but fish for company…”

The emotions carried in those words rung out, so lost and confused that Kiran couldn’t help but pity her.

Even if some days he’d prefer the bottom of the sea to here.

“Bah, what nonsense,” Satya thought at him. “You’ve barely formed your magic. Not even opened it, why…”

She poked his soul, and then at his brain. For a moment that felt like forever, he watched his memories flood out. 

The good moments, where his mother bothered to teach him the ungated spell for light. 

And all the bad ones. Him crawling under his bed to hide from her drunken stupor. Her punching him hard enough to give him a black eye for ‘being aggressive, just like him’. The time she’d thrown a bottle at his back, but it had bounced off a wall and knocked him over, and the broken glass had cut his legs and back. The times she'd put out her cigarettes on his skin.

More and more and more.

And he saw Satya’s life in exchange. She had many good times – she’d had an excellent schooling in Tianzhu, the best a woman from two hundred years ago could have expected. 

She’d been lauded as a magical prodigy, but rather than push that, her own parents had used it to negotiate for higher and higher dowries. 

She’d wound up married to a lesser prince, but when she broke through to Arcanist, he’d cut off all magical resources, fearful she’d outgrow him. He’d force fed her an ascension elixir, the sort that would have instantly ascended her to sixth gate but stopped her from advancing ever again. Only cunning mental illusions had let her escape that fate.

So she’d turned to darker sources. In the middle of the night, she’d slipped out of the palace to learn the arts of the monsters who were happy to teach her. 

The Acheri, plague spirits created by those abused and left to die. 

The Pishacha, ghoul-like monsters who fed on human flesh. 

The Rakshasi, man eating spirits with magic galore.

And the vampires. Each of the vampiric clans had a hold somewhere in Tianzhu, and she had found them all, plying their secrets bit by bit. Her legacy was all but perfect for it, allowing her life mana to be used for blood magic without a loss. She had learned to use blood magic to empower and change the body from the Khet, to use it as a weapon from the Ib, to use it alongside her mental mana from the Ba, and above all, she had learned how to work with blood and souls from the then-mighty Sekhem Court's Occultist, the Lord of Blood.

And when she’d learned enough to formed her soul-jewel, storing her Soulself and enough of the rest of her soul to transform her prey, she’d killed her horrid husband, then herself.

From there she passed from hand to hand, possessing people and living the raucous life of a dark Occultist. She could do whatever she wanted. In the entire country, only the Lord of Blood was even close to her power, and so long as she did not bring down the wrath of the Storm King, she may as well be invincible.

Until one day she was on a boat, and the ward generators broke. The ship sank, and she was left alone.

Alone.

Alone.

That was where she’d come to slowly regret her actions. Not all of them – her husband had earned his death in her eyes.

But the eighty years possessing innocents and using their bodies? Picking them up and tossing them aside as she wished? That was cruel, and by her estimation, the cause of the boat sinking

Kiran snapped back to himself, and sucked in a deep, rattling breath. He felt Satya doing much the same, though she had no lungs, and then she spoke. 

“You haven’t had it easy, child. But I plan to change. I broke my Title when I was down there, and I need a new one. I’ll teach you. At least for some time. I know a few tricks with vampire mana, after all. May I?” 

He sensed her slipping into command of the body, and did not resist. She snapped her fingers, and a third gate spell formed instantly, drawing on the vast stores of mana within the earring to cast a spell: Sanguine Thorns. 

Thin strands of blood flowed from Kiran’s fingers, pulled out of his body, mixing with the magic forming more blood, and then wrapping itself around a tree. A moment later, sharp power exploded out from the ribbons, impaling and shattering the trunk. 

Kiran found himself back in control, and he had to stop himself from smiling. If he could wield power like this, he could finally be free. Even if Satya only cast from the stores within the earring, rather than subsuming his soul and converting it into her own, that would still be more than enough power to get away from this place, from these people, and to make himself into something more.

Satya’s spirit couldn’t physically smile, but he felt her smile all the same. She had a protege, someone who she could teach to wield her dark secrets for a purpose. Perhaps not solely for good, neither was a storybook knight. But with intention, rather than reckless abandon. And she could too do the same.

And now, both had a chance.