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[PR: Ash]

Dawo stood a distance away from the coffin, shivering uncontrollably. Even his hair and beard were swaying. Foam trickled down his lips, delight covering his face. I finally found you. My poor daughter. My little jasmine. Erin, wait for me. I’ll save you from that cold, dark coffin, and then we’ll go home.

Aiden and Coen quickly held the excited old man back. “Don’t make any sudden movements. There might be booby traps here.” They looked at the ground underneath the coffins. Two magical circles drawn with blood sat on the surface, brown because of the dried blood. A hexagram sat in the circles’ center, and chaos energy radiated around them. The witchers’ medallions were buzzing.

To their surprise, they could hear heartbeats coming from the coffins. Gaetan is still alive. There were two hearts beating. One fast, the other slow. Slower than the beat of a witcher’s heart, but every beat was strong, telling the witchers that the owner of that heart was filled with life. Coen and Aiden exchanged a look. “Dawo, we need to tell you something, but don’t get too excited. Your daughter is probably still alive.”

Dawo’s pupils dilated for a moment, but then he shook his head, smiling bitterly. “Is that a joke, witchers? I am willing to sacrifice myself to bring her back, but I know she’s already dead, unless Godefroy has the power to revive a corpse—”

The old man was cut off. The air of the quiet chamber exploded with a bang. The coffin on the left was starting to rumble, and a great surge of power burst forth from within, pushing the lid of the coffin. The lid screeched like claws were tearing through a blackboard. The coffin’s underside kept crashing against the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust.

“What’s going on?”

Stronger and stronger it rumbled, and the coffin was almost going to fly into the air. As the coffin rumbled, the chaos energy in the chamber started to boil, and the witchers’ medallions were buzzing so violently, they might gallop away like horses.

The witchers quickly made Signs and covered themselves in yellow barriers. They unsheathed their swords, keeping Dawo safe behind them. The lid covering the coffin was flung away, and it fell into a corner with a thud, leaving a small crater on the ground. A gaunt woman leapt out of the coffin. She sat, unmoving like a statue, and the sconces on the wall shone on her.

She was gaunt, and even through the black silk robes she was wearing, the witchers could see that she was skeletal. Her arms were covered in black-green veins. Her hair was black and short, as if it had just recently grown out of her scalp. Her face was sallow, her cheekbones tall. Her eyelashes were incredibly long, and her inky eyes were blinking fast, her gaze filled with confusion, as if she were a patient who’d woken up from a long coma. She was still adapting to the bright light of the chamber and getting to know what was going on around her.

She had an overly-aquiline nose, and her lips were all white. She wasn’t beautiful, but her skin was fair, and not a pore was seen. It glistened like pearls, radiating a charm unique to her.

“By the gods. Are my eyes deceiving me? Perhaps I’m getting too old. Did the gods finally show mercy to a lonely old fool like me?” Dawo shook his head in disbelief, refusing to move his eyes away from the woman. “My little jasmine is alive! This is a miracle! Don’t get in my way, witchers!”

Coen and Aiden stared at the vacant woman cautiously. “You think a regular woman can toss that coffin lid away? That thing weighs at least a hundred pounds. She’s absurdly powerful, don’t you think?”

“So what? I raised that girl. She’s my only family in this world. She won’t hurt me.”

The witchers were hesitant, but they let Dawo go in the end. They had no reason to stop a father from reuniting with his daughter. Especially when his daughter was supposed to already be dead for a month.

Excited, Dawo quickly darted to his daughter, the air echoing with the sounds of his footsteps. Her attention caught, the woman slowly turned around, and she sniffed the air. Her eyes refocused, and the first thing she looked at was the man coming closer to her. Unbridled desire flared from her eyes, like she was a cat who smelled fish.

“Erin, it’s me, your father. Come, I’ll take your hand. We’ll be going home.” Dawo stood below the coffin, spreading his arms. He swung his daughter’s favorite hair clip, his face looking slightly younger. He’d lost sleep ever since his daughter fell ill. He was haunted by the nightmares of loneliness, where his family left him alone, but now the nightmare would come to an end. They would be a family again. Come, my daughter.

Erin grinned, her eyes glinting red, like a beast in the night. Fangs grew from her gums, jutting out of her lips. She breathed heavily, and the woman responded to Dawo’s calls. Erin spread her arms and leapt down from the coffin like a falcon hunting for its prey.

With passion, Erin jumped into Dawo’s embrace, but then tragedy struck. Dawo was pinned to the ground, and Erin snapped her teeth shut around Dawo’s throat. Flesh and blood splattered into the air, and the peace of the burial chamber was shattered by a bloodcurdling scream.

A hole was torn through Dawo’s throat. It was the size of a baby’s mouth, and blood gurgled from it, filling the air with a foul scent. He convulsed like a fish out of water. Erin was drinking his blood greedily, her face and lips drenched in her father’s life essence. Greed and satisfaction flared in her eyes.

Coen darted closer and sent her flying with a blast of Aard. Aiden leapt after her, swinging his weapon at the patricidal beast. Fury flared in his face.

Damn you, animal!

But Erin did not lose balance. Even though she was staggering, she swung her right arm ahead, blocking the sword with her bloodstained claw. And they fell into a stalemate.

As they clashed, Erin snarled, her face filled with ferocity, not unlike a predator that was interrupted during its meal. Blood and drool trickled from her fangs.

There was not just one enemy she had to face, however. Coen quickly circled around to Erin’s back and made a crimson Sign. He hurled a blast of flames at Erin and burned her skin. She froze and let out a scream.

Aiden swung his weapon again, the blade cutting off her hair and left cheek, leaving a deep gash behind.

The chamber’s air was filled with Erin’s screams of fury and agony. She fell to the ground, unable to move. All she could do was howl in pain. The silver sword and oil were injuring the new vampire badly, but the witchers did not stop.

Aiden quickly cast Yrden and restricted Erin’s movement. Sneering, Aiden stepped on Erin’s shriveled stomach. He raised his weapon, aiming it at her throat, but he stopped the moment he tried to bring his sword down.

The witchers held their breaths for a moment, staring at Dawo, conflicted. The old man appeared out of nowhere, defending Erin. He lay on top of his daughter like a shield. The witchers were surprised, for Dawo showed speeds that no wizened man could display. Not even a young man could move so quickly.

With difficulty, Dawo turned back. His face was the color of a headstone, stained with blood. The light in his eyes was flickering, but he stared at the witchers with one final plea in his gaze. He said something, and foam spurted into the air.

Don’t hurt her. Please.

He held his daughter tightly, keeping her safe from the witchers’ attack as much as he could. Erin was holding him tightly as well, but she was drinking greedily from the wound on his throat like an infant sucking on its mother. Her eyes were filled with bloodlust. Not a hint of love remained.

***

The witchers exchanged a look. Their hands shivered, but in the end, they sighed. They stopped doing anything and only observed the events unfurl. The only sound left was Erin’s drinking her father’s blood.

Before Dawo’s death, he used the last of his strength and pinned the hair clip in Erin’s hair. A smile cracked his lips, and he patted Erin. His whole life played in his mind, all the happiness and sorrow displayed like scenes of a film. “I raised a beautiful jasmine, but alas, I failed to protect you. I made you suffer for years, and you almost wilted. This is the last thing I can do for you. After I’m gone, you have to fend for yourself. Live, my little jasmine.”

A spurt of blood spilled from Dawo’s neck, drenching his face. He gazed at his daughter. She was tearing and sucking like a feral beast, but she was full of life. The disease had finally left her. “Goodbye, my little jasmine.” A tear fell down Dawo’s cheek, and his pupils dilated. His arm limped, and he drew his last breath.

***

Natanis came too late. She saw the bloody scene, and sorrow and resignation filled her face. ‘This is the fate of a higher vampire. This is the price we must pay. Dawo was a good father. Take him back to the plains and bury him there. He deserves to return to his home.”

Regis and Dettlaff sighed.

“Are all new higher vampires this merciless?”

Aiden looked at the coffin. After Erin had her fill, the other higher vampires shooed her back into it, but he could never forget what that girl did to her father.

“I told you guys that new higher vampires are only driven by their feral instincts in their first year. They’re like blank papers. They need us to engrave their new world’s rules into them. Gaetan will be the same after a month.”

Orianna didn’t feel the happiness of welcoming a new member into the community. The witchers turned their attention to the other coffin and dashed their plans of bringing Gaetan with them. They would not do it, not before he could control his lust for blood.

Roy mused over the matter and handed the Cat medallion to Aiden. “Give this to Foltest as evidence that the assassin is dead.”

Everyone nodded. Gaetan was dead, but he would start a new life soon.

***

A momentary silence fell on the burial chamber. “And now, the meat of the conversation.” Roy took a deep breath and smiled at the higher vampires. “Lead the way. It is time to have an audience with the Unseen Elder.”