Delsaldes, that was the name Rain came up with for her little slice of paradise. To call it a paradise might’ve been premature, but not having to live in shit and squalor, or sleep in a cold damp chamber, seemed as close to a paradise as she could get. 

      She had come up with the name after deciding it was a good place to settle down. The ruins were empty, and well hidden. The smell of herbs and spices littered the air, attracting all sorts of wildlife, which made easy prey. Last, but not least, it was far away from the city of her birth. Saleah was far off in the distance, and unable to pursue her. 

      As for how Rain came up with the name Delsaldes, the place strangely reminded her of her mother. It was cool, protective, and quiet. Surrounded by an endless land of turmoil, this one spot was a place of safety. Thus, Rain had given it the only name that she could compare it too.

      The forests to the west of Saleah were always untamed, and often violent. They spanned nearly a hundred miles to the west, ultimately bordering the Demon Lords vast domains. The wilderness acted as a kind of buffer state, a nameless, lawless, expanse filled with dangerous creatures, and unwanted vagabonds, standing in the way of the Demon Lords armies. 

      This acted as a double edged sword, for all attempts at human expansion met equally dismal failure. In the hundred miles of temperate forests, there were few loners willing to brave the lands. Those who did either disappeared without a trace, or were extremely talented survivors. Hunters Inns were sporadic, and highly fortified. The occasional witch made a home in the swamplands, and Rain knew there was one nearby. The only others who roamed these lands, were the pathfinders, and they were few and far between.

      The city of Saleah built its walls at the edge of the great forest, and patrolled only a small sliver of its expanse. Growing up in the alienage, there was always a latent fear surrounding the trees, and what might be lurking in the shadows. Rain had always been told to avoid the haunted lands at all costs. Until now, she had done so.

      It was a suitable place to hide, although a bit obvious. The mysterious dhampir brought her here in the middle of the night, using the chaos in the city as cover. Once the sun had risen, the canopy shielded them from its harsh rays. 

      Deep within the glade, it appeared to be dusk even though the sun must’ve been at its peak. Together the had spent their time resting in the ancient ruin, and bathing in the warm pond. The glade, as they called it before Rain came up with its new name, was relatively peaceful.

      Three days had passed since arriving. Rain had come to enjoy the small collection of stonework, nestled along the bank of the water. At night, when the moon was overhead, the ponds surface looked like a crystal shield plated with silver. The moonlight seemed to leak through the canopy more so than the sun ever could. 

      Rain should’ve found that strange, but barely regarded it with even the slightest hint of curiosity. She had always enjoyed the moon, now more so than ever.

      Sitting along the bank, Rain watched as the dhampir emerged from the pond. Her naked skin was a fierce grey, and her eyes shared different colors. Her right eye was a pale blue, while her left a steel grey. 

      “My queen, are you in need of anything?” At first Tjere’s accent disturbed Rain. It was foreign, tough, and surprisingly direct. After three days of enjoying only her company, Rain started to find it slightly…comforting. There was an exotic nature to the way the dhampir directed her tone, and she always looked Rain in the eye when she spoke.

      Rain wasn’t sure how to answer. She had a full stomach for the first time in her entire life…and it came with a sense of guilt. Rain had long discarded the filthy wool clothes from the cloister, and had yet to settle for anything else to wear. Calmly, Rain got up and strolled into the warm waters. Once ankle deep, she sat down so that the stream came up to her collarbone. 

      “You should stop calling me that, my names Rain. Remember?” Rain let her toes float to the surface as she leaned back. Her stomach felt cramped after the large meal of stewed rabbit and smoked squirrel. Tjere would likely try to hunt for a dear that night, although small game seemed the easiest to find.

      Tjere gasped, “I would never dishonor you by addressing you as such. I simply do not deserve such a privilege.” 

      Rain rolled her eyes. She had learned precious little about the dhampir, other than she was desperate to serve her. In such a quest, Tjere had divulged a lot of secrets and dark truths, but not about herself in particular. Rain wasn’t sure if any of them were true, but they were the closest thing to answers she had received about the curse mark spreading across her body.

      Apparently, the dhampir were among the lowest citizens of the Demon Lords domains. They were bred to serve their masters, and were offspring of the higher vampire’s, and human slave stock. Whenever they were absent of a master, the dhampir would go out in search of another to pledge their loyalty. Tjere had told Rain precious little about her own past, other than she had lost her master in some sort of conflict in the Demon Lords domain. Upon his death, she was among the nameless few survivors to flee. Upon entering the dharklands, which was how the dhampir referred to these woodlands, Tjere sensed the emergence of a new emergent power, and quickly sought out to discover her. 

      The mark along Rain’s lower back had coated her entire backside, and passed over her shoulders. It was now beginning to creep along her arms. The intricate weave of black markings were etched with a silver outline. In the night, they gleamed with obvious magic. 

      According to Tjere, they were the blessings of Roien, the pale prince, the god of the night. Those he found favorable, he blessed with his bizarre gift, elevating them from simple mortal to immortal creature. Higher than the vampires of dusk, or the geists of nether, the succubus’s were Roien’s creations. Soon the mark would cover Rain’s body from head to toe, and transform her into something worthy of worship, or so Tjere claimed. The mark had been seen a lot these days, and the church had worked overtime to remove them. It was rare that an elf was ever chosen, but a half-elf was susceptible to Roien’s charms.

      Rain wasn’t sure she believed any of this, but she couldn’t deny how the mark was changing her. She felt power tingle beneath her skin, and her flesh tone had begun to alter. She could see into the night far clearer than ever before, and she felt a strength unrivaled. Had she fled the alienage as she was now, Rain had no doubt she could snap the neck of the guard barring her way. She wouldn’t need divine intervention, or a lightning strike to pave her way.

      In Saleah, everyone knew that the Demon Lord, and his ilk, were of a species known as Succubus’s, but few had ever seen one in person. Rain had heard countless stories about them, but it wasn’t until now that she had a glimpse at what she was becoming. In many ways, it frightened her. 

      Tjere sat down next to her. The dhampir’s body felt strangly warm alongside her. 

      Rain cleared her throat before speaking, “If you’re so eager to please me.”

      Tjere leaned forward, she couldn’t hide the excitement in her eyes.

      Rain continued, “I would like some clothes. Something that doesn’t itch like hell would be nice.”

      “Certainly!” Tjere picked herself up. Her small breasts bounced from the sudden jolt. “I’ll search around. I think I saw a small abandoned inn not too far away. Perhaps I could find some additional supplies. All I need is some fabric, and I can make a corset from leather hide. I can also put together some comfortable boots.”

      “Corset?” Really?” Rain had never worn anything so…refined. 

      “Of course, and a cape! I’m good at crafting armor as well. My previous lord relished my designs, and I would love to make something for your majestic physique. Of course that’ll have to wait until your transformation is complete.” The dhampire froze, sensing Rain’s unease.

      “Does that displease you master!” Tjere’s voice suddenly rose with fright. “Please tell me what you would prefer.”

      Rain rubbed her eyes, “You know what, start with pants, and maybe a vest or something. You don’t have to get anymore elaborate.”

      Tjere rubbed her chin in thought. Rain found the dhampir’s posture rather adorable. Eventually Tjere snapped her fingers, as if discovering a solution. “Whatever you desire, my queen.” 

      As the dhampir strolled out of the water, Rain sank back in. Only her face floated from the surface. She could hear the sounds of crickets all around her, that and the subtle footsteps of foxes prowling for game.

      Suddenly, her lips tightened, and she fought a painful groan as the curse brand etched along her collarbone. The tips of their coils were starting to travel to the sides of her breasts. The pain lasted only a moment, but it was enough for her to roll into a ball, under water, and hold herself tight. After it reached another inch, the curse brand began to glow. The pond itself boiled from the surge of magical energy, and a bright silver light poured towards the surface.

      Once settled, Rain gasped a sigh of relief, and rolled onto her back. The pain was getting worse. Each time the curse brand marched across her skin, it seemed to advance farther, and faster. It taxed her each time. Sweat dripped from her brow, and down her cheeks. She looked up into the canopy above, and felt the tiny rays of sunlight blossom against her skin. 

      Time seemed to wane, distant echoes grew into a song for her ears. Rain was hungry, and not for typical sustenance. Her body demanded something more, and with re-forged senses, she looked through the forests for a proper meal.