The ethereal tendrils of the Beast lingered in the air, its presence casting a shadowy caricature over the skeletal remains of the former Knight.

Otherworldly wisps of spectral smoke intertwined with Miles’ own form, for the Beast had now extended its manifestation even beyond the spectral armor that covered him, taking an almost separated existence. Yet, their consciousness remained as united as ever.

In response to what had been their collective summon, the Status materialized, white text adorning a backdrop of profound darkness, now with an unusual splash of actual color.

[User: Miles Lykaon]

[Current Form: Vawul]

[Vawulan Class: Newborn Lvl. 10 || (1/10) Varying Blood Sources Consumed (! Evolution Available !)]

[Disciplines: |Haemomancy Lvl. 1| - Untrained]

[Vawul Generation: Too sparse to detect. Please evolve first.]

[HP: 10/10] | [Conditional Undeath] | [BP: 17/110]

{Blood Points (BP) in detail: (Personal) 10/10 + (Ripae Sanguine) BP: 7/100}

[Strength: 27] (+6)↑

[Endurance: 29] (+6)↑

[Agility: 28] (+6)↑

[Intelligence: 64]

[Wisdom: 37]

[Influence: 5 (+1000)]

[Free Points: 13 (10 General + 3 Blood Sourced)] (+9)↑

[Skills: General - {Magicae Aspectus - Uncommon}, {Mind World - Rare}, {Nameless Movement Art - Unique}]

Haemomancy - {Ripae Sanguine (Blood Bank) - Inferior}, {Sanguis Ardeat (Blood Burn) - Inferior}, {Sanguine Aspectus - Common}, {Hereditas Sanguinis (Blood Inheritance) - Unique}]

[Titles: Discredited Heir of Lykaon Industries (+1000 to Influence)

Newborn Vawul (+5 to all stats but Wisdom, Vawulan Senses.)

Cursed {First: Minor Thirst}, {Second: The Beast Within}, {Third: Sol’s Hatred}

Conditionally Undead (Granted by the Ankh, the Key of Life. As long as the user is not burnt to ashes or decapitated, any injury will heal given time. It is still possible to become comatose due to total blood loss.)

Balanced??

Vessel of The Beast Within (̷͈̪̌̃̈U̴̫̮̿n̷͙͈͇̉̉́͝s̸̪̖̜͗͛ę̵̨̘̈́̚a̴̩͓̱͚͑͐̀̃l̸͎̣̊e̶̡͇͌̇͋̈ḓ̸̨̨̓͛)̷͙̱͚̬͋̍̅̈́

Last Son of Lykaon (Inactive)]

The eyes of Beast and Man fixated upon the rare burst of color, a familiar azure, in the mostly bland status screen before them.

‘Blood Sourced.’

There was no dispute or argument, no second-guessing or thinking it through. Miles, at this moment, cared little for his former indecisiveness over the utilization of free attribute points, with the intention of meticulously optimizing of each attribute point for a ‘flawless’ build.

No, now his singular desire was to experience that feeling again, that sense of wholeness, of being complete. Despite having accepted his Vampiric nature for the ensuing power, the entirety of his being longed for nothing more, to feel truly alive.

The Beast had the solution.

With focused intent, they directed their focus upon the free points tab. At his behest, Miles felt the three relevant free attribute points, those sourced from the azure blood source, resonate to his will.

He let his bestial instincts guide him, channeling them all into the only attribute that had not been subjected to any form of growth since his undeath; Wisdom.

[Wisdom: 37 => 40]

A cascade of unknown whispers danced through his mind, as if ancient beings had whispered secrets directly into his consciousness. Every synapse tingled with newfound clarity, and it was a strange sensation, of knowing, and the notifications chimed.

Ding!

[The Vawulan has usurped the Blood Source of another, taking the inherent essence for themselves.

Initiating Blood Source Assimilation (1/1 use for Tier: Newborn)…]

Ding!

[Blood Source Assimilation halted due to interference from Skill: Hereditas Sanguinis (Blood Inheritance) - Unique.]

A moment of confusion rose, shared by both him and the Beast, but oddly enough, there lingered an inkling that this might not be a problem.

Perhaps, it was even better?

Ding!

[The Inheritance of the Blood Source has succeeded.

Blood Source Assimilation canceled, (1/1 use) remaining.]

Ding!

[The Blood carries memory, power, and legacy. As the usurper of the source, all that was, is now yours.

The Vawulan has inherited (Legacy of the Knight of the Sky - Uncommon.)]

Miles felt a pulsating ache in his head, unnatural, wrong, but that discomfort was worth it, for he was soon overwhelmed again by that profound sense of completeness, of being human.

A cascade of sensations flickered through his mind, and it took a brief moment for him to realize what they were. These were foreign, unknowable experiences, streaming into his mind, satiating the insatiable hunger for more. These were memories, and he remembered them all.

***

“Legend weaves a tale of ten divine suns, that their holy radiance was unruly, brimming with pride, harboring remorseless intentions to scorch the very world beneath them.”

The voice of a black-haired woman resonated through the room, her dark locks framed by the soft streams of sunlight that seeped into their modest home. Beyond her, framed by the wooden window sills, were the viridian hues of the Everglades and thick canopies of white forestry graced by the touch of wintry snow, as if the windows were framed artworks of nature's painting.

In her possession she held a box of wood containing four inkpots and a brush, and the horsehair was dipped into a pot of golden yellow ink. With rhythmic grace, she repainted the faded sigil-like symbols upon some creation of yellow feathers and leaves, a talisman hung upon the eastern window frame, portraying a ball of golden fire.

“But only we of the Riyan know the truth.”

Each window led to a small ledge, protruding outwards from the cabin. She reached towards that of the eastern window, finding an emptied saucer.

Using a wet cloth, she wiped it clean, and took out a small, blinking metallic container. With a steady hand, she tipped its contents into the now clean saucer–pure and pristine milk poured out, kept fresh and cool by the device. The saucer now refilled, she placed it back upon the ledge outside.

“The Divine Suns had no choice but to unite, banding together to fend off a great evil, for as decreed by the attendants of the Celestians, only the light of the Riyan could burn those devils away.”

Moving seamlessly through the roomy wooden cabin, the woman navigated from corner to corner, window to window, repainting and refilling.

The second talisman was one adorned with red feathers and leaves, another ball of fire, but a red giant this time.

“Yet all of it had been a ruse, a cunning plot to draw out the Divine Suns, so that their noble effort could be portrayed as a threat of unruly pride towards the world. This forced the hand of a guardian of the world, a great hero, the king of archers, manipulated to shoot nine of them down.”

The third window held a smaller talisman, one that featured pure white feathers, leading her to apply colorless ink upon the tiny ball of white, a white dwarf.

“We of the Riyan accept this tragic event, we understand the deception, we mourn the Divine Suns, but we strive to make amends.”

The final window too led to a small ledge, above which hung the final talisman, different from the rest, and it was repainted by black ink, small, yet akin to a deathly night, a black dwarf.

“That is why it is our path to follow the divine lady Xihe, and as she once did, we create… Suns.”

The woman cleaned the brush of residual ink, affixing it into its designated place in the wooden box carrying the ink pots. Placing it aside, she continued.

“For each Divine Sun lost on that fateful day, for each of the nine that were felled, we nurture one within ourselves. Pale imitations they may be, such is the Path of Divine Light, from one to nine.”

The final saucer was cleaned, placed upon the ledge and refilled with the offering of milk, open and presented to those of the Everglades.

With her ritualistic movements drawing to a close, the woman cast her gaze upon the two children seated upon a faded yellow rug.

A young boy, his hair a mop of golden curls, nodded eagerly with wide blue eyes, pretending, as if he had actually understood the entirety of her blabbering.

Beside him was a younger girl, her appearance mirroring that of her brother, but with her head leaned against his shoulder, she was fast asleep, a thread of drool even trailing down her chin.

Noticing the woman’s scrutiny, the boy nudged his sister awake. The girl was startled, quickly rising to attention, but failed to hide a yawn even as she wiped her mouth.

The woman narrowed her eyes, her tone crisp and commanding, “To the lotus position, both of you, now. We shall meditate upon our Suns, and you, Cassie,” her gaze bore into the sheepish girl, “Answer, why do we meditate?”

With practiced intonation, Cassie answered promptly, “To restore the lost Suns, and revive the ways of the Riyan!”

The woman nodded approvingly, “Correct. Now then, let us practice for one hour, as always. But dear,” she eyed the young girl, “That’s an extra half-hour for you, and more for every moment you fall asleep again.”

Cassie protested, “But Mom!”

The young boy wisely interrupted his sister, offering her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “It's fine Cassie, I’ll do it with you.”

The mother of the two children regarded her son with a mix of exasperation and affection, but he only gave a helpless shrug and a pacifying smile.

With a resigned sigh, the woman tapped the familiar clock, and all three of them began their practice together.

The tendrils of sunlight filtering through the room were a welcome presence, for it was that time of the year, and the Everglades were overrun with winter fae, casting everything within ice, pervading the air with a persistent bitter chill.

The Riyan meditation was rather simple. With their focus upon the lower abdomen, they visualized the gathering of energy to form an imaginary sun. With every breath, they gathered their life force, what their mother called prana, shaping it into the foundation that would one day become the first sun.

This was a challenge even for him, let alone his sister, for the young girl at the tender age of six, fidgeted, struggling to stay still, but her mother’s threat kept her focused well enough, and somehow they persevered, until the time passed.

The moment the alarm of the clock rang out, Cassie was on her feet, preparing herself to run, “It’s snowing! It’s snowing! I’m going out to play!”

Her mother’s voice halted her in her tracks, “Not like that you’re not! Put on something warm! It’s freezing! And, your amulets!”

Cassie was slightly miffed, but hastened to comply, quickly slipping into her little blue insulated coat, and affixing a small u-shaped piece of cold iron to its front pocket. She plucked a fresh clover from a small pot nearby and tucked it behind her ear, before waving a goodbye, and darting through the wooden door.

“That girl…”

The young boy rose to his feet too, donning his own coat, attaching its own iron ornament, and plucking a fresh clover for himself. He turned to his mother and spoke in a slow, measured tone, “Cassie… She adores the snow. Maybe even more than she does fire?” He hurried to elaborate, “Mom, it’ll be fine right? She can use snow if she wants, right? I–I’ll use fire, I’ll revive the Riyan, enough for the both of us!”

The dark haired woman regarded him for a moment, then raised her hand… and gently bopped him on his nose.

“Silly child, what makes you think a Divine Sun, a Xihe Riyan, must be one of fire?”

Her smile was warm, “Though I may have adopted you both as my own, that does not mean I shall dictate your destiny. I’ll admit, I may have a bias towards the path of the Riyan, but whatever you wish to do, whether you use the power of Xihe or not, I shall leave that entirely up to you. Alright, dear Xavier?”

The boy froze, caught off guard by her response, but in the end, he nodded in understanding.

His mother chuckled softly, “Good, now off with you, before your sister decides to build an igloo and claim it as her home, catching the eye of some wayward fae… for the third time.”

***

Xavier moved his fingers, deftly manipulating the wooden contraption before him, his fingers moved with practiced precision controlling the puppet hanging on its threads, the marionette. Each motion of his hand translated seamlessly into the puppet’s dance, moving exactly as was intended. This was his favorite toy, a gift from their mother.

Cassie sat on the floor, molding white clay into a childish, unrecognizable casting–a ball of some sort, amidst a leafless forest, where it was raining, perhaps–when she suddenly looked up with a curious question.

“Mom, why do we have to revive the way of the Riyan? What happened to it?”

Her words caught Xavier’s attention, the rhythmic dance of his puppet interrupted, as he waited for an answer himself.

Their mother halted, the ladle that had been stirring the stew-in-a-can, a rare treat from the city, and answered slowly, “I suppose it was only a matter of time,” and moved to pat the little girl on her head, “Well asked, dear.”

As Cassie beamed with pride, the black haired woman had returned her attention to the stove, the artificial stew now simmered quietly, the bubbles almost ceasing under the intensity of her gaze. “The Riyan were formidable, as mighty as the Divine Suns we seek to resurrect. But not formidable enough, not enough to face the Pale Ones, malevolent beings, sun spurned devils in human skin. Fearing the brilliance of Xihe Riyan, they purged all those who practiced the Divine Light,” her tone was grave as her gaze fell upon them, “Only a handful, including my master and a few who had left for worldly experience were said to have survived. So of course, the way of the Riyan was lost, forgotten over time.”

A heavy silence settled over the room, Cassie’s usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a palpable sense of dread. She had not anticipated such an answer.

Sensing the tension, Xavier spoke up, his voice tinged with apprehension, “Um, Mum, will those devils come for us?”

Their mother’s head snapped upwards, as if she had only just realized the gravity of the words and the ears she had allowed to hear them. She hastily explained, “Oh, no, no, of course not! I’m here aren’t I? Besides, the devils only really care about those of the Riyan, so you two are perfectly safe!”

Cassie seemed to relax, accepting her words with a slow nod, but Xavier was skeptical, and pressed further, “Then, what about you?”

She hesitated, not providing an answer as her gaze flickered between her children.

Sensing their growing unease, their mother wiped her hands on her dress and walked up to them, offering a solution, “Tell you what, I’ll teach you two a little… trick? It might not work immediately, but someday, with enough practice, you’ll be able to find those devils, no matter where they may hide! How does that sound?

He considered it.

That could work. If the devils did come for their mother, he could warn her, and they could run away!

Xavier agreed readily, and so did his sister.

***

That day was an unusual one.

His mother’s hands fiddled with his new coat, one that was several times larger, as she fastened the familiar u-shaped iron pin–a horseshoe, as she often called it–to his pocket. Despite the fact that she maintained a smile, it appeared strained, forced, Xavier could tell.

Her usually immaculate black hair was disheveled, and creases of worry persisted upon her forehead. Lately her behavior had become rather strange–late nights, waking tired and restless, performing stranger and stranger rituals–to the point that Cassie had to be the one to complete their morning offerings.

Repeating the routine upon his sister’s coat now, their mother spoke, “Alright, are you both ready? Broceliand isn’t far, we’ve visited the settlement there before, so you know how to behave, yes?”

“Yes, mum...” Cassie answered with a roll of her eyes, the once little girl now almost reaching Xavier's own height.

Fortunately for his sister, their mother didn’t take her sass to heart, “Good, you’ll be meeting Ragan there, and he’ll be guiding you into the city. Make sure you get everything I have listed. You do have enough credits, right?” she asked, her question directed at Xavier.

Due to his mother’s general aversion to most technology, it was he who had assumed the responsibility of managing their digital finances. Not that they needed much, considering that they lived almost self-sufficiently in the Everglades.

But, Cassie had read something in some ancient magazine, and got it into her head that they should eat cake, and since it was far too expensive to purchase, they should have it homemade.

Their mother had surprisingly indulged his sister's random request, suggesting it could serve as a birthday gift. She really shouldn’t have said that, as that had led to an entire tirade about ‘birthday cakes’ and how they should make three every single year, one for each. Suffice to say, Cassie was excited.

The occasional trade trip of this nature was nothing new to Xavier, having been on a few already, but this would be Cassie’s first, for as the cause behind the excursion, she was supposed to accompany him.

Nevertheless, they had more than enough credits to afford everything on the list, and thus, he answered with a nod.

With that, their mother plucked two fresh clovers from the familiar pot, carefully placing them behind their ears, “And remember, stick to the beaten path. Never step foot into the forest, no matter what promises the fae may offer. Understood?”

“We know!” Cassie groaned.

Xavier echoed her intentions, well, in a much less impatient manner. But he was thirteen, almost an adult now. There was no way he didn’t know about the dangers of the everglades.

He was far more interested in his mother, the secrets she hid from them, for what he believed she believed was for their best.

Xavier wanted to help, to ask what was wrong and provide his support, but in the end, they departed for the city.

He decided he would ask everything, definitely, when they came back.

***

The journey through the woods proved uneventful, for Xavier managed to keep his sister on a short leash, distracting her whenever the fae enticed her–noticeably with illusions of white frosted cake.

After a grueling walk, they managed to arrive at the settlement in Broceliand, just at the descent of nightfall, when the Everglades could become home for the dread Fae, considerably more dangerous than the tricksters of the day.

Radan, a formidable mercenary of the Everglade Wanderers, greeted them upon their arrival. Xavier knew him well, for the intimidating giant of a man was a family friend of sorts. He had the two siblings taken to an inn, offering them a decent room to spend the night, and despite Xavier’s best attempts to pay for the room, the mercenary shooed him away.

Cassie had been brimming with excitement about visiting Capital City, and thus, had soon burned herself out, falling asleep almost immediately.

Xavier had had a much harder time.

He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

An unsettling sensation gnawed at him, a vague sense of foreboding that unsettled his nerves.

Then without warning, it struck him–an instinctual awareness, a warning from within him.

His breath grew heavy, his pulse racing as a chill swept through him, as if the cold winter air had managed to pierce into the room.

Devil Seeking.

The first time their mother had introduced them to the ‘trick’, it had been purely on a whim, to pacify their worries.

Cassie had struggled to learn it, and given up rather quickly, but Xavier managed to make some progress, and that was when his mother had told him of its true nature.

Devil Seeking consisted of two aspects. The first was a basic, almost passive step, allowing the detection of a devil’s presence when they ‘shed the human guise’. The second was more complex, an active step that allowed the detection of the ‘emptiness’ within those creatures, even when they were in hiding.

Though Xavier had yet to find any progress in the active, the more basic, passive step was well within his ability.

And that was exactly what had sent his heart beating, it was the source of the cold dread, as he was told of the presence of a devil in the distance.

As his head darted in the general direction, Xavier couldn’t help but feel a pit in his stomach. Despite the confusing nature of the paths through the Everglades, he knew exactly where the devil was.

Home.

***

Maybe Xavier should’ve asked Radan to come with him, but he definitely didn’t want his sister left alone, and had had no choice but to leave the mercenary so he may guard Cassie.

Decision made, he had silently climbed down the window of the second floor, wincing as his knees absorbed the impact of the fall.

Xavier rushed through the beaten path, even as his heart raced in a mixture of realization and fear, the Devil Seeking providing him guidance.

The dense foliage of the Everglades blurred past him, drowning out the beguiling voices of the fae.

Lady Luck had been on his side, for Xavier found himself still alive, not having met the astronomically slim chance of encountering a dread fae along the footpath.

It was only an hour or two later, he wasn’t sure exactly when, when he had arrived at their familiar little lodge, that he realized the warning from the skill had vanished. The ominous presence of the devil was no longer there.

The fear and nervousness he felt was replaced by a profound sense of relief.

Maybe he had imagined it? Maybe a devil had never come?

Xavier entertained the possibility, but no, but it was more possible their mother had managed to vanquish the creature.

Preparing himself for a night of scolding for his irrational actions, he pushed past the wooden door.

As was often his mother's habit, he found a single lamp lit, barely illuminating the lodge, and to Xavier’s great relief, he found his mother, her familiar figure seated on their couch to the side, her hands holding a pot of white cream, frosting perhaps.

But as he stepped forth, to check on her, he felt something, a puddle stepped upon by his shoes.

As if the sound had grabbed her attention, Xavier found his mother staring at him, surprised and shocked.

Her eyes wide, her mouth ajar, she watched.

No, her gaze was not on him, but something beyond, for her head was on the floor, and it was a decapitated body that was seated on their couch.

Xavier screamed.

***

Miles returned to reality, finding himself gasping, holding onto his knees. The experience had been visceral and instantaneous, as if he had lived through a lifetime of splintered memories in a millisecond.

Even as he reeled struggling to separate reality from foreign memory, with that one mystery had been solved.

That was the nature of the unknown unique skill, Hereditas Sanguinis. That was the legacy of the Knight of the Sky.