Blood and Moonlight

POV Balthazar Severus

The sky was tinged with blood that late afternoon.

Hidden in the shadows of the window, I gazed at the horizon, with its red and orange clouds above the snow-covered mountains. Even the sharp pine trees looked like needles piercing the viscous liquid.

I always thought that time of day was the most beautiful. The sun enchanted me, perhaps because it was forbidden to me. But I only watched it from afar. I was still too young to know what it would feel like to have its rays touch my skin.

My father said it was only a matter of time before we could go out for a few hours during the day. The herbal mixtures to drink and the liniments to apply to the skin, which protected vampires from sunlight, had been invented decades ago. The adults were testing them and could endure almost an hour outside.

I thought it was extraordinary. If that experiment finally worked, I wouldn’t have to stay indoors when the sun was shining. I could run through the snow or the mountains during the day, free from being confined to the night or cloudy days.

I was so focused on those thoughts that I barely noticed the heavy door to my room opening until footsteps echoed on the floor. I quickly turned around.

A warm sensation filled me immediately when I met my mother’s gray eyes. I was proud to have inherited them from her, but I didn’t move from my spot when I noticed her usual distant, haughty expression.

I wondered what it would be like to run to her and receive a hug. But my father had scolded me the one time I tried. He insisted she shouldn’t coddle us, especially me, the firstborn of the Severus Clan. A serious vampire showed neither emotions nor weaknesses to anyone. It was better to learn that early.

At ten years old, I already knew it well.

It was strange for her to come to my room. We only saw each other on certain occasions. It was rare to cross paths with her in such a large castle.

“Mother...”

It was hard not to feel hopeful or excited. Deep down, I expected a smile or some pleasant surprise. But she stopped at a certain distance, clasping her hands in front of her long, dark dress, the hem trailing on the floor. The collar was buttoned high, hiding her long, slender neck. Her brown hair, streaked with white, was pinned up.

“Your father woke up a few hours ago. He wants you in the library.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

I nodded, knowing he had returned from his trip that morning, after spending weeks away. I had heard his carriage.

With the message delivered, she didn’t linger. I searched for something to prolong her presence and approached, but all I saw were her straight-backed shoulders before the door closed silently behind her.

I tried not to feel upset. I should have been used to it by now.

I picked up the dark blue brocade jacket draped over a chair and put it on. I adjusted the lace-collared shirt beneath it, ensuring the buttons were aligned. I was already wearing shoes, so I ran my fingers through my blond hair, smoothing down the rebellious strands as my father demanded. He tolerated nothing less than perfection. Ready, I left the room.

The long hallway was dimly lit by candelabras on consoles, the candle flames flickering against the gray stone walls. A cold wind came from somewhere outside and funneled through, but I didn’t mind.

I navigated the labyrinth of corridors, descending and then taking another hallway toward the library wing. It was my father’s favorite place. I knocked three times on the door and pushed it open. Then I paused, waiting for permission to enter.