Private Of Spells, Blood and Curses

[Countess Anétresya]

It had been a long day. The witch had returned from her week long travel, a destination to check upon her planets, her people. But upon returning, she encountered some issues with the Haxion Brood, the underground criminal organisation of Jutrand. Now she was back in her apartment, the massive penthouse than spanned the whole top three floors of the tower. After getting through some paperwork, settling down onto the couch in a white nightdress, Lady Anetresya could finally enjoy a generous pour of a dark viscous liquid from a tall wine glass.

Until her acute inhuman senses picked up on the faintest of sounds. Her head turned towards the noise, only to find that one of her windows were open, the wind from the height of 300 stories, blowing against the curtains. The windows wasn't opened previously. Anetresya froze, her glass in mid-lift to her lips as she honed her sense of hearing. A faint patter from downstairs. Footsteps.

Rosy lips twisted into a scowl, perturbed that even now she could not relish her peace when there were nuisances she had to deal with. In an instant, she set the glass down. The fist of her right hand closing by her core, palms opening like petals of a lotus flower. "saeph'ptrola" She muttered the incantation of the portal spell, the floor beneath her feet simmered in purple smoke, she phased into the ground, falling in a graceful poise into the level below.

Anetresya tapped the holo-bracelet on her wrist. "Qena," She called, triggering the bystanding AI system. "Scan the area and activate lockdown." She commanded. Durasteel screens would cover any windows and close all the doors within the area. "My Lady, there appears to be heat signatures of a sentient in the west side of the Library." Coincidentally, on the level was her personal library. A collection of not only books, but priceless grimoires and artifacts on display.

The Sangnir let out an exhasperated sigh. Time to deal with another shenanigan. Unlike this intruder, she did not move with stealth, but with grace. The crisp clicks of heels against the asphalt flooring echoed through the hallway, announcing her impending arrival.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Countess Anétresya

The sounds of the capital city slowly faded away until it was drowned out by the steady beat of his own pulse. Like a wraith enhanced with the power of the Force he moved, silent and lithe, ascending the walls of The Qeniora Tower. Every muscle in his body coiled with tension, for Kasir was a hunter, blending effortlessly into his surroundings. Finally reaching his destination, his eyes narrowed, taking in the lavish interior from a perch outside. Unseen by those within, they were oblivious to the looming danger that lurked just outside their walls.

With a flick of his wrist, he activated a small device that disabled the windows locks, which allowed him to slide through without making a single sound. Guided by both years of training and instinct, he now landed on the floor. Constantly alert for the slightest sign of danger, Kasir's disciplined mind was a weapon; a lethal blade forged to strike without the slightest hesitation. And as he melted into the shadows, his very presence seemed to fade from existence, ready to fulfill his mission.

The private library awaited him, and he searched its shelves with haste, his eyes skimming over tomes and scrolls until his hand snaked around the targeted item at last, snatching it up as if it were nothing more than a prize.

Now he readied himself to make the escape.

As he turned to retrace his steps, the sudden clang of durasteel doors caught his attention. He felt the air shift around him, his primal instincts ablaze with warning. His dark powers flickered at the edge of his consciousness, tempting him to draw upon its strength. But he resisted, for to rely on it at this moment could potentially betray his presence. Instead, he focused on becoming one with his surroundings. His back then pressed against the walls of a bookshelf. Slowing his breath, the hooded figure lowered his chin, tucking his face further into the depths of his cloak, as if his very being tried to become invisible. Kasir's gleaming eyes were now hidden from view.

Only moments later, the clicking noises grew louder, drawing ever closer with each passing second. Whoever or whatever it was, their footsteps seemed to be heading straight for his location. Each moment tested his patience as he tried to calculate his next move. The Sith was a master of subterfuge, and he still planned on escaping with the grimoire. There were but two paths before him -- to strike or retreat, depending on the unfolding scenario.

 

[Countess Anétresya]

The clicking of her heels stopped as she reached the threshold of the library void of light. The Lady Sangnir paused. She did not need light to see, her senses already heightened in her nature. "Show yourself, and you will be allowed the mercy to leave unscathed." She announced. The last thing she wanted this evening was a fight and a mess of her place. But she would not expect the intruder to heed, they never did.

There was only silence.

Fine. From her lips fell an incantation of a spell, a manicured finger tapped against the book closest to her, activating the charm. The cover glowing in a faint purple sheen. The spell would run rapidly through the shelves, the light transferring from the previous to the adjacent tome then to the next shelf. It gave her a log of all the books, until the spell alerted her to an empty slot on a shelf.

The Saturna'hallow Grimoire. Her most prized possession. With all things important of hers, she would keep track of them. <<octael'grimoire>> A location spell cast. Wherever the book was, it would emit a glow in the same purple sheen. "I found you," She muttered. <<theda'grimoire>> Another spell she cast remotely, the cover of the grimoire would heat up like hot metal, but yet its pages would not burn, only anyone who touched it.

The clicking of her heels against flooring continued as she began her march to retrieve what was hers.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Countess Anétresya

Like a statue, the Sith stood both still and silent, remaining hidden. The clicking sound oddly felt like a grim reminder of his current predicament, as if it were a countdown to some sort of inevitable fate. He listened intently as the figure spoke of mercy, but there would be no room for such sentiments in his cold heart. Instead, he chose silence. Even with everything currently stacked against him, he would not stoop down to striking deals, not even with someone in their own domain.

Ignoring the purple glow that began to devour the shadows of the dimly lit library, Kasir held his ground, defiant until the very last moment; even as the foreign words tumbled from her lips, carrying no importance to him, he remained resolute, willing to gamble his life. When the possession in his grip began to glow with the hue of a similar color, the features of his face from underneath the hood were revealed with light. Narrowed eyes suggested his frustration, now remembering that he had foolishly forgotten to shut the window before slipping into the penthouse, thus his presence was exposed with ease.

Within mere seconds, he felt the grimoire ignite with blazing heat, scorching every inch of skin it touched on his hands. Still, he clung to it, gritting his teeth against the pain that felt like flames licking at his flesh, refusing to let go. Finally, with a turn on his heel, he came out from behind his position to meet the gaze of the speaker. The burning sensation intensified, as if wanting to consume his entire being.

"Perhaps,” he started in a low growl, as if getting ready to offer his own terms in this deadly game. “I will leave with only your life in my grasp.” Without any further hesitation, he tossed the grimoire upward towards her, as though it were an invitation for the woman to catch it; even as the pain in both hands nearly overwhelmed him, he drew anger from the reserves within and sought out his weapon. And as the ancient tome soared through the air, a single crimson blade ignited. With several swift steps, he closed the distance between them, unleashing a vicious slash from the dominant side of his body, the blade hissing like a snake, hoping to cleave her in two.

 

[Countess Anétresya]

Just as she was about the turn the corner, the man revealed himself from the shadows. Young. At least in comparison to her immortal lifespan, although she herself appeared more youthful than the man before her. "It is not wise of you to make threats in my own house," The Lady chided. Her senses picked up the smell of charring flesh, he did not let go despite the cursed book already searing into his palm.

Then the grimoire was flung at her - a foolish mistake on his part to hand a century old witch back a weapon. Yet it created a distraction, as she summoned the book arcing mid air with the force. He was silent, stealthy, quick that the Sangnir barely narrowly avoided the swing even with her inhuman instinct. The blade had caught her skin near her elbow, cutting a deep gash through.

A deep scowl formed on her lips. Her vampiric nature already setting the wound to mend itself. He had initiated an attack first, and she would counter with one of her own. As if by a strong gush of wind, the pages of the grimoire in her grasp would flip open facing the man. <<alshenu>> At the word, the page would glow purple, darkening into an obsidian hue, then from its darkness, a torrent of winged critters of bats and ravens in the dozens was unleashed towards the man.

In screeches and caws, they would surround the man in a whirlwind, harrassing him in all directions. By the time he had dealt with them, the lady was gone.

"Do you not know who I am, boy? What I am?" Her velvety voice seemed to echo from all corners of the library.

"Whoever sent you only wishes death upon you. Unless you are one foolish enough to steal from me, arrogant enough not to take the mercy I offered."

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Countess Anétresya

While not directly as intended, he was still reluctant to see that the blade found its mark--a blow against the woman’s arm. It was enough to bring a tinge of confidence, believing the first strike may give him the upper hand. But as the wound seemed to knit itself back together, a new realization dawned upon him-- she was no ordinary target, but one also wielding dark power, possibly even beyond his own.

The grimoire that just served as a distraction to cover his attack was now being used against him. Acting on instinct, he swung the blade through the waves of winged creatures. Their high pitched sounds were masked by the sounds of wings flapping, as there were far too many of them. For every one he vanquished, more poured in with relentless assault. The feel of the claws and beaks raked against his skin, both sharp and biting; they shredded his cloak and left deep scratches that stung his face and neck.

It was nearly suffocating, and each cut of his blade quickly became an act of survival. He also fought to maintain his footing amidst the chaos.

But as he finally cleared the last of her creations, the woman's physical form had vanished, leaving him momentarily with only the lingering memory of her presence in his mind's eye. Blood trickled down, dripping off his chin; it was a small price to pay for surviving. His brown eyes now burned with a golden hue, the glare mirroring the rage that so often fueled him.

"Boy.." His voice echoed through the room. Being called such felt odd, a stark contrast to the titles he was accustomed to—'monster,' 'evil,' or even 'heartless.' At least those words still carried power, but this one felt as if it mocked him. Kasir's jaw clenched, and he could feel the rage continuing to rise within him. He was no boy; he was someone to be reckoned with. “The one I serve wouldn't send me to my death," he returned, his voice smooth like silk. He began to search the area after dismissing her claim. There was no way he could believe her; the assassin was a master of manipulation, and would not be so easily fooled.

“I'm aware of this truth: you are the one hiding,” he declared, taking several strides forward, and igniting the second blade of his saberstaff. His focus was sharp once more, and he scanned the walls, seeking out his prey. “And I,” he paused, trying to allow the weight of his words to settle, “am not afraid of you.”

 

[Countess Anétresya]

Someone sent him, a fact confirmed by his own words. It would now be a task to find out who that was. The 124 year old vampire-witch had enemies vast. But to send someone so reckless to her doorstep to carry out their dirty work was a poor reflection of their own foresight.

“Yet here you are.” Unwavering loyalty and faithfulness made the best followers… she knew that with a following of her own. But a good leader would protect what was theirs, not send one mindlessly to their doom despite the odds against them.

“Merely a common mistake of the callow. To underestimate their foe and overestimate their own prowess.” The voice reverberated through the room. She watched from above as he started searching. His words bled with ire… full of rage, anger and hatred. So eager to turn to violence even when she had allowed him a chance to leave. Even now he would not flee, but would search for her with his blade unsheathed looking to kill.

So be it.

“Then I will show you true fear.”

The Witch descended, but not in a sentient humanoid form but in the form of an owl swooping down in silent flight behind him. Yet she would not revert back into her humanoid form, but into her warform. She grew rapidly, limbs elongated another extra leg mutating from her torso. Skin obsidian. Her face disfiguring into a horrific spectre of what looked like three skulls. A pair of massive ghastly bat wings sprouted from the beast’s back. Three red eye glowed at him.

It was horrifying.

Would he run now?

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Countess Anétresya

Twirling the saberstaff in his grasp, the weapon was a constant reminder of the seared flesh, yet the Sith moved it around his body with a fluid grace all the same. It relieved tension in his muscles, and he continued to seek out her presence. Given the size of the private library, there didn’t seem to be many places that she could be hiding. Whatever emotions churned within, they were hidden behind the stoic mask of his face, concealing the depths of his dark intentions. "And here I am," he quickly replied, his words affirming her own.

Fleeing was not within Kasir’s nature, as such an act was reserved for cowards and the weak, and it would also require him to report his failure to the Sith Lord he served. And in that thought was a certain dread that made death seem more welcoming; for at least he would be spared from a sharp tongue.

He continued listening. Never did he deem it necessary to underestimate his opponents; for in his beliefs, non-Sith were simply weaker beings, to be crushed beneath his boot, nothing more than a nuisance to him.

A heartbeat later, he felt a presence behind him, something having just landed. Without hesitation, he spun on his heel. While the galaxy was full of oddities, creatures of all shapes and forms, none were so grotesque as the one that stood before him now. Rather than raising his weapon in a defensive stance, or moving an inch from his current position, the assassin allowed a cruel smirk to curl upon his bloodied face. There was no fear, nor any aggression in that moment. A mere inclination of his head, a gesture that could carry more weight than any command or threat, was his silent decree that the abomination would be better off kneeling to him.

"Or better yet," he said calmly, finally breaking the silence, while studying the creature's body language for any hint of attack, “give me one reason why I shouldn't just end you here and now."

His free hand lifted, the charred fingers twitching as pain radiated through them. Electric currents began to crackle. The raw energy sent jolts through his being, amplifying the agony, but it would only fan the flames of fury within. Not only did it fuel his determination, but it also drove him further into the growing state of madness. Vivid blue and white tendrils of the Force appeared around his lithe form, as he was prepared to unleash the lightning if necessary. An eerie glow from it illuminated the Sith’s face. The glint in his eyes promised destruction and chaos. “I’ll bring this entire building down to its knees,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

 

[Countess Anétresya]

To think he stood a chance against her at her strongest. This man was insane. There was no fear in his eyes, only arrogance. It would be the death of him surely. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't." She countered. Her mouths did not move as she spoke. Despite her grotesque form, her voice remained the same.

From the darkness was a spark, electricity coiling around his arm and then through his entire being. The glow illuminated his features, his rage and fury in the light. What had made this man this way? That all he so hungered was wrath and chaos, that the prospect of death did not scare him despite his mortal self.

The beast growled. The thick leather of her hide was armour itself. He had none but his robes on his shoulders, torn by the creatures she sent his way earlier. But they were not doing this in the library, where there were priceless collections of ancient books and artefacts.

<<saeph'ptrola>> Between them, purple glow would light up in a circle from below their feet. They would drop down, phasing through the floor. But it was not hard ground that was below but rather shallow water of the penthouse pool. In a loud splash the large beast would fall into.

However, one thing she had failed to consider was the conductivity of water, and the electricity that had flowed through the man.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Countess Anétresya

Oddly enough, the creature's words were laced with the same cadence as the woman before, but now fell upon deaf ears as the Sith stood in silence, his mind racing with thoughts and plans that would surely come to fruition in the library. Any complications of this situation were simply beyond comprehension, as in the heat of battle, there was no room for neither question or doubts.

The time for words was long past, as tension hung in the air between them, only promising violence. He had finally reached the limit of his patience.

There was a steady hum of his growing power that would have drowned out any further attempts at dialogue. The atmosphere around him crackled with the sinister energy, a blue blaze that danced, fed by his own beating heart. Lightning swirled and twisted, a storm of raw power begging to be unleashed. It had transformed from a low hum to a deafening cackle, and Kasir reveled in the idea of destroying her personal library.

Engulfed in the manifestation of his own power, he was unaware of the glow that began to radiate at his feet. Just as he prepared to release his attack, a subtle tremor rippled through the ground. His senses ignited, now in desperate search for the source of what was happening. The world around him seemed to shift, giving way to some unexpected descent.

Before he could fully comprehend the unfolding event, he found himself plunging into a large pool of water, enveloping him like an embrace. Shock coursed through his body as the raw energy of the lightning surged, its grip seizing him. Panic surged through his veins; his eyes darted around wildly.

With each passing second, he felt his connection to the Force begin to weaken, slipping right through his fingers. The world around him darkened, but the realization was undeniable– his time was running out.

 

[Countess Anétresya]

The waves rocked as the heavy beast landed. Rather than directed at her, the electricity was dispersed throughout the water. It was nothing but a tickle to her, barely feeling it through her thick hide. Unlike the human now in the water, feeling the works of his own wrath and recklessness upon himself. He deserved this. Nothing but a nuisance, a roach that refused to leave her home.

Her mercy had expired. She charged, five strong legs closing the distance. The large maw dipped into the water, taking hold of the submerged man by the shoulder, canines of the strong jaws piercing through skin as they found their grip. But the electricity within him had not dissipated just yet, instead sending a nasty shock through her mouth. Reflexively, the beast reeled back, but at the same time flinging her victim out of the water like a ragdoll.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Countess Anétresya

The Sith stood knee deep in the pool of water, the surface violently rippling with jolts of energy coursing through his body. His usual commanding presence quickly began to falter, muscles twitching against the relentless assault, as tendrils of electricity snaked all around him. The shadows that were once his allies now felt like fog, creeping into his mind, threatening to engulf him during a rare moment of despair. Darkness began to tighten its grip, urging him to submit.

He fought against the urge to succumb, every single breath inhaled a struggle. Each heartbeat was a reminder of life still within. He tried to summon the last of his power, his hand reaching out with trembling fingers in hopes of grasping the edge of any nearby platform.

In an instant, the Kasir was then seized in the creature's grip, and flung out from the body of water. He soared through the air, the world blurring around him, before crashing onto the ground with a thud. Stunned, he lay there, struggling to regain his focus. Pain radiated through his limbs now, but as he shifted slightly, his gaze fell upon the beast. He didn't have the strength to rise to his feet; his entire being was in complete agony.

Though a part of him screamed for help, his pride continued to hold him back, a stubbornness created by countless years of being the master of his own fate. Seconds passed, then minutes. Finally, he managed to extend his hand, fingers reaching out in a plea. It may have even revealed a tinge of humanity buried under layers of darkness. There was a different hue flickering within the depths of his once ice cold stare. It was as if he was asking for help.

 

[Countess Anétresya]

The beast shook its head erratically, its mouth open as if to diffuse away the stinging of the nasty zap. Even then, she was far from hurt compared to her foe who now laid by the pool's edge struggling. Crimson bleed into small puddles around him, no doubt many bones broken from the impact. Water sloshed as the beast got out of the water.

Lady Anetresya turned back to her more delightful form. She sighed in disappointment, approaching the man laying limp. She knelled next to him. "Now what did I tell you?" This man was young, reckless. And there was no way he was going to recover from this... the blood loss and the electricity having likely already fried off much of his vital organs.

"What am I supposed to do with you?"

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Countess Anétresya

The Sith lay sprawled on the cold ground, his body a canvas of bruises and broken bones. Each breath he took sent a jolt of pain through him. As he stared up at the ceiling above, memories flickered through his mind, still recalling the taste of victory, and the thrill of dominance over weaker beings, but now they felt more distant than ever. He could hear the laughter of allies, along with echoes of betrayal, each face buried deep inside of him. Every time he closed his eyes for an instant, he found himself wanting nothing more than to succumb to the forever darkness that continued to threaten him.

He felt a tinge of deep seated loathing—not only for those who had wronged him before, but for existence itself. With more effort this time, he turned his head again, the movement slow and agonizing, to face the beast that had brought him to his current state.

He still wanted to have a way to control his fate if possible. While every muscle and bone screamed in protest, he still managed to part his lips. “Help me,” he uttered.

 

[Countess Anétresya]

Another one bites the dust. This would be the end of the road for him, another roach squashed under her feet. She had warned him, allowed him to leave but yet he chose chaos. Such lack of maturity and sense she'd scorn at, then again she was often always underestimated and her foes would pay the price.

She knelt next to the broken man. The tips of her fingers came to trail at his wounds, capturing the crimson that flowed out of the deep gashes. She lifted her bloodied fingers to her lips, licking them clean. After all this, she could use a bite. And she had been just about to, taking his wrist bringing it close to her lips when he spoke feebly.

At his words, a deep scowl formed. Now, only when he was bruised, battered and could barely breathe he demanded her mercy. Anetresya was not cruel, but at the moment, frustration simmered within her. She wanted to punish him for being such a nuisance, she needed to clear her head... to think. Did he deserve death?

Without a word, Anetresya stood and left, the clicking of her heels against floor growing more distant.

The man would lay there helpless for who knew how long before she returned, sipping on a glass of wine. She looked down upon the man, the shallow heaves of his chest confirmed that he was still breathing. "Still alive..." She sighed, once again, kneeling beside him. Then she'd retrieve the blade from his side, twirling it around her fingers. "I could put you out of your misery." She pondered.

"You have so much potential... yet you're so reckless... hot-headed." She lectured.

The she set the glass down. The blade raised as she held it against her palm, drawing blood. She let it drip into the cup, the blood was near-black, darkening the wine.

"Drink, its a healing potion... or what ever you want it to be. " She stated nonchalantly as she held the glass against his lips.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Countess Anétresya

Uncertainty gnawed at Kasir's chest, a foreign feeling to the Sith who had faced countless tests and battles alike. As she drew near, he didn't know whether to brace for the final blow, or if he would receive mercy as she had once offered. And as her fingers traced the edges of his wounds, causing the blood and charred flesh to mix with the coldness of her touch, he was unsure if she were merely toying with him, or acknowledging his injuries.

The urge to recoil from the pain coursing through him was strong. Her next actions were not what he had anticipated; she tasted his very life essence as though it were an elixir. And with each passing moment, he felt his heart begin to beat slower, the darkness slowly creeping back in. He came to the grim realization of the power she then held over him.

As she turned to leave, leaving him alone with the weight of the inevitable, he still refused to give up, clinging to life with a desperate grasp. The raw power of the Force was still felt through the air currents, coursing through his veins, a last effort to cheat death. Each second seemed to stretch into an eternity, like a battle against fate itself.

Amidst the lingering exhaustion, his eyes eventually caught a glimpse of movement, and in that moment, a rare emotion stirred within him: hope. His gaze, barely able to focus, turned towards her, but it took all his remaining strength to even acknowledge her existence. Every inch of his body hurt, and as he struggled to speak again, his words were caught in his throat.

Instead, all he had to return to her words was a narrowed gaze, natural to his defiant nature. He followed her every movement, along with the blade that followed, ever watchful of the blood that now tainted the object that she clutched. Being driven by self-interest, repaying a debt was a rare gesture, one that could only be normally justified if it offered some sort of personal gain. Slowly, his lips parted to speak, a hint of truth laced within the words as she raised the glass to his lips. “Your mercy would forge chains that bind me to you,” he said, a subtle plea from the natural born killer.

As the liquid poured through his mouth, he felt the taste explode on his tongue. It was a mix of sweetness and a tang that was undeniably blood. Not long after it slid down his throat, his limbs began to feel increasingly heavy, and the darkness that had been threatening to consume him was now growing at a rapid pace. His will quickly crumbled, as though he were being consumed from the inside, until he fell limp.

 

[Countess Anétresya]

It sometimes took hours for the embrace to make its change on a soul. Anetresya had only turned 3, with this man being the third. Immortality was at times cruel.

She had left him in one of the guest rooms in the penthouse. He would awake on a bed within the room, his clothes still bloodied and ripped. While the door was wide open, she had set a confinement spell that would prevent him from stepping through the threshold.

The countess entered. The fledgling must be craving his first meal, he would not have experienced such hunger before. "How do you feel?" She asked. It was one of many questions she would ask him today. He had much to learn.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Countess Anétresya

As his eyes flickered open, the realization of change washed over him. The last memory he held was of losing consciousness, giving in to the glass of what he presumed to be wine offered by the woman, in a moment of vulnerability that already began to haunt him.

His body, a vessel of both rage and discipline, now seemed to pulse with some sort of insatiable hunger that he didn’t entirely understand. There was a gnawing desire, a hunger that transcended anything he experienced before—a craving for life itself. A shiver ran down the Sith’s spine as he slowly became more aware of the new world around him.

His senses were heightened, the slightest sound now amplified; he could hear the beating of his own heartbeat murmuring in his ears. There was an approaching scent that was near intoxicating, giving him a feral desire to hunt, to feed. It was a dark and chilling energy, much different than when he drew on the depths from the dark side of the Force.

Amidst the confusion, one thing was sure-- he had fallen, and perhaps even met his end, his weakened state leaving him at death's door.

Suddenly, someone entered—the same woman he fought and saw as he breathed his last. She now stood before him, her presence magnetic, tempting to draw him closer, even as it filled him with uncertainty.

Pushing himself up on his elbows, he felt something different in the weight of his body shifting; it was as if the very essence of his being had transformed.

While there was a brief pause between them after she spoke, it felt like an eternity as the hunger clawed at the edges of his consciousness. It threatened to consume his thoughts as he sat there. “Alive,” he said at last, the words low but firm. While there was power coursing through his veins, he also sensed an emptiness in his wake. "And a craving that begs to be sated."

But as he spoke, another change came over him, one that he had previously missed. His once normal canines were now elongated and sharper. Slowly rising from the bed, his figure slowly straightened up to its full height, and he took several calculated steps towards the woman. His torn cloak still draped around him. Leaning slightly closer, Kasir locked his eyes onto hers with intensity. “What have you done to me?” His voice was growl, but there was a hint of dark curiosity within it.

 

[Countess Anétresya]

Wether it was the bond between the sire and her spawn, Anetresya could not help but feel sympathy for the man.

The lady approached, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You wanted me to help you. I turned you into what I am." She had helped him cheat death. The first few days, weeks and even months would test him, she had experienced it herself centuries back. There was insatiable gnawing hunger and glutton for blood that toed the lines of ones sanity.

He would need to learn to harness and control his new nature, and while she was patient, this man had already tested that attribute of hers thin. If he proved incapable of adapting quickly enough, death would be only right. "Many find the first days after their rebirth... gruelling." She explained. "That craving will only grow. You will need to learn to control it, else it will control you."

Anetresya opened another portal, this one small. From within, her hand retrieved a small shot glasses of crimson liquid. "This is your sustenance from now on." It was barely enough.

"And what should I call you?" She asked, handing him the glass.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Countess Anétresya

Kasir stood rooted in his current position, even tense, as she positioned herself at the edge of the bed. Amidst the whirlwind of emotions and new transformations raging within the Sith, there was still a sense of suspicion, even if her words held a truth that would be difficult to deny.

"And what are you," the query dripped from his lips, though in truth, he had already guessed the answer. But he needed to hear it spoken, needed the verbal confirmation. His fingers twitched, feeling a primal hunger building within, something that even his mastery of the Force struggled to tame.

His body shifted in the direction of the door, thoughts churning as he contemplated the next move. His lips curled into a faint smile, but he didn’t respond right away as she inquired his name. Instead, he merely cast his gaze ahead. “Names are just labels,” he said.

Within Wonosa, he was known by many as Dorran, while only a handful bothered to address him under the true name of Kasir. But as he stood in silence, a single word echoed through his mind, and for the first time, it also felt right. He then looked back at the woman. "Dorian," he said with clarity, reaching for the small glass. He cradled it for a moment. “You could have left me to my fate, to simply perish under the weight of my own weakness. Why did you help me?”

He lifted it to his lips, and felt the metallic taste on his tongue, his senses heightened as it coursed down his throat. He closed his eyes, trying to savor what sensation he could from the limited amount offered. It felt as if the very essence of life was flowing through him, awakening a fierce power.