Sebastian dashed through the night-darkened eastern forest with easy grace, bare feet finding perfect purchase on moss-covered stones. He'd chosen to wear his original vampire garments for his excursion. Sleek black pants fit his form perfectly, unlike the loose linen clothing he'd adopted among the orcs. He wore no shirt, preferring the freedom of movement and connection to his surroundings that came with bare skin. As he approached the border between territories, he felt a familiar tension building, part anticipation, part wariness.
The eastern patrols had been growing thinner over the past week. The orc warriors maintained a respectful distance from his caves, leaving a dangerous gap in their defensive perimeter. It was the vulnerability that had drawn him to the boundary that morning, a silent inspection of the territory the orcs were reluctant to monitor. If his father decided to send forces, the eastern boundary would be their most likely approach.
He appreciated the irony of his current position, patrolling territory to protect the settlement from his own kind, wearing the clothing of the world he'd left behind while doing so. The old Sebastian would have calculated the weak point with cold precision, planning the most efficient route for a scouting party. Since his transformation, he used that same knowledge to secure the settlement's blind spot.
A subtle shift in the air made him freeze mid-step. Not wind, but displacement. Someone watching.
With a little focus, he expanded his senses outward, alert to movement and sound. One presence, carefully concealed in the shadows of a massive oak fifty yards ahead. Not an orc. The rhythm was wrong, too controlled.
"Probably just Thornmaker following me," Sebastian muttered, though he knew better.
Sebastian continued forward, his posture deliberately casual while his senses remained hyperalert. He prepared himself for whatever confrontation awaited. Another twenty yards and he caught the scent, vampire, but not noble. One of the lesser ones, modified enough for scouting but not important enough for his father's full range of "improvements."
Pretending he hadn't noticed anything, Sebastian knelt beside a small stream, dipping his hands into crystal-clear water. The watcher shifted position, branch creaking softly beneath adjusted weight. Amateur mistake. Sebastian smiled to himself, remembering when such errors would have meant severe punishment in his father's service.
"You might as well come out," Sebastian called without looking up. "Your breathing gives you away. And that branch you're on won't hold your weight much longer."
Silence, then a soft thud as the vampire scout dropped to the forest floor. Sebastian rose slowly, turning to face his observer.
The scout was younger than Sebastian had expected. He looked like he had turned no more than a decade ago, judging by his awkward movements. His modifications were minimal, just brass-tipped fingers and reinforced spine visible beneath standard scout garments. His eyes widened at Sebastian's appearance.
"Lord Sebastian?" The scout's voice carried disbelief despite the formal address. "Is it really you?"
Sebastian didn't bother correcting the title. "What are you doing in these woods?" he asked instead, his voice carryingnone of the mechanical modulation that had once marked noble speech.
The scout stared openly, taking in Sebastian's altered state. He was obviously taken back by Sebastian’s fluid grace, the natural color of his skin, the eyes that held nothing synthetic in their depths.
"The orcs did this to you," the scout whispered, horror and fascination mingling in his tone. "The rumors were true."
"What rumors?" Sebastian kept his voice neutral while calculating distances, angles, potential escape routes if this confrontation turned violent.
"That you'd been captured. That their primitive magic was stripping away your improvements." The scout took a step forward, his expression hardening with righteous indignation. "Lord Cornelius has search parties combing every inch of the borderlands. He's determined to bring you home."
"Home," Sebastian repeated, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. The citadel with its processed existence, its regulated emotions, its calculated precision, none of it felt like home anymore.
"Your brother leads the closest search party," the scout continued, excitement creeping into his voice. "Less than a day's journey from here. When I report your location—"
"You won't be reporting anything," Sebastian interrupted.
The scout's expression shifted, caution replacing excitement. "My lord, I don't understand. Don't you want to be rescued?"
Sebastian moved with fluid grace. Before the scout could blink, Sebastian's hand closed around his throat, fingers applying perfectly calibrated pressure that cut off both sound and air.
The scout struggled, his own modifications pitifully inadequate against Sebastian's strength. His brass-tippedfingers scrabbled uselessly against Sebastian's arm, leaving shallow scratches that healed almost immediately.
Sebastian felt no hesitation, no conflict. The scout represented immediate danger, and the decision was already made the moment their paths had crossed. Within seconds, the struggle ceased. He lowered the body to the forest floor.
After a moment of contemplation, Sebastian made his next decision with the same cold efficiency. One precise movement severed the head from shoulders, his bare hands tearing through flesh and bone with terrifying ease.
Blood sprayed across his chest and face as arteries gave way beneath his strength. Sebastian grimaced at the crimson fountain, the messy reality of it contrasting sharply with the clinical precision his father's artificers had always valued. The visceral nature of the kill surprised him. A primal satisfaction felt unfamiliar after centuries of calculated restraint.
He carried the corpse deeper into vampire territory, returning to the border between lands. With deliberate care, he arranged the body as he had seen his brothers do countless times before… displayed at the boundary as a brutal message. The placement was precise, calculated to be found by the next patrol, positioned to demonstrate exactly what awaited those who ventured too close to what Sebastian now protected.
A message in the language his father understood best.
That task completed, Sebastian grabbed the scout's head by its hair. A moment of clarity struck him as he looked at the severed head. The orcs would likely view this differently than vampire nobility. Their connection to natural life, their reverence for organic processes, might make such a display disturbing rather than merely practical.
"They aren't like me," he murmured to himself, realizing that what seemed strategic to him might appear barbaric to those he now lived among.
