"No, but it suggests—"
"It suggests nothing," Thornmaker interrupted, his voice rising enough to carry across the yard. "Vampires are creatures of calculation, not compassion. Whatever guided his actions last night, it wasn't the protective instinct you seem to think it was."
The certainty in Thornmaker's voice sparked something hot and defensive in Boarstaff's chest. "You weren't there. You didn't see—"
"I saw enough. I saw a vampire violate every agreement he'd made, enter our homes while children slept, and manipulate a traumatized child's trust." Thornmaker stepped closer, hisscarred face set in hard lines. "What I didn't see was any reason to believe he won't do it again when it suits his purposes."
"His purposes?" Boarstaff's voice came out sharper than intended. "What purposes could he possibly have that would involve comforting a terrified child?"
The question hung between them, loaded with implications neither wanted to examine too closely. Around them, the training yard had gone completely silent, warriors frozen in place as they witnessed a confrontation that would shape the village's future.
Thornmaker's eyes narrowed. "That's what concerns me most, Warchief. That you can't see any sinister purpose in his actions. That you've convinced yourself his transformation has made him something other than what he is."
The accusation stung. Heat rose in Boarstaff’s face, aware that his next words would either defuse the situation or escalate it beyond repair.
"What he is," Boarstaff said slowly, "is changing. Daily. The brass components that once regulated his thoughts are evolving into something else entirely. His responses last night weren't calculated… they were instinctive."
"Instinctive," Thornmaker repeated. "And you find that comforting? A vampire acting on instinct rather than calculation?"
"When those instincts drove him to protect rather than harm? Yes."
Thornmaker shook his head, disgust evident in his expression. "You're making the same mistake commanders have made throughout history, Boarstaff. You're seeing what you want to see rather than what's actually there."
The criticism stung because it carried an edge of truth. Boarstaff had been looking for signs of Sebastian's changingnature, perhaps too eagerly. But that didn't make his observations wrong.
"Then what do you see?" Boarstaff challenged. "When you look toward those caves, what do you see?"
"A threat contained but not eliminated. A creature of immense power held in check by agreements he's already proven willing to break." Thornmaker's voice carried the weight of old losses, battles fought against vampire raiders who'd shown no mercy. "I see the enemy, temporarily convenient but ultimately unchanged."
The words settled over the training yard like a cold wind. Warriors began to move again, resuming their practice with the careful attention of people trying not to seem like they were listening while absorbing every word.
Boarstaff looked around at their faces… some nodding agreement with Thornmaker's assessment, others uncertain, a few showing the same troubling sympathy for Sebastian that Boarstaff felt growing within himself.
"Maybe you're right," Boarstaff said finally. "Maybe I am seeing what I want to see. But consider this, if he is changing, if his transformation is making him something genuinely different, then our current restrictions might be creating the very isolation that could turn him against us."
Thornmaker's laugh was bitter. "So, now we're responsible for his emotional well-being? We're supposed to risk our children's safety to ensure a vampire doesn't feel lonely?"
The mocking tone made Boarstaff's jaw clench. "We're supposed to make intelligent decisions based on all available information, not just our fears."
"Fear," Thornmaker repeated slowly. "Yes, I'm afraid. Afraid of what happens when you mistake transformation for redemption. Afraid of the night he decides protecting one child matters less than feeding from a dozen."
The brutal honesty of it silenced any response Boarstaff might have made. Because underneath his growing sympathy for Sebastian, underneath his conviction that the vampire was changing, lurked the same fear. The knowledge that Sebastian's nature remained fundamentally predatory, that compassion and hunger might not be mutually exclusive.
"Training's over," Boarstaff announced, his voice carrying across the yard. "Patrol assignments at midday."
Warriors began dispersing, their conversations resuming in hushed tones that would carry the morning's debate throughout the village. Thornmaker lingered, his expression softening slightly.
"I'm not your enemy in this, Boarstaff. I just remember what happens when we let sympathy override survival instincts."
Boarstaff nodded, understanding the history behind Thornmaker's caution. "I know. But I also know what I saw last night. What I've been seeing in him for weeks. He's not the same creature we captured."
"No," Thornmaker agreed. "He's something else. The question is whether that something else is better or just different."
As Thornmaker walked away, Boarstaff found himself alone in the training yard, surrounded by the familiar implements of war but feeling more uncertain than he had in years. His gaze drifted eastward again, toward the caves where Sebastian waited in isolation that might be protection or punishment, depending on perspective.
Chapter Four
Sebastian sat at the mouth of the eastern cave, legs dangling over the edge of the stone outcropping, watching the distant settlement as morning light spilled across the valley. His new dwelling offered little beyond shelter, a dry floor, walls that kept the wind at bay, darkness when the sun got to be too much. No furnishings. No comforts. Nothing to occupy his thoughts except the dull ache of hunger that grew steadily between feedings.
