"Better than dragons, though. Six months of sex would be rather exhausting if I do say so myself."
Mortimerroars.
The sound carries indignation that suggests he's been listening despite the rather significant task of keeping us airborne while avoiding the continuing eruptions of lava below. The dragon's massive head turns slightly, one enormous eye fixing on Koishii with displeasure that transcends species barriers.
I sigh.
The sound carries exhaustion that extends beyond physical tiredness into something approaching soul-deep weariness with the entire situation.
"How am I changing back to vampire me?"
The question addresses the issue that actually matters—the transformation that currently prevents me from commanding Damien's hellhound form, the shift that's keeping me from helping in any meaningful way.
All eyes turn to Nikolai.
He frowns at the attention, silver-blonde hair disheveled from the chaos of recent events.
"I have no clue," he admits, the words carrying genuine confusion. "I didn't know I'd trigger this at all. I was sleepwalking. Made the cocoon early, unexpectedly. Whatever happened to her was as much a surprise to me as to anyone."
The admission doesn't help, but at least it confirms that my current predicament wasn't intentional sabotage.
Everyone seems to shift their attention to Zeke.
The feline shifter appears deep in thought, golden eyes distant with the particular unfocused quality of someone searching through mental archives for relevant information. His tail—visible now, apparently his partial shift triggered by the stress of recent events—twitches with rhythm that suggests intense concentration.
Something seems to click.
His eyes widen with the recognition of realization achieved.
"Blood," he declares, the word carrying certainty that contrasts with his earlier hesitation. "Your Fae magic is probably dominant because you haven't drunk blood for a hot minute."
The observation lands with implications I hadn't considered.
"Your reserves were low well after our encounter with Elena," he continues, building the explanation with logic that makes sense as he presents it. "Vampire nature requires sustenance to maintain presence. Without blood, the hybrid balance shifts toward whatever alternative power source is available. In your case, Fae magic has apparently decided to fill the void."
I realize he's right.
Blood.
I haven't fed properly in...
How long has it been?
The encounter with Elena drained everything I had. The recovery period afterward was spent unconscious or too weak to think about feeding. The crystalline chamber, the cocoon, the transformation...
"I tried," I admit, remembering the blood pack from the mini fridge that tasted wrong. "But it tasted... weird. Wrong. Like drinking something my body didn't recognize as food."
"I had a bit of Atticus's blood, though," I add, remembering the energy transfer that happened during one of the earlier trials.
"Probably wasn't enough," Cassius notes, his voice carrying frustration that I recognize as concern expressed through his usual gruffness. "You haven't drunk blood in a while and you've been doing heavily induced magic activities. Your vampire nature is probably running on fumes."
The assessment sounds accurate.
Everyone seems to look at Koishii.
He notices the attention with obvious confusion.
"Why are you all looking at me?"
