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.

Sitting at the small table in front of the window, Antares Severus was doing what I had been: watching the red horizon fade into darkness.

“Take a seat in the armchair,” he said quietly, without even glancing at me.

I obeyed silently, my feet far from touching the ground as I leaned back against the high, green upholstery. A fire crackled in the fireplace. But what caught my attention was the full wineglass on the round table beside him. I couldn’t hold back:

“Doesn’t that kill us?”

I had grown up hearing the disdainful rhetoric about turned and mixed vampires who disrespected our race by behaving like humans—eating and drinking mundane things. He said that if it continued, we wouldn’t exist for much longer.

“No. It only hurts.” Without concern, he picked up the glass with his gloved hand and took a sip of the liquid that resembled fresh blood but wasn’t flavorful or warm like real blood. “The effect is devastating to our bodies. We’re weak to anything that isn’t blood.”

He grimaced. Only then did I notice the open bottle on another table. Had he already drunk more of that?

His pallor was almost greenish, as if he were nauseated and about to vomit. I felt a mix of disgust and curiosity. I had never tasted anything other than my essential sustenance—nothing but blood.

My father finished the wine and placed the empty glass back down. He seemed altered, uncharacteristically out of control, staring at the falling snow. His mind seemed far from here.

I waited, having been taught never to interrupt an adult. Sometimes, all the rules annoyed me. I wanted to be like the vampires in the village—free, playing, receiving affection from their parents.

I thought it couldn’t be so bad to be born human or as a wolf. Or even as a hybrid witch. They seemed to have much more fun than we did. Especially compared to our empire, as pureblood leaders of the Severus Clan.

“This was the first time I’ve met with the Draganov family privately in centuries,” Antares said suddenly, catching my attention.

The Draganovs were another European vampire clan based in Bulgaria. From a young age, I had learned everything about the 13 Clans—how our people functioned and the relationships between each one.

“They avoid being in the same space as me. When we’re forced to see each other at Temple meetings, they keep their distance and don’t speak to me. Except for a polite, obligatory greeting.” He fell silent, running a hand over his face, looking more weary than ever.

“Why, Father?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“We used to be part of the same family. Before I married your mother, I was married to Isolde Draganov.”

That shocked me even more than seeing Antares Severus drinking wine.

A vampire only separated from their spouse if one of them died or if one was sterile and unable to continue our species.

He stood up, swayed slightly, clearly dizzy, his skin genuinely green. He was going to vomit onto the stone floor—I could already see it. Once, I heard about a judge who was bedridden for days with digestive discomfort after attending a party and trying alcohol.

My father never lost control. What was happening that day?

Worried, I watched him lean against the window, breathing in the cold air from outside, trying to steady himself. His fingers gripped the wooden frame, his profile as rigid as a statue. His eyes, fierce this time, lacked their usual coldness.

I wanted to ask why he had married twice, but I held my tongue. He did not appreciate being questioned. Finally, the answer came in a slightly unsteady voice:

“Do you know what the worst thing that can happen to one of us is, Balthazar?”

“No, sir. Being decapitated?” I ventured, recalling stories of vampire hunters with stakes and sharp swords.

“Love. That’s what destroys us. For this reason, and to keep the pure among us, we only marry out of convenience. Pure with pure.”

I knew that too. The clans had leaders—vampires who had never mixed, preserving our bloodline intact. The goal was union through marriage and procreation.

“Isolde and I were promised to each other before we were even born. A Severus and a Draganov. It was meant to be…” He swallowed, struggling with an unexpected wave of nausea, followed by more discomfort. It took him several moments, and I shifted in my chair. “An arrangement. But we were too naïve and inexperienced. We fell into the foolishness of love.”

He turned suddenly, his blue eyes blazing red, radiating anger. For the first time that night, his gaze locked onto mine. I froze, thinking he hated me. But he was overwhelmed by memories, by his emotions. He was looking beyond me, into his past.

He swallowed a few times before straightening, his eyes returning to normal. Then he turned back to the window.

“We were happy for 300 years. Until something became obvious. She couldn’t have children. All the clans were summoned, and a meeting was held at our Temple. They voted for the divorce because I was too powerful and strong a vampire not to provide heirs for the purebloods.”

“Even her clan?”

“Hers opposed it. Returning a family member is an immense mark of shame. But the majority ruled, and I accepted my fate, following tradition. Isolde couldn’t accept it and died.”

I widened my eyes, full of questions. My father didn’t give me time. He approached the table, grabbed his handkerchief, and wiped his mouth, glaring disdainfully at the empty, red-stained glass beside him. When he looked at me, dark circles had formed under his eyes, and the greenish hue of his face was starting to turn purple. In the coming days, he might look worse than the wine-drinking judge.

“Days ago, the chasm between the Draganovs and the Severuses ended. I ensured that, one way or another, the union of the past would be restored. Our clans will finally have heirs, as they always should have.”

“But—”

“I am still speaking.”

I immediately fell silent. His restrained voice continued:

“You are officially engaged to Kassandra Draganov. Two hundred years from now, or a little more, you will marry her.”

I didn’t show my shock. As the heir, I had accepted the idea of an arranged marriage. I thought I would have more time ahead of me, perhaps even getting to know my partner before committing. I nodded, understanding what would be required of me in the future.

I would be the new leader of my Clan.

“Never forget, Balthazar. Love stays out of it. Honor our species, our family, and the tradition.”

“Yes, sir. I will honor them.”

He nodded and turned his back to me, making strange noises in his throat. He murmured:

“Now go.”

I left immediately. Before closing the door, I heard the sound of something gushing and glanced back, seeing him vomiting. The black blood shot out of his mouth, spilling onto the floor.

It was the first and only time I ever saw the powerful Antares Severus lose control.