In the cobbled alleys of Valmont's Old Quarter, under the leering gargoyles and soot-stained eaves, a child with hair like spun moonlight ran from the lanterns of the patrol. Her name was Hikari. She did not remember the mother who'd left her, or the father she'd never known. She only remembered the taste of hunger and the cold of nights when even the rats would not draw near.
People called her "the pale waif." But in the dark, when she woke choking on a scream, she called herself by another name: Vessel. For something older and hungrier than she lived beneath her skin.
That night, she crouched in the ruins of an abandoned smithy, clutching a threadbare blanket to her chest. The voice inside her coiled like smoke around her thoughts.
Little Hikari…how you tremble…let me out, and I will give you warmth…
"No," she rasped, curling tighter. "You always lie."
Not a lie…a promise. We are the same, you and I. You ache for belonging. I ache for release.
Moonlight fell through the shattered roof, silvering her bare feet. She stared at them and remembered the stories: a dying vampire lord, sealed by an ancient covenant, whose spirit sought a vessel to be reborn. She had been that vessel since the night she was found in the gutter, eyes fever-bright, whispering in a language no one knew.
Suddenly, the door creaked. A ragged boy she knew—Eden, a petty thief—peered inside. His gaze flicked to her, wary. "Hikari. You all right?"
She swallowed, forcing the voice deeper into her chest. "Go away. If you stay, it'll hurt you."
He edged closer, offering a crust of bread. "You look starved. Just take it."
Her hand shook as she reached out. The instant her fingers brushed the bread, a sickly red gleam flickered behind her eyes. The hunger inside her roared awake, a tide of cold that made the boy stumble back.
Yes…feed…take him…
"No!" She flung the bread away and pressed both hands over her mouth. Tears streaked down her cheeks. "I won't."
Eden fled, boots thudding on the stones. Alone again, Hikari rocked herself beneath the ruin, gasping as the voice ebbed to a whisper.
Sooner or later, little Vessel…you will beg me to save you.
She drew her knees to her chest, clutching what scraps of her own will she could still claim, and prayed that dawn would come quickly.