Page 17 of Captive
Both warriors immediately headed toward the Heart Tree. Shamans and council members emerged from their morning duties with matching concern. The horn pattern wasn't used lightly.
Ochrehand met them at the entrance to the worn steps. "His transformation accelerates," she announced without preamble. "The blood you gave him changed something fundamental in how his components respond to the chamber's magic."
They descended quickly to the sacred chamber. The scene had changed dramatically overnight. Sebastian's transformed brass components no longer resembled vampire engineering. The metal had become something between solid and fluid, pulsing with rhythms that matched the chamber's crystals. Where it met his flesh, it flowed into skin like water meeting sand, creating patterns that looked like ore veins in stone.
"By the old gods," Thornmaker whispered, his hatred temporarily overwhelmed. "What is he becoming?"
"Something our scrolls never foretold," Doechaser replied, maintaining barriers at the binding circle's edge. "The blood you gave him hastened the awakening. His brass reshapes itself."
Boarstaff examined the metamorphosis taking place. Sebastian's mechanical heart had altered completely. No longer a precise engine, it beat with a cadence that blended both metal and flesh. His collar had evolved into an intricate lattice that merged with his skin.
"His face," Boarstaff noted. "The suffering has eased."
"For now," Ochrehand cautioned. "The change reaches his core elements. When it finds the mechanisms that control his hunger..."
They all understood the threat. Vampire nobility had chosen synthetic precision to contain the primal hunger in their blood. If this process removed those controls without establishing new ones...
"He'll need more blood soon," Doechaser said. "The four drops you gave him sustained him through the night, but the transformation accelerates his need."
Boarstaff drew his knife without hesitation. "The same protocol? Four drops only?"
"Six this time," Doechaser instructed. "His systems can process more now without waking the deeper hunger."
Thornmaker stepped forward in protest. "Warchief, the council should discuss this further. The risk-"
"Ismineto assume," Boarstaff cut him off. "Return to the council. Report what you've seen. Prepare our people for evacuation."
With a frown, Thornmaker departed, leaving Boarstaff with the shamans and their prisoner.
"The binding circle holds him securely?" Boarstaff asked as he pressed the knife to his wrist.
"It was designed for this purpose," Doechaser said. "The ancient patterns recognize vampire nature even through transformation. As long as he remains unconscious, the danger is manageable."
The first drop of blood fell onto Sebastian's lips. The reaction was immediate; his body arched upward in apparent relief. The brass at his collar rippled, the response traveling through his entire form.
The second and third drops followed with stronger reactions each time. Sebastian's fingers curled against the stone floor; the movement deliberate rather than reflexive.
As the fourth drop fell, Sebastian made a sound, not pain, but something closer to words. Not fully formed, not conscious, but carrying traces of the noble beneath his father's improvements.
"He responds more strongly this time," Ochrehand observed. "His awareness grows. Soon, he'll begin to wake."
The fifth drop made Sebastian's transformed brass flare with heat. Steam rose in patterns like mountain mist, carrying unfamiliar scents. His fingers twitched, the first voluntary movement they'd seen.
The sixth drop fell, and Sebastian's body strained toward the source. His fangs extended fully, seeking more than the measured feeding. The ancient bindings flared, holding him against predator's instinct.
"Enough," Doechaser warned. "Any more risks waking him before he's ready."
Boarstaff withdrew, though something in him responded to Sebastian's unconscious need for more contact. As he allowed one of the apprentice shamans to heal him, he stood there quietly watching the blood work through vampire systems in ways never intended by his father's artificers.
"How long until the transformation completes?" he asked. "Until he wakes?"
"Hours, perhaps," Ochrehand replied, though uncertainty colored her tone. "The process follows no known pattern. His synthetic components were more extensive than any vampire our ancestors contained here."
Sebastian's brass glimmered in the crystal light like a moonlit lake. Throughout his body, metal that had once governed every function moved with a cadence that matched neither mechanical precision nor organic life. His breathing had deepened, hinting at returning awareness.
"What will he remember?" Boarstaff asked. "When he wakes, will he know what he was?"
"We can't be certain," Doechaser admitted. "The elder writings mention confusion upon waking. Disorientation. Some kept memories of their former selves. Others recalled nothing of their life before the change."
