Page 43 of Captive
Sebastian said nothing more. To him, it remained insubordination regardless of their reasoning. But he was learning that orc customs differed from everything he'd known.
Tension crackled through the room, their heartbeats painting rapid rhythms of concern through Sebastian's enhanced senses. Not just about his transformation, but about their warchief's growing attachment to something that had just shown its capacity for violence. Yet Boarstaff's proximity somehow made that hunger easier to control, even as it created other, more dangerous temptations.
Another wave of remembered power crashed through him, what vampires had truly been before they chose processing over instinct. He saw the moment of choice, nobles gathered in council chambers not unlike the one where he was bound, debating whether to embrace artificial restraints or surrender to the hunger's evolution. He witnessed the first brass implantations, the screams as metal replaced bone, the careful procedures designed to cage what they had become.
Sebastian shuddered as the visions faded, leaving him disoriented in the present moment.
"The old histories speak of this," Rockbreaker said, moving closer despite obvious wariness. His massive hands remained steady on his war hammer, but Sebastian caught the subtle tremor in his voice. "When vampire hunger grew beyond control. When each feeding made them stronger, hungrier, more dangerous. Until they became something even they feared."
"We chose processed brass over raw blood because hunger without limits destroyed us," Sebastian managed, his voice hoarse fromthe visions. "Each feeding stripped away more of what we had been. We didn't just lose our humanity. We forgot why we'd ever valued it." His voice carried both noble cadence and raw honesty. "The mechanical restraints weren't punishment. They were desperate salvation."
The embedded lights brightened at his words, their glow shifting to deeper blues that spoke of powers older than vampire nobility. Ancient forces recognizing truth in his confession.
"And now?" Moonsinger's magic probed deeper into Sebastian's changing form. "What happens when those restraints fail? When the brass remembers what it was before your artificers shaped it to their will?"
Sebastian felt another wave of primal memory surge through him, visions of power that had once flowed through vampire blood without mechanical filters. "We sacrificed everything real," he said, his voice growing hollow. "Connection to the natural world. The ability to feel genuine emotion. Even basic empathy for other living beings." He looked directly at Thornmaker, meeting the spearmaster's hostile gaze without flinching. "We traded our souls to become perfect predators."
The chamber fell silent as the weight of his admission settled over the council. Several members exchanged troubled glances, processing what it meant for a vampire noble to acknowledge such a fundamental betrayal of natural order.
"That's what terrifies my father most," Sebastian continued into the heavy silence. "Not that I've betrayed our house, but that I might remember what it feels like to choose compassion over efficiency. To value life over function."
Thornmaker stepped forward, his spear angled more aggressively. "And what of what you stole from us? What you continue to steal?" His voice rose with barely contained fury. "My daughters weren't the first. Won't be the last. Every child you take, every family you destroy, proves that whatever you once were matters less than what you choose to be."
"And what do we choose to be?" Boarstaff challenged, maintaining his protective position while keeping careful distance from Sebastian. "What separates us from them if we become as merciless as they are?"
"Survival," Thornmaker spat. "Basic survival."
Sebastian's thoughts turned unbidden to small hands holding a wooden doll, to ceremonies that would begin when his family and betrothed grew tired of waiting on his return. To choices that could still be made, if he survived this transformation. If he could find a way to act on what he was becoming rather than what he had been.
"And what becomes of you now?" Rockbreaker asked, his voice carrying genuine curiosity despite his ready hammer. "Caught between what vampires were and what your father's improvements made you?"
"He becomes something new," Boarstaff said. "Something that knows what vampires could have been, if they'd chosen to master their nature rather than cage it."
"Or something more dangerous than either," Thornmaker countered. "Power without restraint, hunger without control. The worst of both worlds rather than the best."
The chamber fell silent except for the gentle humming of crystal light and the measured breathing of those gathered. Sebastian felt the weight of their assessment, their fear, their desperate hope that he might represent something other than another threat to their survival.
"Show us then," Moonsinger said finally, her weathered hands sketching magical patterns in air that crackled with power. Streaks of rainbow light lingered between her fingers, shifting between colors as they touched him. "Show us what becomes of a vampire who faces his true nature, yet chooses not to hide from it."
The moment felt fragile, balanced on a blade's edge between violence and acceptance. Sebastian's body ached from the visions, from the knowledge flooding through him, from the reality of what his people had chosen to become. Yet beneath the pain lay a deeper awareness that responded to Boarstaff's proximity, to the possibility of connection beyond old enmity.
The council withdrew gradually, their concern lingering in the charged air. Concern not just for Sebastian's transformation, but for what grew between him and their warchief. For boundaries crumbling with each shared touch, each moment of understanding.
"Rest," Boarstaff commanded softly, his voice carrying exhaustion that matched Sebastian's own. "The real work begins when you wake."
Sebastian felt the weight of time pressing against him, knowingthe double new moon approached, marking the latest that House Ashborne would wait for him to return. Until they would strip another child of her humanity, piece by mechanical piece. When his dangerous brother might finally take his place, destroying everything he touched.
He felt the weight of that deadline in his changing blood. In everything artificial that echoed what it had been before vampire nobility chose to cage their nature rather than master it. In the touch that had defied centuries of hatred, promising possibilities neither of them fully understood.
The ceremonies approached. And with them, choices that would reshape more than just his own nature.
Chapter Eighteen
Boarstaff rubbed his wrist absently as he watched the younger warriors practice with their dull spears. Even with the shamans’ healings, the skin felt tender from repeated cuts, a physical reminder of his feeding sessions with Sebastian. He should check the prisoner's restraints, ensure the guards maintained proper vigilance. But he knew that justification for what it was: an excuse to return below. To answer the strange call that grew deep within him. With an inner growl, he forced himself to focus on his daily routine.
"Loosen your grip, Renna," he called, focusing on the present moment. "The spear should flow with your movement." He demonstrated the proper form, the way his own teacher had done countless times in years gone by. The youngster couldn't be more than eight, the same age as the human child Sebastian spoke of in his fever dreams. The same age his own niece had been when she first held a practice spear.
"The vampire prisoner," Renna hesitated during a defensive stance. "The one in the deep chambers. How do you know he's truly contained?"
