The Ascendancy of the Vampire

12. All The Signs Were There

After leaving the myconid colony, the party followed Blurg’s map, searching for the ruins of the Selûne temple he had mentioned. The map was difficult to decipher, but they recognized enough landmarks along the way to believe they were on the right path.

It had been less than a tenday since Astor last fed, yet he was already close to losing it. Since feasting on the duergar in the Shar temple ruins, he hadn’t found anything else suitable. He had been starving for days.

After a particularly grueling battle with a beholder, Astor briefly considered drinking from its corpse. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—Kal had gotten to it first. And had declared that it tasted utterly disgusting.

That night, they made camp in a small cave studded with blue-glowing crystals. Night once again used Sculpt Earth to seal the entrance, creating a makeshift door to keep monsters out through the night.

With nothing to eat, Astor struggled to rest. He tossed and turned on the couch, unable to get comfortable. Eventually, he slipped into a restless, fitful sleep.

The ballroom was lit with floating, enchanted chandeliers, filling the chamber with a soft, golden light. Tables lined the walls, dressed in white cloth and filled with food and wine. Guests moved through the space dressed in expensive, extravagant outfits, their voices a familiar murmur in the background.

Astor recognized some of them as frequent attendees. Merchants from the Lower City. The chairman of the Docker’s Guild. Patriar families of the Upper City. Two Grand Dukes from the Council of Four.

Polished, controlled, and carefully curated, this was one of Velith Szarr’s parties. Beneath the lights, the music and the smiles, this was an event for gathering information and forming connections with those who matter. And, of course, to show off her wealth and standing.

Tonight, Astor was the entertainment. He walked confidently onto the stage. His silver curls perfectly arranged, his red eyes bright against the dark cut of his suit. Every detail intentionally crafted by Velith.

He sat down on the armchair in the center of the stage. The room dimmed, lights narrowing to him. He lifted his lute onto his lap, leaning it against his shoulder, taking in a deep breath.

His longer fingers plucked the strings, his deep voice joining in, harmonizing with his playing. The music carried over the crowd. The audience was captivated.

“I feel your breath upon my neck—
A soft caress as cold as death—
I didn’t know you well back then—
I blame it all on luck and vain—
Your blood like wine, I wanted in—
Oh darling, get me drunk and make me feel—
It’s not my fault, I’m not to blame—
These ain’t my sins, I broke my chains—
There’s more to do, and I still want to live—“

He felt the music envelope him. He was no longer singing, the music flowing on its own from his lips, his fingers moving across the lute without thought.

“I can’t go yet, don’t let me die—
I want to live, my only one—
There’s more to do, if we can only live—
The clock won’t stop and this is what we get—“

The final note faded from the air, then the crowd went wild with claps and cheers.

He stood, breathing heavy, holding his lute and taking a low bow. Then, the lights shifted. He was no longer on the stage.

A glass of red wine rested in his palm. The crowd moved around him, closer now. Faces turned toward him curiously.

“That’s Lady Szarr’s retainer. The elven musician.”

“He’s beautiful. I wonder where she hired him from?”

“Excuse me, saer Astor. Do you have a moment?”

They asked him what working for Velith was like. He put on his best smile, gushing about what a wonderful employer she was, as if working for her as a privilege.

The room blurred. The crowd disappeared. The tables remained, overturned and stripped bare. Astor’s tailored suit was now torn, soaked with dark, foul-smelling blood. It clung to his hair, tangled in his curls. Something small and rotten slid from his shoulder. A rat, stiff and half-decayed.

He cradled his lute. Blood streaked its polished surface.

A grey tiefling man stood in front of Astor, his eyes red and narrow, his hands holding a metal bucket that still contained the remnants of rotting vermin.

“Youseth…” A growl came from Astor’s throat. He wiped blood off his face, a look of pure hatred on his face. He tried to remain civil. “Velith is going to be angry.”

“Why, little Star,” Youseth jeered, tilting his chin, “you think you’re all that because she favors you a little.” He spat, taking a step forward, snatching Astor’s lute out of his hands and shoving him roughly. Astor fell, crashing into the table and splinting it into pieces.

The crash caused all eyes in the room to turn to them, red piercing eyes from the other spawn. But no one stepped in to help.

Youseth sneered, smashing the lute against the ground. “This should help you remember that, like the rest of us, you’re nothing.”

A swirl of smoke, and then Velith stood there in the next instant. She was in a fitted black gown, and her red hair was tied in a neat bun, her crimson eyes glowing in fury.

“M-master—“ Youseth croaked.

“You two! Why is it always you two?” she screamed, flicking her hands in the air. Astor’s body reacted against his will, the blood-magic between master and spawn pulling him up to his feet.

Velith reached up with two hands, standing on her toes, grabbing Youseth’s horn and a fistful of Astor’s hair. With brutal strength, she tossed the two men across the ballroom, their bodies crashing against the wall, landing sprawled on the ground.

“Youseth, what have I said about damaging my instruments?” she growled, stomping towards them. She kicked Youseth, her boot making contact with his face with each word. “I. Do. Not. Like. To. Repeat. Myself.”

Astor heard Youseth snarl.

“And you.” She turned to Astor, her voice dropping dangerously low.

Astor swallowed hard, his eyes darting around.

“I gave you the privilege of performing at my party, and this is how you repay me?”

Velith raised one hand, and suddenly, Astor was in the dungeons, naked, chained and strung up upside down, hanging from the ceiling. What little blood he had in his body all drained to his head.

In the corner of the chamber, Velith sat with one leg crossed, a glass of blood in her hand, watching Astor with dark amusement.

A bowl of warm blood was set on the ground, just below Astor’s head. The bowl was heated by a candle underneath, and the blood’s aroma hit his senses again and again. He thrashed in his restraints, salivating, snarling, his hunger quickly becoming overwhelming.

Velith cackled loudly. Then she snapped her fingers, causing his chains to vanish. He found himself falling head first, and he screamed, bracing for impact.

Astor hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and blankets. Everything was dark, and he didn’t remember where he was. As he tried to get up, he hit his shin on the low table in Night’s living room. He held his leg in silence as the sharp pain pulsed through him.

He looked up, realizing he had fallen off the couch. His dream flashed. The party. The music. Velith. Her voice still echoed in his mind.

His breathing came in heavy and he was covered in sweat. Hunched sitting on the ground in silence, his arms wrapped his knees tightly. I’m never going back, he thought, trembling slightly.

His stomach curdled, and he realized, he was so, so, unbelievably hungry. He thought back to his dream. He could even stomach some rotting rat.

It’d only been a few days since his last meal, and he was already in such a state. He cursed himself for becoming soft and weak. Rubbing his palms into his eyes, he signed deeply. He had to eat something.

His sensitive ears picked up the soft sound of Night breathing. The door to her bedroom was ajar. As he listened, Night’s heartbeat grew louder in his ears, the blood flowing in her veins thumping like a beating drum. He tried to shake the sound off, to no avail.

One blink later, and he was in Night’s bedroom before he realized what was happening. Standing by her bed, he stared down at her. She had on a long sleeved nightgown with a laced collar, the style she favorited. The dark silk was smooth and flowy.

Just a little sip, Astor reasoned. She won’t even notice. Look at how deeply she’s sleeping!

He would be stronger, more focused, and it would benefit the whole party. This made the most sense. And Night wouldn’t mind, she would be happy to help him, of course. She spent so much of her free time teaching him magic. Giving up a little bit of blood for him is nothing in comparison.

He remembered how much of her blood poured out of her the night he stabbed her through her hand. How wasteful, he thought. He should have drank it then and there.

His fangs ached, already descended past his lips, his limbs shaking. He found himself already leaning down, one arm propped on her pillow, one knee on the bed. His other hand reached out, his fingers caressing her neck, peeling back her collar.

His fangs grazed the soft skin on her neck, breathing in her scent. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t think.

He didn’t want to stop.

He tried to bite down, but before his fangs could pierce, a force slammed into his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs and flinging him off the bed.

His back slammed again the wall, hitting his head with a loud thud, gasping in pain. He slid to the floor in a heap, disoriented.

What was that? He was confused and looked around the room frantically. What hit me?

Night stirred, slowly sitting up, rubbing her eyes. “Um, what’s happening?”

Her eyes met Astor’s, who was hunched over on the floor, hair sticking up at odd angles, looking absolutely feral. “What are you doing?” she asked, her mouth quirking.

“Night,” Astor breathed. “You see—“ His words caught. What could he even say?

Night’s hand went to her collar, which was pulled open. Then she pulled an amulet out of her shirt. It was glowing dimly with blue light. She brought it closer to her face, the light illuminating her expression. A knowing grin appeared on her face.

“You tried to bite me.” Night leaned her face on one arm, propped against her knee. “Are you that hungry?”

“What did you—“ Astor’s mind tried its hardest to catch up. His eyes darted around, piecing together what was happening. “Wait… You knew?! The force magic, it was your doing?”

“Just a little bit of protection,” Night explained. She played with the amulet between her fingers. “This necklace has defensive magic, though it only works once.” The amulet broke into dust in her hands, its pieces falling onto the bed. She brushed it off the linens.

Astor immediately flushed in embarrassment. He stood up quickly, marching back to her bed, his arms gesturing to emphasize his outrage. His eyes glowed red. “You knew I was a vampire, and you just let me—“

“I didn’t know for sure,” Night said quickly, holding up her hands. “I had a hunch. You know, all the signs were there.”

“What signs?!”

“Like how cold your body is,” Night explained, holding her fingers up as she counted off her observations. “Or how you rarely eat food. How quickly your injuries seem to heal. Your physical strength and speed making no sense for your physique.” She looked up and met his eyes, smirking. “Or how your fangs peek out after a particularly bloody kill.”

He just stared down at her, his mouth hanging open, speechless.

“Anyway, calm down,” she said, dropping her hands to the bed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m plenty calm,” he snarled. He dropped to the bed, hitting the mattress with his fist. “But I don’t burn in the sun. Shouldn’t that alone clear me of suspicion?”

“Hmm, not all vampires fear the sun,” Night explained thoughtfully. “Vampires of the Realms do, but some races of vampires from other planes don’t have that sensitivity.”

“Of course there’s planar vampires,” Astor grumbled. “Why didn’t you say something to me?”

“Astor, I can’t talk to you about anything personal. Whenever I’m about to ask you something, you get this wide eyed look. What could I do but back off?”

“WHAT?” Astor didn’t realize he acted so obvious.

Night shrugged. “Besides, what would I have said? ‘Hey, I think you might be a vampire, and you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable but I just wanted you to know I’m totally into that so it’s not a big deal?’”

“Wha—WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE INTO THAT?” Astor yelled, his eyes twitching. His sanity was reaching its limit.

“That was a joke. Sorry, not a good time for jokes.” Night rubbed her neck sheepishly.

“Night—“

“It was a joke! You see, my first relationship was with a vampire. Not a Realms vampire. He’s from another plane where vampires aren’t undead and they don’t burn in the sun—“

“Night, stop talking.”

“Ok.”

Astor dropped down to lie on the bed, his breathing uneven. He stared at the ceiling, then closed his eyes. His hunger was still clawing at his insides, his fangs were still extended.

He then covered his face with one palm and groaned. At least she’s not angry, or trying to stake me, he thought. This is good, right?

But as he thought about what just happened, his own anger grew. She saw through everything, and she let him snap like this. She even prepared a protection amulet, laying out a trap, catching him like a hunter catching prey. And now she sat there, all smug, like she had him completely figured out.

His hand slipped off his face as realization dawned. “You kept your door open on purpose,” he whispered.

“In a way,” Night admitted. She looked at him with a grin. “It was fun though.”

He rolled over on his side. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Night,” he warned, narrowing his eyes. “I could have killed you.”

“We have a cleric in the party, and Withers on stand by,” Night explained. “Besides, I trust you.”

“You trust me? Really?” Astor repeated. He turned over that phrase in his mind. Memories flashed of when he attempted to kill her under the Necromancy of Thay’s curse.

Then his voice dropped low. “Then—could I ask you to trust me…just a little bit more?”

Night was immediately wary. “What do you mean?”

Astor met her concerned gaze with a smirk. He turned to sit up and crawled across the bed. Looming over her on his arms, he pushed her back against her pillow. One hand reached out to brush indigo strands of her hair away from her neck. “I’m hungry, Night. You’ll feed me, right? Let me have some of your blood.”

Night paused. “My blood might not be palatable,” she murmured, looking away.

Astor leaned into her neck, his fingers tugging her lace collar, his eyes closed. Her heartbeat was in his ears, the scent of the soap they shared filling up his senses. “Mmm, I’m sure you taste fine.”

“No, I mean, I have a condition.” She placed her hand on his face and sharply shoved him off her. Then she sat up and started tucking her collar back in place.

He gentled wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her, then pulled her arms away. “What…kind of condition? Is it contagious?”

Night huffed a quiet laugh. “No, it’s not contagious. But my blood might taste weird.”

“Only one way to find out,” Astor said quietly. He tried to push her back onto the bed again, but Night resisted.

“Stop. Not from the neck. You can try my blood from my wrist.” She stuck her wrist out to him.

“That’s fine,” Astor said smoothly. He wrapped his fingers around her arm, pulling up her sleeve, bringing her wrist to his lips. He kissed it softly before biting down, his fangs piercing her delicate skin. He heard Night gasp, and he tightened the grip to keep her still.

But as her blood flowed into his mouth and down his throat, he realized something was really, really wrong. The blood immediately made its way back up.

Astor pushed Night away and scrambled over the side of the bed, throwing up directly on the rug in front of the bed. Her blood tasted bitter and sour.

“Are you ok?” Night said. She held her fingers around the wound in her wrist to stop the blood from bleeding.

Astor caught his breath. “No, I’m not ok!” He wiped residual blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ugh, what on Toril is wrong with you? Why do you taste disgusting? You’re worse than rotting rat blood.”

“I have foreign magic in my body,” Night explained quietly. “Netherese magic, to be precise.

Astor’s eyes widened. “Why is that in you?”

Night paused, obviously uncomfortable. She stared at Astor for a bit. In his sleepwear, his collar was misaligned, his eyes sunken with a wild look in his eyes. His long fangs touched his lips, now with blood smeared down his mouth.

She laughed to herself. Then she took a breath and started to explain.

“I tried to impress Mystra, I wanted her to acknowledge my worth and elevate my position. I found an ancient magical tome that was said to contain a piece of the Weave trapped in time, but when I opened it, it wasn’t the Weave, but Netherese magic from millennia ago. The explosion would have killed me, had I not contained in within my body. Mystra stripped me of my title after finding out…”

He stared at her with a dumb look. She broke eye contact awkwardly.

“…So that’s the full story,” Astor murmured.

“Yup,” Night replied dryly. “It interferes with my casting. I’ve lost access to higher level magic, and if I over extend myself, I fall ill. It’s terrible all around.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. He looked down at her wrist, and saw blood pooling around where she was holding it. He reached out, prying her hand away, and covered the puncture holes with his own hand. Taking a deep breath, he hummed a low, slow tune. Green light glowed, and in a few moments, the holes closed.

“Thank you,” she murmured, rubbing her wrist.

After a moment, Astor ruffled his hair. This wasn’t going to work. His head was pounding now, his hunger getting worse.

“How do you feel about this?” he asked, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “About me, being a vampire.”

“You’re Astor. You’ll always be Astor,” she said softly. “Were you worried?”

“Yes. Because…I’m…a monster.”

“Kal’s a dragon,” she said, crossing her arms. “We’ve met a mind flayer and a hobgoblin who’s studying mushrooms. And there’s sentient mushrooms who sing. Being a monster is cool now, Astor.”

Astor barked a laugh. “So I’m cool.”

Night laughed too. “Regardless of our race, we’re all friends, right?”

Friends? Astor considered what that meant. “Do you think Kal would spare some of his blood for me?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Night said. “He gave you the dagger. He hunts meat for us. For what he is, he is surprisingly nice, don’t you think?”

“Until he’s not, and he bites my head off. Come with me, in case he gets mad.” Astor swung his legs off the bed. Then he extended a hand towards Night.

She sighed, then she grabbed his hand. Astor pulled her off the bed with a bit too much force, and her face swung into his chest.

“Oops,” She murmured, pushing him away and steadying herself.

She quickly moved to her dresser, fumbling for a sweater and pulling it on. Then she walked up to Astor. “Er, you’ve got my blood on your face. Check the mirror in the bathroom.”

“I don’t have a reflection, so mirrors aren’t very helpful.”

“Oh, is that how this works? Then hold still.” Night grabbed a clean towel and wiped Astor’s face with it. She then tried to fix his hair and adjusted his shirt. “There, that’s slightly better.”

“Thanks,” Astor muttered.

Kal slept soundly around the campfire in his humanoid form, a sleeping roll under him. The small cavern they were resting in could not fit Kal’s true form, so he opted to sleep disguised.

“Kal,” Astor said quietly as he and Night approached the campfire. “I need your help.”

“What is it?” Kal replied gruffly, rolling over so he was now facing them. He gave a long yawn.

“Can I have some of your blood? To, uh, eat.”

Kal slowly sat up and stretched. “You’re hungry? At this time of the night?” He looked up at the cavern ceiling. “Actually, I don’t know what time it is.”

“I haven’t had any blood recently, and I’m starving,” Astor explained reluctantly.

Kal yawned again. “Being hungry sucks. Sure you can have some blood.”

“You’re not going to ask why he drinks blood, Kal?” Night said.

“I already know that’s what he eats.”

“Aw really? You already knew he’s a vampire?” Night pouted. “Why was I kept out of the loop?”

“He saw me feeding one day,” Astor explained.

“Wait, you’re a vampire?” Kal turned to Astor. “I didn’t know that part. But that’s cool, I guess.”

“Aha! So I’m still the first one to figure it out!” Night announced smugly.

“Why do you seem so proud?” Astor remarked dryly.

“What is going on out here? Are we being attacked?” Shadowheart’s voice came from the direction of her tent. She crawled out in her sleepwear, her normally braided black hair loose down her back. “Why is everyone awake?”

“Astor’s hungry, so I’m feeding him,” Kal explained. “Did you know he’s a vampire?”

“Wait—“ Astor tried to interrupt.

“A vampire?” Shadowheart repeated. “…What?” She turned to Astor and looked at him.

“Uh—yeah, I’m a vampire.”

“Really?” Shadowheart rubbed her eyes. “I thought you were an albino drow.”

“Is that why you thought Astor and Nere had some sort of connection?” Night asked, holding back laughter.

Shadowheart looked away. “…I’m very embarrassed now.”

“In what plane do I look like one of Lolth’s pets?” Astor yelled.

“Your eyes are red. And you have white hair,” Shadowheart explained, gesturing towards Astor. “You’re weirdly comfortable in the dark. Plus you have the vibe. You know, the arrogance, the cunning.” She assumed a thoughtful pose. “The appetite for murder.”

Astor made an indignant sound, crossing his arms. “I have a charm and elegance that none of those deep elves could ever hope to achieve.”

“Actually, drow eyes aren’t always red,” Night chimed in brightly. “It’s a common color, but I’ve met drow with lavender eyes. His mother has green eyes. Most drow’s eyes glow red in the dark regardless of their eye color due to their version of darkvision so that might be where the misconception comes from.”

“That’s…informative,” Shadowheart replied.

“Keep going, Night,” Astor said, giving an elaborate yawn. “We’re almost asleep.”

Night glared at him.

“Anyway, I’m going to bed. Keep it down,” Shadowheart said sternly. She returned to her tent.

Kal turned to Astor. “You still hungry?” He sat on the ground and extended his wrist. “Does this work?”

Astor nodded, smiling. He sat down beside Kal, trying not to appear too excited. Dragon blood must be a rare delicacy for vampires. He doubts that even Velith had ever had it before.

He held Kal’s wrist to his lips, feeling the heat of his skin, and his quick, thunderous pulse underneath. He bit down with force, his fangs briefly struggling to pierce, until they finally broke through Kal’s thick skin.

Hot, fiery blood immediately flowed down his throat. He closed his eyes. It was thick, and rich, and bright, and he felt his insides alight. It wasn’t painful, but it felt like dipping in hot water after being in the cold for too long. It was overwhelming yet comforting, and Astor swayed slightly, lost in the moment.

He wasn’t sure how long he drank, but Kal didn’t stop him. He seemed to have an unlimited amount of blood, his draconic healing working to replenish the supply.

Night sat down beside them. “Look at him. He’s enjoying it,” she noted. “Reminds me of a cat drinking milk.”

Kal laughed. “I think we’ve adopted him.”

Astor’s ears twitched, but he ignored their remarks, choosing instead to focus on the warmth spreading in him.

When he finally forced himself to let go and opened his eyes, he saw Kal breathing heavier than usual. “You have quite an appetite,” Kal said.

Astor wiped the blood from his lips, watching the holes on Kal’s wrist close almost immediately. He couldn’t believe how much Kal let him drink. “That was—you taste incredible.”

“I’m sure I do,” Kal responded with a grin.

Night leaned in. “So why haven’t you been getting enough blood?”

“The monsters in the Underdark are strong,” Astor admitted, sighing. “And they’re…not very appetizing.”

“We could hunt together?” Kal offered. “But I get first dibs.”

Astor laughed. “That works.” He felt lighter, his mind clearer, his hunger satiated for now.

As he watched Kal and Night chat and laugh loudly in front of him, and Shadowheart come out again to yell at them to shut up, Astor couldn’t understand why he had tried so hard to hide what he was.