Reborn to Love: A Vampire's Fate

Reborn to Love: A Vampire's Fate

By:  Divine Vacivity  Ongoing
Language: English
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For so long, Favilla has wanted only one thing: to kill her Sire. However, on the eve of her success, she learns that she was only ever a chess piece in a game being played out by the most powerful vampires in the city. Her loved ones have betrayed her, and the one who was her greatest enemy wants to save her with his dying breath. She dies for her mistakes, but the goddess is merciful. She is granted a second chance. Only, why is nothing the way she remembers it? Will she become a player this time around, or will she remain a pawn? Most importantly, can she make him understand that she loves him back? * Favilla (f., n., 1st dec.) - glowing ash, cinder, ember Dies iræ, dies illa, / Solvet sæclum in favilla * 'Everything is ready, then?' he says, a little sad. I feel bad about it. 'It's not too late to back out, you know. He doesn't suspect anything yet.' 'No,' he says, 'I'll still do it. I'll kill him. For you, my love.' * 'I'm scared,' I say. 'Don't be,' he says. 'You won't have to do anything but stand aside and watch.' * His arms are around me, and he's murmuring to me, 'Oh, you stupid, stupid girl.' Only, it doesn't sound like him at all. It sounds cold, detached. Cruel. * Finally, the pieces start snapping into place—he's betrayed me.

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55 Chapters
Arc 1: A Second Death (Part 1)
Everyone knows that the most important person in a vampire’s life is her Sire, the one whose blood is keeping a vampire tethered to the splendour of immortality—her saviour, her master. Most vampires are half in love with their Sires, slavishly devoted to their every whim and fancy, willing to change even the most fundamental aspects of their characters to gain the tiniest modicum of approval. But not me. I wanted to kill him. ﹒ Hello. I am, as my Sire named me after my transformation into a member of those monsters dwelling in the night, forever to be known by Favilla. Maybe it’s contradictory for me to use a name given to me by someone I hate so much, but the name my human parents gave me has long since ceased to matter so, instead, Favilla is what you shall call me. My story started just over three decades ago, the first time I died, when my Sire first found me and claimed me for his own. However, that’s not where your story will start. No, your story will start on the night of
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Arc 1: A Second Death (Part 2)
I turn to the thrall, and he lowers his head, expectant. ‘Your master,’ I say, “where is he?” He steps back, gesturing to the door closest to him. ‘It’s unlocked,’ a pleasant tenor calls from within. A smile comes unbidden to my lips. I adjust my dress, slightly self-conscious of the glamour I’ve put over myself, then walk through the door. It opens onto a minimalist bedroom done in soft greys and deep reds, lit only by the light of the city filtering in through the balcony doors. I don’t pay the room much mind, however, as my entire being is focused upon the man sitting in an armchair, reading in the near-darkness. He looks to be in his late twenties, though that is of course a meaningless measure for us vampires. He bears a strong resemblance to my Sire in his features—sharp-boned and well-proportioned. He has a slightly more masculine air, however, as he is of a more powerful build. His colouring, too, differs from Canus in a crucial way—his hair is more fair, a honey blond ins
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Arc 1: A Second Death (Part 3)
The rendezvous point Chrys has chosen is a denture-like block of abandoned townhouses, all whitewashed façades hiding decrepit insides. It is almost comically stereotypical to think that a crazed Desecrant might favour such a residence. Chrys has stationed a few trusted subordinates at strategic locations for ambush, but they have orders to slow and wound rather than to kill. After all, few vampires in this city are strong enough to stand against Canus in a fight. In the end, it will still come down to me distracting Canus and Chrys surprising him. At five to seven, the sky outside is lightening already, deep violet edged with palest gold at the eastern horizon. Anticipation churns in a stomach that I no longer use. I’m nauseated, but I’m also not, because I don’t think it’s even possible for vampires to vomit the way humans do. ‘I’m scared,’ I say to Chrys, who is sitting beside me in the cellar of the centre-most townhouse. His chest is firm and strong behind me. Above the musk o
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Arc 1: A Second Death (Part 4)
‘STOP!’ yells a voice that I don’t remember ever hearing so panicked. I freeze, but then I realise that Canus’s command wasn't directed at me. Scintilla, meanwhile, has gone lax, eyes wide with fright and despair. I turn my head. Canus had widened the hole in the wall where I’d broken through when I tackled Chryseus off of him, staring through the opening at Scintilla and I with the strangest expression on his face. His cold eyes are bright in the dim light of the room, reflecting the diffuse light of dawn spilling inside through dingy egress windows that hadn’t been properly boarded up. He looks afraid, I realise with a start, but I don’t know why he’s afraid. The emotion makes him approachable in a way that I’ve never felt before. I want to comfort him, tell him that everything is fine, that he has nothing to fear. I struggle again, and Scintilla lifts easily off of me. I don’t glance at her face; I can’t bear it. I can’t stand knowing that she loves me still, but chose to betray
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Interlude I: The Game
One day old and ancient, the waxing crescent—barely more than a sliver, really—rises mere minutes before the night is to lift and the day is to break. Weak as she is, the moon still sees it, not the act itself, but the aftermath, the spreading cinders tearing through the world, dissolving all that it touches, unravelling the tapestry that time and fate has woven of this world. ‘You’re cheating,’ the moon tries to say to the night, but then the sun has risen by now, chasing the night away from this half of the globe. ‘Why has wrath descended upon the world?’ asks the sun. And the day, breaking merrily upon a world in ashes, says simply, ‘I am sure that all will be well again upon the morrow.’ Barely visible in the morning sky, the moon remains silent, for she alone knows that the night will not allow the morrow to arrive, not for cycles upon cycles again. ﹒ When time finally stabilises, when the world reforms again, when suddenly the moon finds herself nearly full and shining bri
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Arc 2: In Memoriam (Part 1)
The problem isn’t that I should be dead—completely dead, that is, not just undead. No; the problem is that I’m (as far as I can see) in a coffin and (judging by the feel of the air) also stuck under quite a bit of earth. I remember how much I panicked over three decades ago on my first night as an immortal, when I’d woken up to this same situation. I had so few memories of my human life that even the knowledge I’d retained was minimal. I understood that I was a vampire, and I knew that my final test would be to emerge from my grave, but I barely remembered my own name, let alone how to get out. At the time, my clearest memory was of transformation, a grotesque and painful experience that had left me mentally exhausted as well as physically weak. Now, however, though my latest memory is of literally burning to ashes, I’m slowly beginning to feel a growing sense of mental clarity. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been through so many dangerous situations that I’m now used to it, or perhaps
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Arc 2: In Memoriam (Part 2)
‘Let her go!’ Canus commands, voice quiet but harsh, and the grip on my hair immediately disappears. I hear the squelch of Scintilla’s knees hitting the ground, and I follow suit out of instinct. ‘Sire?’ she ventures. The only thing that stops me from saying the same is the flash of pure panic that I catch on Canus’s face, which is surprising enough that I remember I’m not necessarily supposed to recognise him. Canus must have thought I tried to attack Scintilla, and that she had to subdue me by force. I’ve never seen him so upset when breaking up fights between our younger sisters, but, then again, Scintilla and I never really fought much in our first life. And I mustn’t forget, this version of Canus is new to having progeny to take charge of. He must be extra jumpy about things like this happening, especially when it’s my first night of immortality. ‘What’s going on?’ Canus tries again, voice calmer this time. I feel Scintilla relax at the change in tone. ‘We were washing her of
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Arc 2: In Memoriam (Part 3)
My rooms aren’t very complicated. There’s a receiving room of sorts, furnished with plush seating, a small coffee table, and a television screen mounted on the wall. To the right is a bedroom with a balcony, which in turn leads to an ensuite bathroom and a dressing room that has yet to be converted to a walk-in closet. To the left is a door leading to a small but well-ventilated room that would serve as my study. I’ll need to arrange for a desk and bookshelves later. And a computer. I’m more or less dry, Canus having used sorcery to clean me when we first came inside, but I’ve trodden barefoot through half the house, and I’m clad in a ratty white vest and a stiff pair of sleeping boxers. As such, very desperately needing a proper bath, I head directly for the bathroom and the antique bathtub within. The soap and shampoo aren’t made from my preferred recipe. In fact, I don’t think my preferred recipe will be discovered by Scintilla for another three years at least, which is a shame. I
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Arc 2: In Memoriam (Part 4)
I don’t remember it raining so much on my first night as a vampire, but I do remember the ground being soggy when I first climbed out of my grave, so it must be about to stop in the next few hours. We didn’t have enough time to go hunting the first time around, so Canus had taken me out the following night, when I’d been almost insensate with thirst. Canus had kept me bound under tight orders, so I only have the most basic impressions of the exclusive club that we’d gone to. It’d been the type of club where people watched performers dance rather than participated in such activities. It doesn’t seem like we’re headed there now, however. Outside the tinted windows of the car, the streets of Soho are alight with neon signs whose colours bleed into one another in rain. We come to a stop at a car park that’s packed with glossy vehicles with expensive labels I don’t care enough to pay much attention to. ‘You’ll want to stop breathing, Favilla,’ Canus says as he shuts the car down. I obey.
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Arc 2: In Memoriam (Part 5)
As a newborn, I always looked around at all the more practised vampires around me and assumed that they were all so much more controlled than I was because they didn’t feel the thirst as much. It wasn’t until months later that I realised how wrong I’d been. The thirst never goes away. We all just get better at dealing with it. It might be callous to use the word mistake, but that’s what we usually call it when vampires feed so much that they start killing people. Not all immortals are as kind as we are—most of them just call humans cattle. It’s not even necessarily against vampire law to kill mortals, not unless the human authorities begin to notice. Most of the time the only consequence that might result is hunters starting to put a bounty on your head. (We don’t bother hunters unless they start culling vampires who don’t kill, and hunters in turn tend not to bother vampires unless they do kill. It’s not a perfect system, but it works.) Canus has always been especially fastidious ab
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