Chapter 12 – The Owl Who Saw Fire
The Owl sat in silence, cloaked in shadows, her crimson eyes faintly reflecting the flickering lantern in the broken tavern basement. The room stank of mold and fear. Around her stood three lesser vampires, twitchy and anxious.
The first one—a gaunt, pale-faced man with wild yellow eyes—spoke fast.
"He burned Lord Malek alive. They say… they say it was blue fire."
The second, a woman with trembling hands, nodded. "The survivors called him a demon. Said he appeared mid-battle and tore through the lord like paper."
"And now he's here," said the third, a bulky one, swallowing hard. "He checked into the Swordfinn two nights ago."
The Owl didn't respond right away. Her silver hair glinted beneath her hood, but her expression was unreadable.
"…Blue fire," she repeated, voice barely audible. "So it's true. He's back."
"You know him?" the first one asked.
She turned her head slightly. Just enough for her eyes to lock with his. He took a step back.
"I was there," she said coldly. "When he wiped out the southern enclave. Dozens of us. Not even the elders survived."
"You… survived that?" the woman asked.
"He let me go." Her voice was tight with memory. "I don't know why. Pity. Exhaustion. Or maybe he just wanted me to live in fear."
The bulky one frowned. "So what do we do now?"
"We vanish." Her voice cracked like a whip. "Zen isn't safe for us. Not anymore. He's not a man. He's a plague."
"But—"
"Do I look like I'm negotiating!?" she snapped, slamming her palm on the table. Her blue veins glowed faintly in panic. "We move! Now!"
The three scrambled to obey, shoving supplies into packs, scattering from the room. She stayed behind, taking one last look at the cracked wall.
"Why now…?" she muttered to herself. "Why did you come back?"
Later That Night – Zen's Outer Districts
The alleys were silent, the moon shrouded in drifting clouds. The Owl, cloaked and masked, moved like a shadow through the backstreets. She avoided lamplight, never staying on one path for more than a few seconds. Her breath fogged in the cool air.
She turned corners, leapt fences, changed her pace—always checking behind her.
No footsteps. No sound.
Still… she felt him.
He's here. I know he is.
She sprinted through an abandoned yard, vaulted over a low wall, and ducked into an alley—only to freeze.
A thin, dark figure stood at the far end of the street. Motionless. Watching.
"No…" she whispered.
She turned and bolted the other way.
The Chase
Her feet pounded on old stones. Richard didn't shout or threaten—he simply followed. Ruthlessly. Silently. With terrifying speed.
She hurled a flare behind her, casting blinding white light into the night. Nothing.
She dropped a magic trap. It detonated in a roar. Still—no scream, no grunt. Just… footsteps.
Smoke bomb. Rope trap. Another wall vaulted.
Nothing slowed him.
This is insane! I'm faster than this. I've survived worse than this!
But even thinking of his presence made her heart pound harder. She could feel the heat. Like the sun rising behind her, about to consume everything.
Temporary Escape
She threw her final smoke bomb and vanished into an alley. Her breathing was ragged. Her knees wobbled. She pressed her back to the wall and slid down to a crouch.
A rat skittered past. The smoke cleared slowly.
Silence.
She waited… thirty seconds… a minute…
"…He's gone…" she whispered to herself. "He's—"
"Found you."
The voice was low. Cold. Deep. It echoed against the walls with weight that crushed her breath. Her heart stopped.
She turned her head slowly.
From the darkness, two faint glows—like twin blue embers—hovered in the air. His eyes.
She choked on a breath.
"Wait, please—!"
The flames brightened.
End of Chapter 12
The Owl sat in silence, cloaked in shadows, her crimson eyes faintly reflecting the flickering lantern in the broken tavern basement. The room stank of mold and fear. Around her stood three lesser vampires, twitchy and anxious.
The first one—a gaunt, pale-faced man with wild yellow eyes—spoke fast.
"He burned Lord Malek alive. They say… they say it was blue fire."
The second, a woman with trembling hands, nodded. "The survivors called him a demon. Said he appeared mid-battle and tore through the lord like paper."
"And now he's here," said the third, a bulky one, swallowing hard. "He checked into the Swordfinn two nights ago."
The Owl didn't respond right away. Her silver hair glinted beneath her hood, but her expression was unreadable.
"…Blue fire," she repeated, voice barely audible. "So it's true. He's back."
"You know him?" the first one asked.
She turned her head slightly. Just enough for her eyes to lock with his. He took a step back.
"I was there," she said coldly. "When he wiped out the southern enclave. Dozens of us. Not even the elders survived."
"You… survived that?" the woman asked.
"He let me go." Her voice was tight with memory. "I don't know why. Pity. Exhaustion. Or maybe he just wanted me to live in fear."
The bulky one frowned. "So what do we do now?"
"We vanish." Her voice cracked like a whip. "Zen isn't safe for us. Not anymore. He's not a man. He's a plague."
"But—"
"Do I look like I'm negotiating!?" she snapped, slamming her palm on the table. Her blue veins glowed faintly in panic. "We move! Now!"
The group scrambled to obey, shoving supplies into packs, scattering from the room. She stayed behind, taking one last look at the cracked wall.
"Why now…?" she muttered to herself. "Why did you come back?"
Later that night.
The alleys were silent, the moon shrouded in drifting clouds. The Owl, cloaked and masked, moved like a shadow through the backstreets. She avoided lamplight, never staying on one path for more than a few seconds. Her breath fogged in the cool air.
She turned corners, leapt fences, changed her pace—always checking behind her.
No footsteps. No sound.
Still… she felt him.
He's here. I know he is.
She sprinted through an abandoned yard, vaulted over a low wall, and ducked into an alley—only to freeze.
A thin, dark figure stood at the far end of the street. Motionless. Watching.
"No…" she whispered.
She turned and bolted the other way.
Her feet pounded on old stones. Richard didn't shout or threaten—he simply followed. Ruthlessly. Silently. With terrifying speed.
She hurled a flare behind her, casting blinding white light into the night. Nothing.
She dropped a magic trap. It detonated in a roar. Still—no scream, no grunt. Just… footsteps.
Smoke bomb. Rope trap. Another wall vaulted.
Nothing slowed him.
This is insane! I'm faster than this. I've survived worse than this!
But even thinking of his presence made her heart pound harder. She could feel the heat. Like the sun rising behind her, about to consume everything.
She threw her final smoke bomb and vanished into an alley. Her breathing was ragged. Her knees wobbled. She pressed her back to the wall and slid down to a crouch.
A rat skittered past. The smoke cleared slowly.
Silence.
She waited… thirty seconds… a minute…
"…He's gone…" she whispered to herself. "He's—"
"Found you."
The voice was low. Cold. Deep. It echoed against the walls with weight that crushed her breath. Her heart stopped.
She turned her head slowly.
From the darkness, two faint glows—like twin blue embers—hovered in the air. His eyes.
She choked on a breath.
"Wait, please—!"
End of Chapter 12