DUSK HAS FALLEN WITHOUT more than the gentle recession of sunlight, and the siblings haven't a clue that it will be their last day of sun without feeling as though they would burn alive. Sitting atop their mudbrick home and watching the sun fall below the distant horizon, tunics becoming further covered in dust that will no doubt get them in trouble, Krasimira and her brothers find themselves wishing they were born into a family other than the royalty they've been "blessed" with.
Their lives have been planned out since the day they were born: Damyan is to be wed to a neighbouring Princess on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, someone he has met only once or twice, and become the next King of the soon-to-be joined nations; and Nikolay is to become a Priest and the Advisor to the King, their own brother, without the chance of marriage. As for Krasimira, she is most likely to be wed to some pompous Prince from another nation in hopes of solidifying further trade relations, but her mother is trying to push for her to become a Priestess and keep her from such a thing.
"Krasimira, why do you look so sad?" Damyan asks, nudging her shoulder. "We still have some time left before I'm to marry, and I'd rather not waste it by moping about."
Krasimira looks over at him, knowing that she cannot hide from her oldest brother. "Six months is not a lot of time, Damyan — and you know that you'll not have the chance to see us during the sixth month."
Nikolay scoffs on Krasimira's other side, blue eyes glaring over at their older brother. "Who says we're moping, brother? I'm most certainly not. It will be good to be free of your practicality."
"Nikolay!"
Damyan smiles despite her twin's words, standing and clapping Nikolay on the shoulder before wandering off, completely unbothered by his brother's harsh words. Once their brother is out of ear-shot, Krasimira turns a furious glare onto her light-haired brother, but it's quick to fall when she sees the tears beginning to accumulate in his blue eyes. Krasimira pulls him to her, their foreheads resting against one another and their hands tightly linked; death grips that betray the wrathful emotions confined within their bodies.
Their mother calls out from below, beckoning them down into the house, and while the siblings do enjoy antagonising their parents, lately it is best to do what they ask without question. Nikolay pulls Krasimira up with him as he stands, only releasing her hands to dust off his tunic and straighten the rope belt around his waist, having given up on controlling his wild dirty blond hair. Following his example, Krasimira clears the dust off her tunic, lacing the sandals back around her lower legs and warily following Nikolay back into the house, not entirely sure what awaits the twins.
Their seventeenth birthday has almost come to an end, and Krasimira has no doubt that their father, Naram-Sin himself, has a plan in mind for how they are to spend tonight. With his new standing as King about to come into full effect with the depleting health of his grandfather, King Sargon of Akkad, he no doubt wants to make their birthday some hugely spectacular event and put them in the centre of attention more than they usually are.
In complete contrast to Lena's thoughts of how this night would progress, their father makes no grand gestures as to introduce the twins further into the spotlight. Instead he gives them a smile that Krasimira can only call sinister or cunning, and offers them cups of freshly aged red wine and a toast to a long and fruitful life. The words make Lena's stomach churn, for they seem to hold a deeper meaning, but she outwardly smiles and accepts the wine, Nikolay and Krasimira swallowing down the odd tasting wine along with their father and Damyan.
The rest of the night passes as normal, aside from an odd light-headedness that's hung around since they finished the wine, and it's almost the middle of the night by the time Nikolay, Damyan, and Krasimira make it upstairs to bed. Morning seems to come almost too suddenly, the too-bright sunlight streaming in through the thin curtains and feeling as though it's sapping all their strength even as they remain laying on their beds.
Unlike other mornings, their mother does not come to wake them at dawn, nor does she barge into their rooms a few hours after the sun had risen to chew them out for sleeping past their usual wake-up time. Although, it's not as though they can complain with how terrible they feel. It's enough for them to slip back into sleep, unaware of the world around them as they are cocooned within the swirling blackness of their dream worlds.
Moonlight filters in through the windows the next time they wake, and a jolt of terror shoots through Krasimira's body. Running from her bed to the door with a speed she didn't know she had, Krasimira hurries down the stairs to find her father sitting at the table, a delighted smile on his face when he looks over at Krasimira. Nikolay and Damyan hurry down the stairs, only to stop behind their younger sister when they see she hasn't moved from the bottom step, frozen in place as she stares at their father.
"You're finally awake, my children," Naram-Sin muses, a dark look in his hazel eyes. "How are you all feeling tonight?"
"What did you do to us, father?" Krasimira asks, surprised that her voice doesn't shake. "That wine, what was it really? Did you poison us?"
"Poison? No, daughter, I did not poison you. It was more of a... More of an opportunity for you to live a much longer life than humans usually do." He stands, moonlight shining in through the window and illuminating a dark, wet patch on his shirt. "All you have to do is feed, and everything will make so much more sense."
One of Krasimira's brothers move to step forward from behind her, but she holds her arm out to stop them in their tracks, her eyes furious as she stares at their father. "What have you done to us?"
"Always so perceptive. You get that from your mother, may she rest in peace." His eyes turn gold in the darkness, making Krasimira and her brother suck in a sharp breath each. "I've given you the chance for immortality; to never grow old, and to never die."
Damyan is the only one of them that can find words, but they're not the ones either Nikolay or Krasimira want to hear. "Are you talking of vampirism, father?"
Nikolay's blue eyes narrow. "This has to be a sick joke. Vampires are stories you tell children so they don't misbehave at night. There's no such thing."
Their father steps further into the moonlight, revealing his twisted face — glowing eyes, raised cheekbones, and fangs. "Vampires are no myth, son. They are real, and they are what you will all become."
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