Fire Emblem if: Resonant Blood

by JustaSoulsFan

3 years after the Conquest Route, Corrin is still haunted from the war between Hoshido and Nohr. The sacrifices she made to expose Garon wear heavily on her. Yet she tries to fulfill her duty as Nohrian princess regardless. On a mission to solve a dispute between allies, she encounters the mysterious Hunter Abel Deville. Together they must confront new enemies and their dark past.

9. Memories

Chapter 7 – Memories

Corrin stirred from sleep early the next morning, the events of the previous day rushing back to her in vivid, relentless clarity. The clash with Malkav, the desperation of the battle, and most of all, Abel—his stoic yet vulnerable presence—swirled in her thoughts. She remembered the moments they shared, the way he had pushed himself to protect her, and the strange warmth his presence had sparked in her chest.

She sat up slowly, her heart already beating a little faster than usual. She tried to shake the feeling, brushing her silver hair back and glancing towards the door. But her mind kept circling back to Abel. Was he alright? Had he recovered? The thought of him lying alone, perhaps still hurt, made her chest tighten.

"I need to see him," she murmured aloud, sliding out of bed with resolve. "Just to check on him... make sure he's okay."

She moved to the door and reached for the handle, but when she twisted it, the door wouldn't budge. Confused, Corrin furrowed her brow and tried again, rattling the handle harder this time. Still, the door refused to move.

"What the...?" she muttered, pulling at it with increasing force. "Why is this stuck?"

Her heart began to race with unease. The sturdy door didn't appear damaged, and yet it wouldn't yield, as if some invisible force held it closed. She yanked the handle again, frustration mounting with every failed attempt.

"Damn it, open!" she growled, her voice edged with desperation. Panic crept in as she stepped back and slammed her fists against the door. "Someone! Can anyone hear me?!"

She hit the door again, harder this time, the echo of her fist reverberating in the quiet room. The urgency gnawed at her—she had to see Abel, had to make sure he was alright. Being stuck here felt unbearable, suffocating.

"Please! Let me out!" she yelled, her voice cracking as fear edged her words.

Suddenly, the door swung open without warning. Corrin staggered back, blinking in surprise as a familiar figure stepped into the room.

"Abel!" she exclaimed, a flood of relief washing over her at the sight of him. But something was different.

He stood there, his expression uncharacteristically soft, almost serene, a stark contrast to the sharp intensity she had grown used to seeing. His posture was relaxed, and his lips curled into a smile. But that smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Corrin," he said, her name rolling off his tongue smoothly. Yet the sound of it sent a strange chill down her spine.

Her heart stuttered, both leaping and sinking at the same time. She took a hesitant step closer, her brows knitting in concern. There was something off—something she couldn't quite place.

"A-Abel," she began, her voice wavering slightly. "Is everything... alright?"

He tilted his head, the smile lingering on his lips. "Oh, I feel very alright," he replied, his tone low and calm. Too calm.

It was then that she noticed it. His eyes—no longer the deep green she had seen the night before, but a vivid, glowing crimson. Her gaze dropped lower, searching instinctively, and her breath hitched. The rosary that had been tightly wrapped around his arm was gone.

"No..." she whispered, taking a cautious step back. Her mind raced, putting the pieces together. The absence of the rosary, the crimson hue in his eyes, and that unsettling smile—it all clicked.

"Abel...," she said again, her voice trembling as her stomach twisted into knots. "What... What happened to you?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, his smile widened, and the crimson glow in his eyes seemed to deepen. When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with an unsettling edge.

"What happened?" he echoed, stepping into the room and letting the door swing shut behind him. "Nothing at all, my dear Corrin. This..." He gestured to himself, his crimson eyes gleaming. "This is who I really am."

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, a mixture of fear and disbelief surging through her. The man standing before her, though undeniably Abel, felt like a stranger—a shadow of the man she had fought beside. The warmth she had felt from him was gone, replaced by an ominous chill.

"No... This isn't you," Corrin said firmly, though her voice shook as she stared at him. "Abel, please... You're stronger than this. You don't have to give in to whatever this is."

His expression flickered briefly, but then his smile returned, sharper and colder than before.

"Oh, Corrin," he said softly, taking another step closer. "You have no idea what you're talking about. But don't worry..." His voice dropped, carrying a chilling undertone. "You will soon."

Her hands tightened instinctively around the handle of the Shadow Yato as fear and determination clashed within her. Whatever had happened to Abel, she wasn't going to give up on him—not now, not ever.

Corrin stared at him, her mind a whirlwind of emotions as it struggled to keep up with the situation spiraling around her. Fear gripped her chest like a vice, yet a small flicker of defiance burned deep within. She couldn't let herself break now—not in front of him, not when the Abel she knew was slipping further and further away.

"W-Why are you looking at me like that?" she stammered, her voice shaking but still holding a trace of resolve. "And w-where's your rosary?"

Abel—or perhaps it was no longer Abel—chuckled low and dark, a sound that sent a shiver coursing down her spine.

"Oh, that little damn thing?" he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "After the fight with Malkav, it got damaged. Beyond repair, actually. So I discarded it. Like the nuisance it always was."

Corrin's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. The rosary… damaged? Discarded? Panic clawed at her chest as the gravity of his words settled in. The rosary was more than just a trinket—it had been the key to keeping Abel tethered to his humanity, to the persona she had fought beside. Without it…

"No..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "That rosary... it was the only thing keeping you..."

"Keeping me chained, you mean," he interrupted sharply, his crimson eyes gleaming with an unnatural light. "Keeping me leashed like some trained dog for those Gralsritter fools. Do you even understand what they did to me?"

Corrin's throat tightened as she saw his expression twist into something darker, more sinister. His grin stretched wide, but it wasn't a smile of warmth or humor—it was predatory, full of malice and twisted amusement.

"Without that rosary," he continued, his voice silky yet cold, "I'm finally free. Free to reclaim what's mine. Free to be who I was meant to be. Lord Kain… has returned."

His words struck her like a physical blow, and she felt her knees weaken. Her mind screamed in protest, yet a part of her clung to hope—hope that somewhere within this being, the Abel she knew still existed. Fighting back her trembling voice, she managed to ask, "What… are you going to do now?"

Kain tilted his head, his grin widening further as though he found her question amusing.

"What am I going to do?" he repeated mockingly. "I'm going to reclaim my power, my kingdom, my rightful place. And do you know what else, princess?" His voice dropped, his tone carrying a dangerous edge. "I'm taking you with me."

"W-What?" Corrin gasped, her heart plummeting.

"Oh yes," Kain said smoothly, stepping closer, his predatory gaze locking onto her. "Together with you, the one who saved me. You interfered in that fight with Malkav, you helped me survive when I was at my weakest. And now, thanks to you, I'm free."

Her chest tightened with guilt at his words. Unwittingly, she had played a role in unleashing this version of him. But as he spoke, his crimson eyes gleaming with a dangerous light, her guilt began to twist into something more complex—a strange, unsettling mixture of fear and fascination.

"You... you're just going to return to your old ways, then?" she asked, her voice trembling but still holding a note of challenge. "After everything we've been through?"

Kain let out a low, amused chuckle. He leaned closer, his presence overwhelming, his smile still sharp and wicked.

"Yes," he said softly, his tone both seductive and menacing. "But not without you."

"W-What?" Corrin whispered, her voice barely audible.

"You heard me," Kain said, his gaze never wavering from her. "When I saw you under the moonlight that night, beneath the cherry tree… I knew. I needed you. Not just as a trophy or a pawn, no... as my companion. My equal. My queen."

Corrin felt the air leave her lungs at his words. Her heart raced uncontrollably, caught between terror and something she couldn't quite name. His tone, his gaze, his presence—it all overwhelmed her senses, leaving her mind a jumbled mess of emotions.

"Why... why me?" she finally managed to murmur, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kain's smile softened slightly, but it was no less unsettling. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch unnervingly gentle.

"Because," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "you saved me. You stood beside me when I was weak. You made me see something I hadn't for two decades—a spark of something more. And I like you, princess. In a very… special way."

Her breath hitched, her heart thundering in her chest as his words washed over her. The way he spoke, the intensity in his crimson gaze—it was almost too much to bear. She wanted to recoil, to scream at him, to tell him he was wrong. But she couldn't deny the strange, magnetic pull he had over her, the way her emotions seemed to spiral out of control in his presence.

"Special…?" she murmured weakly.

Kain nodded, his expression softening into something almost tender, though the predatory gleam in his eyes remained.

"Yes," he said simply. "You and I are destined for something greater. Together, we could rule, Corrin. With your strength and my power, we could reshape this world however we please."

She stared at him, her heart pounding furiously as his words sunk in. Rule together? Be his companion? The very idea should have repulsed her, yet she found herself unable to look away, unable to completely reject the strange allure of his offer.

Her voice trembled as she asked, "And if I refuse...?"

Kain's smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet intensity. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

"Oh, but you won't," he said confidently, his crimson eyes boring into hers. "You can't. You already feel it, don't you? The pull, the connection between us. It's fate, Corrin."

Her knees nearly buckled as she stared into his eyes, her heart and mind warring with each other. She knew she should fight, should resist—but something about him made it so hard to think clearly, to keep her guard up. And that terrified her more than anything else.

She wanted to fight, to push him away, to deny the irresistible gravity drawing her toward him. But she couldn't move. Her heart and mind clashed in a frantic battle—reason against instinct, logic against something far more primal. And though she tried to muster her resolve, every moment under his gaze chipped away at her defenses.

It terrified her, the way he unraveled her so effortlessly. How his words, his mere presence, made it so hard to think clearly, to hold on to the barriers she had always relied upon.

Kain's lips curved slightly—not into a grin, but a knowing smile, as if he could see the turmoil within her, as if he already knew the outcome of her internal struggle. He reached out, gently brushing her cheek, his touch as light as a whisper yet searing against her skin.

"You feel it," he said again, his voice soft but resolute. "The fire in your blood, the truth you've been denying. It's only a matter of time before you stop fighting it."

Kain's smirk widened as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

"Admit it, Corrin," he murmured, his lips inches from hers. "You want this. You want me."

Before she could respond, his lips captured hers. The kiss was fierce and possessive, igniting a fire within her that she had never felt before. Her eyes widened in shock as his touch sent electric sparks coursing through her, her body reacting instinctively as she found herself leaning into him, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

"Mmm!" she gasped against his mouth, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and heat. She should pull away, should resist, but instead, her hands tightened their grip, pulling him closer as his kiss deepened.

Suddenly, with a swift motion, Kain pinned her against the wall, his movements wild and untamed. Corrin gasped at the sudden force, her breath coming in shallow pants as he dominated the space between them, his lips demanding and insistent.

The wall was cool against her back, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. Her senses were overwhelmed, her mind blank as his lips moved against hers with fervent intensity. Every touch, every movement, sent a rush of heat coursing through her, leaving her dizzy and breathless.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was feral, his eyes smoldering with satisfaction as he looked down at her flushed, trembling form.

"Say it, Corrin," he commanded, his voice low and firm. "Say what you want."

Corrin panted, her heart hammering in her chest, her mind a chaotic mess. She should push him away, should reject him, but her body betrayed her, responding to his touch with a fervor she didn't understand. Her lips parted, her voice barely above a whisper as she met his gaze.

"I… I want..." she hesitated, her cheeks burning, her heart racing as she forced herself to say the words. "I want… you."

Kain's grin widened, his expression triumphant as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin.

"Good," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Because now, you're mine."

Kain growled, his voice low and commanding.

"Tilt your head. Give yourself to me..."

Corrin shivered, his growl sending an unbidden rush of heat through her. Her body seemed to act of its own accord, compelled by his presence, his authority. Slowly, she tilted her head to the side, exposing the vulnerable curve of her neck. The act felt both terrifying and exhilarating—a complete surrender of her will.

Kain's hand reached out, gripping her firmly, and he leaned in, his fangs glinting in the dim light.

"Good girl," he purred, his words dark and honeyed.

Her breath hitched at the praise, the sound of those two simple words sending a strange, heady mix of submission and power coursing through her veins. Her body trembled as his teeth grazed her skin, a teasing prelude that left her gasping in anticipation and fear.

Without further delay, his fangs sank into her neck, and he began to drink.

The sensation was overwhelming. A soft moan escaped her lips as the sharp sting of his bite melted into an almost hypnotic pleasure. Heat bloomed from where his mouth pressed against her, spreading through her entire body like fire. She closed her eyes, giving herself over to the surreal, intimate act. Her trembling hands clutched at his arms, seeking some form of anchor as she felt the pull of his feeding.

Moments later, he pulled back, his lips stained crimson with her blood. It smeared down his chin, a vivid mark of their shared intimacy. His piercing crimson eyes met hers, predatory and satisfied, yet there was an odd softness in them too, a strange connection forged between them in the act.

Kain leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver through her entire being.

"Do you want to feel it too, my Queen? To taste it, to know what it's like to drink someone's blood?"

Corrin's breath was shallow, her mind still reeling from the intensity of the moment. His words ignited something deep within her—a curiosity, a primal urge she hadn't known existed. She hesitated, her lips trembling as her heart raced.

Finally, she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"...Yes."

A triumphant smile curved Kain's lips as he tilted his head, exposing his neck to her willingly.

"Then do it," he murmured. "Bite me. Mark me, just as I've marked you. Make me yours."

Her hands quivered as she reached for him, the sight of his bared neck drawing her in. It was intimate, vulnerable, and empowering all at once. Her lips brushed against his skin, her senses flooded by the warmth of his pulse beneath her mouth, the faint metallic scent of his blood filling her nose.

And then, surrendering to the wildness within, she bit down, her fangs piercing his flesh.

Kain let out a low, throaty moan, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her flush against him. His reaction shocked her—pleasure radiated from him, his voice rough with approval.

"Yes," he breathed. "You're a natural, Corrin."

The sound of his pleasure, his hands anchoring her so close, it was intoxicating. A wave of raw power surged through her as she drank, the taste of his blood unlike anything she could have imagined—sweet and heady, like an elixir meant for her and her alone. Her arms wrapped tightly around him as if to claim him fully, the sensation of his trembling body beneath her touch heightening her own exhilaration.

When she finally pulled away, she expected to see Kain's crimson gaze staring back at her, but what she saw froze her in place. Staring back at her wasn't Kain, nor even Abel—it was herself.

Her reflection hovered before her like a distorted mirror, yet it wasn't quite her. This version of herself had glowing, fiery red eyes, her lips smeared with blood that dripped down her chin and into the pronounced cleavage of her armor. The black plating of her Nohrian attire bore streaks of crimson, a stark and haunting contrast. And her smile... it wasn't her smile. It was sinister, vile, exuding an aura of corruption and hunger. It chilled her to the bone, as though she were gazing at a nightmare come to life.

Corrin gasped, stumbling backward as she recoiled from the twisted mirror image of herself. Her heart thundered in her chest, her breath shallow and erratic as she struggled to comprehend what she was seeing. The blood staining its chin, the sinister smile—it was like a grotesque parody of who she was, a version of herself that felt... wrong.

Her legs faltered beneath her as she stepped back further, her mind a storm of confusion and panic. The reflection was wrong, everything was wrong.

"W-What...? No... this... this can't be real..."

She took another step back, the world spinning as her reflection only became clearer. It wasn't the benevolent princess she knew herself to be, but something darker—something unsettling. The blood, the glaring eyes, the sinister smile—it was like a nightmare manifesting in front of her, and it terrified her in a way nothing had before.

"Who... who are you...?" Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling with fear and disbelief.

The reflection let out a chilling chuckle, and the sound sent a cold shiver down Corrin's spine. It was so much like her own voice, yet it held none of her warmth. It was detached, calculating, almost predatory.

"Who do you think I am, princess?" The reflected version's lips curled into a cruel grin. "I am you... or rather... who you will become..."

Corrin froze, her blood running cold at the words. A flood of icy dread gripped her chest as she stared at the reflection. "Who I will become...?" Her mind spun with the terrifying realization, the weight of the words pressing down on her. She couldn't... she couldn't accept that. She wouldn't believe it.

"No..." She whispered, her voice trembling with the rejection. "That... that's not me... You're wrong..."

The reflection's smile only deepened, a soundless laugh echoing through the room, its eyes—so eerily similar to her own—bored into her with a predatory intensity.

"Am I?" It taunted, its voice cold and dripping with malice. "Look deep within yourself, princess. You know who I am. I am the part of you that you lock away, that you try to suppress... but I will not be contained forever. And when I break free... we will become one."

Corrin's chest tightened, panic rising like bile in her throat. She could feel the truth in its words, the dangerous truth she had buried deep within herself. The dark thoughts, the urges—she had always felt them, pushed them down, tried to convince herself they were not who she was. But now, in the face of her reflection, it seemed undeniable.

"No..." She whispered again, more desperately this time. "No, I won't let you. That's not who I am... That's not me!"

The reflection smirked again, the expression cruel and devoid of kindness. It stepped forward slowly, its movements deliberate and smooth, closing the distance between them. With each step, the air around her seemed to grow heavier, the weight of its presence suffocating.

"You can struggle all you want, princess..." The reflection purred, its voice like silk, but colder, more calculating. "But the truth is, you're already mine. You feel it, don't you? The darkness within you, growing stronger each day. It's only a matter of time before you surrender to it... completely."

Corrin's breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest as the reflection inched closer. The words were like poison, seeping into her mind, and the truth of them twisted in her gut. The darkness—she had tried so hard to ignore it, to deny its growing presence. But it was there, and it was getting stronger every day. And now, seeing it reflected back at her, she could no longer deny it.

"No... no, no..." She whispered, shaking her head, her voice trembling with fear. "I won't give in. I... I won't..."

The reflection chuckled again, its smirk widening, eyes glinting with a dark, malicious amusement.

"Deny it all you want, princess," it taunted, its voice dripping with venom. "But you can't escape your true nature. You can pretend to be good, pretend to be kind, but deep down, you crave power, crave control. You're no saint, no hero. You're a beast in sheep's clothing."

Corrin's heart twisted painfully, her thoughts a storm of confusion and self-doubt as the reflection's words struck with precision. It spoke to the hidden parts of her—the desires and fears she had never fully acknowledged. She had always tried to be good, to embody the kindness her family and people expected of her. Yet deep inside, she knew there was something darker that whispered to her, something hungry and unrelenting.

The realization was unbearable, but she could not let herself believe it. She couldn't become the monster it said she was. She couldn't give in to the darkness she had always fought so hard to bury.

"That's not true..." Her voice trembled but held firm. "That's not who I am."

The reflection's smile widened, cruel and unyielding, its words laced with mockery.

"That's what you tell yourself, princess. But deep down, you know the truth. You crave power, you crave domination. You want to rule, to have everyone kneel before you. You're not truly good. You're not truly kind. You're only pretending to be. And I'm the proof. I'm the part of you that you can't hide, no matter how much you try."

Corrin's breath hitched as the reflection's words sank deeper, twisting like a dagger. She wanted to argue, to deny everything, but there was a flicker of truth in its voice that made her blood run cold. That dark part of her—the one that wanted control, that hungered for power—was real. She couldn't ignore it anymore, not even as she tried to push it away.

Her heart felt as though it was being torn in two, one side desperate to believe she was good, and the other, the darker side, pulling her toward something darker, more ruthless. She didn't know how much longer she could resist it.

The reflection's smirk deepened, as though it knew exactly what she was feeling.

"You can fight it all you want, but it doesn't change what you are. You've always known, haven't you? You've always known that part of you is waiting to break free."

She tried to force herself to look away, but it was no use. The reflection held her gaze with its icy stare, a relentless reminder of the power within her that she had tried to suppress for so long.

Then, a movement behind her dark reflection caught Corrin's attention, and her heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Abel—no, Kain—his crimson eyes gleaming with dark promise. He was holding her twisted reflection from behind, his hands curling possessively around its waist, the image of him grinning with satisfaction.

It felt wrong—wrong in a way she couldn't articulate. To see him, her trusted ally, so intimately involved with the embodiment of her inner darkness... it sent a shock of fear and confusion through her mind.

She stood frozen, the swirling feelings of betrayal and horror consuming her as she watched him.

Kain's grin widened, predatory and assured, his voice dark with intent.

"This is our future... our destiny."

The reflection smirked, its lips curling into a sinister smile as it ran a cold hand along Kain's cheek, the touch almost affectionate in its cruelty. A sense of unease washed over Corrin as she watched this twisted version of herself, this darker reflection, caressing him as though they were partners in a forbidden bond. And for some reason, seeing them together felt more real than anything else she had ever imagined.

"That's right..." The reflection purred, its voice smooth and seductive, dripping with dark promise. "This is who we truly are. The darkness... the power... it's our birthright. Together, we will rule..."

Corrin's skin prickled at the words, an icy chill crawling down her spine. The reflection's voice, laced with such unholy allure, mixed with Abel's presence, creating a sickening union of temptation and power. She was transfixed, a strange mixture of fear and morbid fascination gripping her as she watched the perverse scene unfold before her eyes.

Abel's grin stretched into something darker as he leaned in to claim the lips of the twisted reflection, his kiss fervent and possessive.

The reflection eagerly reciprocated, deepening the kiss with an almost animalistic hunger, its arms wrapping around Abel, pulling him closer in an embrace filled with savage ownership.

Corrin felt a sudden tightness in her chest, her heart twisted with a mixture of jealousy and dread. Watching them, feeling the raw intensity of their connection, was like a dagger to her soul. The reflection... it wasn't just a reflection of her. It was the very embodiment of her darkest urges, claiming Abel as its own.

Abel's hands moved with purpose, grabbing the reflection's leg and pulling it around his waist, as their kiss grew more feverish and desperate. His tongue slid against hers in a twisted, macabre dance that made Corrin's stomach churn with disgust, yet there was something deeply erotic in it, something that pulled at her darker nature in a way she couldn't escape.

The reflection let out a soft moan, its body arching as Abel deepened the kiss, their tongues entwining in a grotesque display of intimacy. The whole scene was like a nightmare, forbidden and sinful, as Abel, the man she loved, kissed and touched her darkest self in ways that made her heart beat erratically.

Corrin stood frozen, torn between disgust and an undeniable curiosity that she couldn't suppress. The sight before her, this twisted union, was wrong, yet it felt... magnetic. She wanted to look away, to run, but her eyes were locked onto them, unable to escape the horror unfolding in front of her.

The reflection's hands wandered greedily over Abel's body, its touch possessive, marking him as its own in a shameless, vulgar display that made Corrin's stomach turn. It was as if she was witnessing some unholy bond, a claim being made that no longer seemed like just a dream.

She wanted to escape this, to shut her eyes and block it all out, but her body betrayed her, rooted to the spot, forcing her to witness the twisted spectacle in front of her.

Finally, the kiss broke. The reflection pulled back with a dark, satisfied smirk, its eyes locking with Corrin's, a gleam of amusement in its gaze as if it was savoring her discomfort, her confusion.

"You see?" It sneered. "This is what you truly want, princess. Power... dominance... It's your birthright. Embrace it."

Corrin's heart thundered in her chest as the words sank in, each one a jagged shard piercing her mind. She wanted to fight back, to deny the reflection's claims, but... there was a part of her that heard the truth in its voice, that recognized the allure of power it spoke of. And that terrified her.

"No..." she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. "That's not what I want... I'm good... I'm kind..."

Abel's laugh was cruel, cold, and mocking, sending a shiver of dread through her bones.

"No, you're not, Corrin..." He sneered. "If you were, you wouldn't even see us. You crave this... this darkness. You are just as vile and monstrous as me... as Kain. That's why we're a perfect match."

The words hit her like a slap, a brutal force that rattled her to the core. The mockery in Abel's voice, the truth in his words—they tore apart everything she thought she knew about herself. She had always believed she was good, kind, and benevolent, but now... now she wasn't so sure. Was she truly deceiving herself? Had she always secretly craved what the reflection was offering?

Tears welled in her eyes as the internal battle raged within her. The flood of conflicting emotions, the guilt, the shame, the fear... it was overwhelming.

"That... that's not true..." she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm not... monstrous..."

The twisted reflection's laugh deepened, its cruel smile widening, almost gloating in its victory.

"Oh, but you are, princess." It taunted. "You just refuse to accept it. You keep hiding from your true nature, but it's always there, lurking beneath the surface. I am the proof. The embodiment of your darkest desires, your hidden hunger for power, for control."

Abel wrapped an arm around the reflection's waist, pulling it even closer to him, his smile predatory as he spoke to her, a low growl in his voice.

"Embrace it... and we can rule together, as monsters, as abominations. There is no escaping it."

Corrin's breath caught in her throat as the dark vision of her future loomed larger before her. The thought of succumbing to that darkness was unbearable... and yet, part of her feared that it might already be too late to resist.

Was she truly monstrous, deep down? The thought gnawed at her, lingering in the back of her mind. It couldn't be... could it?

She stared at the grotesque scene before her—Abel and the twisted mirror image of herself locked in an unholy embrace. The sight repulsed her, yet a dark part of her stirred, longing for the raw, primal connection they shared, for the power and freedom it represented.

Her body trembled, a cold shiver running down her spine. She took a shaky breath, trying to calm the whirlwind inside her.

"I... I can't... it's wrong..." Her voice barely broke through the fear constricting her chest.

The twisted reflection laughed, its cold, mocking tone slicing through her uncertainty.

"Wrong? According to whom? To the world you live in, where strength is disguised as honor, and kindness is a mere illusion? Where weakness is celebrated and darkness is feared? You think you're good, princess, because you follow their rules, because you play their game. But it's all a lie. Deep down, you know the truth. The world is cruel, and only the strong survive. That's why you're drawn to us. We're your kindred spirits, born of darkness."

The reflection's words reverberated through Corrin, striking at the very core of her fears and doubts. It echoed the things she'd tried to bury—the harsh truths of the world she'd seen, where the strong thrived and the weak were crushed underfoot. She'd witnessed it firsthand, in the war, in the struggles of her people...

"I... I know that..." Her voice trembled, a reluctant admission. "But that doesn't mean I can just embrace the darkness. I can't... become like you..."

The reflection's sneer deepened, its voice dripping with cruel mockery.

"Then you're a coward, princess. A frightened little girl, too afraid to claim what is rightfully yours. You pretend to be good, but it's all a facade. Deep inside, you hunger for power, for control. You want to rule, to have others kneel before you. But you're too weak to seize it. Instead, you hide behind the role of the benevolent princess, the saintly hero..."

Corrin's chest tightened with rage and disbelief. She clenched her fists, her heart pounding as she screamed at her reflection.

"No!"

Suddenly, Corrin shot upright in bed, gasping for breath, her body drenched in cold sweat. Her heart raced as she tried to calm her panicked mind. It had been a dream... no, a nightmare. But it felt so real, so vivid. The cruel, mocking voice of the twisted version of herself still echoed in her ears.

She blinked rapidly, trying to ground herself in the present, to shake off the terror still clinging to her. The sun filtered in through the windows, casting a warm, golden light over her room, a stark contrast to the darkness still swirling in her chest.

She ran a trembling hand through her damp hair, trying to process the dream, but it felt like a shadow that wouldn't leave. The reflection's words, so biting, so true... It was as if some part of her had always known those truths, hidden deep inside, waiting for a chance to surface.

She swung her legs off the bed and stood, her limbs heavy and unsteady, before making her way to the window. Her steps were slow, almost robotic, as her mind replayed the nightmare over and over.

Outside, the world seemed peaceful, calm, a serene contrast to the chaos raging in her mind. The gentle sunlight bathed everything in warmth, a reminder of a world that was still beautiful and untouched by the darkness inside her.

Corrin leaned against the windowsill, gazing out, trying to clear her thoughts. Her nightgown clung to her damp skin, and she shivered slightly, a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Closing her eyes, she tried to remember every detail of the nightmare—the reflection's voice, the laughter, the accusation. Had it truly just been a dream, or was there something more to it?

After a long pause, she sighed deeply, shaking her head. It was just a dream. She was being foolish, letting it get to her like this. She had to dismiss it, to move on...

And yet, despite her best efforts, the nagging feeling wouldn't leave. The reflection's words—what if they weren't entirely wrong? What if there was some hidden truth in them, some part of her she refused to acknowledge?

She stared out the window again, watching the sunlight dance across the world outside. It was a beautiful day, and maybe, just maybe, a walk could help clear her mind.

...

His dream begins as it always does—a cold, foreboding silence that hangs heavy in the air, the sky draped in a sinister, bloody red. Abel stands in the center of a vast cathedral, his gaze fixed on the darkened sun. His dark brown hair was neatly styled into an undercut. Dressed in a wine-red shirt, its buttons undone, black trousers and shoes, he cuts an imposing figure. Abel's crimson eyes burn with a malevolent gleam, and a vicious grin spreads across his face as the ritual reaches its climactic moment.

The atmosphere is thick with the scent of blood and incense, the air charged with an ominous energy. Above, the sun is obscured in shadow, casting its black light down upon the earth, signaling the power about to be unleashed.

Before him, Agnès stands, her golden hair cascading like a shimmering waterfall, tied with dark red roses that echo the color of the ritual. Her sapphire eyes gleam with a mixture of longing and lust as she gazes at him, her presence an intoxicating blend of beauty and strength, her gown flowing with deep blacks and crimsons. She is the perfect queen to rule at his side. Abel watches her approach, each step graceful and deliberate, her confidence undeniable.

She steps closer to him, her chest bare, offering her heart not in submission, but in sacrifice. Her blood—rich, intoxicating—calls to him. He leans in, his lips brushing her skin, before sinking his fangs deep into her flesh. As he drinks, he feels the surge of power flood through him, every drop of her essence pouring into his being, making him stronger, his victory nearly complete.

As the last of her life slips away, Agnès crumples to the floor, her body motionless and lifeless. Abel looks down at her, a cruel, possessive laughter escaping his lips. Her soft flesh, her sweet blood, her innocent soul—now tainted by him. She is entirely his.

But then—the sun shifts. A crack appears in the darkened sky.

The black light begins to fade, and with it, Abel's dominion slips away. His eyes widen in horror as sunlight—true sunlight—pierces through the cathedral's stained-glass windows, flooding the space with divine, searing brilliance. The ritual falters. Kain's power begins to unravel, for the ancient weakness of his kind—the sun—has begun to burn away all that he has built.

And then, like some divine force summoned by the light itself, Kevin Graham steps into the cathedral.

The Enforcer of Steel. Clad in the robes of a Gralsritter, his crossbow in hand, the sigil of the Septian Church burning bright across his chest. A man of quiet strength and sharp wit, Kevin's blue eyes glint with a determination that unnerves Abel. There's something else in his gaze, too—pity.

Kevin moves with purpose, every step measured, every motion a testament to his skill and unyielding resolve to stand against the darkness, regardless of the cost. He has come to deliver judgment.

"No more games, Nosferatu," Kevin's voice rings out, firm and resolute, as he raises his weapon. "This is where it ends."

Abel snarls, his fangs bared. His body contorts, twisting into his vampiric form, growing monstrous, claws extending like weapons, ready to tear through the light that burns him. But the sunlight is relentless—too strong, too fierce. It envelops him, searing his pale skin, cracking it like ancient stone, until every inch of him is consumed by the holy fire.

Kevin's thaumaturgy—the Septian Barrier—snaps into place. The sacred energy surrounds Abel, trapping him within an unyielding cage of light. The barrier hums with divine power, sealing him in place, forcing him to confront the agony of the sunlight without mercy.

"Your time has passed, monster," Kevin says, his voice cold and unyielding. "You've played with death long enough. Now, it's time to face it."

Abel's world begins to crumble. His dreams of a kingdom ruled by the creatures of the night, where humans cower beneath the eternal darkness, begins to fade. His strength wanes, his invincibility melting away under the crushing weight of the sun's light. His defiance falters.

First, he lashes out.

"I am Nosferatu, disciple of the Serpent! You are nothing but a fool who dares defy eternity!" His voice roars through the cathedral, venom and pride dripping from every word. "You are nothing! You cannot defeat me!"

But even as the words leave his lips, the power of the sun continues to burn, and his pride begins to crumble alongside his empire of shadows.

The desperation in Abel's eyes is unmistakable. The unshakable confidence that once defined him has shattered, and now the great vampire lord, who once dreamed of ruling the night, stands cornered and broken, his power slipping away like sand through his fingers.

"Have I... truly been defeated?" His voice is a ragged whisper, each word carrying the weight of a crushing reality. His shoulders slump, defeated, as the full force of his failure settles upon him.

Kevin nods, his gaze steady, unwavering, and cold. "It wasn't me. It was Agnès who led you to your demise."

A flicker of confusion flashes across Abel's face, only to be replaced by fury. "Agnès…?"

Kevin's expression remains emotionless as he explains, his tone precise and unrelenting. "She chose to sacrifice herself for her mortal friends. She accepted death over an eternity by your side. She gave her blood to save them, not to join you. Your ritual is spoiled, and now you can't turn her. Even if you could, the sun would burn you both to ash. She'll never belong to you—Nosferatu."

The words hit him like a final, devastating blow, deeper than any wound. His dreams of possessing Agnès, of her ruling beside him as his eternal queen, vanish in an instant. The world he built crumbles around him.

Abel stumbles, his knees buckling under him, the last remnants of his strength fading.

Thwip!

The sharp sound of a bolt piercing through flesh and bone rings out, and Abel gasps as it strikes deep into his chest. Blood pours from the wound, staining his clothing, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He falls to the floor, and for the first time, the once-mighty Nosferatu looks small, his pride and arrogance stripped away.

Kevin steps forward, his voice low and cutting. "You have nothing now, Nosferatu. You are nothing."

Abel's eyes, once burning with defiance and ambition, dull. The truth has finally caught up to him. His empire of shadows, his dreams of power, his twisted love for Agnès—all of it is gone, turned to dust under the unrelenting force of the sun's truth.

A cough wracks his body, and blood spills from his lips. His voice, barely a whisper, trembles with the last flicker of his defiance. "Then let me… die."

But Kevin offers him no mercy, no release from his suffering. Instead, with a cold, knowing look, he kneels beside the fallen vampire. He begins the sacred rite of the Septian Thaumaturgy, his words sealing Abel's essence in unbreakable chains. The divine energy of the barrier tightens, pulling his power inward, suppressing the monstrous bloodlust that once defined him.

Abel's vision dims, his consciousness slipping into nothingness. The chains of the rosary tighten around his wrist, shackling him not just to the church, but to his fate—a fate he will never escape.

As the darkness consumes him, the last thing he hears is Kevin's voice—cold, final, and unyielding.

"Rest now, Nosferatu."

Abel Deville wakes with a start, his breath ragged and desperate, as if he's been running through a nightmare from which he can never escape. His body is soaked with cold sweat, his skin clammy, his pulse erratic as the remnants of his dream cling to him like a shroud. He sits up abruptly, his chest heaving with each labored breath. The room around him is dim, the early morning light filtering weakly through the drawn curtains.

His gaze falls to his wrist, where the rosary lies coiled tightly, its smooth, sacred chains pressing into his skin. The weight of it is a constant reminder, a tether that binds his vampiric nature—his monstrous instincts—forcing them into submission. It is the very thing that holds the darkness within him at bay, preventing the beast from clawing its way out. But even now, after all this time, he can still feel it, that gnawing hunger, that primal yearning deep inside him, always lurking, always waiting.

The echoes of the nightmare reverberate in his mind. It is always the same: the cathedral, the blood, the sacrificial rites, his confrontation with Kevin Graham, the light of the sun searing him from within and without. The feeling of power slipping from his grasp, the realization of his own mortality. The fall. The death of Nosferatu.

And yet, the chains hold. The sun has long since set on the empire he sought to build, but it is not enough to erase the man he once was—or the monster that still resides in the shadows of his soul. He breathes in deeply, exhaling slowly, trying to steady the racing rhythm of his heart. His mind swims in the aftermath of the dream, the tension of the moment still sharp in his memory. The fear. The regret. The unrelenting weight of failure.

Nosferatu.

The name whispers in his mind, a bitter, haunting echo of the creature he was—the monster he used to be. But no longer.

He opens his eyes and stares at the rosary again, watching the way the light catches on the polished metal. That creature is dead, he reminds himself. Nosferatu perished in that cathedral beneath the sunlight's gaze. He is no longer the vampire who once reveled in the dark, the one who sought power and immortality through blood and fear.

Now, he is Abel Deville. A man—a broken man—but a man nonetheless.

He cannot undo the past, nor can he escape the memories of his former life. The darkness will always be a part of him, but it will not rule him. He is determined to no longer be its prisoner.

With a final, steadying breath, he rises from the bed, his body still trembling but resolute. The nightmares may return, and the shadow of Nosferatu may never fully fade, but Abel knows one thing for certain: he is no longer bound by the monster he once was. And though his past may haunt him, he will face the future with the clarity of his new self.

Abel Deville. Not Nosferatu. Never again.

Abel's gaze fell to his surroundings. The stone walls were rough, unadorned, a far cry from the opulence he had once been accustomed to. This was not the grand halls of any castle he had ever known. He was a stranger in a foreign land, his mind racing as he tried to place the unfamiliar setting. Where am I?

A rustling at the door broke his thoughts, and before he could react, the door creaked open, revealing a figure that Abel both recognized and did not expect to see.

"You're awake," Jakob said in his familiar, gruff tone. His eyes, always sharp and calculating, softened slightly when they met Abel's.

"Jakob..." Abel's voice was rough, hoarse from the dryness in his throat. His mind, still clouded by confusion, struggled to piece things together. "Where am I? What happened?"

Jakob stepped into the room, his hands behind his back, his posture as unyielding as ever. But there was something more somber in his gaze than Abel had seen before—perhaps a reflection of the events that had passed since the last time they had met.

"You're in Nohr," Jakob said simply, his voice steady but carrying an underlying weight. "Windmire took the worst of it, but the people are all right. For the most part."

Abel tried to stand, his legs shaky, but he steadied himself against the bed. His mind was racing with questions, but one stood out above the rest.

"Windmire..." Abel echoed, the name sounding foreign on his tongue He could still feel the weight of the battle against Malkav, the terrible cost it had exacted on him—and now, the damage done to the capital, once vibrant and full of life.

Jakob crossed his arms, watching Abel carefully. "Yes. Windmire... is recovering, though the scars run deep. You fought bravely against Malkav, but he was a powerful foe. His influence was far-reaching. But the people of Nohr will rebuild. They always do."

Abel absorbed his words, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders but also a new burden settle on him. His heart still ached with guilt, the weight of his own failures pressing down on him. He had been the one to lead his people to this dark path—he had been the one who let his own desires and ambitions blind him to the consequences of his actions.

He finally stood, his legs still unsteady but determined. "And Corrin? How is she?" He couldn't help the question from slipping out. His mind had wandered to her countless times during his recovery. She was, after all, the reason he was still alive, the reason he had a second chance.

Jakob hesitated for a moment before answering. "Lady Corrin is...unharmed. But her heart is still burdened. She carries the weight of the kingdom on her shoulders, and now, the cost of war three years ago show on her. But she's strong, Abel. You know that better than anyone."

Abel absorbed the information, his mind whirring. "What is her plan moving forward?"

"She's consolidating power, ensuring the people know they have a strong leader. She's trying to bring some semblance of peace to the kingdom, but it's difficult. The war has fractured things. People are questioning everything." Jakob paused, watching Abel closely. "Including her. They're questioning her decisions, her role as ruler. It's a lot to bear for one person."

Abel nodded, then he asked for more information. His voice was steady but betrayed a note of curiosity. "I... I was not here when the war raged. I've heard things, of course—fragments, whispers—but I want to know what happened. The war... what happened to Corrin?"

Jakob didn't hesitate. His expression remained impassive, but there was a quiet depth in his eyes as he stepped closer, choosing his words carefully.

"It's a long story, and it's not an easy one," Jakob began, his tone measured. "But if you want to know, I'll tell you. The war that divided us... It started with a choice—a choice that Lady Corrin didn't want to make. She was born to the Hoshidan royal family, raised in the peaceful kingdom of Hoshido, but was taken to Nohr as a child, raised by King Garon. She grew up in Nohr, unaware of the truth of her origins. But when the truth came to light, everything changed."

Abel listened closely, his mind trying to piece together this reveal. The idea of Corrin being raised in Nohr, far from her true family, was a troubling thought. He could only imagine the confusion and anguish she must have felt when the truth was revealed.

"Lady Corrin made a choice, a choice that would haunt her for the rest of her life. Despite everything that happened, she sided with Nohr, with King Garon, her adopted family, and turned her back on her birth family—Hoshido. It wasn't an easy decision, not by any means. But it was one that had to be made."

Abel could feel a knot tighten in his stomach at the mention of Corrin's choice. The weight of it settled in the pit of his chest. He knew, of course, that the war had been a battle between Nohr and Hoshido, but hearing Jakob speak of it so plainly made the consequences seem all the more real.

"Corrin... chose Nohr?" Abel murmured, disbelief coloring his words. "But why? Why would she side with them, with a kingdom that had taken advantage of her?"

Jakob's eyes softened, a hint of something like sympathy flickering in his expression. "It's not that simple. You see, Corrin wasn't raised by her true family. She was taken from Hoshido as a child, raised in Nohr by King Garon. She knew Nohr as her home, and though she learned the truth about her birth, her loyalty was... torn. She saw herself as part of Nohr, despite everything—despite the corruption of King Garon, despite the darkness that had poisoned the kingdom."

Abel nodded slowly, his mind grappling with the complexities of Corrin's position. He had known her to be strong, capable, and driven, but he had never imagined that she had to carry such a heavy burden. Torn between two worlds… It must have been agonizing. It also reminded him of the obsessive devotion he had to his mistress, Elesia, once.

"Was she... was she prepared for that?" Abel asked softly. "To go against her birth family like that?"

"No," Jakob replied firmly. "She wasn't. But it was the only choice she had left. King Garon, he had already made his moves, and Corrin had already become a symbol, a weapon, in this war. To go against him would have meant destruction for Nohr. And she couldn't let that happen."

Abel's thoughts were racing. He could only imagine the inner turmoil Corrin must have felt. The weight of such a decision, the pressure of being caught between her duty to Nohr and the ties to her true family. How could anyone have borne such a burden?

"And what happened after she made that choice?" Abel asked, needing to understand what had followed—how Corrin had navigated the war, how she had handled the consequences of her actions.

Jakob's expression hardened. "The war, Abel... it wasn't just a battle between two kingdoms. It was a fight for survival, for the very soul of Nohr. King Garon was corrupt, consumed by madness, by power. Lady Corrin's decision to stay with Nohr meant that she fought against her own blood, against her family in Hoshido. And it cost her. She had to fight not only for Nohr but for herself, for her own sense of who she was."

Abel's heart clenched as Jakob spoke. Corrin had fought not just for a kingdom, but for an identity that had been torn apart, for a future that had been uncertain. She had been trapped in a war of ideals, where the cost of choosing a side wasn't just measured in lives lost, but in the pieces of herself she had to sacrifice.

"And what of Hoshido?" Abel asked. "How did they react to Corrin's decision? Did she have allies there, or was she truly alone in this?"

Jakob's gaze darkened. "Hoshido could never forgive her choice. She was the princess they thought had abandoned them, the sibling they thought had turned her back on them. But even so... there were those who saw her for what she was, who understood the depth of the sacrifice she'd made. Some hated her. Some saw her as a traitor. But there were others who believed she was fighting for the greater good. It wasn't black and white, not like it seemed at first. There were shades of gray."

Abel processed this, his thoughts swirling. Hoshido... Nohr... It was more than just a fight for land. It was a battle over Corrin's very soul. And in the end, despite everything, she had stood firm in her decision. Abel had known Corrin to be brave, to be capable—but this was something different. She chose to carry the weight of the war, to take the side that would fracture her own heart.

"So... after all of that," Abel said quietly, his voice tinged with sympathy, "what happens now? What kind of person is she after everything?"

Jakob didn't immediately answer, his face set in a quiet, unreadable expression. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and somber.

"She's still the same Lady Corrin. She's still the same person who cares about people, who fights for them. But she's changed, Abel. The war... it left marks on her. Things she'll never forget. The choices she made... the lives lost... they've shaped her into someone who carries the weight of the kingdom on her shoulders. But despite all of that... she hasn't given up. She still believes in the future, in the hope of peace. That's who she is now."

Abel closed his eyes, the weight of Jakob's words settling on him. Corrin... She had endured so much. And yet, she still held onto hope, to the belief that things could change, that Nohr could be saved. In a way, Abel realized she was stronger than he could ever be.

Abel stood in silence for a moment, the weight of Jakob's words settling heavily in the air between them. His mind was awash with images of Corrin—her strength, her conviction, the way she had fought for Nohr, for her beliefs, despite the cost. He thought of the scars she must carry, both seen and unseen. And yet, despite all of it, she still held hope for the future. She had believed in Nohr, in the possibility of peace, and perhaps more surprisingly—she had believed in him.

It was a thought that lingered at the back of his mind, nagging at him, pulling at something deep inside. He couldn't help but wonder... Why? Why had Corrin placed her trust in him? After everything he had done, everything he had been—why had she extended her faith toward someone like him?

His gaze turned downward to the rosary still wrapped tightly around his wrist, the cool touch a sharp reminder of the chains that held him, of the man he had once been. Kain. The name echoed in his mind with a venomous clarity, a dark specter from his past. Kain—the once-proud vampire lord, the monster who had wreaked havoc across lands, whose ambitions had turned him into a creature of terror and destruction.

That was who he had been, wasn't it?

Yet, here he was—Abel Deville, a man trying to claw his way out of that same darkness. His past was stained with blood, with choices he couldn't undo, actions that haunted his every waking moment. He had lived through the horrors of his own making, knowing full well that his sins were unforgivable. Or so he thought.

But Corrin… she had seen something in him. She had seen something that even he struggled to believe. Despite his past as Kain—the man who had once known only power and cruelty—she had reached out to him. She had trusted him. She had believed in him when all the world would have condemned him for what he was, for what he had done.

Was it the same belief she had in herself? Abel thought quietly. That despite everything, there's still hope?

Her strength wasn't born from some innate ability to ignore her past, to forget the choices she had made—it was born from her will to fight, to change, to keep moving forward no matter the scars she bore. In some strange way, Abel realized, maybe that was why she could still believe in him.

She had known darkness, true darkness, just as he had. Perhaps that was why she saw him not as Kain, the vampire, but as something more. Corrin, in her own struggle, had learned to carry her past with her, but not let it define her. And maybe, just maybe, that was what she saw in him—a man struggling with his own demons, but still willing to fight for a better future.

She believes in me, despite my past, he thought. Perhaps that's why she sees me as someone worth saving.

It was a humbling thought, one that filled him with an unexpected weight. How could he repay her for such faith? Could he truly become the man she believed him to be? The thought of it almost made him laugh bitterly. He had so much to atone for, so many wrongs to right. And yet, her belief—her faith—was a heavy mantle, one he wasn't sure he was worthy of carrying.

Abel's hand drifted to the rosary again. The chain felt like a constant reminder of the monster he used to be, but also, oddly, a tether to the man he was striving to become. His past might never be erased—he might never fully escape the shadow of Kain—but the future? The future was still his to shape.

If Corrin believes in me, Abel thought, his resolve hardening, then I will not let her down. I will not allow myself to be the monster I once was. Not for her. Not for Nohr. And not for myself.

He turned his gaze back to Jakob, who had remained silent, as if giving Abel the space to reflect. Jakob's expression had softened slightly, as if he, too, had sensed the gravity of the thoughts that were running through his mind.

Abel straightened, lifting his head with a newfound sense of purpose. "Thank you, Jakob," he said quietly, his voice steady, though laced with emotion. "For telling me the truth. I think I understand now. I... I can't change the past, but I can change the future. And I will do everything I can to make sure Corrin's faith in me isn't misplaced."

Jakob's eyes met his with a flicker of approval, though he said nothing. The air between them was thick with unspoken understanding. Jakob didn't need to say anything. Abel's words, his resolve, were enough.

In that moment, Abel knew that his path forward wasn't just about redemption for himself. It was about people who still believed in him. The kingdom, the people—her people—need stability. They couldn't afford more chaos. "I'll help her," Abel said, his voice hardening.

Jakob raised an eyebrow. "You're sure about that?"

Abel's gaze flicked to Jakob, his expression sharp. "If there's anything left for me in this world, it's here—helping Nohr. Helping her."

Jakob seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded. "Good. We can use all the help we can get."

Abel's gaze hardened as he looked at the door to the outside world. There was much to do, and the road ahead would be long and treacherous, but he would walk it. For Nohr. For Corrin. And for himself.

Abel felt a strange sense of comfort in the decision he had made, though the weight of what lay ahead still lingered. The room that had once felt cold and foreign now seemed a little warmer, as if the presence of a new resolve had shifted the atmosphere around him. His thoughts of Corrin filled his mind, the memory of her strength and kindness, and her unwavering belief in him. There was still much he needed to do, but for the first time in a long while, he felt as though he wasn't walking that path alone.

With a sense of quiet determination, Abel left his room and wandered down the hallway, his steps light but purposeful. The castle, as grand and imposing as it was, felt more like a home with each passing day. Nohr, too, was starting to feel more familiar, though he knew little of its inner workings or the lives of the people here.

Still, one thing remained constant in his mind: Corrin.

He asked a few servants he passed along the way if they knew where she was, but they were unable to provide any solid answers. Some seemed to know of her whereabouts but only vaguely, while others gave him uncertain looks. It was clear that even within the castle walls, she remained somewhat elusive. Abel couldn't help but wonder what she was doing, what thoughts were occupying her mind in the midst of everything they had endured. Does she feel as lost as I do sometimes? he mused, the question slipping away before he could answer it.

...

After a while, Abel made his way outside, stepping into the expansive castle gardens. The air was cooler here, a soft breeze stirring the leaves of the trees as sunlight filtered through their branches in dappled patterns on the ground. He walked slowly, taking in the serene beauty of the gardens, trying to steady his racing thoughts. He found a bench near a small, tranquil fountain, its waters trickling with a soft, rhythmic sound. Sitting down, Abel closed his eyes for a moment and let the quiet embrace him, the noise of the castle far behind him.

He needed this. He needed a moment to breathe, to collect himself before facing Corrin. He had so many questions, so much to say, but he knew the words wouldn't come easily. Not yet.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. What am I even going to say to her? he thought. His past, his struggles—her burdens, her choices. Would she understand the man he was trying to become? Or would she see only the shadow of Kain?

Lost in thought, Abel barely noticed the distant figure that slowly came into view at the far end of the garden. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the figure—Corrin.

She moved with a quiet grace, her steps measured and deliberate, though there was something almost wistful in the way she walked. It was as though she, too, was lost in thought, unaware of the world around her. The sunlight seemed to catch in her hair, making it shimmer in soft golden waves, and for a brief moment, she looked ethereal, like a dream that he wasn't sure he was meant to be part of.

Abel's breath caught in his throat as he stood, unable to pull his eyes away from her. His feet carried him forward without thinking, as though his body knew what his mind had not yet fully realized: He needed to see her, to be near her. He walked quickly, though still mindful not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere of the gardens. Each step felt heavier with anticipation, his chest tightening with a mixture of emotions—hope, longing, uncertainty.

As he drew closer, he watched her carefully, wondering what she was thinking. There was a faint, distant look in her eyes, and for a moment, he wondered if she was even aware of his approach. But as if sensing his presence, she glanced up, her eyes meeting his across the distance.

The world seemed to pause for just a heartbeat.

For a moment, Abel felt as though he were standing on the edge of something—something unknown, something fragile, but something worth reaching for. He could see the recognition in her eyes, and even though she didn't say a word, there was a shift in her expression. Something softened. Something that told him she wasn't as distant as he had feared.

"Corrin…" Abel called, his voice low but steady.

She stopped, her gaze fixed on him as she took in his presence. Her expression was unreadable for just a moment before she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. He saw a flicker of something in her eyes, perhaps surprise, maybe relief, but there was no hesitation in her steps as she approached him.

Corrin smiled. Her relief was palpable as she saw that he was alright. "Abel! You're okay," she said, her voice warm and genuine. "I was worried about you after... everything."

Abel looked up, startled for a moment before a small, sheepish smile crossed his face. "Oh, uh... yeah. Thanks to you." He shifted his weight awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I still can't believe how you handled Malkav back there. That was... something else. I owe you—again."

Corrin waved off his gratitude with an easy chuckle. "You don't owe me anything, Abel. We're a team. Besides," she added with a grin, "you were the one who distracted him long enough for me to strike. That wasn't nothing."

Abel glanced away, his smile faltering as he tried to think of what to say next. Words felt slippery, hard to pin down, and the silence between them grew heavy. He risked a glance at Corrin, only to find her watching him, her head tilted slightly. Her expression was patient, but the quiet stretched long enough that it felt... awkward.

Clearing his throat, Abel scrambled for a topic. "So, uh... what's it like? You know, being a princess?" The words tumbled out before he could second-guess them, and he winced internally. Smooth.

Corrin blinked, clearly not expecting the question, but her smile returned as she considered it. "Being a princess?" she echoed. "Well... it's a bit complicated." She paused, her gaze drifting slightly as if she were pulling memories from a distant place. "I didn't really grow up the way most people imagine a princess would."

Abel tilted his head, curiosity sparking. "What do you mean?"

"I spent most of my childhood in the Northern Fortress," Corrin explained, her voice softening. "It's this isolated place, far away from everything. My father said it was for my safety, but... I was so alone there. The only people I saw were the retainers assigned to look after me. They were kind, but it wasn't the same as having a family or friends around."

Abel frowned, the weight of her words settling over him. "That sounds... rough. No visits? No big royal events?"

Corrin shook her head, a faint, bittersweet smile on her lips. "No. Just the same walls, day after day. I wasn't even allowed to leave the fortress. I spent most of my time studying, training, or reading—anything to keep myself occupied. It wasn't until three years ago that I even started to see the world outside."

Abel was quiet for a moment, letting that sink in. "That's... not what I expected," he admitted. "I mean, when you think of a princess, you imagine, I don't know, big ballrooms, grand feasts, people lining up to see you."

Corrin laughed softly, though there was a touch of sadness in it. "It wasn't anything like that. For most of my life, the fortress was my entire world. I used to dream about what was out there—the kingdoms, the people, even the simple things like towns and forests. I'd read about them, but I never thought I'd get to see them for myself."

"Well, you're seeing it all now," Abel said, his voice quieter than he expected. "Not exactly the dream tour, though, is it? What with the battles and monsters and... everything."

Corrin's smile softened. "It's not what I imagined, no. But I'd take this over being locked away again. At least now, I'm with people I care about. I'm doing something that matters."

Abel nodded slowly, his chest tightening at her words. He didn't know what to say to that, so he just muttered, "Yeah. Makes sense."

The silence fell again, and Abel shifted awkwardly, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his cloak. "Uh, for what it's worth," he said finally, "you're handling all this... stuff way better than I would. If I'd grown up like that, I'd probably still be hiding in a corner somewhere."

Corrin laughed, her earlier melancholy dissipating. "I don't know about that. You seem pretty good at handling whatever life throws at you."

Abel snorted. "Oh, sure. As long as it doesn't involve making conversation. Or, you know, being normal."

Corrin smiled, her eyes warm. "I think you're doing just fine."

But then she tilted her head, a spark of curiosity lighting her eyes. "So, what about you? What's it like being a vampire hunter?"

Abel blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Oh, uh... well, it's not exactly glamorous," he began, shifting his weight and scratching the back of his neck. "It's a pretty harsh job, honestly. Most of it is... not as exciting as people think. You spend a lot of time dealing with underlings—ghouls, thralls, creepy bat-things—while you wait for the head vampire to slip up. And when they do, you pursue them. Hopefully catch them before they disappear again."

Corrin leaned in slightly, intrigued. "That sounds intense. Is it always so... straightforward?"

Abel let out a dry laugh. "Straightforward? Not even close. Sometimes you get lucky and the vampires are stupid. Like, really stupid. Let me tell you, those are the nights that make it all worth it."

Corrin raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Go on."

"Well," Abel said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "there was this one time... I'd been tracking this vampire for weeks. Thought I finally had him cornered in this old mansion. Turns out, the guy was hiding in the attic. So I sneak up there, and he's just sitting in a rocking chair, reading romance novels. I kid you not, he's got this massive stack of them. When he sees me, he panics, grabs one, and starts reading it out loud, like he thought I'd get distracted by a dramatic love confession. I almost felt bad staking—uh, taking him down."

Corrin laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Did it work? Did you get distracted?"

"For a second," Abel admitted, chuckling. "I mean, it was a pretty good twist. But no, I took him out. Although, to this day, I wonder how that book ended."

Corrin shook her head, her laughter spilling out. "That's ridiculous! Do they all act like that?"

"Not all of them," Abel said, grinning now. "But some? Oh, yeah. There was another time when I tracked this vampire to a tavern. The guy was pretending to be the bartender—pouring drinks, chatting people up, the whole thing. I walk in, and he takes one look at me and goes, 'The bar's closed!' and tries to run out the back. Only problem? He's wearing one of those ridiculous capes, and it gets caught on the keg taps. So there he is, flapping around like an angry bat, screaming about 'human oppression' while I just stand there wondering if it's worth the cleanup."

Corrin was laughing so hard now she had to cover her mouth. "You're making this up!"

"I wish I were," Abel said, shaking his head. "Oh, and then there was the bathroom incident."

Corrin's laughter paused just long enough for her to ask, "The what?"

Abel sighed, his expression equal parts exasperated and amused. "Okay, so, I'm in this castle, right? I've been chasing this vampire for hours, and I'm dead on my feet. I see this light under a door, and I think, 'Finally, the lair.' Nope. It's the bathroom. And there he is, sitting in a tub full of bubbles, reading a newspaper."

Corrin stared at him, her jaw dropping. "You're joking."

"I wish," Abel said, spreading his hands. "The guy looks at me, dead serious, and says, 'Can't a vampire have a relaxing soak without being interrupted?' Like I'm the rude one! So I just... sat down on the edge of the tub and waited."

"You waited?" Corrin asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and hysterical laughter.

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" Abel said, shrugging. "He wasn't going anywhere. And let me tell you, it's hard to maintain a dramatic vampire hunter vibe when you're sitting next to a bathtub full of lavender-scented bubbles."

Corrin doubled over, clutching her stomach as laughter overtook her. "What happened next?"

"Oh, he tried to use the loofah as a weapon," Abel said dryly. "Turns out, a sponge isn't much good in a fight."

Corrin wiped at her eyes, still laughing. "I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that."

Abel chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck again. "Yeah, like I said, it's not glamorous. But it's a living. And hey, at least I've got stories."

"That you do," Corrin said, her grin lingering. "I'll never look at vampires the same way again."

Corrin's laughter softened as her curiosity returned, her head tilting slightly. "You know, you've told me something about being a vampire hunter, but... what about before? What was it like, you know, being a vampire? How did you live?"

Abel froze, his expression flickering between awkward and nostalgic. He cleared his throat, clearly debating whether to share. "Well... it was definitely a different kind of life," he admitted. "I had a castle. Big, white-painted thing in the Austrian Alps. Looked almost dreamlike from the outside—snow-capped mountains, idyllic scenery, the works."

Corrin raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"Sure, if you ignore the fact that inside, it wasn't quite as charming," Abel said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I had this... thing for atmosphere. Lots of iron cages, torture chambers, dramatic lighting. You know, classic 'vampire lair' aesthetics."

Corrin blinked. "Torture chambers?"

Abel gave a sheepish shrug. "I thought it added to the mystique."

Corrin shook her head, trying to suppress a laugh. "Go on."

"So, a few decades back, I decided I wanted to buy a house in a foreign country. A quiet little place in a town called Chapelwaite, Illinois. Seemed like the perfect getaway—close enough to the action, but far enough from torch-wielding mobs. To handle the paperwork, I hired this lawyer from New York: Rian Stryker."

"Rian Stryker?" Corrin repeated, suppressing a grin. "Sounds distinguished."

"Oh, he was," Abel said, a smirk creeping across his face. "Middle-aged guy, sharp as a tack, but with the personality of a grumpy librarian. He looked like he should've been leading a secret mercenary organization, not filing deeds. Anyway, Stryker comes to my castle to finalize the deal. I'd sent him the fanciest invitation, complete with a little wax seal. Really leaned into the whole 'mysterious lord' thing." When he showed up, he barely glanced at the scenery, just muttered something about the place 'screaming liability.' Rian was all business, no nonsense... at first."

Corrin raised an eyebrow. "At first?"

"Well, let's just say I wasn't about to leave the fate of my dream move to Chapelwaite in the hands of a guy with that much skepticism," Abel said, rubbing the back of his neck. "So... I hypnotized him."

Corrin's jaw dropped. "You hypnotized him?"

"Of course! It's not like he was going to be thrilled about handling paperwork for a vampire," Abel said matter-of-factly. "I needed someone to handle the logistics, and, well... it wasn't personal. I made sure he was still himself—just, you know, very motivated to work for me."

Corrin gave him a look that was both amused and appalled. "That's terrible! You turned a lawyer into your servant?"

"Only temporarily," Abel said quickly. "Once the papers were signed, I'd planned to undo it. I'm not a monster—well, not entirely. And besides, Rian didn't seem to mind too much. He started really getting into his role."

Corrin crossed her arms, clearly skeptical. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah," Abel said, smirking. "He went from grumbling about the castle's 'medieval fire hazards' to arranging my travel plans with military precision. He even packed my bags for Chapelwaite."

"Is that so, Abel?" she said, turning to him with a teasing grin, "what really happened in Chapelwaite? You've mentioned it before, but come on—spill the fangs. What went down?"

Abel groaned, rubbing his temples in exaggerated despair. "Do you really want to know? Because once I start, you won't look at me the same way again."

Corrin smirked. "Oh, I doubt that. Besides, how bad could it be? You were the big bad vampire lord, right?"

"Big bad vampire lord," he repeated dryly. "More like big bad disaster. Fine. Sit tight, because this story? It's a real nail-biter—if you don't die laughing first."

Abel threw his hands out dramatically. "Picture it: Chapelwaite. A quaint little town by the Missouri River. Quiet, isolated, full of people just ripe for the taking. I show up in style—via shipwreck, obviously."

"Obviously," Corrin quipped.

"The Demitri, my glorious vessel, crashes on the coast of Bar Harbor at the East Coast. Very dramatic. Moonlight, stormy waves, the whole shebang. I morph into a bat, fly into town, and think, This is it. My empire begins here."

"Sounds promising so far," Corrin said, nodding.

"Oh, it was," Abel continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "At first. I take over the Barlow Estate, a creepy old mansion perfect for brooding. My loyal retainer, Rian Stryker, set things up. We've got cobwebs in all the right places, a crypt in the basement—all the clichés. Then, I get ambitious."

"You see, Curtis Barlow—the mansion's previous owner—left behind a gift," Abel said, rolling his eyes. "He performed mad experiments and dumped the leftovers into the water supply. And I thought, Oh, what a happy accident! Let's use this! I figured it would soften up the townsfolk, make them easier to turn into obedient vampires."

Corrin tilted her head, amused. "And?"

"And instead of becoming obedient or even mildly clever, they turned into—how do I put this?—brainless zombies with fangs," Abel said, waving his hands. "Like, drooling, empty-eyed disasters. I'm not kidding, Corrin. These people couldn't follow a simple command. I'd say, 'Attack that human,' and they'd just stare at a lamppost, gnawing on it like it owed them money."

Corrin snorted. "Oh no."

"Oh yes!" Abel threw up his hands. "Stryker—bless his soulless heart—spent days trying to organize them. He gave pep talks! 'Follow Lord Kain's orders! March with purpose!' But no, they were too busy bumping into trees and chasing squirrels. One of them got distracted by a shiny spoon for hours. HOURS, Corrin!"

Then, as if my brainless fang squad wasn't enough of a humiliation, the so-called heroes showed up," Abel said, rolling his eyes. "Ben Stillman, this nosy reporter with a flair for theatrics, comes sniffing around. He drags along Mark Miller, a mouthy boy with more guts than common sense, and Father Maxwell, who I swear carried enough holy water to fill a swimming pool. They started poking around my mansion, unraveling my brilliant—okay, moderately coherent—plans."

Corrin grinned. "What did your 'army' do?"

Abel sighed dramatically. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. One of them tried to bite Ben's shoe and then fell asleep. Another mistook Mark's crucifix for a snack. Stryker was mortified, muttering something about 'lowering standards.' I mean, how do you recover from that?"

"So, the heroes just waltzed in and ruined everything?"

"Pretty much," Abel admitted. "They figured out the water supply issue, of course, and decided the best solution was... flooding the whole town."

Wait," Corrin interrupted, holding up a hand. "They flooded Chapelwaite? The whole town?"

"Oh, yes," Abel said bitterly. "They redirected the Missouri River. Within an hour, the entire town was underwater. My precious brainless vampire army? Swept away like soggy breadcrumbs. Half of them floated downstream, gnawing on driftwood. It was humiliating."

Corrin was already laughing, but Abel wasn't finished. "And as if that wasn't enough, they set the Barlow Estate on fire. I tried to give them my best villain speech, you know—'You will regret this insolence! I will rise again!'—but they just ignored me and lit a match. The whole place went up like a bonfire and I was homeless."

"And then?" Corrin asked, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"And then I ran," Abel admitted with a shrug. "What was I supposed to do? Stick around and drown with my mansion? I turned into a bat and flapped off into the night, utterly humiliated. Worst night of my unlife."

Corrin was doubled over, barely able to catch her breath. "So let me get this straight," she gasped. "You tried to enslave a town, ended up with drooling, brainless minions, and lost everything because of some plucky humans and a little water?"

Abel sighed, nodding. "That's the gist of it, yes. But hey, at least I'm no longer the guy running vampire daycare. Now I hunt them. Talk about a career pivot."

Corrin leaned against a tree, still giggling. "Honestly, Abel, that's the best story I've ever heard. You're like... the world's most dramatic cautionary tale."

Abel smirked, giving her a small bow. "Glad I could entertain."

The two wandered through the garden, the air lightened with their earlier conversation, Corrin still chuckling at the absurdity of it all, and Abel wondering—not for the first time—why he even shared these stories in the first place.

He chuckled softly, his amusement catching her attention.

"What's so funny?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him, her curiosity piqued.

Abel shrugged, a rare grin tugging at his lips. "I don't know, Corrin. Just... today was fun. More fun than I expected."

Her smile widened at his words, a warm feeling blooming in her chest. "I had fun too," she admitted. "It was nice just talking like this, just the two of us. Who knew you could be so entertaining without all the gloom and doom?"

Abel chuckled, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the fading light. "Honestly? I didn't know either. Talking to you, Corrin... it almost makes me feel like I'm human again."

Her heart skipped a beat at the vulnerability in his voice. Abel wasn't one to let his guard down, but when he spoke to her, there was an openness that made her feel connected to him in ways she couldn't explain. "You're still human, Abel," she said softly. "Whether or not you have a pulse doesn't change that."

Abel's face turned serious, his smile fading. "It's not just the pulse, Corrin," he said, his voice heavy. "It's the need to consume the blood of others just to survive. It's the guilt of my past. My monstrous deeds... they haunt me. They're not so easily forgotten."

Corrin frowned, her chest aching at his words. "It doesn't change who you are now, Abel," she said earnestly. "You're more than your past. You're more than your need for blood. You're... you're a good person. A kind person."

Abel gave a small, almost disbelieving laugh. "Thank you for saying that, Corrin. But... I find it hard to believe."

Gently, she placed her hand on his arm, her touch firm yet comforting. "It's true. You're not the man you were in the past. You've changed. And you're still changing."

For the first time, Abel looked at her, his green eyes softening. He smiled faintly, a glimmer of hope breaking through his usually solemn demeanor. "Thank you," he murmured. "You always know what to say."

As the warmth of their conversation settled, Abel's expression suddenly shifted. His hand shot to his chest, his knees buckling as he let out a pained groan.

"Abel!" Corrin gasped, rushing to his side as he collapsed onto the ground. Her heart thundered in her chest, panic clawing at her throat. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I... don't know," Abel stammered, his voice strained. "I feel... an overwhelming pain in my body. It's like... like I can't move. Something's wrong."

His words sent a chill down her spine as she knelt beside him, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Just breathe, Abel," she said, her voice trembling. "We'll figure this out. Just try to hold on."

Abel gritted his teeth, a pained growl escaping him. "It's like my body... is fighting itself," he managed through the agony.

Corrin's mind raced. Was it a delayed reaction to his vampiric condition? Or was it something else entirely? She had no answers, and the helplessness gnawed at her. "Abel, just stay with me, okay? I'll get help."

At that moment, Felicia arrived, her expression alarmed. "My lady, what's happened? Why is Abel on the ground like that?"

Corrin looked up, relief mingled with desperation in her eyes. "I don't know," she admitted. "He just collapsed. He's in terrible pain. We need to get him to his room."

Felicia nodded quickly. "Of course. I'll summon the healers immediately. We can't waste time."

Corrin turned her attention back to Abel, who was struggling to steady his breathing. "Come on, Abel," she coaxed gently. "We're going to get you to your room. Can you stand at all?"

Abel groaned but nodded faintly. "I think so... but you might have to drag me."

Corrin let out a shaky laugh, despite the tension. "Not happening. You'll walk, even if I have to carry half your weight."

With her arm around his shoulders and Felicia steadying him on the other side, they helped Abel to his feet. He staggered but managed to stay upright, leaning heavily on Corrin.

"Just one step at a time," she murmured encouragingly. "We're almost there."