TVD: The Seventh Original

Mid-Winter, 1080, Isaac's Castle, Suzdal

Early the following morning, Isaac was still in the middle of his daily meditation when one of the wolves, a young man with dirty blonde hair named Vladislav, entered the room. He gave Isaac a light bow, then took a step back, waiting respectfully for Isaac to speak.

"Is the girl awake?" Isaac asked, standing and pouring a drink from a ceramic vessel placed on a stone shelf near where he'd been meditating. The drink filled a crystal tumbler(a low ball glass)—an extremely rare item for the times—showing off the golden liquid within.

"Yes, Lord. She's a bit confused but hasn't tried to run," Vladislav reported smoothly. "We just switched shifts; Vesna and Goran are with her now." His tone was practiced, precise—he'd delivered these kinds of reports many times before. Vladislav, now nineteen, had been among the first group of four turned by Isaac.

"Good job," Isaac acknowledged, raising the cup. "You're dismissed. Go get some sleep."

As Vladislav left, Isaac took a slow sip, savoring the honey-laced warmth of the Medovukha, a local honey liquor he had grown particularly fond of. Recently, he'd begun adding a trace of enhanced vervain, finding that it gave the drink the sharp "kick" alcohol gave to normal humans.

With his heightened resistance, the vervain's effect rarely lasted more than three minutes, and that was if he deliberately slowed his body's natural healing process. Letting his usual pace take over, the effects barely lingered for ten seconds. The alcohol itself had a longer-lasting effect—Isaac had not developed any immunity to it, though to feel any genuine impact, he'd need to drink quite a significant amount.

Isaac took a deep breath, taking in his surroundings. He stood in the middle of a round, sphere-shaped building. Unlike the world outside or the castle's cold stone, this place felt as warm as spring. All around him, vibrant plants grew, their colors brightening the room.

This greenhouse, created by Meixing, held herbs she had gathered over their journeys. It was a magical place, maintained in ideal conditions year-round, and Isaac liked to meditate here by the fountain at its center—the spell's core, like a power source.

Meditating here felt different from anywhere else. Now, when he meditated, he could sense even the slightest change within dozens of kilometers, and major shifts even farther. But even at a distance of nearly three hundred kilometers, this place felt like a beacon.

Sitting here, something in the air made the world seem more vivid, more colorful… more alive. It reminded him of the feeling he got from the sunlight, after the spell returned it entirely. But this was different: it wasn't something lost and then returned. It was like a new layer that added to something already whole. Making this place more alive than anywhere else he had seen before.

Finishing his glass, Isaac left the room leisurely. Today he would have a slight change in his routine.

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Entering the wooden house, still dusted with the snow from the previous night, Isaac was greeted by a pair of werewolves—a boy and girl, both seventeen—who offered him a light bow and the usual greeting. "Lord."

In the far corner, on the bed, sat a young girl with ash-blond hair, staring blankly at the wall opposite her. As Isaac approached, her gaze flickered toward him, and for a brief moment, flashes of memory surfaced: the image of the young man before her ripping the heart from one of her attackers and beheading another.

But then, as if overpowered by darker memories, her mind flooded with scenes of blood and gore. She saw her family being torn apart one by one, and whatever faint spark had appeared in her eyes dimmed, leaving her expression empty once more.

"She has been like this since she woke up, hasn't said a word." The girl, Vesna, spoke. 

Isaac nodded, stepping closer to the girl. He crouched beside the bed, his eyes scanning her features. Her skin was unusually pale—even for someone who had lost a lot of blood—and there was a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. Gently, he reached out and touched her wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was there but faint, slower than it should be.

His gaze shifted to her neck, and shoulders where the vampire bite marks once stood out sharply against her skin. They had healed entirely, leaving only traces of blood. Leaning in, he listened closely to her breathing—shallow and uneven. Though he knew the answer from the smell when he just walked in, there was still a chance it just lingered from the ones she met, it was very weak after all, but now he was absolutely sure.

"Fuck...She's in transition," he murmured, more to himself than to the others. His teeth biting into his lower lip in frustration. He really hoped it would save her, but it seems that his blood wasn't enough.

"Transition?" Goran asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Isaac stood up, his expression grim. "She's turning into a vampire. I gave her blood to save her life but she still died, and now she needs human blood to complete the process. If she doesn't feed within twenty-four hours or so, she'll die."

His eyes were locked at the girl, who remained lost in her own torment. "I'll have to find a way to help her decide," he said softly. "Right now, she seems to be trapped in her own memories."

He turned to the two werewolves. "Keep watch over her. Make sure she doesn't harm herself or try to leave. Do not, under any circumstances, let anyone else near her."

They both nodded solemnly. "Yes, Lord."

Isaac hesitated for a moment, contemplating the weight of his next actions. He knew that forcing her to complete the transition without her consent would condemn her to a life she might not want—a life filled with darkness and bloodlust. But allowing her to die felt equally wrong, especially after he'd intervened to save her.

He approached the bed once more, his voice gentle. "I know you can hear me," he said. "You have a choice to make. I can help you, but you need to decide if you want to live."

Her eyes flickered again, a slight furrow forming between her brows, but she gave no other response.

Isaac sighed softly. "I'll return soon."

As he made his way toward the door, Vesna spoke up. "Do you think she'll choose to feed?"

Isaac paused, his gaze distant. "Pain can push people to the edge, but sometimes, it also gives them a reason to fight. I hope she'll find that reason."

With that, he stepped out into the cold morning air, his mind already turning over possible solutions. Time was running out, and he needed to find a way to reach her—before it was too late.

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Back in the fortress, Isaac found Meixing and relayed the night's events. She listened in silence, her expression neutral but intent, as he described the bloodshed, the two vampires he'd killed, the one he had captured and the deal he'd made with the others. When he finished and told her about the girl, her gaze was sharp, contemplative.

"You're letting her decide, then?" she asked quietly.

Isaac nodded. "It's her choice to make. But if she's to make it, she'll need a clear mind." He paused, his gaze meeting hers directly. "I'll need your help to calm her. I think the memories are… overpowering her."

A faint smile touched Meixing's lips, her respect evident. "I understand. I'll see what can be done," she replied. Her voice held a note of conviction, clearly understanding the importance of choice—especially in the face of darkness.

Isaac inclined his head. "Thank you."

With that, he turned, already considering the steps ahead. He knew what it was like to be trapped in trauma and desperation, alone and afraid. He would help her in anyway he could, but in the end, whatever direction she chose, he would respect it.

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After leaving Meixing to prepare, Isaac returned to his chambers, where a small stack of bound books and a few scrolls awaited him. Today he would be adding Latin to his schedule ,those books were precured by Meixing while she went to visit the cleric the day before, though they were just copies, made using some random books and a little copying magic.

Isaac began with three hours of focused Latin study, his attention sharpening with each word he learnt. The language intrigued him quite a bit as it was said to be the base to many others, and he found himself sinking into its rhythm as he pieced together sentences and phrases. While challenging, his experience with multiple languages, English and Spanish specifically, allowed him to make steady progress. With time, he'd make Latin yet another tool in his arsenal.

Afterward, he made his way to the servants' quarters and found Emilia, a quiet woman he had taken in several years earlier. She wasn't the youngest, but she was very beautiful, her life had been upended by his actions—he had killed her abusive husband, who had also beaten their son half to death. The boy, now a werewolf, was one of the first kids Isaac took in, and was only ten years old at the time.

Emilia herself, was one of the few in similar situations who had opted to stay and work for him after their providers were killed by him for their actions. In time, like some others he had taken in under such circumstances, she'd developed a fondness for him—a quiet admiration mixed with gratitude for the strong, noble figure who had saved her from the hell she once lived in.

Isaac knew she was drawn to him, though for him, it was just a casual indulgence. He didn't return those feelings, not in the way she perhaps hoped. But Emilia was beautiful, and when she offered her blood—or even herself—he didn't refuse. It was simple for him: a change of pace, a moment of enjoyment without the weight of attachment.

As he leaned in to drink, she tilted her head without hesitation, her expression soft as his fangs extended, and he bit down gently, drawing a small, controlled amount. He could sense her heartbeat and warmth, a fleeting but grounding sensation. When he finished, he met her gaze, which held no trace of fear or pain—only a smile.

 He thanked her briefly and left, returning to his studies waiting until Meixing came to inform him that everything was in order.

Not long after, Meixing entered the room where Isaac was still absorbed in his books. Her expression was calm and composed, as it often was around others, a mask she rarely let down unless they'd been alone for some time. She met his gaze and nodded.

"Everything is ready," she said simply.

With that, they made their way back through the snowy grounds to the house. As they entered, Isaac noted that Vesna and Goran were still on guard, their eyes instantly attentive as they acknowledged him with a quick nod of respect.

Isaac nodded briefly in greeting, signaling them to remain on standby, then he and Meixing stepped into the small, warm space where the girl sat, exactly as he had left her: motionless, her gaze vacant, as if caught in a nightmare she couldn't escape.

Now, with Meixing's presence beside him, Isaac was prepared to reach into the girl's mind and guide her toward the clarity she needed. Whatever choice she made, he would ensure it was hers alone—free from fear, yet with a full understanding of the events that had unfolded and the new changes before her with each choice she makes.

Meixing approached the girl slowly, careful not to startle her. She took a seat beside her, maintaining a calm, unassuming posture, while Isaac stood to her side, letting his presence serve as a steadying anchor as Meixing instructed him before.

Meixing's gaze softened as she observed the girl's vacant stare. She reached out, her hand hovering gently above the girl's head, murmuring a few quiet words in an ancient language Isaac had heard many times before. In her other hand she took out a small metallic vile, and brought it to the girl's lips gently, doing her best not to make any sudden movements. 

The girl's lips parted slightly as she didn't resist at all, and Meixing poured a few drops of the potion from the vial into her mouth. The mixture's scent was subtle, but it's effects prominent, even just a sniff made Isaac feel like he was calmer than before. A slight shift could be seen in the girl's posture as she took in the liquid, like a faint release of tension in her shoulders.

Meixing's voice remained soft and steady, her words flowing as she repeated the verse with an almost hypnotic rhythm, carrying the girl deeper into calm. Isaac could sense a subtle change in the air—a warm energy radiated from Meixing's touch, coaxing the girl's spirit gently to the surface.

After a few moments, the girl's eyes seemed to clear, her gaze lifting and focusing, though still tinged with lingering sorrow. Meixing offered her a small, reassuring smile.

"You've been through so much," Meixing stopped chanting and murmured, her tone laced with understanding. Than she stepped back, turning to Isaac. "You can explain now. This will ease her torment, It numbs the sharp edge of her trauma without dulling her other emotions. She'll be able to think clearly and make her choice without the pain overwhelming her." 

Isaac nodded and moved closer to the girl, crouching to meet her at eye level. Her gaze was no longer as vacant; there was a flicker of awareness and a hint of sorrow, as well as quite a bit of confusion.

"Can you hear me?" Isaac asked gently.

The girl blinked slowly, her eyes focusing on him. "They killed everyone...You... You saved me..." she whispered, her voice so fragile that it sounded like it might break. 

Isaac's gaze softened as he met her eyes, his voice gentle. "Yes," he replied softly. "I saved you. You're safe now. Can you tell me your name?"

"I...I'm Anastasia, but you can call me Ana." Ana's eyes filled with tears, a mix of relief and confusion joining into the already complex state she was in. "They, they were demons. Their eyes turned black and... they killed everyone, laughing like they were having fun." she whispered. "My family... Why did they do that? Who...What were they?"

Isaac took a slow, steady breath. He knew this conversation would be difficult but necessary. "What you experienced was something no one should ever have to endure," he began carefully. "Those who attacked you and your family were vampires."

Her brow furrowed, fear flickering across her face. "Vampires? Like in the stories from the south? The one's the merchants spoke of who feed on human blood?"

Isaac nodded, watching her closely, gauging each shift in her expression. "Yes, like those stories. Only, they're real—and far more dangerous than any tales you may have heard."

She shivered, gripping the blanket tightly as she processed his words. "But… you fought them. The merchant said vampires have strength and speed that could match a hundred men. You… you fought three of them on your own. Are you… are you like them?"

"Yes and no." Isaac's voice was calm but firm. "In essence, yes, I am like them. But I chose a different path—one that doesn't involve harming the innocent. I killed them because they showed no respect for life, for your family, or for this place. They didn't deserve to stay in this world."

"But why… why would you save me?" Her eyes wide in shock, dropped to the floor. She wasn't quite sure how to feel, but the man in front of her was in no way scary. She felt like she could trust him. 

Isaac paused, searching for the right words. "To be honest, I'm still not sure, because I had the power to help... Maybe? You went through a lot, and I could relate." He looked at her gently. "But I also need you to understand what happened after."

"What… what do you mean?" She looked at him in confusion.

"When I tried to save you, I gave you my blood," Isaac explained, his voice steady. "It acts as a powerful medicine—it was a last resort to keep you alive. But it wasn't enough; you still… passed. Now, because of my blood, you're in a transition to becoming a vampire yourself, suspended between life and death.

To complete it, you, like a vampire, would need to drink human blood. If you don't… and the transition period comes to an end, you will die."

Ana stared at him, stunned. "I… I could become like them?"

"Like us," he corrected gently. "You have the power to choose what that means."

He turned to Meixing, who smiled at him. "You were hindered by your own thought, but I wanted you to have the choice, the ability to shape your own fate. Above all, I believe in one's freedom to choose their own path. I put you on this crossroad, I'm gonna make sure that you can find your route, whichever it may be, knowingly."

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