The two magics that I consider are frost magic and telekinesis. The former I can perform, though at an E grading, the latter, telekinesis, I’m still unable to properly use. I’m certain that both would be invaluable.

I recall hiding a frog in my mother’s tea when I was a child, and the terrible fright she had when it leapt out at her face. Yet, her screams were soon replaced with laughter and amusement. She still found her revenge against me later.

I flush myself with frost magic, cooling my unbeating heart. I press myself hard enough to feel a comfortable burning pain from channelling the magic.

Growth is found from training, from stressing my æther veins for a long period of time. There is no reason to leave such exercises for later, I cannot allow myself the luxury of inaction.

I must use the limited time before sunrise to explore the city around my estate. If my father’s Knights haven’t come by now, then I must consider them lost, whether to lies or to violence, it matters not.

Setting aside the skillbook, I take my leave and head outside. The cool air carries complex, tantalizing scents drawing me deeper into the night.

I scramble over the wall, my strength enhanced by dark magics, stumbling to the cobblestone streets.

I walk alone for the first time, with no carriage, and no guards.

The dark city streets call to me, like the ocean calls to a mermaid. Just like those dangerous predators, who drown sailors in the shallow seas and reefs, the darkness of this city makes for a fine hunting ground of my own.

For now, I contain my thirst. This is a chance to learn my place in these violent streets and to act early is foolish. I’ll need to learn how to move, how to act, who to hunt, and when.

Walking through the poverty-stricken ruins that surround my estate, wearing a proper noble dress, without company, and carrying no lantern, I learn a few things quickly.

Most people here are terrified simply at the sight of me, it’s enough to manifest shadows and call upon my weaker abilities in their weakest form. Though the illusions are ghostly images that are barely noticeable if you’re not looking at them, and the ‘Unseen Transposition’ requires me to be unseen to test.

The fact that my province is still in such a sad condition ten years later speaks of how awful the last war truly was. My father must have worked himself to the bone to try and correct this, and yet things here are still so pitiful?

It seems even a monster can feel disgust.

This is what people see when in our province, the section of the capital that my house is responsible for. A small city of its own right, but now much more akin to a slum built in the ruins of what once was so much grander.

A noble’s honour is in their lands and their peasants, and I feel truly nauseous knowing that this land bears my noble name.

I call upon frost magic, to send a creeping cold upon the wandering deviants that still crawl within these ruins. A lady of the night shivers at the sudden cold, rubbing at her exposed skin. A young child hides behind the cloth that hangs in place of a door to his half-collapsed home.

The drunkards, however, seem resistant to both the chill of my magic and the fear that surrounds them. Without that, I can’t manifest the shadows near to them or even try using my illusions.

Incredible to think that watered-down ale can make for a cheap elixir of resistance, granting fortitude against my kind.

Still worse than the drunkards, however, are the thugs. Not only is their fear subdued, but they look at me with a sort of opportunistic hunger that I can recognise from my own uncle.

I feel… vulnerable when they look at me. This is meant to be my hunting grounds, my territory as both a noble and huntress, but in their eyes, I’m just a little girl.

Starting small, I turn my eyes to a young woman of the streets and cast my ‘Vampire’s Gaze’ at her. The woman startles, backing up and bumping against the wall behind her.

“I’m sorry, miss,” she says, apologising for meeting my gaze. She lowers her head and bows, giving a curtsy that would make the maids now infesting my home look deserving of the streets. I honestly feel terrible for frightening her so.

“No, I meant nothing by it,” I say. “Return to your business.”

“Is there trouble, miss?” She asks, seeming genuine in her worry for me. “There must be trouble for you to wander the streets alone at night. My room isn’t much, but if you need a place to hide until help comes…”

“My situation is nothing so awful, but you have my gratitude for offering so much,” I say, chagrined for testing my magic on her. I know that her current kindness isn’t something that I’ve manipulated from her.

Temporarily bending a person to favourability is possible with more power, and skill in the magic, I simply haven’t reached that height yet.

“Hey, what are you doing? Are you bothering the miss?” A towering brute of a man asks, coming out from a nearby building and looking at the two of us.

“No, no. She has been-”

“We don’t need none of that noble nonsense here. You only come here to cause us more trouble.” He rages, glaring down at me with a fire that burns away any of the frightened nature that would enhance my power. Even my gaze has lost its pitifully weak effect as he stands tall over me.

“I… what trouble have nobles given you?” I ask. My uncle couldn’t have caused them any issues in this short of a time since infesting my household.

“Come here,” he says, reaching out for me. I step back fast enough to avoid his hairy mitts, then I step back again as he gets closer. “Don’t you go running. You want to know what’s been done to us, then stay with us for a day or two and live it yourself.”

“Henry, stop.” The young whore says, trying to stop the larger man.

“Listen to the night’s lady,” I say, feeling even more out of place pretending to be a huntress, than speaking as a noblewoman. “I have no want to cause trouble, I’ll be going on my way.”

“Night’s lady?” The brute says the words slowly. “You think she’s a whore?! Come here!”

There are times when one must admit that they have lost a conflict, and effect whatever defence or retreat they can manage to reduce the sufferance of loss. There is no use in wasting soldiers’ lives when victory is beyond reach.

In other words, I turn and run as fast as I can.

Yet even I know that I can’t outpace the thug shouting out in pursuit. The only reason I’m granted a head start is because of the lady, who is apparently not a whore, and her attempts to soothe the giant of a man.

Reserving nothing, I use my gaze on every passing person that I glance, hoping to inspire enough fear for my other powers to return. The sight of me running, and the unsettling effects of my magic, are enough to startle a brief moment of fright from those I cross.

“Come back here!” The brute shouts, quickly gaining on me. I can hear his footsteps ringing out behind me, closer and closer. A glance back affords me a view of the terrible man as he leaps for me.

I scrabble away, barely escaping his grasp before pushing myself around the corner and out of sight, for just a brief moment.

There’s enough terror spreading through the air, that I can barely summon ‘Unseen Transposition’. My senses turn dull as I move up to the rooftops.

My veins burn from the spent æther and casting a magic that should be beyond me, an expensive power that I cannot rely upon.

I collapse on the rooftop, remaining perfectly still and quiet so that the man won’t find me.

“Where did she go?” The brute asks, shoving a few things around while trying to figure out the puzzle of my disappearance. The young lady rushes in to pull him away before he can waste any more of my time.

If it weren’t for the presence of the brute, and my own unfortunate position within my house, I’d seek her again to thank her for her good deeds and spirit. Instead, I must return to the filthy streets and hopefully find a means to grow in strength.

Slipping down from the rooftop, I consider my pathetic performance.

I’m still weak and pitiful, even with all that has happened to me. Even now that I’m a monster myself.

A dull ache chills deep inside my chest, where the frost hardens my heart.

“So, it was you.”

“The reeve,” I say, sighing even though I don’t need to breathe. “Well, I had intended to find you anyway.”

“When I heard there was a young noblewoman out here wandering the streets, I thought it might be you.” He says, looking over me. “Well, I think I can set aside my earlier theory. If that man caused you trouble, I doubt you’d be capable of killing even half the people in that home of yours.”

“I feel that I should take offence to that,” I say, slumping despite myself.