I walked through the portal with lord Dracula’s son and witnessed the aftermath of the battle. The whole area smelt of burnt flesh and blood. Despite being able to push back the dragons, Lord Dracula is upset that Longwong got away. 

I went around the battlefield and saw Abaddon, a bloody mess. Looking up at me, it was difficult to look my companion in the eye.

“How was it?” I asked.

“Can’t you tell? I got my ass kicked by that dragon.” He replied, sitting on the ground. His face was covered in blood, and his armor was a shattered and disheveled mess, along with his hair. 

“Well, hopefully, you make a full recovery.” I joked, trying to lift the mood. It was a bittersweet victory, not just for the vampires but for the humans. They wept and cried. 

That’s a characteristic I find myself envious of. Despite the brave efforts of their friends or family, they mourn and grieve their loss. Compared to the vampire, who stayed stern, barely showing any emotions besides exhaustion. 

I looked back at Abaddon and asked, “where is lord Dracula?”

His face was immediately sunken, and he turned to the ground. I asked the question again, this time more urgently.

“Walk over to the hill just a couple of miles from here,” he answered, voice shaking and, for a minute, tears swelling. 

Quickly I bolted in the direction he pointed me to. As I approached, I saw a group of vampiric soldiers surrounding a body. The pits of my stomach turned and twisted as I knew what the soldiers were crying about. 

Lord Dracula was laid on his back, a pool of blood spilling out from the fatal wound to his core. Immediately handing off his son to the nearest soldiers, I rushed to my lord’s aid.

“Lord Dracula, it’s Persephone; please respond.” I pleaded as I lifted him into my arms. No response. 

“P-Persephone, I’m so sorry.” He strained, barely able to speak. 

“Don’t die, and then I will accept your apology,” I told him, trying not to break down. 

“We both know it’s too late for me. My core is pierced, and I can already feel my strength leaving.” He responded. Still, I refuse to believe my king. The man who built our empire and took me off the streets would die. 

“Please, my lord, maybe we could still heal you,” I said while placing my hand over his wound and starting to pump mana into it. 

He removed my hand, his once firm grip now feeble, “Stop, it’s futile, but for my final wish I-“ 

“STOP!” I snapped, not wanting to hear it. I was in denial but wasn’t ready to listen to his last order. 

Abaddon walked over, leaning on a human who had several burns over their body. Abaddon showed little emotion, only keeping the same sunken expression. This only infuriated me, but I was to focus on my dying lord.

“We are going to save you, I prom-“ 

“Enough, Persephone; I only have two wishes. first, find a home for my son; second, scatter and hide until the time is right.” He coughed, and more and more blood came from his mouth. 

“But what about Longwong?” Abaddon asked 

“He’s going to kill you, run and hide so that the vampires can fight him in the future,” he continued before the last of his mana faded along with his life. 

And with that, the man I saw as a father figure, mentor, and savior died fighting for something other than glory and hatred. After the battle, I found a friendly family who would raise “my” son. The mother was gorgeous with her curly blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. While the husband wore a stern expression only amplified by his brown beard. He was a Jäger Colonel, both of which had thick German accents. 

I don’t know what might happen to the boy, but what I do know is that one day. He or his offspring will end this fighting. The main question is if I will even be alive to witness that day.