Gram was thirteen when he received Ria’s light. It hurts like hell, the equivalent of starting a fire and running straight into it, but the fire is made of celestial light and it feels like your joints are being eviscerated and replaced with something otherworldly. So Gram can't find it in him to feel bad as he sees the boy writhe in pain as the hours drag on. Absently he wonders if his old master watched him change, but part of him knows probably not.

But Gram got about as much consent in the matter as the child before him, which is regrettable. It was obvious, however, that Ria had chosen this child. Ria, the god of stars that had blessed Gram with her powers, didn't hand out her blessing lightly nor did she let her magic be learned by just anyone. It was an ancient celestial art, only capable of being passed down from master to student.

The child groans underneath the covers he's swaddled in. He can't be more than six years old, but Gram is more transfixed on the fangs that show  themselves as the boy's mouth opens. Along with his pale complexion and lightly colored hair he could be mistaken for your average snow-kin elf. But Gram knew better and could sniff out his own kind.

A vampire, pureblood no less. If Gram had to guess probably a runaway slave from the carriage that went up in flames. There is a rasp at his cottage door and it is far too early to be anyone not of a higher authority. Gram brings the cover over the child, checks his visage in a nearby mirror, messes up his hair, and answers the door.

A lawman that already isn't excited about Gram's existence in this little village by the coast meets his gaze.

"Dietrich." The stout man says bluntly. Gram pretends to rub the sleep out of his eyes, and runs his hand through his perfectly messed up mane.

"Fowler, what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Where were you last night?" 

"Well I do believe I was in the company of two beautiful maidens in my bed chambers, ah yes, I'm sure that was a dream. Sleeping, I was most likely sleeping."

"Don't play with me Dietrich, there was a carriage that was passing through the village last night that got robbed and burned not too far from your cottage."

"And why do you think I have anything to do with that?'' Gram looks affronted. Fowler pushes an accusing finger in Gram’s face.

"Because anything and everything that's weird in this village happens because of you!"

"Well I'm sure you must have some proof like all the other times you've come to my door?" Fowler snarls at Gram and pokes his head into the door. The inside of Gram's house looks normal and unassuming.

"There's missing cargo from the carriage, if I find that you are in possession of it-"

"Yes yes, I know. But guess what, I don't have it." Gram turns him around, “Now I would be happy to come to the law house for further questioning later in the day when your comrades are around to hear, for now if you please." Gram shoves Fowler out the door and shuts it in his face.

He rubs the space between his eyes to quell the headache blooming there. All the other lawmen are just smitten by Gram but for some reason Fowler had it out for him. As he said he'll sort out his albi and such later in the day, Fowler was the least of his worries. 

Gram locks eyes with the child, awake and sitting on the cot. Ah yes, his main worry right now. The child stares at him with round bloodshot eyes the color of lavender, his hair disheveled and matted with deer blood. The dull gray of dawn is cut suddenly by the sun coming in through a nearby window. Broken up by the trees outside it sends specks of light into the room. The boy hisses at the sight and hides under the covers.

"Look at me," Gram commands and lifts the covers. The boy yelps at being exposed to the sun.

"Look at yourself, Ria's light protects us, your skin will burn no longer in the light."

The child slowly opens his eyes and looks down at his skin, surprised. Gram grabs his face and squeezes enough that the boy opens his mouth. The boy’s fangs are fully developed but his gums are receding and pale, a sign of blood malnutrition and that this child was close to turning feral. Definitely a slave.

“You probably can’t speak or have a name.” The boy cocks his head in confusion. 

“We’ll have to fix that, no child of Ria is to be illiterate let alone nameless.” Gram releases the boy and reaches under the cot. He produces a scroll and unrolls it on the bed.

“As Ria is the goddess of stars her children are lights in the cosmos, this-" Gram points to a small star amongst hundreds, his name is written next to it on the parchment, " -is my star." He shows the boy his hand, in his palm lies a mark that resembles the star.

Grabbing the child’s hand he lays it on the map. The map sparks and glows, the boy afraid, tries to pull his hand back but Gram holds it firmly in place. Celestial light wraps around the boy's hand like rope then sinks into it like honey before it disappears like an explosion. Gram lifts the boy's trembling hand and shows him the mark on his palm. A new star has formed on the parchment and a name has appeared.

“And now that is yours, Anatoly Shava."

Gram was accustomed to living by himself, his life was quiet and he made a meager living telling fortunes and selling some of his crops in the village. He never wanted a family, not after losing the one he had shortly after being turned. But for better or worse Ria brought Anatoly into his life and suddenly, Gram of all people was a parent. He knew the only reason Ria brought Anatoly to him was to pass on his knowledge of her light but, even so, Gram had a soft spot for the boy and saw him more as a son than an apprentice. 

"Rule number one, Anatoly." Gram starts while pouring a bucket of warm water over the boy's head. Suds flow down his hair into the wooden bathtub.

It was late morning now and Gram had reluctantly dragged the tub from the shed and into the enclosed garden. The dried blood was dark and thick where it clung to the boy, the smell of it an enticing kind of rancid. His first order of business of the day was to get the child clean, despite his usual inclination to laze about until the late afternoon like usual. He had a feeling it would be a while until he was able to do that again.

"A child of Ria is to be clean and proper on the outside, but tough and harrowed within.”

Gram grabs a bottle of cleanser that sits in the grass next to where he kneels. The soft pop of the cork being taken out causes Anatoly to jump in the lukewarm water.

‘Poor thing,’ Gram thinks whilst pouring some of the liquid in his palm. 

He’s been skittish since he awoke. Even now in the peacefulness of his garden the boy’s eyes shift nervously to the birds flitting about in the trees and the bees hopping from flower to flower. As if still questioning the validity of his new found resistance to the sun, Anatoly keeps himself to the left side of the tub, where a tree casts its shade. Gram continues.

“We are not to be tread upon because Ria’s light gives us the power to trample over others, but-“ Gram suds up the boy's hair into a rich lather, washing away dirt and blood, “That doesn’t give us an excuse to be cruel, unless it is warranted.”

Anatoly turns his head, his piercing lavender eyes meeting Gram’s golden ones. For a moment, Gram remembers looking into them for the first time, filled with crazed blood lust, but also guilty tears.

“Although I have no worries that you would be.” He pours another bucket of water over Anatoly, causing his hair to fall over his eyes. 

“Rule number two,” Gram begins, later that night. They are sitting in the middle of a clearing a short walk from their home, the sounds of the ocean a gentle noise in the background.

 “A child of Ria must diligently study the stars; they are the basis of our power.” 

Gram unrolls two scrolls on the grass in front of the boy: one filled with constellations and one identical but completely empty. Gram grabs the child’s hand with the star mark. The boy seems more comfortable now that the light has gone, as such he doesn’t fight as Gram leads his hand down to the empty scroll. The piece of parchment glows dully and left on the scroll is a single star with Anatoly’s name under it. 

“The beings in the sky are different types of power. Look up at the moon and gaze to the left,” Gram points his finger upward and the boy’s gaze follows. 

“Do you see that cluster of stars? They are Gemini.”

There is a flash of light and Anatoly’s gaze comes down to see two versions of Gram in front of him. The boy nearly jumps out of his skin, and looks ready to run away like a frightened animal.

“It’s ok, Anatoly, even though the form is material it is just an illusion.”

Just as quickly as the double appeared, it vanished into stardust.

“Gemini is one of the twelve,” Gram gestures to his scroll which is filled with the stars, “It allows us to duplicate our form, with practice you will be able to do the same, and many other fantastic things. I, along with Ria, will guide you.”

As if allowing himself to trust Gram a little more, Anatoly nods his head.

The walk back to the cottage is quiet and peaceful, and Gram laments while he has the child’s fingers laced in his own that this time yesterday he was alone. He was alone like he had been for a long time. He had convinced himself he was ok with that. That relations with those not of the night were impossible and, even being in communion with other vampires was unsavory due to his loyalty to Ria. But with a gentle nudge his life shifted, and he went from barely being able to care for himself to having a ward in hours.

If he wasn’t so devout maybe he would question Ria, maybe he would wonder what about this boy made her shove him into his life.

‘It was inevitable,’ he thinks. 

Having to pass on Ria’s knowledge to another like his master before him and the events that happened last night.

‘What is seen is seen.’

There is a rustle in the bushes nearby, making the two stop. A rabbit and one of her kits skitter out. Anatoly looks ravenously at the kit as it follows its mother in jumping around the trees.

“Rule number three,” Grams says, pulling Anatoly back the half-step the boy had taken.

“Ria commands us not to kill to feed. We must take it even further to not even feed on living things.” Gram brings the boy to a cluster of bushes a short way away from the path they walk, each adorned with small berries of a deep red hue.

“These are Mortisberries. The scrolls say that once a star falls from the sky and lands on the earth, there will grow Mortisberries, a substitute for the blood of living things. Go ahead take one.”

Anatoly timidly picks a berry and plops it in his mouth. His eyes widen and he begins to grab them by the hand full and shove them in his mouth. Gram grabs his wrists and gives him a pointed look.

“Rule number one…”

Anatoly looks down, ashamed he had broken the first rule. His trust in Gram grew more as they spent time together. As a slave, Gram was sure that the boy had never seen kindness such as he’d shown him today. He made a mental note of Anatoly’s trusting nature, for later.

Gram tilts his head up and offers the boy a satchel that sits at his waist.

“Let us take it home to eat properly.”

With a quick nod, Anatoly snatches the bag and goes to work picking the best looking berries, using the moonlight to guide him. For a moment, Gram considers what his life will be like now that his one has become two. The loss of his first life haunts him still despite the passing of time. It would be easy to use, Libra, use his powers of divination to see what was in store for the two of them. But even the best fortune tellers know the truest path of one's life is the one they carve out themselves.