Mystiria

Abolish was well educated on sire and fledgling bonds. He had read most of the organization's available text on the subject and had discussed the topic with numerous colleagues in his time working in the field. He had seen bonds take hold (both consensually and forcefully) and he had seen bonds sever. On one instance in particular, he had lost a partner when their connection to their sire was broken unexpectedly during a dicey encounter with a coven of enemy vampires — their temporary pain paralysis had left an opening for the enemy to rush in and finish them off with a stake before Abolish could interfere.

The point was, Abolish thought he knew the risks associated with agreeing to become Legundo's fledgling.

He was wrong.

Abolish sits at the base of the town's central tower, mere yards away from where the holy beacon pulses — its harsh waves grating against Abolish's senses. He could step away — move himself just outside of its range of influence, closer to where the remaining vampires and Pearl are conversing.

But he doesn't.

If he doesn't have the persistent scratching of the beacon's power to focus on, he will be forced to pay attention to a far more unsettling feeling. Hesitation. Doubt.

Is this right?

Abolish had always prided himself in his ability to make difficult decisions quickly, and accept whatever consequences followed with grace. He knew how to calculate outcomes, prioritize logic, and mitigate risk — he was good at it. He got the impression the doctor was similar (ignoring the obvious blind spots that were his own self preservation and Owen, of course). Even though years working with patients away from a military conflict had certainly softened Legundo, Abolish could still make out the shadow of the soldier he once was.

So when Legundo had turned him and the connection between the two of them fused into place, the emotional flood that poured from the bond had surprised and nearly drowned Abolish.

There was so much fatigue.

There was so much self hatred.

There was so much regret.

It was the regret more than anything else that had truly shaken Abolish. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and it had taken every ounce of self discipline to not react.

Legundo had noticed his distress, of course. Abolish was too inexperienced and too overwhelmed to possibly attempt to hide anything from his new sire. The emotions rushing down the bond had slowed, and the Doc had planted his hands on Abolish's shoulders until the fledgling could stand without swaying.

"You're going to be okay, I've got you," the Doc had said, repeating similar phrases until Abolish's primary emotion had shifted to one of annoyance. The Doc had smiled, sensing the change, and finished bandaging up his arm (Abolish had not reminded him that it wasn't needed — the bite wound would heal into a scar in a few minutes).

Then Martyn and Ren had died, and the wave of painful emotions returned.

It had taken longer for Legundo to recover after that. In his defense he had tried prioritizing keeping as much away from Abolish as possible; however, it wasn't enough to stop Abolish's mind from feeding off the foreign thoughts.

Am I being selfish?

"Abolish, be careful. Be good," the Doc had said, just before he took Cleo's hand and left the town.

Is this good?

Abolish stands abruptly and walks into the tower, closing the door behind him. He doesn't want to be near the others when it happens. This deserves respect. It deserves privacy.

And it wouldn't be necessary if you weren't afraid.

He had been offered vampirism before. Multiple times, in fact (some in more nefarious contexts than others). He always had the same response: too much paperwork. It generally got a laugh, and allowed the conversation to move on. It was a logical answer. One most people expected from Abolish.

It was also a lie.

Yes — there are good vampires, and there are bad vampires. Yes — there are good people, and there are bad people. Yes — being a vampire doesn't inherently make you a bad person. Yes — many of the most important people in Abolish's life are vampires. He knows all of this. He truly believes all of this.

… And yet.

There is a small part of Abolish's psyche buried deep — so incredibly deep — that was locked away years ago when he was taken in by the man (the vampire) who would become the closest thing Abolish has to a family. It contains the memories of a child who learned the fate of his parents — the knowledge that the thing that killed them was a creature of the night. A creature that, up until that point, had only existed in horror stories and fairy tales.

A child that asked, "how can I become the monster that killed my family?"

It is illogical. Abolish knows this. Up until now, he had gone out of his way to make sure he never needed to confront that small part of him still driven by emotion.

But now a man, a good man, is going to die for it.

Abolish sits on the staircase, staring into the pulsing light of the beacon. Perhaps the power making his skin crawl has nothing to do with the vampirism at all. Perhaps it can sense his hesitation. His guilt.

And yet, he can't bring himself to do anything but wait.

When Legundo dies, Abolish does not allow himself to cry out. He does not allow himself to seek comfort. He does not allow himself to flinch. The pain is penance for letting his fear control him.