Chapter 1: Mural of Origins

"Once, long, long ago, there was a fair lady who was a human in a world—a peaceful world, a paradise. Despite everything being perfect, the fair lady committed great despair, sworn in blood with the demon, a creation of her own blood and the demon. Their selfish union brought the world to collapse, leaving their fruits of despair to roam the land, consuming all in their path, existing in the darkness of night."

-The Fruits of Evil.

"There, class! That is the famous mural called 'The Fruits of Evil'! I'm sure all of you know the legend of vampires?" A young, youthful woman with brown hair exclaimed enthusiastically. Some might think she was more excited about the mural than the children she was looking after.

The students answered yes with much enthusiasm like their teacher. One exclaimed, "My parents said they're evil human-looking demons that lurk in your closet to eat you alive if you don't behave!" Another rebutted, "Nuh-uh! They'll kidnap you away from your mother if you don't eat dinner!" The small group of children argued about who was right, demanding their teacher answer, until one raised their hand, standing on tiptoes to get her attention.

"Oh! Little Evan! What is it, dear?"

"Teacher, why are vampires bad people?" A young boy with silky white hair and wide, soft dark purple eyes stared at her with such innocence, hoping for an answer. He continued, "Aren't vampires human too? We both need blood to live, right?" His voice was soft, some words mispronounced for an eight-year-old.

"Idiot. Humans don't need blood!" a rough, rowdy kid retorted.

"We do, though—7%!" he replied.

"Vampires consume blood—we don't, silly!" a girl said.

Evan looked at the ground, his small shoes clicking together as he clung to himself. "My sister does, though..." His eyes trickled with small droplets of tears. He continued, "Through here..." His hand pointed at his wrist.

'Oh, the kid must think IV fluid is blood... Poor kid, having a sick sister...' she thought, then crouched down to look at him, choosing her words carefully. "Oh, Evan... That's not blood... that's, ah... sugar water!"

"Sugar water?"

"Yeah! It will help your sister brim with energy! So you don't have to worry, alright?" She comforted him, her hand patting his head and brushing through his silver locks. "If you miss your sister so much, how about I call your parents to pick you up? How does that sound? I'm sure your sister would be happy to see her big brother visit her, right?" she asked, her voice playful.

He sniffled and nodded. "Okay!"

"C'mon, let's go." She giggled, offering her hand to him after notifying the other teachers to watch the children. He took her hand, his small fingers holding onto hers as they walked to the museum exit—all the while thinking, 'She doesn't know it's real blood. My sister isn't at the hospital...'

In the corner of his mind flashed images of blood being injected into his sister’s veins, his father gripping her wrist tightly as he did so, his expression pained while his sister cried. It was the same today too.

"Evan, you must not tell anyone about us, okay? For the sins our ancestors committed, we must be the ones to bear this pain. I'm sorry for making you grow up so fast..." His mother wept, hugging him tight as his sister's cries echoed before slowly fading.

"Mom... Is Cerce okay?"

"Don't worry... The fair lady made us this way. Your sister is just tired." She sighed, then continued, "We never wanted you two to know. Our bodies weaken with time without blood—we never... You found out by accident. So promise me, okay? Do not let your sister know our origins. No matter what." She raised her pinkie, offering it to Evan. Their fingers entwined like an oath.

She smiled gently as the waves, putting a pair of lightly tinted glasses on him. The tint turned his eyes a light sky blue. "Even though you know now, your dad and I still—and always—wish for our Evan and Cerce's days to always be bright. No matter what is written in our origins, your origins lie here, with our family."

...Those were words said to a child that grew faster than others his age....

...Mother’s words were always engraved deep in my mind, ...

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...I, too, wish for Cerce’s days to always be bright....

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...That was my first reason....

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