Deep within the Fairy Forest on the border of the Lor Empire, a hidden treehouse stood concealed in the woods. Its interior boasted retro medieval decor, shielded by simple external defensive arrays that made discovery nearly impossible.
"The slave trader we usually deal with in Sardin City was gone this time," murmured a silver-haired man in his thirties. He swirled a goblet of crimson liquid at the dining table, taking a delicate sip. A faint worry laced his words.
The drink wasn’t wine. Anyone catching its scent would instantly recognize it as blood.
*Sigh.*
Though blood could be obtained other ways, trading with that merchant had been effortless and risk-free—far safer than hunting prey themselves. After all, this branch of the Mefis Family had fled to the depths of the Fairy Forest to escape vampire hunters.
"Can’t we find another trader?" A soft, childish voice chimed from across the table.
A silver-haired loli tilted her head, puzzled. She licked residual blood from her lips, cradling a tiny cup filled with fresh blood her father had brought back. Her ruby-like eyes fixed on him. Sheltered her whole life, young Avril had never hunted—or even traded for blood. Every drop she’d tasted came from her parents. Her knowledge of human cities was nonexistent.
"Border towns won’t work," the man replied, setting down his goblet. He smiled fondly at his daughter. "Sardin City is our closest source, Avril. That trader was reliable. But his home was empty this time—cleaned out. He’s gone. Likely not returning soon."
Merchants moved often; it wasn’t unexpected. Yet their quiet life would now need adjustment. Even if the trader stayed, human lifespans were short. The Mefis Family had always adapted.
"Few merchants come to border towns. Even fewer deal in slaves," he continued patiently. Trust was paramount. Revealing their need for blood meant exposing their vampire nature—a death sentence among humans who despised their kind. Though individually stronger, vampires couldn’t match humanity’s numbers or its terrifyingly powerful hunters.
Peace was worth more than paranoia. He only traded after securing a merchant’s loyalty—and paying handsomely. Money meant little to the once-great Mefis Family. Buying blood was cheap, effortless profit for slavers. Their dwindling wealth could sustain this for years.
"If needed, I’ll travel to the Imperial Capital next time. Slavers there supply the capital. Though the journey will take days longer."
He planned ahead. Blood was their staple—like grain for humans. Never wait until the last drop.
"If we find an elf slave," he added gently, "one might suffice for you." Avril’s youth meant she needed little blood. Space was the real issue. Their magically shielded treehouse couldn’t house captives. Slaves required food, water, waste disposal—all risks that could expose them. The Mefis Family refused to flee their home again.
"Hmm… slaves?" Avril’s delicate brows furrowed. A strange, unpleasant feeling flickered in her chest—half-remembered, elusive. She sipped her blood again. Its sweetness warmed her throat, spreading comfort through her body. Addictive.
She took another greedy gulp—
*Cough! Cough! Cough!*
Choking, Avril’s vision blurred. Her father froze mid-smile, time seeming to stop. Her breath hitched. A crushing tightness seized her throat. Panic flared. Her body jerked uncontrollably.
When her eyes opened again, she wasn’t home.
She lay in a bedroom larger than her entire treehouse. Gilded bed linens. Polished wooden floors. A lavish white chandelier. Heavy curtains blocked all light, casting the room in gloom.
The collar around her neck bit deep.
Avril’s porcelain fingers traced the unbreakable black band locked to the bedpost. Her breath came in shallow gasps.
"So… it was just a dream?" Her voice trembled, tears welling in sapphire eyes. A wave of helplessness crashed over her.
"Papa…"
"Mama…"
This wasn’t her first day as a slave.
But still.
Wrenched from a dream of her father’s warmth, Avril wept. If she could never return to that life… she wished she’d never woken up.
