The Test

Hunger claws at his belly with razor-sharp talons. The excruciatingly sweet pain threatens to tear him apart from the inside out; an endless, mindless crashing that pounds down upon his brow like waves. Nothing remains of the man he used to be: no name, no memories. Everything he has been or will be is beholden to this black, gaping maw. It is eternal, just like this void.

Raw instinct screams, battering around his empty head like a rabid wolf. A thought forms, triggered by the abysmal ache. He may not know his name, but he knows one thing: he craves blood.

Click.

The sound draws his attention and he stills, lowering himself to the stone floor. A door opens on well-oiled hinges and a man steps into the black oubliette. Golden light spills over his shoulders, illuminating him like a god.

The prisoner leaps forward, gnashing his teeth. Long fangs, completely extended, rip at his bottom lip; dark ichor beads and falls to the stone floor, sinking into the shadows. The heavy enchanted chains that encircle his wrists ignite, causing his tough flesh to boil with blisters. But the pain is a mere afterthought to this incessant hunger.

He lunges—once, twice—and drops back as the newcomer advances. Slowly, his mouth closes as the fangs retract into his pale gums. There is no blood in this man, yet he moves as if he were one of the living.

The unliving creature halts just out of reach and tucks long, graceful hands into voluminous sleeves. He wears a long white robe of silk; a thick golden chain circles his waist. Long brown hair spills across his shoulders and down his back in a shimmering wave.

The prisoner eases back on his haunches and cocks his head. Pale blond hair, nearly white, falls across his eyes as he looks up at the unliving.

At last, the unliving one speaks: "You came to us, seeking knowledge. But no man stands before me—just a monstrous, ravenous shell. Tell me, does the man still exist in that empty chamber of your mind, or will you succumb to the cravings like so many before you?"

His words are meaningless. They fall around the prisoner's ears like pebbles.

Unfolding his arms, the godlike creature turns towards the door. "Bring the items for the Test."

The prisoner's ears twitch and he leans forward, dragging the chains along the stone floor.

First, there is the scream—it echoes through the chamber, setting the prisoner's black heart leaping with excitement. Then, the scent.

The void howls and he surges forward, jaws elongating, fangs gnashing inches from the unliving's aquiline nose. Slowly, the man turns, his robes undulating like waves around his feet. As he walks towards the door, two more unliving enter.

One carries the carcass of a bull elk in his arms, its eyes clouded in death, lolling antlered head dragging on the floor. The prisoner barely gives the dead beast a second look. All of his attention is on the sack of flesh that contains the blood the dark abyss so desperately craves. His jaw aches and he yawns mightily.

Upon seeing him, the human screams; for a brief moment, the acrid scent of urine clouds the sweet siren song of blood. But the prisoner quickly sees past that. Here is what his body needs, the blessed balm that will calm the storm that rages within. Anticipation sharpens his senses to a fine point.

"This is your Test," the godlike unliving says calmly, unmoved by the sobbing, blubbering mess of humanity at his feet. "Choose the animal and live as an immortal scholar, or, choose the human and live as a scourge—to kill and shed all blood until your black heart is pierced by silver."

The elk is dropped onto the stone floor; its horns clatter with a hollow, wooden sound. Chains rattle as the human is shackled by one pale wrist. Slowly, the unliving retreat as the human continues to scream and claw at his flesh; blood beads and rises to the surface, hitting the prisoner squarely between the eyes.

He tips his head back and howls, an eerie, undulating sound that echoes throughout the chamber. It is not a human sound, it is the call of a predator.

"Release," commands the white-robed unliving from behind the oaken door.

Snap!

For a brief moment, the prisoner is stunned. He watches as the enchanted chains fall from his wrists and explode in a shower of silver motes, gracefully dissolving into the darkness.

His surprise lasts for as long as it takes for one of the living to blink. With preternatural speed, he leaps upon the human, bearing him down to the cold stone. Feeble fists reach up to pummel him across the face and chest, but they feel like kisses from a butterfly.

Jaws stretching, the prisoner bends his head to the human's neck. Sweet blood pulses just beneath the surface and he is eager to relieve the burning ache in his stomach.

"Please ..."

The prisoner pauses, his fangs just beginning to pierce flesh.

That one word shatters the emptiness of his mind, striking a spark buried deep beneath the mists of his transformation.

He thrusts the human away from him, sending the man skidding in a circle upon the floor. Twisting in mid-air, the prisoner lands upon the dead elk. Without a second thought, he sinks his fangs into the cooling flesh and feeds.

As the blood hits his belly, memories bloom free. With terrifying realization, he pushes away from the drained carcass and presses up against the chamber wall.

What ... what have I become?

The door opens and he looks up through trembling lashes to see the white-robed man enter. A benign smile graces the lips of the master vampire as he reaches out a long-fingered hand towards the newborn.

"Rise, Magnus Solberg. Rise and join the Knowing."