It was surprisingly warm in my cell. With no windows and the only doorway sealed with a yellowish, energized barrier, I expected it to be cold, or at least cool, uninviting, sterile. But it really wasn’t. The bed was not uncomfortable; the toilet was not just a metal pot; the walls emitted a soft glow that served as my only lighting. After all these years, I really was expecting a cold, dank, disgusting cellar dungeon with a grate at the top through which I would have been dropped and from which I could never climb out again. This...this was better than some motels I’ve stayed in. Figures even their detention areas had to be “perfect.”

My coat was folded under my head as a pillow. I was trying to relax. To an outsider, I was probably too calm, but inside, I was terrified. They had not brought my brother up with me. With any luck, they had no idea he existed. I wanted him to come after me, to rescue me, but he would not. We made an agreement years ago that if something happened to one of us, the other would take my boys into hiding. They were something far too precious to risk ending up like me now. They were our only hope, our next generation. If we died, they were the only ones left. I sighed and closed my eyes. It wouldn’t do for someone to read my mind and know about their existence. I built up a second barrier around my mind to reinforce the one that had been there since I was only a few hundred years old. They have some powerful psychics up here.

The door at the end of the cellblock snapped me out of a trance...or had I fallen asleep? Either way, someone was coming. Was this it for me? Were they coming as they had promised? To publicly execute me as a half-breed? I sat up, tense but trying not to let it show. There were only the footsteps of one person, and it sounded like they were women’s heels.

Indeed, a young woman stepped into view after a few moments. To say I was shocked by her appearance would be an understatement. She was about one hundred sixty-five centimeters tall - a full head and shoulders taller than me, at least with those heels on anyway.  Her hair was nearly fluorescent orange, and she had solid black eyes, no whites or irises, which were set into a dark, naturally tanned face. By far, the most noticeable feature were the white and black marbled horns that curled backwards around her pointed ears to her face and back just a bit again, and wings the same colour as her hair but so incredibly unlike any other wings I had ever seen. Instead of the feathery, bird-like wings of my captors, they seemed to be almost made of the same substance usually associated with pixies, colourful but fragile and transparent. But their shape was like a cherub’s child-sized “angel” wings. She was the most exotic and striking woman I had ever laid eyes on. What was someone like her doing in a place like this?

“Close your mouth. You look like a fool.” Her voice was like temple bells in a storm. Her tone was one of complete authority. Her posture was upright and rigid. Her clothes spoke to the elitist society of the Solias, my captors. Believing they were the epitome of perfection, they went out of their way to show us of the surface-dwelling races that they, the sky-dwelling race, were far superior in all ways, especially in physical appearance. To say they all dressed like whores would be fairly accurate, although my “ladies” at the Rose Petal would string me up for the comparison, but I had to credit this one for at least keeping it R-15, not that I would have minded seeing more...

But what had me gaping was the fact that she was obviously not a Solias, and they had an extremely strict policy on outsiders: none allowed in their cities. Ever. Punishable by death. Which was what I was due for any minute. Yet here was a woman not only not a pure-blood, but possibly a mix of three or four different races. The horns I would attribute to satyrs; the shape of her wings to Solias; the material of her wings to pixies. How was she able to walk around up here and come to the dungeon inside the Hinofu, where the Empress of their over-powered nation lived?

“Did you not hear me?” she snapped. “I said shut your mouth.” Almost involuntarily, I did so, but it was more from the realization that she expected me to understand her. None of the soldiers who brought me here had assumed I understood anything they said. “Do not glare at me. I did not put you in there.” She crossed her arms under her chest and set her feet a little wider apart. “Tell me, why did they see fit to bring you up here? What did you do to warrant a public execution and not a simple broken neck on the surface?”

“I’ll tell you,” I started, noting her lack of reaction to my use of the Solias language, “if you tell me how you’re able to be here.” At that, her eyes narrowed, and we simply stared at each other for several moments.

Finally, she said, “I can go anywhere I wish, as is my right as a citizen and noble of the Empire of Solia. Why would you ask such a ridiculous question?”

“Because...you’re not a Solias.” I honestly couldn’t believe I had to say that out loud. How could she think she was really a noble of this empire? If anyone had seen her at birth, she would have been slaughtered. Solias were known for their liberal use of infanticide, especially in the case of mixed lineage.

Her composure slipped a tiny bit. I saw fear flash through her face and her body tense, but then she was calm again. Her brow knit as she seemed to concentrate hard on something. Was she a telepath? Was she trying to probe my mind? I set my jaw and braced against her attack, but I couldn’t feel anything remotely like any previous invasions. I didn’t feel anything at all. Was she the most powerful they had? Is that why they kept her around? If she were that powerful, could she make them see her as something else? As I thought that, I saw another woman superimposed over her. Same height, same body, same skin-tone and hair, but her eyes were normal and the same colour as her hair and now very large, majestic, solid, feathery wings. Then it was gone, and she was her normal, mixed self.

“You really don’t see me as a Solias, do you? My mask has no effect on you...” She seemed afraid and awed at the same time. “What are you that you are immune to me?”

“Why would I trust you with my secrets?”

“Why should I trust you with mine?”

It was another stare down. We were trying to measure how much to share, if anything, with each other. I still didn’t know what she wanted, but I knew what she didn’t want. All she had to do was walk away, and I would be killed in good time. Her secret would die with me. Unless I tried to exchange it for my life. Even if my captors heard me out, they wouldn’t spare me in the end, and I knew it. All it would do is get her killed with me.

“You are not telepathic,” she mused, making me jump. “Empathy would not tell you anything. Clairvoyance would, but I’ve never met a non-tactile clairvoyant. Whatever you are, you must be naturally immune to suggestion. And that is a short list.” I stiffened, wondering if she was going to really put it together with what happened to get me brought up here in the first place. But...she didn’t know. She had asked me what I’d done to get brought up here, so she couldn’t possible see the bigger picture. “What was it you did to anger the soldiers so much they decided to make you a spectacle?”

“I don’t have to tell you a-” I was suddenly yanked off the bed and flat against the energy barrier, except that, thankfully, I wasn’t really touching it. If I were, there would be real-life face melting. I could feel the intense heat, like sitting way too close to a kerosene heater. This was the same stuff they used in their weapons, and I’ve lost vehicles to one slice of a polearm with this crap as the blade. I had to wonder if I’d slowly roast to death if she held me here too long.

“You will tell me,” she snarled in a low voice. For a split-second, her irises flashed a bright red. I’m not sure if I was more devastated or amazed or panicked or...or dumbfounded, but in that moment, I thought she was just like me.

“Dhampir?” I choked against the barrier. “You-” This time, nothing could cover up the terror in her face. Before I could digest anything, I was flung into the back wall with such ferocity, my head bounced off with a crunch so terrible, I didn’t know if it was the tile or my skull that had shattered. The ground seemed sharp to my knees and palms, and my elbows gave under the weight of me, making me almost kiss the shining white floor now turning crimson as blood dripped off my face. To be this strong, to hurt me this badly this easily, I had to be right. I didn’t move, afraid that any twitch would set her in motion and my life would be over. I could see the decision being made in panic and anger behind her eyes, and in that same moment, something grabbed ahold of things inside me and started to squeeze. My heart felt like it was going to explode; I couldn’t breathe, I could barely think, I couldn’t tell her we were the same. I wouldn’t betray one of my own, no matter how confused I was as to how she came to be, especially up here. I tried to reach out to her, crawling toward the barrier. My left hand touched it, and the searing pain made me fall away. My sight was dimming, tunneling inward; my mind was becoming thick with the haze of approaching death. In desperation, I let my composure go and showed her who I really was, what I really was…the same as her. I showed her my blood red eyes and the fangs people down below knew had to be there but had never seen. The people in my city, they knew what I was, but it was like a myth. I was a legend each generation would ponder, tell their friends they didn’t believe it when secretly, they thought of me as a town hero, even though I haven’t done anything heroic in centuries.

But I was a dhampir. For two thousand years, I was one of two. For the last seventeen years, I’ve been the oldest of four. Now, I had to rethink again, because our ranks just increased by two. But I blacked out before I could tell if the title of oldest would pass to my brother.