Sol felt overwhelming fear as his heart slowed to a stop. It wasn’t the end for him. Disjointed images of hazy clarity appeared in his mind, drawing him in. They were fragmented memories belonging to someone else. He was feeling an overwhelming thirst overriding his sanity.

***

The images showed the beggar while he was still alive from a high vantage point overlooking the alley. He was looking over his shoulder in fear, tripping over garbage to fall face first into a beam of sunlight. He pulled the trash over himself in panic, camouflaging underneath. A moment later, a pair of guards appeared at the alley entrance. They looked directly into the alley before glancing at the sky.

Judging the time by the sun high in the sky, the guards whispered amongst themselves. The light was searing Sol’s eyes as he watched the people below. Despite the distance between them, the guard's words were as clear as if they were spoken directly into Sol’s ear.

“Leave him. It’s getting dark. We should get back to the barracks before the sun goes down. I hear there’s a new blood claiming this alley,” one guard said.

“Agreed. We may be protected by the clans, but new bloods never follow the rules and it isn’t worth risking being drained over human trash. That beggar's a dead man.” his companion replied.

The guards hurriedly continued their patrol down the street. The memories shifted to a different scene.

***

It was later in the day and the sun had set to a bearable level. Sol's hand stretched out, breaking a ray of sunlight, causing a wave of pain that was manageable. The outstretched hand strangely didn't belong to Sol, making him feel confused.

The beggar pushed trash off himself while climbing to his feet, drawing Sol's scrutiny. The beggar looked at the shadows stretching across the alley. Sol could hear the man’s excited heartbeat accelerating in panic. He looked back toward the street with hesitation before choosing to hurry deeper into the alleyway, attempting to remain inside the sunlight.

Sol felt his body move of its own violation, leaping from his vantage point into the alley below. He dropped multiple floors to land soundlessly on the cobles. He stuck to the shadows as he stalked the distance between himself and his prey. He had caught up before the beggar even took two steps. Reaching out a clawed hand, he dragged the man into the darkness, twisting and lifting to pin the man against the wall.

The air was knocked from the beggar's lungs, preventing any outcry of surprise as brick and mortar crumbled from the wall from the impact.

“Wait! I belong to clan Sanguine. I can be useful to you…” the beggar pleaded, the scent of his fear was thick in the air, intoxicating Sol.

“You are useful to me,” Sol felt himself say with the voice of the vampire earlier.

Without hesitation, Sol’s fangs plunged into the beggar’s exposed throat, cutting off any response. The taste of his fear-infused blood was ecstasy that overwhelmed the filth coating his skin. The persistent thirst he had felt earlier began to subside as he drained the man of blood. His joyous feasting was interrupted by the sound of footsteps nearby. Turning away from his meal, Sol locked eyes with himself in the alley. The memory shifted again.

***

The beggar now hung unconscious in the eerily lit room filled with corpses. Sol felt a feeling of excitement that he had not one, but two victims to feast on. He only needed to catch the second one before any of his rival brethren claimed it. There was none nearby, but his victim may leave his territory before the sunset, then he’ll miss his opportunity.

Sol sniffed the air. He could smell blood coming from the entrance of his lair. Fresh blood. The blood didn’t originate from the beggar tied to the ceiling. It appeared his second meal had done the unthinkable. It had delivered itself to him. Sol felt anticipation for his starvation and misfortune coming to an end. The images shifted once more as they accelerated.

The hazy memory fragments showed the vampire stalking Sol in the darkness, retreating from the silver sunburst of the Lord, eventually gaining the courage to attack. He felt that powerful elation as he drained Sol of blood. It ended there then Sol felt the memories fade, almost forgotten in his subconscious.

***

Pain washed through Sol. He became aware of his body lying on the floor. Intense agony seared his clenched hand. His sight returned to him, replacing the darkness was a bright hallway. The light coming from the low-quality moon-stood had become magnified by something.

His body slowly moved as he instinctively released his fist to investigate the cause of the pain. It was the silver sunburst symbol of the Lord resting in the palm of his hand. Wisps of steam rose from his flesh under it. Sol groaned as he forced his ruined body to move. Before he could discard the sunburst, Sol hesitated.

I need this. It’s my only protection. What if the thin-blood comes back? I’m utterly helpless right now. I don’t know why I’m still alive.

Sol’s thoughts trailed off as he realised a growing thirst that overpowered the ache of his body. He endured the searing pain of the silver sunburst to follow an alluring aroma coming from beside him. Acting on instinct, Sol’s teeth clamped down on the neck of the beggar’s corpse. He suddenly pushed himself away, his body reacting violently to the dead man’s blood. Tremors coursed through his body as he rolled onto his back. He felt extreme nausea as his thirst subsided along with the pain searing his palm.

He felt relief as the ache in his body disappeared. He also regained control of his actions. Sol raised his empty hand in front, flexing his fingers. They moved with an unnatural dexterity. He could even detect the motes of dust hanging in the air disturbed by his movement.

The feeling of nausea remained, but Sol could easily endure the discomfort. Climbed unsteadily to his feet, he investigated his surroundings. Gritting his teeth while holding the sunburst, Sol bent down to tear a strip of cloth from the dead beggar’s ragged clothing.

While wrapping the cloth around the palm of one hand, Sol noticed that the splinter wound in his other hand from earlier had disappeared without any trace. He rubbed his thumb against the healed skin in surprise.

“I must not have survived, after all. Fuck. What does this mean for me now? The clans don't like rogue thin-bloods” Sol wondered aloud.

“Interesting. It seems that I must finish the job. I'm not interested in a rival for my territory. I was too careless and allowed my blood to enter your lips,” the sinister voice of the vampire replied.

The vampire was standing in the doorway of the room filled with corpses. Its mutilated eye socket had completely healed while Sol turned. Its features had also become more human and less bestial in appearance. Sol felt an instinctual hostility rising as he glowered at his rival vampire. His previous fear was now replaced with anticipation.

Sol smiled menacingly. He could feel his elongated fangs pressing against his lower lip.

"Well then. It looks like I'll be the one avenging my own death," Sol said with cynical amusement.