Kiran

Everything within Kieran burned. The ancient blood of the abyss demanded destruction and slaughter, but he swore: not another drop of blood. He sat on the ruins of the altar, holding back his rage with the last of his strength, when an ominous rumble pierced the silence of the night. A scarlet glow flared behind him. His instincts kicked in—Kieran jumped back a split second before the enormous two-handed sword shattered the stone slabs into splinters. Kieran spun around, dropping to the ground. His demonic flames flared, and he bared his teeth at his attacker. Before him stood a tall, deathly pale vampire with jet-black hair. His scarlet eyes burned with hunger, and his claymore vibrated with hatred. "Draw your blade, spawn of the abyss! Or do you wish to die a coward?" the knight said, cold as a bell. Everything inside Kieran urged him to burn the dead man, but he forced himself to press his palms to the ground, extinguishing the fire. He looked up at his enemy: "If I draw my blade… I will become like them. Cut, vampire, if your honor allows you to kill one who does not defend himself." Kieran waited for death, but the blow never came. The vampire froze. In his icy eyes, rage gave way to shocked recognition. He looked at the demon's trembling hands and understood the agony of suppressing the beast. With a heavy sigh, the pale warrior put his sword behind his back. "You are a strange creature for your kind. Live... before I change my mind." He said softly and disappeared into the shadows of the night. Kieran was left alone. His inner beast had subsided, captivated by the fact that someone had, for the first time, seen his inner struggle.

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