The Divergence

Ophelia landed softly in the narrow space between two buildings.

Her boots touched the ground with barely a sound.

She straightened her dress almost absently.

Behind her, unseen by Ophelia herself, the leathery wings that had carried her through the night quietly folded.

A moment later...

They vanished.

Drawn seamlessly back into her body as though they had never existed.

The dark fabric of her dress repaired itself without so much as a loose thread.

Ophelia adjusted one sleeve and began walking through the shadows between the buildings.

She glanced once back towards the church roof above.

No one had seen her.

Not that she'd expected anyone to.

The congregation remained safely inside, listening to a man explain the intentions of creatures he'd never met.

Ophelia turned away.

The scent of orchids and cinnamon drifted faintly around her as she began walking through the shadows between buildings.

Dawn remained several hours away.

That gave her time.

Not as much as it once would've.

Before the Second Divergence, several hours of night travel could carry her an extraordinary distance.

Now...

Every distance in between stretched twice as far.

Towns that had once been nearby had become inconveniently remote.

Entire forests and valleys occupied spaces that hadn't existed the day before.

The world had become enormous.

Ophelia found that mildly rude.

She hadn't been consulted.

Still...

The Second Divergence had solved one problem rather neatly.

No one was pursuing her anymore.

The soldiers who had chased her toward the border could no longer follow even if they wished to.

Roads ended in forests.

Railways disappeared across newly formed plains.

Bridges connected to nothing.

Military vehicles were impressive only while the world remained considerate enough to provide roads beneath them.

Now...

Her former country had been cut away behind miles upon miles of impossible terrain.

Ophelia almost felt grateful.

Almost.

She stepped from the alley and looked down the darkened street.

Most windows were unlit.

A few cars remained parked along the roadside.

Some had likely been left there before the Second Divergence disrupted travel.

Others belonged to residents attempting to pretend that life remained normal.

Ophelia adjusted one sleeve.

Then bent her knees slightly.

She could cover considerable distance before sunrise if she ran.

Perhaps she'd even find another settlement.

Or...

With some luck...

Another vampire.

The thought stirred something warm inside her.

She had seen them online.

Hundreds of photographs.

Videos.

Reports.

Vampires standing together.

Sleeping together.

Laughing.

Traveling in groups as though solitude had never occurred to them.

Meanwhile...

Ophelia had awakened alone.

Fled alone.

Crossed a border alone.

The circumstances were becoming tiresome.

She leaned forward, preparing to move—

A scream cut through the night.

Pain.

Fear.

Abruptly silenced.

Ophelia remained exactly where she was.

Her expression flattened.

"...Of course."

She closed her eyes for a moment.

There were several reasonable choices available.

Ignore it.

Continue traveling.

Allow local authorities to eventually discover whatever had happened.

None of those choices required delaying herself.

Another strangled cry echoed from somewhere behind the buildings.

Ophelia sighed.

Then turned.

"Apparently..."

She murmured.

"...I'm doing this."

She vanished from the street.

To human eyes...

There would've been no movement.

Only a faint disturbance in the air.

One moment she stood beneath a darkened streetlamp.

The next...

Nothing.

Ophelia followed the scent of blood.

Fresh.

Human.

Strong enough to cut through the smells of concrete, rainwater, refuse, and distant exhaust.

She rounded the rear of one building.

Then another.

The narrow passage opened into a small service courtyard bordered by brick walls.

A man stood near the center.

He was gasping.

One hand held a knife.

Blood coated the blade.

More covered his sleeve.

At his feet...

A woman lay curled against the pavement.

One hand pressed desperately against her side.

Blood seeped between her fingers.

Too much.

Far too quickly.

Ophelia stepped from the shadows.

Her boots clicked lightly against the pavement.

The man spun around.

Ophelia looked from him...

To the woman...

Then back again.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Her tone remained politely curious.

"A lover's quarrel?"

She tilted her head.

"Or perhaps a fated battle between ancient foes?"

The man stared at her.

His breathing grew heavier.

His eyes moved over the gothic dress.

The pointed ears.

The solid crimson eyes.

Recognition struck.

Fear followed.

Then panic.

"Stay back!"

Ophelia's eyebrows rose.

"That seems unlikely."

The man lunged.

The knife slashed toward her face.

Ophelia raised one hand.

The blade cut directly across her palm.

Dark blood welled instantly.

The man froze.

Ophelia looked down at the knife embedded against her grasp.

Then back at him.

"...Was that meant to be effective?"

She closed her fingers around the blade.

The sharpened edge sank deeper into her palm.

The sensation barely registered.

Damage.

Pressure.

A faint warmth.

Not enough to concern her.

She yanked the knife free from his grip.

The man stumbled forward.

Ophelia tilted her head thoughtfully.

Then kicked him in the stomach.

Not especially hard.

At least...

Not by her standards.

The impact lifted him from the ground.

His body crossed nearly ten feet before striking the brick wall with a sickening crack.

He folded awkwardly and collapsed onto the pavement.

Blood streamed from his mouth and nose.

His chest moved once.

Twice.

Barely.

Ophelia looked at him.

"...Fragile."

She tossed the knife aside.

It clattered against the pavement several feet away.

Her palm had already begun closing.

The cut sealed from one end to the other, leaving only dark blood across otherwise flawless skin.

Ophelia walked toward the injured woman.

She crouched beside her.

The woman's breathing came in short, ragged bursts.

Her complexion had gone pale.

Sweat clung to her forehead.

The wound at her side was deep.

Possibly several wounds.

Ophelia gently moved the woman's hand aside.

Blood immediately flowed more freely.

"...That's inconvenient."

The woman's eyes fluttered open.

They struggled to focus.

Eventually...

They found Ophelia.

A small figure crouched over her.

Empty red eyes.

Long purple hair cascading in heavy waves across the pavement.

Pointed ears peeking through delicate braids.

An ornate black dress untouched by dirt despite resting so close to the ground.

The woman's expression shifted.

Fear.

Confusion.

Desperation.

Her shaking hand slowly reached upward.

Toward Ophelia.

Ophelia blinked once.

Then again.

"Oh."

She glanced at the blood covering the woman's hand.

"I suppose that is one option."

The woman tried to speak.

Nothing intelligible emerged.

Ophelia looked toward the wound again.

Then at the blood pooling beneath her.

Time was limited.

She sighed quietly.

"For transparency..."

She took the woman's wrist.

"...I haven't eaten particularly well recently."

The woman's fingers trembled.

"My last meal was somewhat unwilling."

Ophelia brought the wrist closer to her mouth.

"He became excitable."

She opened her lips, revealing sharp fangs.

"So I had to persuade him to settle down."

The woman weakly tried to pull away.

Ophelia held her easily.

"Don't be dramatic."

She said softly.

"You're already bleeding."

Then she bit.

Her fangs slipped into the woman's wrist.

The reaction was immediate.

The woman's body tensed.

Not from pain.

The bite didn't hurt.

Instead...

Warmth spread through her arm.

Pleasure followed.

Soft.

Dizzying.

Almost soothing enough to make the blood loss feel distant.

Ophelia drank several deep mouthfuls.

Human blood filled her senses.

Warm.

Rich.

Alive.

Her hunger eased almost instantly.

She could've continued.

The woman's pulse weakened beneath her lips.

Ophelia stopped.

She lifted her head.

Two small wounds remained at the woman's wrist.

Already slowing.

Ophelia released her.

"Thank you."

The woman's eyes barely remained open.

Ophelia looked toward the wound at her side.

Then toward her own wrist.

"Since you fed me..."

She bit into herself.

Dark blood surfaced immediately.

She pressed the injury against the woman's mouth.

"...I'll save you."

The woman weakly turned her head.

Ophelia caught her jaw.

"Drink."

Her voice sharpened.

The woman obeyed.

The first mouthful slipped between her lips.

Then another.

Ophelia watched carefully.

Vampire blood worked quickly.

Faster than anything reasonable.

The woman's breathing steadied slightly.

The bleeding slowed.

Color returned faintly to her face.

Ophelia's eyes narrowed.

The wound was severe.

A small amount might heal it.

But...

Ophelia had already decided she disliked half-measures.

She clicked her tongue.

"Actually..."

She bit her wrist again as the first wound began closing.

"...I won't merely save you."

More dark blood welled.

She returned it to the woman's mouth.

"I'll make you better."

The woman swallowed.

Her eyes drifted shut.

Ophelia shifted, sitting fully on the pavement before lifting the woman's head into her lap.

Long purple hair spread around them.

Every few moments...

She reopened her wrist.

Then pressed it against the woman's mouth again.

A steady rhythm.

Bite.

Drink.

Heal.

Repeat.

The amount mattered.

Too little vampire blood would only regenerate human tissue.

A sufficient quantity...

Changed the body.

Ophelia didn't know the precise threshold.

No one had handed her instructions.

Vampirism apparently came with instincts rather than documentation.

Still...

She could feel it.

The woman's body accepting the blood.

Adapting.

Changing.

Her wound closed first.

Flesh drew together beneath the torn clothing.

Blood stopped flowing.

The deep damage vanished.

Then...

The transformation continued.

The woman's sickly pallor receded.

Healthy warmth returned to her complexion.

Her skin smoothed.

Small imperfections faded.

Her hair deepened in color and gained a soft, healthy shine.

The structure of her face shifted almost imperceptibly.

Not enough to make her someone else.

Enough to refine what was already there.

Softer.

Clearer.

Distinctly touched by vampirism.

But not a vampire.

Not fully.

Ophelia watched the process with quiet interest.

"Fascinating."

She murmured.

The woman's head remained against her lap.

Her breathing had become calm.

Steady.

Human.

A heartbeat continued beneath her ribs.

Ophelia could hear it clearly.

Stronger now.

More forceful than before.

Nearly half an hour passed.

Ophelia glanced toward the sky between the buildings.

Still dark.

Fortunately.

"This random venture has delayed me considerably."

She looked down at the unconscious woman.

"You could've chosen a more convenient time to be murdered."

No response.

Ophelia sighed.

"Selfish."

Her gaze shifted toward the man near the wall.

He hadn't moved.

Not once.

Ophelia listened.

No breathing.

No heartbeat.

Nothing.

She stared at him for several seconds.

Then clicked her tongue.

"...I probably should've kicked him slightly softer."

The observation changed nothing.

She returned her attention to the woman.

Several minutes later...

Her eyelids moved.

Then opened.

Clear sclera.

Unnaturally clear.

But not empty crimson.

Her irises remained human.

The color perhaps richer than before.

Brighter.

Yet still unmistakably ordinary compared to Ophelia's solid red gaze.

The woman's eyes darted rapidly around.

Brick walls.

Dark sky.

Blood on the pavement.

Then...

Ophelia.

She gasped and tried to sit up.

Ophelia removed her hand from behind her head, allowing her to rise.

The woman immediately looked toward the motionless man.

Her breathing accelerated.

Ophelia stood in one smooth movement.

Her long skirt settled around her boots.

"Being afraid of him seems rather pointless now."

The woman stared.

Ophelia nodded toward the body.

"He's dead."

The woman's eyes widened.

"And even if he weren't..."

Ophelia continued.

"...you are stronger than a human now."

The woman looked down at herself.

Her hand moved toward her side.

The torn fabric remained.

The wound beneath it did not.

She pressed against the area.

No pain.

No blood.

Nothing.

Her fingers moved upward.

Across her face.

Through her hair.

"What..."

She looked at Ophelia.

"What did you do to me?"

Ophelia folded her hands neatly in front of herself.

"I prevented you from dying."

The woman swallowed.

"Did..."

She hesitated.

"Did I become a vampire?"

Ophelia laughed.

It wasn't cruel.

Merely amused.

"No."

She stepped closer.

"You're still taller than me."

The woman blinked.

Ophelia gestured toward herself.

"Vampires are rather consistent."

The woman looked down.

She was still unmistakably herself.

Same height.

Same general figure.

Same eyes.

Yet...

Different.

Improved.

Her skin felt smoother.

Her senses sharper.

The night no longer looked as dark.

She could hear distant sounds she shouldn't have been able to distinguish.

Even Ophelia's presence felt stronger and closer.

The scent of orchids and cinnamon surrounded her clearly now.

The woman looked toward the body again.

Then back to Ophelia.

"...Thank you."

Fear remained in her expression.

But gratitude joined it.

Ophelia studied her quietly.

"Do you have family?"

The woman shook her head.

"Friends?"

Another pause.

"Not here."

Her voice remained weak.

"I only arrived in this country recently."

Ophelia's expression changed.

Slightly.

Recognition.

Another stranger.

Another person who had crossed into an unfamiliar country and found no one waiting for her.

"Convenient."

The woman looked confused.

Ophelia smiled.

"Follow me."

She turned toward the alley.

"I needed company anyway."

The woman hesitated.

Then stood.

Her movement was unsteady at first.

She caught herself against the wall.

The force behind the motion surprised her.

Her hand struck the brick hard enough to crack loose dust.

She stared at her fingers.

"What am I?"

Ophelia paused.

"A Thrall."

The woman stiffened.

Ophelia looked back over her shoulder.

"Despite the name..."

She sighed.

"...you aren't a slave."

The woman continued staring.

Ophelia considered how to explain it.

"They're more like..."

She tilted her head one way.

Then the other.

"Companions."

A pause.

"But not vampires."

The uncertainty at the end made it sound almost like a question.

Ophelia frowned.

"I assume someone has researched this more thoroughly."

The woman touched her healed side again.

"And I just..."

"Follow you?"

"That was the suggestion."

"Where?"

Ophelia looked toward the dark street beyond the alley.

"No idea."

The woman blinked.

Ophelia smiled faintly.

"Isn't that reassuring?"

It wasn't.

Still...

The woman stepped after her.

Her footsteps were softer now.

More controlled.

Not as silent as Ophelia's.

But no longer entirely human either.

Behind them...

The dead man remained crumpled beneath the wall.

The blood on the pavement slowly darkened.

Ahead...

The night stretched between unfamiliar buildings and broken roads.

Ophelia began walking.

The new Thrall followed.

And for the first time since the First Divergence...

Ophelia was no longer traveling alone. 

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