Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

That was what the mortals preached when they returned one of their loved ones to the earth or allowed the fires to take what was left of them. It was simple yet effective. Cruel and yet enough to ease the pain.

But what did one say to a vampire?

One couldn't burn them, their bodies crumbled to dust as soon as the last bit of immortality had gone out of them. And this dust wasn't even real dust like that which covered the earth after a drought. It was more like tiny bodies of sand, as black as if your hands were being sliced open by blades of glass.

Red wet your hands as you lifted what was left of Lorelei into the wind for the sky to take. Pain burned your (S/C) skin.

It was such a strange feeling to feel something again after all this time. And once again it had to be pain.

Why couldn't it be something that made you happy just once?

Perhaps the softness of a freshly blossomed flower. Or the grass under your bare feet.

A gust of wind caught the dust that clung to your blackened hands and carried away everything that remained. Your fingers tightened, you found yourself not wanting to let go of your favourite's ashes.

One last time. Just one last time you wanted to feel what he was like. But that would never happen again. Not that night, not the night after and not in any night that would ever come.

He was gone, disintegrated into his smallest parts and carried away by the wind.

The white roses rustled at your feet. Their sweet scent managed to creep out of the abyss and freeze the tears on your cheeks.

When would it ever end?

A shiver crawled down your spine as your eyes jumped over your shoulder to look at the others.

Albert.

Cillian.

Horren.

And Astarion.

Joy and pain tightened your chest as you looked into their faces one by one. Sadness was not an expression for what you could see. But there was something else.

Worry.

They were worried that what had happened to Lorelei could also happen to them. At that moment, you realised that you had failed.

You had once sworn never to become like your old master. You had promised that none of your offspring would ever have to suffer and yet here they all were, staring at you in fear.

Protect what I cannot protect.

Shadows danced around your feet. Like stray cats, they writhed, twitched and turned, hoping to catch your attention.

With a deep breath, you silenced them. Power flooded your veins.

When was the last time you felt so powerful?

When was the last time they had listened to you without complaining?

Even if you detested it, at that moment you could understand what Cazador liked so much about immeasurable power. It made you not only immortal but also invulnerable. Almost like a spell that had been lost in the folds of history.

It was simply special.

And you hated it. You hated it so much that you started to hate yourself.

Again.

Taking a deep breath, you let your eyes fall shut. A gentle wind brushed your face. Blood dripped from your black fingers, down your long nails and onto the white, brittle stone.

It was cold. You were almost shivering.

Was that a sign that you were now so powerful that your body felt mortal again?

Or was it a sign of weakness?

In the end, the answer meant nothing.

The tips of your fingers twitched, shadows grew and a crown of vines grew upwards. They enclosed all of you like a cage.

When your eyes opened again, they still glowed with the red of a vampire. The red that had cursed you.

"Albert.", you managed to create a smile, but it was tired and sapped your strength.

Your mind reeled. You wondered how much longer until he would turn on you.

The old man looked at you hesitantly. Old, but he was so much older. His footsteps echoed hollowly in your ears as he climbed the two steps towards you.

"Platinum.", his head bowed down but you forced him to lift it up again with a gentle gesture.

"We're not bowing today, my friend.", you said, and the smile on your lips trembled. "Drink. It will burn you and then set you free."

You raised your hands to him demonstratively. Blood oozed out of the thousands of small carvings that had caused Lorelei's ashes, thick and red like that of a living being.

But it was a lie. Like so much about vampires and immortality, this blood was a lie, for it was not a sign of life. It was poison that filled your veins and spread a disease for which there was no cure.

Cruelty.

You had to huff at the thought. Maybe it came with immortality. It was like the red of your eyes that you had never chosen.

Albert still hesitated. His gaze was fixed on your palms, which were shaped like a bowl to catch the blood. He didn't seem to know what to do and looked up at you.

You smiled, this time sincerely and wistfully.

"I'll set you free.", you said, your gaze sweeping over Cillian and Horren. "All of you. Forgive me for not being able to protect you. But it's time you protected yourselves."

"From whom?", Cillian asked, his brow furrowed.

From me.

Cazador.

Whatever you feel like doing. You didn't say the words out loud, but they hung in the air like an accusation that you knew to be true.

"It was an honour.", Albert took the first sip.

Red wetted the white of his beard. When he had had enough, he stepped back to make room for the others.

Horren waited and let Cillian go first. With tired eyes, he looked at his reflection on the smooth surface.

"All these years...", he whispered, his hands clasping yours, turning red. "For this. And I'm not even happy."

He drank anyway and when he was finished Horren stepped in front of you. His eyes were fixed, he had his hand on his sword.

"Are your orders still valid, Platinum?", he asked.

You snorted.

"Not if you don't want them to, lord Constable.", you replied.

He drank without giving it a second thought.

"I thank you. You have saved me."

But you couldn't save Lorelei. And you wouldn't be able to save yourself either.