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Thanatos. My name is Thanatos.
The thought echoed in his head when he awoke, the only remnant of a dream he could not remember. He clung to it like a lifeline, because he couldn't remember who he was otherwise. He huddled in the corner of a dark room, alone, as far as he could tell. His head ached terribly.
Thanatos, since that appeared to be his name, tried to cast his mind back to the night before and make some sort of determination of how he'd gotten to where he was. The effort made pain lance through his temples, and he quickly gave up the attempt. That left him clueless as to his identity or his purpose and somehow very very hungry. Gods. He'd never been so hungry in his life. And not just hunger either, a thirst so powerful a sea of wine couldn't quench it. He swallowed hard, and wrapped his arms around his groaning stomach as if that could quiet the pangs. What time was it? He really ought to be getting home…
The problem with that was that he wasn't sure where home was. He had a faint memory of a market street, an alleyway, the face of a woman, but nothing attached to them. When he looked around, the edges of the objects in the room jumped out at him in greyscale, more defined than he'd ever seen but with all the color sucked out of them. Was this awful headache doing something to his eyes? The sounds, too, so loud. People talking downstairs, birdsong, the wind through the trees, furniture creaking, all as sharp as if they were in the room with him, but he could still determine their true distance. He was so hungry.
And cold. As the sun slowly crested the horizon, it cast a narrow beam of light into the far corner of the room. Thanatos (he was still unused to the name) felt a sudden craving for it, he needed the warmth on his skin, his very bones were cold like he'd never felt before. He forced himself to his knees and crawled toward the light, stretching out his hand like a man in the desert searching for water. The instant his fingertips brushed the sunbeam, he drew back, screaming. The sunlight burned. He felt like his hand was boiling from the inside out. Retreating to the darkened corner, he curled himself into a ball, shaking and holding back tears. When the pain had receded enough for him to stop clutching his arm to his chest, he could see that the skin on his fingers was charred black. Why—?
Footsteps on the stairs. His scream had drawn someone's attention. "Oh! Look at you, what have you done to yourself. I would have been back sooner if I thought you'd be awake soon…"
Thanatos vaguely remembered this person. Nubian, most likely, and tall, with hair like a dark cloud and an inscrutable face. From last night, perhaps? He'd… had sex with them? "W-What's happening to me?"
They took his hand in both of theirs and smiled. "Hurts, doesn't it? It's all right. I can make it better. You're hungry, aren't you? I've brought something for you. Drink this, and you'll heal that right up."
They held out an amphora toward him, and expecting wine, he took it without question, putting it greedily to his lips. Instead of the sweetness of grapes, his mouth filled with salt and rust. He wanted to spit it out, but instinct took over and he gulped the whole thing down before he could force himself to stop. It tasted so good. Like nothing he recognized, but he knew the flavor all the same. "What… is this?"
"Like that?" The Nubian grinned, white teeth against dark skin, highlighted in the gloom. "It's blood. Fresh. I went out to get it for you, knew you'd be hungry. Good, isn't it? I saved you the end of my meal. Strapping young man, about your age, you should have seen him. Delicious abdominals."
Blood. Thanatos wanted to vomit, but couldn't summon the nausea. He'd just drunk down blood as if it were mother's milk. How could he do that. "Who— what am I? What are you?"
"As for who you are, I'm sure you know better than I. You had a name before, but you have a new one now, don't you?"
Thanatos swallowed hard. "I'm… Thanatos."
"Thanatos. The god of death. A bit arrogant, don't you think?" They grinned at him again. "You may call me Orôsel, of the House Iuventae. The vampire House Iuventae. You, Thanatos, are a vampire, just as I am." Thanatos's face must have shown the lack of recognition, because Orôsel frowned at him. "Nothing? Ah. This world does not yet have vampire legends. No wonder I haven't encountered many of us. If there were more, they'd know what we are. Vampires: immortal creatures of the night. Human lifeblood is our sustenance, and it grants us power beyond mortal ken. I am your sire, I chose you to receive our gift. You should be grateful."
He didn't feel grateful. "Why…?" He was cold and he wanted to go home. He realized with a start that the skin on his fingers was already regrowing.
Orôsel chuckled. "Why? Because you were beautiful. I am a slave to art, you see. Any beauty I encounter, I simply must preserve. The idea of something like you withering and dying was simply untenable to me. You have made some alterations since, but you have good taste. You've managed to highlight and preserve what was already there while minimizing unaesthetic elements, but staying true to the original spirit. Have you considered being an artist?"
"N-no…" Thanatos's head was spinning. He'd changed what he looked like? He didn't remember doing that, and his face didn't feel like it had any cosmetics on it. "I don't understand…"
"You will. Take it one day at a time. You don't have to worry about anything else, after all, your old life is over. You won't be going back to that family or that job, everything will be new. I'll teach you everything you need to know."
Thanatos couldn't respond. He felt like crying. Everything was still too loud and hurt and he was confused and scared and he wanted to go home but Orôsel was telling him he couldn't. Would he never see his mother again? He let out a hiccupping sort of sniffle, and Orôsel frowned pityingly.
"I know, it's a lot. Take some time to absorb it all. Let me know when you're hungry again, all right? We can start with the first lesson: how to hunt."
"H-hunt what?"
They grinned again, and a pair of fangs glinted in the low light. "Well, people, of course."
Thanatos shuddered and curled in on himself. He was a monster now. He'd drunk a whole amphora of blood and already his stomach was growling for more, warmer, fresher. He could never go back to the person he'd been. He could never go home. It would be like he'd never existed. He looked up, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes, at the sliver of light in the corner once again. The burnished bronze mirror near the same wall reflected back at him an empty room.