Chapter 14. Curiosity Killed The Cat
The sun hung low over the island, stretching shadows across the dirt path like dark fingers. To Adom's right, the ocean crashed against the cliffs below, its breeze carrying salt and the sweetness of wildflowers from the grassy slopes to his left.
A flicker of movement caught his eye. High above, a figure on a broomstick glided through the clouds, their blue robes marking them as an Imperial mage. They waved as they passed overhead, and Adom returned the gesture automatically, watching them soar effortlessly through the air.
"I wonder how they do it," he muttered, shaking his head. "Even if I was trapped in a dungeon and flying was the only way out, I wouldn't—" He stopped mid-sentence and glanced skyward. "Hmm. Actually, forget I said that. No need to tempt fate or whatever cosmic force runs this universe. I'd rather not jinx myself."
A sudden gust of wind rustled through the grass, as if in acknowledgment. Adom wasn't sure if he was being paranoid or appropriately cautious.
This was the kind of weather that made you forget Arkhos was home to tens of different criminal organizations and one very angry vampire. The kind of weather that also made jogging feel like voluntary torture.
[Endurance +2]
Thirty minutes into his "light jog" and Adom's legs burned with that special kind of hatred reserved for exercise.
Each step sent a dull throb through his bad leg, a constant reminder of why he was putting himself through this hell. He'd found that focusing on complex problems helped distract from the pain, or at least gave him something to be annoyed about besides his burning lungs.
The problem of Helios sat in his mind like a puzzle box waiting to be solved, though right now it competed with thoughts like 'breathing is overrated' and 'who invented jogging and why haven't they been arrested?' Sun exposure was the only permanent solution for a vampire - everything else was just a temporary inconvenience.
Something about sunlight drained their life force completely. Imperial mages had theories about why the sun affected these mutants so drastically - perhaps something in their altered biology simply couldn't handle solar radiation.
But studying vampires was nearly impossible; most victims of vampire bites either succumbed to the rotting effects of their bacteria-laden saliva, or, in rare cases where they got treatment in time, were cured. The even rarer survivors who weren't treated became vampires themselves, but none had ever volunteered for research. Stake them with silverwood? They'd wake up eventually. Dismember them? They'd piece themselves back together. Burn them? The ashes would reconstruct given enough time.