Sol leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he studied Elias with narrowed eyes. "Alright, let's say I say yes. What happens after that? Do you just turn me and throw me out into the world to fend for myself, or am I stuck with you forever like some kind of eternal servant?"
Elias let out a deep, amused laugh, shaking his head. "Ah, Sol, always thinking three steps ahead. No, you would not be my servant, nor would I abandon you. That is not how this works."
He leaned back, swirling the liquid in his glass before continuing. "A newly turned vampire must learn control—over their instincts, their hunger, their newfound strength. Without guidance, most do not last long. I would teach you, train you, ensure that you don't walk into eternity blind. But you would not be bound to me. Once you've learned enough to survive, the choice would be yours—stay, go, carve your own path. Immortality is freedom, not a chain."
Sol studied him, searching for any hidden catches. "So, I get a crash course in being a vampire and then I'm on my own?"
Elias smirked. "If that's what you wish. Some choose to remain with their sire, forming alliances that span centuries. Others disappear into the world, making their own way. There is no single path. But what I can promise is that you will never be a prisoner to me."
Sol didn't look convinced. "So, that's it? You turn me, give me a few lessons, and then what? You just let me go? I could be out there making a mess of things, and you wouldn't care?"
Elias chuckled, shaking his head. "I didn't say I wouldn't care. I said I wouldn't control you. There is a difference. A sire has a responsibility to their fledgling, and I would not throw you into eternity without preparation. I would guide you until you are stable, until you understand the hunger, the instincts, the changes in your very being. But beyond that? Your life is yours to live."
Sol tilted his head, studying Elias. "And if I walk away, you don't expect anything in return? No 'eternal debt' for giving me immortality? No secret obligations?"
Elias leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I am not offering you this because I want a servant, Sol. I do not need one. I have lived long enough to see the patterns of people, to know which ones will thrive and which ones will be consumed by their own power. I offer because I see something in you—someone who could make something of eternity rather than squander it." He paused, silver eyes gleaming with something more solemn. "But I will not force it upon you, nor will I hold it over you if you accept. The choice remains yours."
Sol sat quietly for a moment, letting Elias' words settle in his mind. He wasn't someone who made decisions lightly, especially ones that carried no way back. But as he thought about everything—about what was waiting for him beyond this moment, about the possibilities stretching out before him—he realized something.
He was tired. Not just physically, but of constantly thinking about every move he made, always weighing consequences, always running the numbers in his head. Maybe, just this once, he didn't need to analyze everything to death.
He let out a breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he leaned back in his chair. "Fuck it. Why not?"
Elias raised an eyebrow, momentarily at a loss for words. Out of all the reactions he had anticipated—hesitation, more questions, maybe even a cautious agreement—he had not expected fuck it.
His amusement faltered for a brief second before morphing into something unreadable. He thought Sol would waver more, debate it endlessly, chew over every angle. But this? This reckless, almost dismissive acceptance? It caught him off guard in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time.
Elias leaned back, studying Sol with newfound curiosity. "Spoken like a man who either has the sharpest instincts I've ever seen or someone who's just given up on thinking altogether."
Sol shrugged, a smirk still playing on his lips. "Isn't that every decision?"
Elias didn't answer immediately. He considered him again, deeper this time. There was something about Sol—something different. Most mortals, when faced with the abyss of eternity, hesitated. They feared it, overthought it, tried to grasp something so much bigger than themselves. But Sol? He simply stepped forward. Not blind, not foolishly confident—just accepting.
That, Elias realized, was rare.
He hesitated for a moment before leaning forward, his expression more serious than before. "Are you sure? Immortality is no joke, Sol. Once you step onto this path, there is no turning back."
Sol didn't even blink. "If I can't handle it one day, I'll just kill myself," he said, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "I can still die, right?"
Elias froze. Of all the things he had expected to hear, that was not it. His mind blanked for a fraction of a second before he burst into laughter, loud and deep, shaking his head as he clutched his temple with one hand.
"Good!" he laughed, voice rich with amusement. "Good!" He exhaled, still chuckling, shaking his head again. "Good! I knew you were crazy, but casually deciding that offing yourself is a fallback plan? That is a new one."
Sol arched an eyebrow. "You didn't answer the question, old man. Can I still die or not?"
Elias wiped a stray tear from his eye, his laughter finally settling. "Yes, you can still die. But it is not easy. A vampire's body does not break the way a human's does. You will heal from wounds that would kill a mortal, but destruction is still possible. Decapitation, fire, complete dismemberment—those will do it. Starvation is another, but it is an agonizing way to go." He smirked. "That being said, if your grand plan is 'I'll just kill myself if I don't like it,' you may want to rethink your approach."
Sol shrugged, but his curiosity got the better of him. "Why is that? Why is it so hard for a vampire to die?"
Elias tilted his head, watching Sol with the patience of someone who had answered this question many times before. "Because we are not meant to die, Sol. Every fiber of our being is designed to sustain us, to regenerate, to endure. Your body will heal wounds that should be fatal, your bones will knit back together, your flesh will close around any wound given enough time. Even fire, one of the few true weaknesses we have, must consume us entirely to ensure death."
Sol tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair, absorbing the explanation. "And starvation? You said that was an option."
Elias nodded, his expression darkening slightly. "A crueler fate than any other. A vampire who does not feed will not simply drop dead like a human deprived of water or food. The hunger becomes unbearable, driving them mad. Their body withers, their mind erodes, and they become little more than a feral creature—trapped between life and death, unable to die but no longer truly living. Eventually, if left long enough, they will decay into dust, but it is a slow and agonizing process."
Sol frowned. "Sounds like a bad way to go."
Sol shrugged again, more exaggerated this time. "Harder doesn't mean impossible."
Elias chuckled. "No, it does not. But it means those who think they can take the easy way out rarely succeed."
Sol leaned back, watching Elias closely. "Good to know. So, what now? Do I get some kind of pamphlet? A beginner's guide to vampirism?"
Elias smirked, shaking his head. "Before we even think about turning you, there is one more thing that needs to be done."
Sol arched an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"
Elias leaned forward slightly, silver eyes gleaming. "A test. Before I grant you eternity, you must prove that you can handle it."
Sol's smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly covered it up. "Great. Because nothing says 'exciting life choices' like an entrance exam."
Elias grinned, amusement dancing in his gaze. "Think of it less as a test and more as… a glimpse. A preview of what eternity will demand of you. If you cannot endure what comes next, then you will never survive what follows."
Sol's eyes sharpened. "You mean a test."
Elias nodded. "Of course. You didn't think I would offer eternity to just anyone, did you?"
Sol scoffed. "Great. And let me guess, this is going to be some kind of 'survival of the fittest' nonsense? You gonna throw me into a pit and see if I can claw my way out?"
Elias chuckled. "No, nothing so primitive. What I need to see is whether you can withstand the reality of what you are asking for. Words are easy, Sol, but eternity is not. Many believe they can handle the hunger, the isolation, the endless passage of time—until they face it." He leaned forward slightly, his silver eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "So, I will give you a taste of it."
A chill crawled up Sol's spine, but he didn't let it show. "A taste, huh? And what exactly does that mean?"
Elias gave him a slow, knowing smile. "You'll see soon enough."
Before Sol could react, the world around him shifted.
One moment, he was seated at the table, staring into the flickering candlelight. The next, everything melted away—the warmth of the room, the solid wood beneath his hands, even the scent of aged wine and old parchment. The air grew cold, weightless, wrong.
His vision blurred, and when it cleared, he was somewhere else entirely.
A dark void stretched around him, vast and unending. And then it hit—the hunger.
It wasn't like normal hunger. It wasn't the dull ache of an empty stomach or the mild discomfort of missing a meal. It was deeper, sharper, unnatural. A raw, gnawing need that clawed at his insides, demanding to be sated. His throat felt dry, his body heavier, as if something had shifted at his very core.
His heartbeat was slow. Too slow.
Sol clutched his chest, eyes darting around the darkness. "Elias?" His voice came out hoarse. No answer. "Alright, old man, this isn't funny. What the hell is this?"
The silence stretched, pressing down on him. The hunger gnawed deeper, twisting his insides, making his hands tremble. He swallowed hard, breathing shallowly through his nose.
Then, the world changed again.
The void shattered like glass, giving way to a new scene. One that sent a spike of confusion—and unease—through his mind.
He was standing in a city he didn't recognize. Towering neon lights flickered above, casting long shadows against rain-slicked streets. People moved past him, their faces blurry, indistinct. Everything felt too real and not real enough, like a half-formed dream.
A woman passed by, laughing, her voice oddly distorted. A child ran across the street, but the motion didn't feel right, like the world itself was lagging. Sol clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay grounded.
This isn't real.
But the hunger? The hunger was real.
A scent hit him—warm, rich, intoxicating. His head snapped toward the source before he even registered what he was doing. A figure stood a few feet away, completely unaware of him. Their heartbeat drummed in his ears, the rush of blood beneath their skin calling to him like a siren's song.
His jaw clenched. His breathing grew shallow. His fingers twitched.
He wanted to feed.
And for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure if he could stop himself.