Three months after the First Generation Gathering, Adrian's abilities continued evolving in unexpected ways.
He discovered he could sense other vampires' bloodlines—not just their age, but their lineage, who sired them, how many generations removed they were from Cain. It was like seeing a family tree written in blood and power.
"This could be incredibly useful," Marcus observed when Adrian demonstrated. "Knowing a vampire's lineage tells you about their loyalties, their politics, their probable allegiances."
"It also tells me too much," Adrian said. "I can sense... flaws. Weaknesses in some bloodlines. Vampires who've been turned improperly, whose transformation was incomplete. It's disturbing."
"Can you fix it?" Kieran asked.
"I don't know. Maybe?" Adrian looked at his hands, which seemed to glow faintly with power he was only beginning to understand. "My blood is different now. More potent. When donors feed from me, they heal faster, feel stronger. What if it could heal vampires too? Correct flawed transformations?"
"That would make you invaluable to the vampire community," Marcus said carefully. "And even more of a target. If vampires knew you could heal imperfect transformations, enhance bloodlines, strengthen the species..."
"They'd never leave him alone," Kieran finished grimly. "We keep this quiet. No one outside our inner circle knows about this ability."
But keeping secrets in the supernatural world was nearly impossible.
A week later, a young vampire—barely twenty years old—approached them at their club. She was clearly struggling, her movements jerky, her eyes wild. A flawed transformation.
"Please," she begged, falling to her knees before Adrian. "I can feel it—you can help me. I'm dying. My sire didn't complete the transformation properly. I'm stuck between human and vampire, and it's killing me. Please."
Adrian could sense it—the incompleteness in her bloodline, the way her vampire nature fought against remnants of her humanity. Without intervention, she'd die within months, her body unable to reconcile the conflicting states.
"How did you know I could help?" Adrian asked gently.
"Word travels. The First Generation has been talking. Some of us heard rumors—that Cain's companion has returned, that he carries healing blood. I know it's forbidden to approach you directly, but I'm desperate."
Adrian looked at Kieran, who shook his head minutely. Too risky. Too much exposure.
But Adrian couldn't ignore the pain in the young vampire's eyes. He'd been vulnerable once, newly turned and struggling. If Kieran hadn't been there to guide him...
"I'll help you," Adrian decided.
"Adrian, no—" Kieran started.
"I can't watch her die when I might be able to save her." Adrian cut his wrist, offering it to the young vampire. "Drink. Just a little—my blood is potent."
The young vampire drank desperately, and Adrian felt his blood flow into her, seeking out the flaws in her transformation, correcting them. It was instinctive, his ancient soul knowing what to do even if his conscious mind didn't fully understand.
When she pulled back, her eyes were clear, her movements fluid. The incompleteness was gone, replaced by proper vampire nature.
"It worked," she whispered in awe. "I can feel it—I'm whole. Truly vampire now. Thank you. Thank you!"
She left in tears of gratitude, and Adrian turned to face Kieran's disapproving expression.
"That was reckless," Kieran said.
"That was compassionate. There's a difference."
"Compassion will get you killed in our world."
"Then maybe our world needs more compassion." Adrian crossed his arms. "I won't apologize for helping someone who was suffering."
"I'm not asking you to apologize. I'm asking you to be careful. Every vampire you help is another who knows what you can do. Word will spread. Soon, every flawed vampire will be seeking you out."
Kieran was right.
Within two weeks, dozens of vampires had approached them—all with flawed transformations, all desperate for Adrian's healing blood. Some were recent turnings gone wrong. Others had been suffering for decades, even centuries.
"We need to set boundaries," Marcus urged. "Or you'll spend all your time healing random vampires and have no energy for anything else."
Adrian agreed, reluctantly. They established a system—vampires could apply through official channels, submit their case, and a committee (consisting of Marcus, Wei, and two First Generation representatives) would decide who received healing.
It helped manage the chaos, but it also formalized Adrian's role as healer, as someone unique and essential to the vampire community.
"You're becoming legendary," Wei observed. "Vampires are calling you the Lifegiver. The one who heals what's broken."
"I don't want to be legendary. I want to be left alone."
"Too late for that."
The attention brought new threats. Vampires who feared change tried to assassinate Adrian, seeing his healing ability as disrupting natural selection. Others tried to capture him, wanting to study his blood, harvest it, create an industry around healing transformations.
"I'm becoming a commodity," Adrian said bitterly after the third kidnapping attempt in a month.
"You're becoming essential," Kieran corrected. "And that makes you powerful. Whether you want it or not."
But power came with responsibility. The more Adrian healed, the more he felt obligated to continue. How could he refuse someone suffering when he had the ability to help?
"You're burning yourself out," Kieran warned. "Even vampire bodies have limits. The constant blood loss, the energy expenditure—you need to slow down."
"I can't. There are too many who need help."
"Then we expand the operation. Train other vampires to screen applicants. Establish clinics where you can heal multiple vampires efficiently. Make this sustainable."
It was practical advice, and over the following months, they did exactly that. Adrian's healing work became formalized—no longer random encounters, but scheduled sessions with proper medical oversight.
He was changing the vampire world, one healed bloodline at a time.
But not everyone appreciated the changes.