Hearing that, Seamus and Diane looked at each other in shock.

He wasn't a vampire, at least not a normal one. Nothing had changed about him except his power, yet he knew this decision would alter Maria's life forever.

And it wasn't his right to decide that.

But they were running out of time, and there was no other choice. He couldn't bear to lose another person who mattered.

Even if he and Maria had grown apart, fate had pulled them together again. That invisible thread that tied them once more in a twisted way, he couldn't let it snap now.

"Diane…" he said quietly.

"Don't. Don't you dare, Seamus."

Her usually calm face was filled with sadness, confusion, and something close to anger. She looked as though she could barely hold herself together.

"I've been rude to her… all this time," Diane said, her voice trembling.

"I should have treated her better. I should have the one to protect her."

He hadn't expected those words from her, but she bit her lip, eyes glistening with guilt.

"Change her. I beg you," Seamus said at last.

His voice cracked. His childhood friend needed to live, he wanted her to live.

"You can't decide that for her!"

"It's not a mistake you can undo. Once you turn her, she will be trapped forever. The world will move on while she remains frozen in it."

Her voice rose with each word, trembling like glass ready to break.

"It's lonely, Seamus. It's painful… wondering how and when it will finally end," she whispered.

"I wouldn't wish this on anyone. Not even an enemy."

He watched her closely: the way she refused to meet his eyes, how her voice shook as she tried to hide the cracks beneath her composure.

Yet when he turned back to Maria, he knew. He couldn't let her die. Not because of him.

"Maria…" he whispered.

Her eyelids fluttered, and her once-clear blue eyes looked cloudy, unfocused, but they found him.

"Maria! You're awake!"

Seamus shouted, and Diane's face lit with a flicker of hope.

"I think… my time is almost over," Maria murmured.

Her voice was soft, calm, and empty of regret. The acceptance in her tone broke Seamus's heart all over again.

It was just like Viviane, watching someone fade with that same quiet peace he couldn't understand.

"No. You won't die. I won't let you," he gripping her hand tightly, but she only smiled faintly.

"Do you remember what you told me back in eighth grade?" he continued.

Seamus remembered that day clearly, the first time he'd noticed her. Maybe it was because both of them carried that same loneliness, that quiet ache of being forgotten.

She lived with her grandmother, no parents, just like him. He'd always believed they were the same, two broken kids pretending to be fine.

Back then, he had only an old neighbor and a faceless man who sometimes left food and money by his door when his father didn't come home.

He never saw the man's face, only his shadow in the windowlight.

He remembered the mothers whispering at the playground, voices full of pity and morbid curiosity.

"What a poor girl. Her parents died so horribly in that robbery," one of them said.

"Oh, I heard she saw it all. The house was covered in blood. They had to sell it because she couldn't step inside again."

He stopped swinging and looked at Maria, sitting alone on the seesaw, her hair blowing in the cold wind.

"She's just like me," he had murmured to himself.

And from that day on, he never stopped watching over her.

Not long after that they became inseparable friend, sitting side by side in class, whispering secrets when the teacher wasn't looking.

Fate was funny sometimes.

They spent their afternoons in the woods behind the town, running through the tall grass, playing hide and seek among the trees.

That forest became their second home, their secret kingdom, where no one could tell them what to do.

They even built a hidden base from old branches and scraps of fabric, calling it "their fortress."

One day, Seamus slipped while climbing a mossy ridge and fell into a shallow ditch, twisting his ankle so badly he couldn't move.

He cried hard, his face red and streaked with dirt and tears. In the end, it was Maria who carried him back home.

"I—I'm sorry!" he whimpered, clinging to her shoulders.

His voice cracked between sobs, his nose running, eyes swollen.

Maria just laughed, cheerful even under the weight of him.

"Stop crying already! I told you it's fine! I'm strong, you know?"

Seamus smiled weakly. "Yes… You're like a big sister to me."

"I am your big sister!" she puffed out her chest with pride, grinning.

"But be careful next time, okay? Don't you want to live a long life?"

He didn't understand that question back then. Life already felt hard enough. What meaning did a long life have when his father was barely ever home?

As if sensing his hesitation, Maria stopped walking for a moment and looked back at him with that fierce light in her eyes.

"Both of us have to live long, got it? I'll live longer than Grandma so I can take care of her, and you'll live to be a great man!"

"Promise me, okay?" she said, smiling over her shoulder.

That day, under the rare orange sky of Bork—when the sun lingered past its usual hour and bathed the forest in gold—Maria looked radiant.

Maybe it was the light, or maybe it was just her. To Seamus, she seemed strong, kind, and grown-up in a way he could only dream to be.

It was the first time he decided he wanted to live. To grow, to become independent, to survive long enough to stand beside her as an equal.

"Yes! Let's live longer than turtles!" he shouted, grinning through the remnants of tears.

They both laughed as they left the forest hand in hand, the world behind them glowing in that endless, orange dusk.

***

"So, Maria… I won't let you die. You can hate me, you can curse me, but I don't care. I won't watch you die."

His voice trembled, thick with desperation. It wasn't just compassion; it was guilt, denial, and the selfish urge to undo what he couldn't accept.

"No, Seamus… Let me go."

He froze. Viviane's dying face flashed in his mind, sharp as a blade.

His hand shot up, gripping the necklace at his throat, trying to calm the violent beat of his heart. He turned toward Diane, his voice rough and final.

"Do it."

Diane's eyes widened.

Maria struggled weakly, pain twisting her expression. "Please… don't…"

She could barely move; the sword in her stomach pinned her to the ground, blood pooling beneath her.

"I don't want this! I don't want to be one of them."

Her tears ran red as she choked out the words. "The monsters that killed my parents… don't make me become one…"

Seamus's face hardened, his jaw trembling. He didn't want to hear her. His mind refused to absorb anything but the need to save. To fix something for once. To not lose another Viviane.

Diane saw it in him: the frantic eyes, the trembling hands, the blind panic eating him alive. She grabbed his half-open shirt and shook him hard.

"Seamus! Look at me! She's not my sister!"

But he didn't hear her. His gaze darted around, unfocused, his thoughts spiraling too far to pull back.

"If she dies," he said quietly, almost to himself, "it's your fault."

The words hit Diane like a slap. Her chest tightened, breath catching. She wanted to scream at him, to hit him, but the truth beneath his cruelty cut too deep.

He was right, she'd failed to protect Maria.

Her red eyes fell to the girl again. Maria's body was seizing now, her eyes rolling white as her soul hovered on the edge.

Then Seamus's voice dropped low, calm, cold—like something inside him had finally broken.

"Change her. I'll take responsibility."

Diane's breath hitched. She looked at him—at the madness in his eyes, at the weight of his guilt—and slowly nodded.

Her body trembled as she leaned closer to Maria's neck.

She'd never done this before. The thought alone terrified her. What if Maria didn't wake up as herself? What if she came back as a mindless scavenger, driven only by bloodlust?

But there was no time to hesitate.

"Velstrath will protect her," Diane whispered, maybe to Maria, maybe to herself. Then she sank her fangs in.

Maria gasped once, then went still. Diane released the venom, the ancient poison that rewrote the body and soul, then pulled away.

Her lips were stained with blood as she whispered softly,

"Please… survive."

"Is she okay now?"

Seamus's voice cracked. His hands trembled where they held Maria's shoulders.

Diane's gaze softened, though her voice remained steady.

"It depends on her," she said. "Whether she survives… or turns to die, we can only wait."

The air turned cold. He again met with a deadly uncertainty.

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