Chapter 602: Bringing Doom To One’s Doorstep

Carmela let out a quiet breath, the faint tremor beneath it betraying the weight of what she was about to say.

“Everyone in this continent believes that vampires are nothing more than myths.” She began. “Extinct. Purged from existence long ago. Just a story to frighten children.”

Her lips curved in a faint, almost wistful smile.

“But that’s not entirely true. They’re not wrong…but they’re not right either.”

She looked off into the distance, eyes distant and hollow.

“Somehow, my family managed to survive the purge. We hid for years, moving from place to place, keeping our heads down.”

“My ancestors were clever, cautious, and desperate and for a time, it worked.”

“But…” The small smile faded. “…not forever, as one by one, the world found us.”

Her tone grew quieter.

“My uncles, aunts, cousins—people I’d never even met, some I didn’t even know existed were killed off over the centuries.”

“Hunted. Burned. Executed. Until finally…it was just us left…

“…my mother, my father, and me.”

Joy listened silently, her eyes focused and steady, not interrupting.

Carmela continued with sorrow in her voice,

“But ven that didn’t last. My father died before I ever opened my eyes to see him. He was killed the day I was born.”

Joy’s brow furrowed slightly, while Carmela gave a bitter, hollow laugh.

“You see, when my mother went into labor, it happened too early. They weren’t ready. We were supposed to be safe, hidden deep in the mountains, but we didn’t have enough supplies for a safe birth.”

“That’s why my father went into a nearby town to get medicine and cloth—just a quick trip.”

Her smile twisted painfully.

“But he never came back.”

Her gaze darkened, her voice trembling just slightly.

“He was caught by a patrol of knights. They didn’t even know who he was at first. They were hunting monsters, and he fit the description.”

“And when they realized what he was…they dragged him through the square, ripped out his eyes, and killed him.”

Joy’s eyes lowered, the faintest flicker of disapproval crossing her face.

“That shouldn’t have happened.” She murmured quietly.

Carmela shook her head slowly.

“No. It shouldn’t have. But it did.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And the cruelest part is that it was my fault.”

Joy looked at her, but said nothing.

“I was born early.” Carmela said, a sad little smile curving her lips. “Because of me, he went to the town. Because of me, he was caught. Because of me, he died. So before I even opened my eyes to the world, I killed him.”

Her tone wasn’t self-pitying, just tired.

She then held her breath for a moment, before she exhaled and forced a small smile.

“But my mother…she was still there. She was alive and she was my everything.”

She looked up, eyes gentle, remembering.

“She raised me alone. Protected me. Loved me. She was fierce and kind all at once. Honestly, she reminded me of your mother.”

Joy blinked, her composure flickering for a moment.

Carmela smiled faintly at the memory.

“When I first saw your mother, I cried. Not because I was sad, but because I saw her again—my mother. The same presence. The same strength. The same warmth.”

“She was so much like her, only maybe a bit tougher.”

Her expression softened further.

“She was my entire world. For twenty years, she and I lived peacefully in a hidden part of the forest—so far away that no one ever came. I didn’t know anyone else existed, really. Just the trees, the quiet, and her. We were safe. We were happy.”

She paused, her fingers tightening unconsciously into her palm.

“But good things never last, do they?”

Her voice lowered, quieter now.

“I was still young, barely more than a child in human terms and I started getting restless. I didn’t like being hidden away.”

“I wanted to see the world—to meet people, to talk, to live like everyone else. I didn’t understand what danger really meant back then.”

Carmela’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“My mother warned me not to leave the forest. She told me the world outside was cruel, that it hated us, that it would never accept us.”

“But I didn’t listen. I thought she was just being overprotective. I thought she was wrong.”

Her jaw tightened, the tremor returning to her voice.

“And because I thought I knew better, I made the worst decision of my life.”

Joy didn’t move, didn’t speak. She just watched quietly, as Caramela continued her story.

“You see, there was a festival happening in a nearby town. I heard the music, saw the lights in the distance, and I couldn’t resist. And even though I shouldn’t have, I snuck out one morning without telling my mother.”

Her voice softened, a sad smile appearing again.

“It was…beautiful. So full of life. Music, food, laughter, colors I’d never seen. For the first time in my life, I felt free. I ate sweets, watched people dance, rode the carousels. I felt like I was part of something real, something bright.”

Her eyes dimmed. “And I wanted to share that with her.”

“I ran home as fast as I could. I wanted to tell her everything—how wonderful the world was, how wrong she’d been to hide us away.”

She inhaled shakily.

“When I got close, I saw her outside, calling my name, tears in her eyes. When she saw me, she smiled. The biggest, most relieved smile I’d ever seen.”

Then Carmela’s voice cracked.

“But then her expression changed.”

She swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly.

“It turned into horror. I didn’t understand why at first. I thought she was angry that I’d left.”

Her voice dropped, barely a whisper.

“But then I realized she wasn’t looking at me.”

Joy’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing where the story was going.

Carmela’s eyes filled with anguish as she continued, “She was looking behind me.”

Her voice shook. “And when I turned around…there they were.”

“An entire brigade—holy missionaries, armored knights, guards, priests with silver-edged weapons. Dozens of them.”

“They’d followed me.” Carmela said, her tone hollow. “They’d found me at the festival, but they didn’t attack. They waited. They wanted to see where I’d go, who I’d return to.”

Her voice broke into a quiet, bitter laugh.

“And I led them straight to my mother. The one person I was supposed to protect. I brought them to her doorstep.”

She closed her eyes, the corners of her lips twitching into a weak, grief-stricken smile as she said,

“I thought I would show her the world. But all I’d done…was show the world her.”

Hearing this, even Joy, someone who had spent her life hardened against the emotions of others, who trained herself to ignore suffering could feel the weight of what Carmela carried now.

She understood that Carmela must have felt an ocean of guilt.

Not just for the indirect role she played in her father’s death before she was even born…but for this second, far more personal betrayal.

She had brought enemies straight to their hidden sanctuary. She had led death to her mother’s door.

And because of her mistake—her childish, reckless mistake—her mother had paid the ultimate price.

Joy swallowed hard.

If the roles had been reversed—if Joy had been the one whose actions doomed her own mother to endless torment, to violation, to death—she knew, deep in her bones, that she would have wanted to end her own life long ago.

The guilt would have eaten her alive. She couldn’t even imagine carrying that burden for years.

So when she looked at Carmela now, sitting there in front of her, holding herself together by sheer will—she didn’t see a murderer.

She saw someone still living under the unbearable weight of survival.

Carmela exhaled shakily, her tone low and hollow.

“Even in that moment.” She said. “I was scared. I was so, so scared. I prayed to every god I could remember—the Goddess of Light, the Spirits of the Forest, even the old ones my mother used to whisper about.”

“I just begged them to save us. To save her.”

Her eyes went distant.

“But now, looking back…I wish they hadn’t listened. I wish they’d killed us right there. Because what came next…”

She swallowed hard, voice breaking into a bitter whisper.

“…what came next was hell.”

She stared into the air for a long moment before continuing.

“The knights and missionaries didn’t kill us. No—they wanted to make a show of it. They tied us up, gagged us, dragged us through the mud like beasts.”

“We screamed, we kicked, but it didn’t matter. They threw us into a carriage and…everything went dark.”

She paused, trembling slightly.

“When I woke up, someone threw water on my face. Cold, filthy water. And when I opened my eyes…”

She gave a hollow laugh, the sound brittle.

“I wasn’t in a dungeon. I was on a stage. A beautifully decorated hall—golden walls, velvet curtains, chandeliers brighter than stars.”

“And there I was inside a cage, next to my mother.”

Joy’s hands curled slightly against her lap, but she said nothing.

“And in front of us…there were nobles.” Carmela’s expression twisted faintly. “Dozens of them. Men and women, draped in silks and jewels, their faces hidden behind masks so covered you could barely see their eyes. But their smiles—”

She stopped, her lip trembling.

“Their smiles told me everything. They were…excited.”

“After all, we were the rarest beasts in the world. Vampires—the last of our kind. And they were going to buy us.”

Joy’s chest tightened, her jaw clenching.

Carmela’s tone grew colder, sharper.

“They started bidding. Laughing. Raising prices like they were competing over toys.”

“Every time someone shouted a higher number, my mother would hold me tighter. She knew. We both knew. It didn’t matter who bought us—none of them saw us as people.”

She gave a thin, broken smile.

“And then it ended. The gavel hit. We were sold. Just like that. One moment we were a family in the woods, and the next…we were property.”

Joy felt something twist in her stomach, her face darkening.

“And the one who bought us…”

She said, her tone dropping lower, more venomous.

“The deeper a man’s pockets, the filthier his soul. That saying has never been truer than it was with him. He was a noble, a powerful one and the vilest creature I’ve ever known.”

Her gaze hardened, and her voice trembled with rage.

“He didn’t just want slaves. He wanted to break us. He wanted to own us completely—mind, body, and soul. And he did it in the cruelest way possible.”

Joy could feel Carmela’s fury like heat radiating off her.

“That filthy, disgusting, scumbag noble…He knew my mother was too powerful to break easily. High-ranking vampire. Soul-manipulation abilities. Volatile. Fierce.”

“She would have taken her own life before letting him truly own her.”

“So he used me. He threatened my life. Told her that if she wanted me to live—if she wanted me to stay ’normal,’ to not be turned into one of his playthings—she had to obey.”

“Every command. Every humiliation. Every depravity.”

Carmela’s breath hitched.

“And she loved me more than anything. More than her pride. More than her freedom. More than her life.”

“So she did it. She obeyed. Every single thing he demanded.”

Joy’s eyes grew cold. “You don’t have to describe it.” She said quietly.

But Carmela shook her head.

“No. You need to understand what suffering my mother went through. You need to understand all that she sacrificed, as I refuse to forget all that she’s suffered just for me.”

And hearing this, Joy let out a quite sigh.

Even though she genuinely didn’t want to hear the horrors her mother had gone through, she realised that Carmela just wanted someone else to listen to her tragedy right now, so she let her speak.

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