The Divergence

Lavinia stood balanced on the branch of an enormous tree, looking down at the human settlement beneath her.

Pen.

That was the word vampires used.

Not settlement. Not village. Not community.

Pen.

The word bothered her more every time she thought about it.

The night was remarkably quiet. Hundreds of humans lived below, yet almost no one was outside. 

Wooden homes clustered together along narrow dirt paths, their dark windows broken only occasionally by the faint glow of candles or lanterns. 

Fields surrounded the settlement, disappearing into the darkness beyond, while barns, workshops, storehouses, wells, and other structures filled the spaces between homes.

No voices drifted upward.

No children played.

Nobody sat outside enjoying the cool night air.

They were hiding.

Lavinia could hear them anyway.

Heartbeats filled the village beneath her.

Some slept. Others whispered inside their homes. Several were still awake but deliberately quiet, as though making enough noise might attract unwanted attention.

Perhaps it would.

Vampires moved at night.

Lavinia glanced toward the castle’s distant silhouette before returning her attention to the pen.

She’d learned a surprising amount in the short time since leaving it.

Apparently she could ask almost anything.

As long as she didn’t say she had forgotten.

That was the strange part.

She could ask Valerie how the electrical grid had failed, and Valerie answered. She could ask how human cities worked, and Valerie answered. 

She could ask about the other continents, the other species, the wars, the villages, even her own position among vampires, and everyone treated the questions as mildly strange at worst.

But the moment she said I don’t remember, something changed.

They froze.

Dismissed it.

Moved on.

As though the world itself refused to acknowledge the statement.

So Lavinia had adapted.

She asked questions.

And she listened.

The pen below was only one of many throughout vampire territory. Humans lived, worked, reproduced, and provided blood. 

Thralls handled nearly all of the actual administration because vampires couldn’t function beneath sunlight and apparently had little interest in spending every night managing agricultural schedules and interpersonal disputes.

Thralls had once been human themselves.

That didn’t mean humans trusted them.

If anything, Lavinia had gathered that many humans regarded Thralls with particular hatred. Thralls carried vampire blood inside them. 

They didn’t age. They were stronger, harder to kill, and generally loyal to the vampires who had elevated them from ordinary humanity.

The vampires considered them better than humans.

Humans often considered them traitors.

That left Thralls with very little reason to side with the people they governed.

Convenient.

Everything about the system was horribly convenient.

The humans grew their own food. They built their own houses. 

They maintained dirt roads, repaired tools, dug wells, mined nearby resources and performed whatever labor was required to keep their communities functioning.

Nothing was truly theirs.

A farmer didn’t own the grain he grew.

A family didn’t meaningfully own its home.

Production belonged to the pen collectively, and the pen ultimately belonged to the vampires.

The system was designed to keep everyone healthy enough to function, busy enough to remain occupied, and tired enough that organizing resistance became difficult.

The vampires didn’t even need the labor.

That was what Lavinia found especially absurd.

They didn’t need human grain.

They didn’t need humans building houses for them.

They didn’t need miners.

They didn’t need human craftsmen to sustain vampire civilization.

They needed blood.

Everything else existed so the blood supply could sustain itself.

Lavinia leaned sideways.

Her shoulder bumped Valerie’s.

Valerie looked at her curiously.

They were alone now. Gwendolyn and Evangeline had flown off some time earlier, leaving Lavinia and Valerie perched together high above the settlement.

”Are humans better off in the territories controlled by the other Princesses?”

Valerie’s expression softened almost immediately.

Her fingers slipped between Lavinia’s.

”You’re adorable when you’re worried about humans.”

Lavinia frowned.

Valerie giggled.

”The Golden Continent is this peaceful because of you.”

”Peaceful.”

”Relatively.”

That was apparently doing considerable work.

Valerie leaned lightly against her. ”You let humans get away with things that would bring the entire vampire population down on them somewhere else. They resist. You punish them. They cause trouble. You punish them. But you usually stop there.”

”Usually.”

”Usually.”

Lavinia stared at the village.

Valerie swung their joined hands gently between them.

”The other continents aren’t as lucky. The Crimson Princess has treated the war like entertainment since it started. Humans, other species, whoever happens to be in the way—she likes spilling blood.”

”That sounds pleasant.”

”She’s actually quite fun.”

Lavinia slowly turned her head.

Valerie smiled.

”She’s a vampire.”

Of course.

Whatever Lavinia thought of this Crimson Princess, Valerie’s instincts apparently had their own opinion.

Valerie shrugged. ”Humans aren’t going extinct on the Eastern Continent or anything. Probably. But survival there is much worse than here.”

Lavinia exhaled.

Her gaze returned to the pen.

Lucky.

These people were lucky.

Their lives had been curated into routines designed to make resistance difficult. 

They woke. They worked. They ate. They slept. They surrendered blood as a tax for existing under vampire rule.

They couldn’t leave.

Resistance was met with fear, pain, threats against loved ones or death if vampires decided an example was necessary.

And this was apparently the fortunate outcome.

”Excessive praise is dangerous.”

The voice came from beneath them.

Crisp.

Low.

Feminine.

Charming.

Valerie moved instantly.

Her body shifted forward on the branch, placing herself slightly between Lavinia and the voice below. 

Her fingers separated from Lavinia’s as her nails extended several centimeters.

Lavinia looked down.

A woman stood beneath the tree.

She hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Or Lavinia hadn’t detected her arrival.

Neither possibility was comforting.

The first thing Lavinia noticed was the enormous blue witch’s hat. 

Its brim stretched wide around the woman’s head, decorated with dark thorned branches and large blue roses. 

Beneath it spilled impossibly long waves of pale blue hair, descending well past her waist.

A dark blue robe wrapped her figure, elegant rather than cumbersome, with black fabric and blue rose motifs layered throughout. A cape rested over her shoulders. Another blue rose sat at her chest.

She was beautiful.

Very beautiful.

And smiling.

”While the Golden Princess is certainly more pleasant than some of her counterparts,” the woman continued, ”you’ll give her an enormous ego if you keep speaking like that.”

Valerie stared.

Then she snorted.

Her nails remained extended for another second before slowly retracting.

”What are you doing here?”

The woman placed one hand against her chest.

”Visiting.”

”You’re breaking the treaty.”

”Such an ugly way to describe visiting.”

”You entered vampire territory without announcing yourself.”

The woman’s smile became apologetic.

”I’m hardly a threat.”

She tilted her head.

”In fact, I’m terribly afraid.”

Her hand remained over her chest.

”Can’t you hear my heart racing?”

Lavinia could.

The heartbeat was quick.

Fast enough to suggest excitement or fear.

She wasn’t convinced it was fear.

The Witch looked up.

Their eyes met.

Lavinia went still.

Black.

Not dark brown.

Not extremely dilated.

Black.

The Witch’s eyes were empty voids from edge to edge, lacking visible iris, pupil, or white. 

They were different from a vampire’s solid red eyes, yet similar enough that Lavinia experienced the uncomfortable sensation of seeing her own unnatural features reflected through another species.

For the first time, she understood how strange it could be.

A human-shaped creature shouldn’t have eyes like that.

The Witch blinked.

Slowly.

Playfully.

Valerie folded her arms.

”If the Witch Queen of Thorns is frightened of two vampires, I wonder how all those poor humans you’ve used for rituals and experiments felt.”

Queen.

Another Royal.

The Witch’s smile didn’t disappear.

Her black eyes narrowed pleasantly.

”Unlike vampires, who were promised eternity from the moment they opened those lovely red eyes, Witches were born with a tiny problem.”

She pinched her fingers together.

”Just a tiny one.”

”Lifespan?” Lavinia asked.

The Witch looked delighted.

”Exactly.”

Her gaze traveled over Lavinia.

Slowly.

Then she licked her lips.

Valerie’s expression immediately soured.

The Witch continued, ”If you allowed me to link myself to you, I would turn over one hundred thousand humans immediately.”

Lavinia stared.

”And a portion of Witch territory.”

Valerie barked a laugh.

”You cannot be serious.”

”Painfully.”

”Why don’t you keep sacrificing humans?”

The Witch pouted.

”I do.”

”I thought Witches didn’t care what they had to do to get what they wanted.”

The Witch raised one finger and wagged it playfully.

”Now, Valerie. Don’t reduce an entire species to its worst habits.”

Valerie stared at her.

The Witch’s smile widened.

”Fine. Many of us don’t care.”

She looked back toward Lavinia.

”But I’m sincere. A Royal Vampire would be the perfect partner. Linking my lifespan to yours would resolve my most persistent inconvenience.”

”You can already extend your life,” Lavinia said.

”Oh, certainly. Hundreds of years are easy. Thousands are manageable with sufficient preparation.”

She sighed dramatically.

”Indefinite becomes annoying.”

Her smile returned.

”You, however?”

She pointed toward Lavinia.

”Perfect.”

Valerie rolled her eyes.

The Thorn Witch continued, ”And the entire vampire species protects its Princesses. I’d only have to concern myself with my own safety. Quite convenient.”

Lavinia studied her.

The Witch smiled constantly.

Her voice was pleasant.

Her appearance was almost whimsical.

Yet there was a disconnect somewhere.

Something behind those black eyes didn’t line up with the human woman standing beneath the tree.

Not because she lacked emotion.

Quite the opposite.

She seemed delighted.

Interested.

Amused.

Greedy.

But none of those emotions appeared tethered to anything resembling human restraint.

Valerie snorted. ”Still no.”

”I didn’t ask you.”

”You’d have to get through me to bother her.”

”How romantic.”

Valerie bared a fang.

The Thorn Witch giggled.

”Besides,” she continued, ”the Golden Princess and I are in the same boat. We could become genuine allies.”

”Same boat?” Lavinia asked.

”Royalty.”

The Witch spread her hands.

”Targets.”

That word landed differently.

”The humans under Witch control number well into the millions,” she continued. ”Would another hundred thousand interest you?”

Valerie sneered.

”We have almost four million.”

The Witch’s eyebrows rose.

”Do you?”

”You know we do.”

”Perhaps.”

Valerie looked down at her. ”Are your humans even fit to be called human anymore?”

The Witch giggled.

The movement made her chest sway gently beneath her robes, reinforcing the ridiculous image of a beautiful, harmless woman having a pleasant conversation beneath a moonlit tree.

”Oh, Valerie. Witches enjoy experimentation. That doesn’t mean we’d trade defective products.”

”Products.”

”Would you prefer merchandise?”

”No.”

”Resources?”

”Worse.”

”Humans, then.”

The Witch sighed. ”Reputation matters. If I promise one hundred thousand healthy humans and deliver eighty thousand healthy humans plus twenty thousand things that technically started human, nobody trades with me again.”

Lavinia wasn’t sure whether that was supposed to be reassuring.

The Witch raised both hands.

”Yes, I’ve taken lives.”

”Quite a few,” Valerie said.

”A few.”

”A lot.”

”A matter of perspective.”

She began counting on her fingers.

”The Crimson Princess is a butcher who runs from place to place making blood flow because she enjoys watching it.”

Second finger.

”The Ice Princess is a silly fool who can barely manage her own territory.”

Third.

”The Lily Princess is a raging lesbian who couldn’t care less what happens in her territory so long as nobody interferes with her personal entertainment.”

Lavinia blinked.

Valerie covered a laugh.

The Witch looked toward Lavinia.

”And you aren’t innocent either.”

She gasped.

One hand flew dramatically over her mouth.

”My apologies. The Golden Princess.”

Lavinia stared flatly.

”Your name is hated just as thoroughly as theirs.”

”Wonderful.”

”Despite the fact you protect humans somewhat.”

”Apparently my standards are exceptional.”

”They are!”

The Witch sounded genuinely enthusiastic.

Then she stepped closer to the trunk.

”Which is why I find you fascinating.”

Lavinia said nothing.

”Vampires don’t need humans.”

Lavinia frowned.

”Not truly,” the Witch continued. ”You need blood. Those aren’t synonymous.”

She gestured toward the settlement.

”You could trade for blood from other species. Witches could provide it. I’m certain the Elves could devise a substitute if sufficiently motivated. Witches certainly could, given time.”

Her black eyes returned to Lavinia’s red ones.

”But you don’t.”

The Witch leaned closer.

”You want to protect humans.”

Lavinia almost laughed.

She looked down at the pen.

”That’s protection?”

”Compared with extinction?”

The Witch blinked.

”Yes.”

Lavinia fell silent.

”Humans are wonderfully malleable,” the Witch continued. ”That’s perhaps their greatest quality.”

Her smile softened.

”They can become Witches.”

She lifted one finger.

”Vampires.”

Another.

”Elves. Werewolves.”

Another.

”Sirens, under the right circumstances. Dryads under rather more peculiar ones. Others too, with varying effort, restrictions and success.”

Her hand lowered.

”Humanity is the clay from which so many of us can be made.”

Lavinia disliked the warmth with which she said it.

”So no,” the Witch continued. ”Driving humanity extinct has never been my goal.”

She paused.

”I simply had a tiny bit of fun.”

Her smile widened.

Something changed.

Lavinia felt it before she understood it.

A pressure rolled outward from the Witch.

Not physical.

Malice.

Pure, concentrated malevolence flooded the clearing.

Leaves curled.

The branch beneath Lavinia’s boots shuddered.

Bark darkened.

Blue-green leaves browned around their edges, shriveled, and began falling.

The massive tree was withering.

Valerie’s nails extended instantly.

The Witch inhaled.

Her smile shrank.

The pressure vanished.

”Oh dear.”

A dead leaf drifted between them.

The Witch looked mildly embarrassed.

”Excitement.”

Valerie growled.

The Witch ignored her.

”As the treaty states, the occasional disagreements between vampires and Witches are irrelevant while humanity continues resisting us collectively.”

Her eyes gleamed.

”We remain allies.”

She placed both hands together.

”We cherish one another.”

Her tongue passed slowly over her lips.

Greedy.

That was the only word Lavinia could find.

Lavinia smiled.

The expression came surprisingly naturally.

Then she laughed.

”I’m so grateful to have such an understanding and considerate ally.”

The Thorn Witch froze.

For perhaps the first time, Lavinia saw her caught off guard.

Then the Witch giggled.

Softly at first.

Then harder.

”Oh, I do like you.”

She looked toward the pen.

Her expression became dreamy.

”As much as humans fear the Golden Princess... as desperately as they wish to escape from beneath your rule...”

Her smirk returned.

”If only they knew.”

The Witch leaned closer to the tree.

”Once they escape you, what’s waiting beyond your borders?”

Her cheeks flushed.

”Things so much worse.”

Her voice dropped into a breathy whisper.

”How broken do you think they’d feel when they realized?”

Lavinia stared.

The Witch shivered pleasantly at the thought.

Valerie sighed.

”I can’t do anything about this raging sadist.”

The Thorn Witch waved one hand dismissively.

Her finger blurred.

Lavinia’s eyes widened.

The woman’s entire body collapsed.

Not fell.

Collapsed.

Her blue robes crumpled as flesh and hair dissolved into a writhing mass of thorned vines. 

The enormous blue hat tipped sideways before vanishing among them. Blue roses bloomed rapidly across the twisting growth.

Valerie stepped backward.

The vines writhed for several seconds.

Then they went still.

The Witch’s voice drifted through the night from nowhere.

”Consider my offer, Golden Princess.”

Lavinia looked around.

Nothing.

”It would benefit us both.”

The voice faded.

Silence returned.

Valerie stared at the twitching thorn vines.

”Annoying.”

Lavinia looked down at the ruined vegetation beneath them.

A moment later, she looked back toward the human pen.

The settlement remained silent.

Nobody had emerged.

Nobody had dared.

She thought about the man from earlier.

Vampires.

Witches.

Sirens.

Werewolves.

Elves.

Fae.

Humans running from one territory into another, hoping whatever waited beyond the next border would be better than what they’d escaped.

Sometimes, apparently, they escaped vampires only to find Witches.

Lavinia glanced toward the mass of blue roses below.

One hundred thousand humans.

Offered as casually as someone might offer gold.

Valerie slipped her hand back into Lavinia’s.

”Don’t link yourself to her.”

Lavinia looked at her.

”Wasn’t planning on it.”

”Good.”

Valerie squeezed her fingers.

”She’s weird.”

Lavinia stared at her for several seconds.

”Valerie.”

”What?”

”We’re vampires.”

Valerie smiled.

”Exactly. We have standards.”

Lavinia couldn’t help it.

She laughed.

For a few seconds, perched above a human pen beside a withered tree while the remains of a Witch’s impossible escape writhed below them, the world almost felt normal again.

Almost.

Witch of Thorns