Private YOU'LL BE JUST LIKE ME

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael woke to the sound of waves crashing against rock.

But this wasn't the soothing rhythm of a holiday shore—it was jagged, violent, like the ocean itself was snarling at him. He blinked hard, his head pounding, his throat raw. The world swam into focus under the pale wash of moonlight.

He was sprawled in wet sand, clothes damp, the scent of brine and decay filling his lungs. Above him stretched a starless Corellian night, the sky heavy with low clouds that seemed to trap the darkness in place. The tide lapped at his boots, dragging at him as if it wanted to claim him whole.

And then—movement. A silhouette against the dark surf.

Someone was standing over him.

Kael tried to push himself up, but his limbs were heavy, weak, betraying him. His vision cleared enough to make out the face leaning closer, illuminated by the faint gleam of moonlight. The eyes. The sneer. The hatred that never faded.

"Baird… Throne," Kael croaked, his voice ragged, salt-burnt.

 

[Baird Throne]

Baird smirked, crouching low so Kael could see the satisfaction carved into every line of his face. The waves hissed behind him, like applause for his cruelty.
"You remember. Good. That makes this sweeter."

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael coughed, sand sticking to his lips. "What… how—?"

 

[Baird Throne]

"Your favorite drink," Baird said, voice smooth with venom. "The one Chelsee poured for you herself, back at the Veil when you thought you were safe. One drop of my little creation and you were mine. Out like a light."

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael's eyes widened, the words hitting harder than the tide. He tried to snarl, to push back—but his body convulsed instead. His stomach twisted violently. He rolled to his side, choking, vomiting into the sand. The dark slick shimmered red under the moonlight. Blood.

 

[Baird Throne]

Baird chuckled, rising to stand over him like a priest at a ritual. "Beautiful, isn't it? Watching your own body betray you. I don't want you dead, Kael. That would be too merciful. No—my purpose is greater."

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael spat blood, trembling, his chest burning. "What… did you do to me?"

 

[Baird Throne]

Baird leaned down, until his lips brushed Kael's ear, his voice no louder than the whisper of the tide.

"You're dying, Kael. Slowly. Painfully. But death won't take you."

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael's pulse pounded in his ears. His body felt like fire and ice at once.

 

[Baird Throne]

Baird's whisper sharpened, cruel, final:
"Soon… you'll be a vampire."

 

[Kaelon Virex]

The words slithered into Kael's mind, poisoning him deeper than the sickness in his veins. He gasped, his vision blurring, the moon above swimming in black haze.

 

[Baird Throne]

Baird stood tall, arms spread as the waves surged higher, foam clawing at Kael's body. "Welcome to eternity, Kael Virex. May you suffer every heartbeat of it."

 

[Kaelon Virex]

He was falling through a corridor made of reflections — glass, water, polished metal — each surface showing him a version of himself that smiled too wide, that bled from its mouth, that mouthed his name with a voice that belonged to the sea. The light in the corridor was wrong: it came from inside the shadows, thin slivers of moonlight coming from places where moonlight shouldn't exist. Every step he took echoed with other footsteps that weren't his. Every surface drank sound and spat it back warped and doubled.

At the end of the corridor stood a figure wrapped in black like a hole wrapped around a person. He knew that silhouette. Knew that voice. Baird Throne bent over him, inches from his face, smiling as if savoring a private joke. The sand under Kael's feet from the beach dream had become frost; the ocean that had been roaring was now inside a throat, and the throat was his.

"You're dying, Kael," the voice purred, and the words tasted like salt and rust. "Soon you'll be a vampire."

The corridor dissolved into a ballroom full of mirrors. In each glass Kael watched himself change: canines lengthening, pupils narrowing until they were slits, hands trembling not with fear but with something eager and old. Around him the crowd applauded — not with hands but with mouths that opened too wide, too many teeth flashing in polite, hungry smiles. He could feel a hunger under his ribs, a hollowness that smelled like warm blood and old roses. It had a rhythm, a pull, like a tide timed to his pulse.

He tried to laugh. The laugh came out like a gurgle. Faces from the past leaned close — childhood friends, ex-loves, the people he'd used and the people who had used him — and each whispered a little secret that was only ever true when you were alone. The more secrets the mirrors reflected back, the heavier his limbs grew. Something cold traced his spine, a hand made of shadow that fit him like a glove.

Then a glass cracked — whether from outside impact or the pressure behind his eyes he couldn't tell — and the pieces rearranged themselves into an open mouth. The mouth inhaled. He felt pulled through that mouth, swallowed by his own reflection. Baird's whisper braided directly into the space behind his teeth:

"Eternity isn't mercy. It's repetition. Enjoy every loop, Kaelon."​

He woke choking.