Pamvira’s waiting, keen to gorge herself so we might be together, evermore, from dusk till dawn. She frequents the threshold of my abode till my will crumbles, that I might be reborn.
“Welcome, Love! Slake your thirst,” I tell her. “Nocturnal creature, traveller of my dreams, imbed your fangs, the otherworldly portals to a life undead. Imbibe two bloody streams.”
No more a sibling of the sun, I’m drained, pale, my transformation done.