Page 33 of On Wings of Blood

Naveen colored. “Uh, right. Well, each of the four houses also have their own special abilities. Though some of these require years of training before they can be fully utilized. One thing they all share though is the ability to sense emotions through blood. When a vampire is fully mature, they can manipulate others’ feelings in this way.”

Naveen sank back down suddenly as if he’d run out of steam.

“Thank you, Mr. Sharma.” Professor Hassan looked around the room. “And of course, this is why it is so essential for the houses to keep their bloodlines pure.” Her eyes found mine. “So that these extraordinary powers are not diluted. Except when necessary, in very rare cases.”

My blood flared hot. She meant me. Well, Professor Hassan didn’t have to worry. I wasn’t going to dilute the blood of her precious vampire overlords.

Though her pronouncement did make me wonder just how often blightborns bred with vampires. Obviously it was unusual.

“This is why,” the professor continued. “Service to a highblood is an honor, not a sacrifice. As is the tithing system as well as conscription.”

My hand shot up. “Wait,” I said, not waiting to be called on. “You’re saying mortals should be glad to give up their blood but not only do they have to do that but they have topaythe vampires to live here? And accept military conscription?”

The room broke out into an angry chatter.

“Quiet down,” Professor Hassan said loudly. “Settle down.”

“I don’t understand... They’re using you but you speak of them as if they’re gods or something,” I said in disbelief. “What is wrong with you people?”

The room quieted around us as Professor Hassan and I stared at one another.

“Well, class, I’d say Miss Pendragon has truly proven her ignorance this morning, wouldn’t you?” the professor finally said.

Laughter erupted around me, harsh and bitter. But I caught some students staring at me curiously, too. I wondered how many blightborn students were in this class and how many of them had thought similar things from time to time without ever daring to say it aloud.

I snuck a peek down my row. Florence wasn’t laughing, neither was Naveen. But their faces were quiet and respectful. It was obvious they didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with this formidable teacher.

“Look up at the board, Miss Pendragon,” the professor commanded. “Tell me what you see.”

I glanced at the blackboard, at the notes the students had been copying down when I’d first walked in.

“The Great Famine,” I read aloud. “The Blight of Shadows. The Dragon Cataclysm.”

“Very good. Terrifying-sounding terms, wouldn’t you agree? Have you ever lived through a famine, Miss Pendragon?”

I shook my head slowly.

“Neither have I. Neither has anyone in this class. Thanks to the highbloods,” Professor Hassan said. “Yet our histories tell us that thousands of years ago, the worst famine the world had ever seen swept through the land, causing starvation and despair. Families abandoned children to die, unable to provide for them. Still other families resorted toeatingtheir own children.”

I shuddered.

“Then, one exceptionally powerful woman stepped forward. Some say she was a human. Others say a vampire. Still many more say she was not of this world at all but a goddess or the daughter of a god who had lived among us in mortal form. Unable to bear the sight of so much suffering, she spilled her blood upon the earth and having done so, she encouraged her mortal family to drink from it. They were nourished from her blood as she died and thus the first vampires were born. In themidst of the famine, a new race arose. They had no need for food or water. They could survive only upon blood, for days or months or even years if needed. The Bloodmaiden, as she came to be called, had saved her family. And her family continued her lifesaving work by creating an incredible elixir derived from their own blood. They distributed this elixir to many of their mortal neighbors, turning them into the Pure and saving countless lives. And so it continued. Many were spared in this way. But of course, not all could live. With the survival of the strong, came a culling of the weak. A tribute was required so that some could endure the famine while others sadly perished. A tribute made in blood. Weak mortals paid the price willingly, even eagerly, so that their fathers or mothers or sisters or brothers or children could be saved and become stronger, while they gave up their lives to feed others.”

I shuddered again. What she described was still a kind of terrible cannibalism. No less worse than eating one's own child.

“But this was all long before our time. It was not the first time, however, that mortals were saved by highbloods. Centuries later came the Blight of Shadows. A deadly illness that ravaged the mortal world and caused people to turn into mindless, nightmarish creatures known as the Shadowed. These creatures thrived in darkness, preying upon others. Entire cities were turned into wastelands. By this time, mortals and highbloods coexisted. Those of the Blessed Blood would not stand for this. In a coordinated effort, they utilized their inherent resistance to the plague and their superior strength, and eradicated the Shadowed, reclaiming lands that had been lost and saving mortals from extinction for a second time. From this time forward, mortals willingly recognized their inferiority and took on the name we are still known by today–the blightborn.”

“But perhaps this is still not enough to convince you of the virtue of those of Blessed Blood?” Professor Hassan questioned me. “A hundred years later there came the Cataclysm. Malevolent creatures swarmed Sangratha, bringing with them legions of monstrous creatures. Among them were the dragons–massive, fire-breathing beasts that answered to no one. The dragons ruled the skies and terrorized the land. They were almost unstoppable, laying waste to entire cities. But a few highbloods saw these creatures’ worth, their potential. They found individuals with a rare affinity–the ability to bond to dragons. They honed these ones into the race that came to be known as riders. Together with the riders, the highbloods led the armies of the vampire and mortal realms in a great war, vanquishing the dark forces that threatened Sangratha and sealing away the terrors.”

The room had grown very still. I didn’t dare look around. I knew what I’d find. Everyone’s eyes on me once again.

“We mortals accept our inferiority, Miss Pendragon,” Professor Hassan said softly. “Because there is no other choice. The truth is plain to see. The Pure of Bloodaresuperior. We live only thanks to their benevolence. They have saved us time and time again. We owe them not just our allegiance, our loyalty, our blood–buteverything.”

I said nothing. I refused to agree with her. In my heart, I believed she was wrong.

There were two sides to every story. And what she had just spewed was carefully written historical bullshit.

To the victors went the spoils. Wasn’t that the saying back in Aercanum? And the victors also wrote the histories, didn’t they? Obviously the vampires wanted to come off as the saviorsof the world. It was all propaganda. Propaganda that most of Sangratha had accepted as the truth.

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