[ TT ] You are an apprentice mage whose ability has far surpassed that of your mentor - who happens to be the most powerful blood mage in the kingdom .

'Blood is life, blood is power.' Gwenhwyfar often repeated this mantra in her head. This was the way motto of the Hematic Magi, those who drew their magical abilities from their own life force, rather than spiritual energy such as mana. 
 
 As one could assume, any blood magic left a heavy toll on it user, stronger incantations some times leaving their uses bedridden for weeks, or the rest of their life if they were careless enough. This alone prevented many from taking the art of Exsanguination, event he strongest of body and mind found it difficult, though Gwenhwyfar found that it took very little toll on her body, even now when she was with child. 
 
 She sat at a desk, dimly lit by a candle nearing the end of it's life. When she was not practicing, Gwenhwyfar spent her time in books. Some times she had wondered how a book worm such as her found a way to have a life outside of Exanguination, let a lone find a man to love her enough to produce a child with her. Yet she had, and every night she returned to the man she loved and dreamed of a normal life, a life that due to her ability, she would never live. 
 
 Her mind oft slipped away, to a solitary house in the mountains, surrounded by flowers whose number seemed infinite. The warmth of the sun against her pale skin, the breeze tossing her crimson hair while her child slept soundly next to her. 
 
 A hand reached down and softly slid itself against her cheek. She could feel his blood flowing through him. it soothed her, comforted her, a blood that was so weak compared to hers that it created a perfect harmony. A harmony that flowed through the veins of her child. 
 
 She moved her hands to his, and clasped it between them, pulling him down next to her. 
 
 Together they lie there, unaware of the troubles of the kingdom and without a care of the troubles as well. 
 
 The man of her dreams leaned in close, his lips nearly pressed against her ear. 
 
 `` I Lo --'' 
 
 Suddenly the slam of a door brought her back to reality. The candle on her desk was snuffed by the gust of her chamber door being slammed shut. 
 
 `` Gwen!'' A raspy old voice called out from behind her, a man garbed in crimson robes of silk stormed towards her, a burlap satchel in one hand, the other hand raised to the air. Using a small metallic claw on his index finger, he carved a small incision in his hand by dragging the finger across his palm, exposing a small gash. The man swung his hand across him, his blood expelled forth, but before it could touch the ground it vanished, and all the candles in the room became alight. 
 
 `` Have you been drinking again, Master Aima?'' A small chill shot down her back. Her master was fond of wine and ale, and though he had adopted her as a child, he oft struck her while he was in his cups. She slid her own metallic nail on her index finger, preparing to defend herself if he were to strike her now. 
 
 `` No no my dear, not a drop this night. After all, intoxication dulls the power of blood...'' His voice trailed off at the end, his voice was different than normal Gwen had noticed, and it made her feel uncomfortable. `` I've come to give you a gift my dear.'' 
 
 `` A gift?'' She was honestly puzzled. In all of her life, not once had she been given a gift from her master. `` Were n't you of the mind that anything of value was earned, and not given?'' 
 
 `` Oh my dear, trust when I say, you have earned this.'' 
 
 With a loud thud, Aima dropped the burlap sack directly on her book. She recoiled out of fear, the metallic nail already digging in to her flesh. She felt warmth running down her leg, dripping from the desk. 
 
 Blood. 
 
 This blood was not hers, this blood felt weak. Weak and familiar. 
 
 In a frantic rush, her hands began to undo the knot around the top of the burlap sack, her hands shaking so violently she could barely complete this task. Once she had undone the knot, she allowed the sack to drop, revealing a long head of dark hair. 
 
 Her hands shot to her mouth, tears began to well in her eyes before overflowing down her cheek. 
 
 What sat before her was the head of the man she loved, the man who was the father of her child. 
 
 Aima let out a hellish cackle. `` Did you think I would let this transgression slide? You whore!'' He brought a clenched fist against the side of her head, knocking her to the ground. He walked over to where she lie and pressed a boot against her, forcing her to the ground. 
 
 `` My lord has grown interested in your power. He feels that you have surpassed me, and asked me to bring you before him.'' He dug his heel deeper in his flesh, but she felt nothing outside of her broken heart. `` It's a shame though that all I will be able to bring him is a dead whore. 
 
 He removed his foot from her, and dug his metallic nail deep into his flesh. His blood spilled forth and took form, encroaching around her throat and rising her into the air. 
 
 The grip became tighter, every breath became a desperate struggle. Slowly she raised her hand behind her before dragging her own metallic nail across her wrist, causing her blood to spill forth like a tide. 
 
 Faster than lightning she spun her wrist in front of her, her blood now solidified and harder than steel. It cut deep into her masters throat, his own blood now spilling forth. 
 
 Aima fell to his knees, gasping for air as his life force drained from his wound. 
 
 Gwen now stood before him, blood still pouring from her wound. She raised her hand in front of her, and began to draw her master's blood from his own body and in to her own. 
 
'Never have I seen one who could work with another's blood...' Aima's last thoughts.'This pregnant bitch, even in my death she shadows me more and more...' 
 
 With that thought, he faded into darkness. His blood still pouring into her wound. She dropped to her knees and wept, she could feel new power coursing through her, but at what cost? She had lost the love of her life... 
 
 Several years had passed. Gwen had escaped from the kingdom, assumed dead along with her master. 
 
 She had her wish, she lived now in the remote mountains, in a solitary house. The sun was warm against her pale skin. The wind tossed her crimson hair while her child slept next to her. However, unlike her dream, her beloved was not there to caress her skin, and her child did not have the harmony she had dreamed of. 
 
 Though only twelve, he was the spitting image of his father, his hair already shoulder length and dark as the ebon night. Though his blood was fierce, stronger than her master, stronger than his, but it did not feel right. He showed no sign of being able to perform Exanguination, though his potential was grand. Instead of being able to channel his life force, she found that he healed quickly, almost instantaneously, and show very little signs of aging. 
 
 Once more, tears began to well in her eyes and coursed down her cheek. 
 
 `` Is everything OK, mommy?'' The boy asked, worry stricken across his face. 
 
 `` Yes Marcus. Mommy is fine.'' 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- - 
 
 As usual, sorry for grammar and spelling etc. This took about 30 minutes and I just type as I come up with it. 
 
 This is another tie in with my previous stories [ Here ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/35w1x0/wp_death_meets_the_first_man_that_can_see_him/cr8f4cg ) and [ Here ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/35rx7d/pi_an_immortal_man_who_cannot_be_physically/cr79vf4 ). 
 
 Enjoy. 

