The ritual chamber was older than Lucian himself. Carved into bedrock deep beneath the city, the circular room had witnessed centuries of vampire ceremonies—turnings, executions, power transfers, and darker rituals best forgotten. Ancient symbols covered the walls, glowing faintly in the candlelight.
Lucian stood naked in the center of a complex pattern drawn in silver dust and his own blood. The ingredients surrounded him in precise geometric arrangements—nightshade, wolfsbane, white oak ash, crushed diamonds, and a dozen other components. Each candle was positioned according to his grandfather's exact specifications.
Viktor watched from outside the circle, his face tight with worry. "Last chance to change your mind."
"No changing minds." Lucian closed his eyes, centering himself. "If this goes wrong, make sure the clans know I chose this. Don't let Damien claim I was murdered or assassinated. That would start a war."
"Lucian—"
"Promise me, Viktor."
"I promise." Viktor's voice was strained. "But you're not going to die. You're too stubborn for that."
Lucian smiled slightly, then began the incantation. The words were Old Latin mixed with something even older, a language that predated Rome. His grandfather had learned it from texts that shouldn't exist, knowledge from a time when magic flowed more freely through the world.
The candles flared brighter. The silver dust began to glow. Lucian felt power building around him, old magic responding to his call. It pressed against his skin like physical weight.
He spoke faster, the words tumbling out in rapid succession. The ritual required perfect pronunciation, perfect timing, perfect intent. One mistake could kill him or worse—trap him between mortal and immortal, neither alive nor dead.
Pain hit him like a physical blow. Lucian gasped as his vampire nature began tearing away from him. It felt like his skin was being peeled off from the inside. Three hundred years of accumulated power, strength, and immortality—all of it draining away into the circle.
His enhanced vision faded first. The chamber grew darker as his night-seeing eyes became human again. Then his hearing dulled, losing the ability to detect heartbeats three rooms away. His strength fled, muscle mass decreasing as supernatural power left him.
The worst part was his healing factor disappearing. Lucian could feel mortality settling into his bones like rust on metal. Suddenly, he was fragile. Breakable. Human.
He screamed.
The sound echoed off the stone walls, raw and agonized. Viktor stepped forward but stopped at the circle's edge, unable to cross without disrupting the ritual. He could only watch as Lucian writhed in pain, his body reshaping itself from immortal predator to mortal prey.
Time lost meaning. The ritual might have lasted minutes or hours. Lucian couldn't tell through the pain. But eventually, gradually, it ended. The candles flickered and died. The silver dust settled into inert patterns. The magic faded.
Lucian collapsed onto the cold stone floor, gasping. His lungs burned—actually burned, like they hadn't in three centuries. His heart hammered in his chest, no longer the slow, steady beat of a vampire but the rapid pulse of a human body struggling with shock.
"Lucian!" Viktor crossed into the now-safe circle and knelt beside him. "Are you okay? Talk to me."
"I'm..." Lucian's voice came out hoarse and weak. "I'm cold."
He was. The chamber's temperature hadn't changed, but without his vampire nature, Lucian felt the chill of underground stone for the first time in centuries. Goosebumps rose on his bare skin. His teeth chattered.
Viktor grabbed a robe from where they'd left supplies and wrapped it around Lucian carefully. "Can you stand?"
"Give me a minute." Lucian lay on the cold floor, adjusting to his new reality. Everything felt different. His body seemed heavier, clumsier. His senses were dull and limited. The constant background awareness of other supernatural creatures nearby had vanished completely.
He was mortal. Truly, completely mortal.
It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
Viktor helped him to his feet eventually. Lucian swayed, having to relearn balance with his reduced strength and coordination. They made their way slowly out of the ritual chamber and through the tunnels toward Lucian's private rooms.
Other vampires they passed stared in confusion. They could sense something was wrong with their lord but couldn't quite identify what. Lucian's supernatural presence, the aura of power that had surrounded him for centuries, was simply gone. He looked the same but felt human to their senses.
"We need to get you out of here before someone figures it out," Viktor muttered. "Damien is already suspicious. If he realizes you're vulnerable..."
"I know." Lucian leaned on Viktor more than he wanted to admit. His legs felt like jelly. "We discussed this. You'll announce I've gone into seclusion. Meditation and spiritual renewal. Very mysterious and lord-like."
"Right." Viktor didn't sound convinced. "And you're sure about going to the surface? You could stay down here, somewhere safe."
"That defeats the entire purpose." They reached Lucian's chambers. Inside, Viktor had already prepared supplies—human clothes, cash, identification documents with the name Luke Nash, everything needed for a mortal life. "I need to experience real human existence. Work a job. Pay rent. Feel what it's like to be vulnerable in the world."
Viktor helped him dress. The clothes felt strange—jeans, a t-shirt, a jacket, all of it ordinary and cheap. Lucian had worn expensive custom suits for decades. These department store purchases felt foreign against his now-sensitive skin.
"I've rented you an apartment in Brooklyn," Viktor said, handing over keys and an address. "Nothing fancy. Studio apartment, fourth floor walk-up, seven hundred square feet. The landlord thinks you're a grad student."
"Perfect." Lucian pocketed the keys. His hands trembled slightly. Whether from lingering ritual effects or genuine nervousness, he couldn't tell.
"There's cash to last you several months if you're careful. Bank account with a small balance. You'll need to find work soon." Viktor paused. "Are you sure about this? You can still stay here. Let me protect you."
Lucian met his friend's worried eyes. "Viktor, in three hundred years, you've been the most loyal friend I could ask for. But I need to do this alone. I need to be actually vulnerable, not playing at it while protected by vampire bodyguards."
"You could die."
"Everyone dies eventually. I've just been putting it off for a few centuries." Lucian managed a smile. "One year. They came back. The ritual is reversible if performed on the anniversary."
"If you survive that long."
"Such optimism."
Viktor pulled Lucian into another embrace. This time it felt different—Lucian could feel the vampire's unnatural strength, the coldness of undead flesh. He'd never noticed as a vampire himself. Now, as a human, Viktor felt like what he was: a corpse animated by supernatural power.
It should have been frightening. Instead, Lucian found it fascinating.
"Don't die," Viktor said quietly. "I mean it. If you die, I'll find a witch to resurrect you just so I can kill you myself."
"Noted." Lucian pulled away. "Take care of everything. Don't let Damien get ambitious. Watch Isabella—she's been unstable since our breakup. And keep the peace with the werewolves. Marcus is aggressive but not suicidal."
"I know, I know. You've only told me a hundred times." Viktor helped Lucian pack a small bag. "Call me if you need anything. I've given you a phone. It's untraceable but works."
"I'll check in monthly. Let you know I'm alive."
"Weekly."
"Monthly, Viktor. I need real distance."
Viktor sighed but nodded. They made their way through the tunnels one last time, taking a service exit that emerged in a subway maintenance tunnel. From there, stairs led up to the surface. Lucian hadn't used this exit in decades. Most vampires preferred the deeper tunnels that connected to their underground city.
The stairs seemed endless. Lucian's human legs burned with exertion by the time they reached the top. His breathing came hard and fast. Viktor watched with barely concealed concern.
"This is pathetic," Lucian gasped. "I climbed these stairs a hundred times and never even noticed. Now I'm winded."
"You're human. Humans get winded." Viktor pushed open the access door. Cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of the city—car exhaust, food, garbage, rain on pavement. "Welcome back to mortality."
They emerged in an alley in Lower Manhattan. The city stretched around them, alive with light and sound and movement. Lucian hadn't experienced New York as a human since 1697, and back then it had been a colonial town of a few thousand people. Now it was a metropolis of millions, overwhelming in its complexity.
"I'll have someone watching from a distance," Viktor said. "You won't see them, but if you're in real danger—"
"No." Lucian cut him off firmly. "No watchers. No protection. I need this to be real, Viktor. Complete separation."
"You're impossible."
"I'm determined. There's a difference." Lucian adjusted the backpack on his shoulders. It felt heavy, another reminder of his new weakness. "Thank you. For everything. For understanding this madness."
"I don't understand it. But I'm trying to respect it." Viktor hesitated. "Good luck, Lucian. Or should I say, Luke?"
"Luke Nash. Grad student, age twenty-eight, studying history." Lucian smiled. "It's not even a complete lie."
Viktor watched as Lucian walked out of the alley and into the flow of pedestrians on the street. The former vampire lord disappeared into the crowd easily, just another young man in cheap clothes carrying a backpack. Ordinary. Forgettable. Human.
For the first time in three hundred years, Lucian was nobody special.
It felt amazing.