I have whispered this before, in shadows and between heartbeats, but there were things about BloodLust that left a bitter taste on my tongue. The most troubling of all was the hunger of the world itself—how we could be hunted at any moment, HUD or no HUD, never truly safe. Always bound. Always watching. Forced to wear the mark so we’d feel the knife when it came, robbed of the simple luxury of drifting away, of going afk without the risk of returning to a corpse. Slavery dressed up as a game. It did not sit well with a creature like me.
Still… rumors reached my ears. Promises of change. I allowed myself a sliver of hope.
And yes—change is coming.
I don’t yet know all the details, but it seems some of our cries about PVP may finally be heard. Yet the price of this evolution is steep. The great simplification is upon us. Thirty-eight races, distilled. The hybrids—creatures like me—are being unmade. Succubus as I have always known myself? Fading. Rewritten. Perhaps erased.
Tonight, when I logged in, I felt it immediately. My HUD was… wrong. Where once I had torment and blood—tools of seduction and suffering alike—there was only a single button staring back at me: claws. Cold. Brutal. Lycan. I checked my stats on the BloodLust page, disbelief curling in my chest. I am not a Lycan… and yet there it was, branding me as one.
Before I could fully process the insult, my Sire summoned me—an emergency gathering, thick with tension. He tried to soothe us, to answer what he could, to keep spirits from breaking. And from his words, the truth emerged like a blade from silk: if I wished to remain the Succubus I once was, I would lose him as my Sire.
Because he is Lycan.
And because he cannot make me again as he once did.
To reclaim my demonic nature, I would need a demon Sire… and in doing so, sever the bond that made me what I am now.
Disappointing doesn’t begin to cover it.
I’m told there may be ways around this. Loopholes. Rituals yet to be revealed. So I wait, claws sheathed, wings restless. Change—especially change meant to “improve”—often draws blood first. It can feel cruel. Unfair. Perhaps it is.
We will see.
For now, I wait in the dark, listening for more whispers. If BloodLust no longer has room for a Succubus bound to her chosen Sire, then my time here may be at an end. But I am not ready to despair. Not yet.
A few more nights.
A few more answers.
And then… I will decide who I become next. 😈
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