MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

Without a moment to spare, Nana rushed towards Blake's prone form, the fruit clutched tightly in her grasp. Kneeling beside him, she wasted no time in prying open his mouth with her fingers, her heart pounding in her chest as she began to squeeze the fruit.

As the juices from the sun fruit dripped into Blake's mouth, Nana poured every ounce of her strength into the task at hand, willing the life-giving elixir to work its magic. She continued to squeeze the fruit, her hands moving with frantic determination, until there was nothing left but the cold, empty husk in her grasp.

With a heavy heart, Nana stood up and watched anxiously, her breath catching in her throat as she waited for any sign that their efforts had not been in vain. But as minutes turned into an agonizing eternity, Blake remained motionless, his chest still stained with blood.

Despair threatened to overwhelm her... "Perhaps... perhaps another one is required?" she murmured, her gaze flickering back towards the shriveled tree in a desperate plea for salvation.

But as she turned, her heart sank like a stone in her chest. The lone leaf that had borne the sun fruit now lay wilted and lifeless, its once-vibrant green hue faded to a dull brown. There was no sign of another fruit forming, no glimmer of hope to be found.

"No... no... no!" Nana's anguished cry echoed through the cavern, reverberating off the walls in a haunting refrain of despair. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stumbled back towards Blake's motionless form, her hands shaking as she knelt beside him once more. She noticed Blake was no longer bleeding again and began fearing the worst had happened.

With trembling fingers, Nana reached out to check Blake's pulse, her heart pounding in her chest as she prayed for any sign of life. But as her fingers pressed against his wrist, there was nothing. No flutter of a heartbeat, no trace of warmth beneath her touch. Blake was gone.

"It didn't work?" The words escaped Nana's lips in a broken whisper, disbelief and grief warring within her soul. How could their last hope have failed them? How could they have come so close, only to be left with emptiness and loss?

As the last rays of sunlight filtered through the cave entrance, casting a golden glow upon the chamber, Nana's tears fell like rain. The eclipse was over, but their battle had ended in defeat. Blake was gone.

Nana collapsed onto the cold stone floor of the cavern, her cries of anguish filled the air, echoing off the walls like a mournful dirge. Tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked, her whole body shaking with grief and despair. It felt as though her world had crumbled around her, leaving nothing but darkness and emptiness in its wake.

Unbeknownst to her, as the sunlight pierced through the cave roof, a subtle twitch stirred in Blake's toes. A faint glimmer of light danced across his face. His eyebrows twitched imperceptibly.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the blood that stained his chest began to recede, the open wound closing.

While Nana sobs echoed through the chamber, a gentle warmth spread through Blake's body, infusing him with newfound vitality. With each passing moment, the color returned to his cheeks, his breathing steadying as if he were awakening from a long and troubled slumber.

As Nana's tears continued to cascade down her cheeks, her sobs echoing off the cavern walls, a subtle transformation began to take hold of Blake's form. His once-short hair began to lengthen, growing out in unruly tufts that framed his face, strands of silver intermingling with the black strands.

Suddenly, as if ignited by an unseen spark, his eyes shot open, glowing with an intense red light that pierced through the shadows of the cave. The vivid hue radiated with an otherworldly intensity, casting an eerie glow across the chamber as if reflecting the depths of his newfound power.

Yet, amidst the unfolding spectacle, Nana remained lost in her grief, her sobs drowning out all else. Oblivious to the miraculous changes occurring before her, she continued to lament the loss of her friend, her cries echoing through the silent chamber.

Meanwhile, Blake's transformation continued unabated, the red glow of his eyes pulsating with an otherworldly energy. With each passing moment, the subtle changes to his appearance grew more pronounced, marking the emergence of a being both familiar and wholly new.

But something strange began to happen. From the corners of his eyes came a single drop of tears. However this wasn't ordinary tears. This was blood.

************

Damien stood frozen, a specter amongst the whirling chaos of the outside world. He was witnessing the eclipse happening in real time from the balcony of his mansion. This was one of the only times he could come out to the open without hiding from the direct sunlight in day time.

His haunted gaze bored through the streets, seeing nothing but the tangled skein of his own tormenting thoughts as they mercilessly unraveled.

Why? The question gnawed at him like a rabid beast, visceral and unrelenting. Why had Rose insisted on delaying their union two agonizing years longer?

A confounding cyclone of doubt, and bitter resentment raged within him. He had bared his very soul to her, followed her down into the blackest depths of perdition itself. Yet still she withheld some vital part of herself, erecting walls to guard whatever secret motives she harbored.

The blood oath they had undertaken only compounded Damien's roiling turmoil. Though the ancient rite had bound them as one in spirit, he could not escape the sense that Rose embraced it for reasons obscured from his sight. The nagging specter of distrust clung to him like a sickness, poisoning his mind with every rattling inhalation.

Then, like a ghostly knell shattering the eerie quiet, the thin wail of a newborn pierced Damien's tormented reverie. His dead heart seized in his chest as the terrible reality came crashing down upon him anew - Rose...and the baby.

He was moving before conscious thought could take hold, his limbs propelled by a frantic force as primal as it was numbing. The hushed halls of his mansion blurred around him, a macabre kaleidoscope scored by the building crescendo of those ragged infant cries.

And then, finally, he saw her - Dr. Martina, cradling a tiny, squirming bundle as fragile and new as the dawn itself. From across the threshhold, Damien could make out each delicate feature scrunched in discomfort, each minuscule twitch and shift of the blanketed form.

Martina approached, her measured strides seeming to draw out the agonizing seconds into a viscous eternity. When at last she stood before him, arms extending in mute offering, the words that spilled from her lips lanced through Damien with the force of scorpion's sting.

"It's...a girl."

He stared, his mind struggling to fully comprehend the raw truth laid bare before him. A girl...his gaze drank in the scrunched, squirming visage, he felt no upwelling of emotion. Only a vast, empty hollowness that gnawed at his very essence. Martina's face twisted into a frown seeing Damien wouldn't even hold the new born.

Numb lips shaped a single, tortured phrase, forced past the tomb-like granite blocking his throat. "Rose...how is she?"

He hated the naked desperation that hung in those three meager words, the scent of his own dread rising like a choking miasma. But Martina's expression remained as inscrutable as the riddle of the Sphinx, utterly devoid of answers.

For an eternity carved from anti-life, she studied him through that impenetrable mask, her molten gaze seeming to bore into the withered remnants of his soul. A fleeting spark flickered in those depths - pity, or perhaps regret - but it was quickly banished, leaving only that damning, miraculous silence.

The harsh cadence of Damien's breathing sawed through that shadowed hush as panic took root, its icy tendrils constricting around his long-stilled heart. Visions of twisted, macabre horrors bloomed in lurid shades, each more grotesque than the last...

"Please..." The broken rasp could scarcely be termed a word. "I have to know..."

But no answer was forthcoming. Only that oppressive, heavy quiet and the infinite depths of Martina's stony regard passing mute judgement over the pathetic relic he had become.

****Author's note***

Thank you all for the wonderful support. I'm pleased to announce that we have come to the end of THE DEVIL MAY CRY Arc.

Prepare for what's to come next!!!