The Ashes of Gwendolin

After slaying her vampire parents at just eight, Buffy Contaminator decided she had a knack for this sort of thing. While other kids her age were skipping rocks or memorising spelling lists, Buffy was skipping class to study Vamps and Vampyres. By the time she was thirteen, she’d set her sights on her first big target: Wizard #9643

Gwendolin wasn’t your everyday Vamp. With the shimmering body of a White Wraith, a Lunar Staff that crackled with magic, and a Forever Bat flitting around like an overcaffeinated shadow, she was a swirling storm of arrogance and arcane energy.

“Come closer, child,” Gwendolin purred as Buffy entered, her voice dripping with menace.

“No thanks,” Buffy said, gripping her glowing blue broadsword. “You don’t look like a hugger.”

The fight was a whirlwind of spells, shadows, and that very annoying bat. Gwendolin sent tendrils of darkness curling toward Buffy, but Buffy wasn’t having it. She ducked, dodged, and swung her blade with precision. With one final lunge, she drove her sword straight through Gwendolin’s heart.

The Vamp dissolved into a fine pile of ash. Buffy, beaming with pride, scooped the ashes into a jar she kept tucked in her pack. “You’re going on the topshelf,” she said, holding it up to the light. “Right between that ghoul’s toenails and the mummified bat.”

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