My color had always acted as a lure to me, and the blood that emerged from the cut I'd made in the tender part of my wrist was no different. I couldn't take my eyes off it.

Red. The color of my scales in my true form, the color of my breath, my fire. The color of my lovers' auras when my nearness promised passion beyond the scope of their imagining. The thick liquid emerged like a subterranean beast, slowly at first. The pain was a red fire behind my eyes, beneath my skin.

Red. All red.

My color infused all these things—passion, pain, rage. Beneath their skin my brothers were no different from me; their blood ran just as red, their pain flared just as brightly. Their own auras were tinged with the same mixture of love for our sister, anger at our enemy, passion to do whatever it took to ensure the survival of our race, our children.

Red.

I owned this color and all the things it branded. The color was as sacred to me as the night was sacred to my Black brother, Ked, or the winter snows were sacred to my White brother, Aodh. I owned it and rejected the thought of sacrificing what belonged to me—not to the beast of a man who stood before us with his strangely shifting gaze that reminded me of shuttered windows with a secret resident hiding somewhere beyond.

With that thought—that reversal of intent—my blood changed course, the flow running backward, retreating into the vein I'd opened.

"No. This is not the way. There must be something else we can bargain for. Take my seed … take my entire body. I will give myself to you in exchange for Belah's blood. Just don't take our blood."

My brothers stared at me in wide—eyed alarm. Their own sliced wrists flowed red, their life's blood draining into the open basins our enemy had provided. My basin remained dry and I backed away, raising my voice so my objections could be heard.

"This is not the way. We must keep our blood—every drop. We cannot let … it … have that much power."

Ked gave me a pained look but didn't cease his own bloodflow. "Our power is nothing compared to what he has with Belah's blood. We agreed, brother. Please."

Our enemy turned his empty eyes on me. With one blink, his eyes were occupied by that thing that he'd become. Nikhil was no longer Nikhil. The thing that he'd become I only knew as unworthy.

His lips twisted in a sneer. "If you dare break our bargain, you will never see your sister draw breath again," he said, though his voice had a strangely high—pitched lilt that sounded nothing like the fearless warrior I'd faced countless times across the battlefield.

"We must do this," Ked said.

"Come back, brother," Aodh said.

Both my brothers moved away from their vessels, their blood—covered wrists still dripping as they advanced on me, but this would not stand. I couldn't let this happen.

"It's the wrong way! Not our fucking blood. It gives them too much power over us!"

"This exchange takes away more power than it gives," Ked said, his human shape expanding as he came nearer. Ebony scales emerged and massive black horns erupted from his head. His eyes flooded with darkness that was all at once empty and dense—a void that sucked in all feeling, all light. My brother may be no match for me in passion, but I was always impotent in the face of Ked's cold determination.

Red was the color of my terror when the darkness surrounded me and showed me how empty my life had become. I sent a silent plea to Aodh, who answered with a useless platitude: "It's all right, Gavra. We agreed. Belah needs us to be united in this."

What did a few measures of my blood matter when I was empty inside already? I sagged and my brothers propped me up between them, dragged me back to the vessel that awaited its offering. Aodh held me still while Ked raised the blade—the one tempered by all three of our immortal dragon fires—and reopened the vein in my wrist.

I watched in a detached haze as my blood flowed freely. Within moments, the bowl was filled but I didn't have the presence of mind to command my body to heal and staunch the tide.

"It's for family," Aodh said in my ear. "If there's any cause worth shedding our blood for, it's family. Nothing else matters … we sure as shit don't have anything else worth bleeding for, do we?"

I knew he was right, but despite the exchange that day, our enemy's relentless onslaught never ceased. In the end we retreated, hiding like thieves, forsaking all we had built and leaving it for our descendants to divide amongst themselves.

Mother forgive me, I did love my sister, and her resurrection gave me hope, but I would always wonder if there'd been a better way to save her. One that didn't require me sacrificing my truth.

Red was the color of sacrifice, but what good is sacrifice when true love was not at stake?

I vowed that day that I would find the love to make that ancient sacrifice worthwhile. Never again would I shed my blood for anything less.