The Broken Mask

Sav'ilar had finished his mask. His masterpiece, it was perfection, it was him. He knew deep down this is the beginning of something perfect, something... grand. His stage was soon to be elevated, but how could he make it rise?

"Must I do it this way? Harming them all, drinking from countless victims. There must be a way more proper."
He thought this to himself, pondering deeply on the implications. What would be the path he takes? Would he find a way to feed on countless others? Or would he secure a discreet way. This brought him an odd, sadistic joy to think of, one he never would have felt before.

"No, that would make me a savage, I am above that. I am above them all."
His thoughts entered his mind more forcefully now. He realized what this curse was to do to him, was it even a blessing? His mind was torn between humanity and Vampirism. The struggle ever grew. He wondered what would become of him. He held the mask tightly in his hand, and threw it out of anger.

"No! I wont! I wont be like the rest of them! I will be above the animals, above their tendencies, I am regal! I am pure! I shall act as such!"

At this moment, he looked to his mask, the crack he left for his sadistic smile had grown larger... now to his eye. Down from the left to the middle of his mask. He looked at it and remembered what he did out of rage. But, instead of fear of himself he realized what it meant.

"This... is my duality, the crack. Is me. The mask, is... Him. Its imperfection, leads to my perfection."