The Vampire drifted into the temple as mist. Mistwalk. He sought to feed on the ibis-headed scholar working by candlelight.
"I am the night," the Vampire whispered, reforming into a pale aristocrat. He used Mesmeric Glare. "Look at me."
Thoth didn't look up from his scroll. He dipped his reed pen in black ink.
"You are a syntax error," Thoth murmured.
The Editing
The Vampire lunged, fangs bared.
Thoth raised his left hand. "Stop."
The Vampire froze. Wordcraft of True Names. Thoth had spoken the true name of the creature's curse.
"You are bound by the moon," Thoth said, standing up. "I calculate the moon."
Moonlit Reckoning.
Thoth drew a symbol in the air. It glowed with silver light. It was the hieroglyph for "Dust."
The Vampire's immortality unraveled. The magic binding his soul to his corpse dissolved. He didn't burn; he simply crumbled, piling up on the floor like sand in an hourglass.
Thoth swept the dust aside and went back to writing. "Messy," he noted.