-One Week Later-
It was well past midnight. The faint whistle of the wind broke the silence of the manor, only echoing off the stone walls. In the wide expanse of my bedroom's bed, Annabel's warm, bare body curled against me, draped loosely in a thin sheet. Her steady breaths were a kind of rhythm in the darkness; calm, yet somehow fragile. She was asleep, her face still carrying traces of that innocent shyness, as if even in her dreams she clung to her timidity.
Suddenly, a noise tore through the stillness of the night, jolting me awake. It was the sound of wood crashing against the floor, as if something had fallen or been thrown. My heart quickened, not out of fear but with the instinct of a hunter. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I noticed a movement in the shadows at the edge of the bed. Annabel was still asleep, stirring restlessly and clutching the sheet tighter. I rose quietly, sliding to the edge of the bed and pressing my feet against the cold stone floor.
I walked toward the window, my steps deliberate yet cautious. The night's chill seeped through the gaps in the curtains. When I slowly opened the window, a sharp metallic scent hit my nostrils. Blood. My eyes caught a sack resting on the windowsill. It was made of coarse, old fabric, its edges damp, with a dark liquid seeping from the bottom, pooling on the stone ledge.
I picked up the sack, its weight heavier than I expected. As I untied the cords and peered inside, my stomach didn't churn; instead, a smile crept across my lips. Inside the sack was the severed head of one of the city's vampire hunters. Its eyes were still open, its mouth twisted in terror. The sight was a clear challenge. The vampire had stopped hiding in the shadows and was speaking directly to me. *If you don't leave me alone, the next head in this sack will be yours.*
I let the head fall back into the sack, the wet thud echoing like a drop hitting stone. Then I closed the window, the frame clicking shut with a small but definitive sound, sealing the silence of the night.
The message from the darkness was clear:
"I'm done hiding in the shadows. I'm here. Come find me."
My smile widened slightly. Courage, might call it this, or perhaps that fine line between courage and desperation. I wasn't sure. But if a vampire was bold enough to send me a severed head in the dead of night, it clearly wasn't just about survival anymore. It wanted to play.
*Fine, I thought to myself. *Let's play.*
When I turned back, Annabel was still asleep. Her face was half-hidden behind the cascade of wavy hair spilling over the sheet. I used to think such innocence could only stem from ignorance. But now… now I couldn't deny that such skin, such breath, could make me feel a sense of belonging, even in this dark world. I didn't wake her. She'd sense something had changed when she woke, maybe from the faint smell of blood lingering in the room, or perhaps from the sharper edge in my expression. Or maybe without a word, just through some instinctual knowing.
I reached to climb back into bed… What? Did someone really think I'd go out in the dead of night, when a vampire holds every advantage, with the moon high and darkness all around, to fight that damned creature? Hell no! Tomorrow, Rebecca and I would deal with this vampire. But now I was going to sleep soundly in the bed my woman had warmed up for me.
Taking a deep breath, I slid back into bed.
I pressed my back against the sheet, resting my head on the pillow.
My eyes fixed on the ceiling, but my mind was already racing toward tomorrow.
This war might have begun at night, but it would end in the daylight.
-——-
-The Next Day-
My body, exhausted from hours of searching for the vampire, was growing restless. With the sun about to set, I wasn't sure whether to call off the hunt. Rebecca walked ahead of me, her sharp gaze barely concealing the impatience spilling from the shadow of her crimson cloak.
"There were three disappearances around here before," she said quietly, inspecting the bark of a gnarled tree. "Two were children. The third… they found, but only enough pieces to identify them."
Without turning to me, she added, "Whoever did this is either starving, furious, or having a lot of fun."
"Probably all three," I said dryly. "And the sun's setting. This place isn't ours anymore; it's their hunting ground."
Rebecca turned, her eyes meeting.
"So, we're heading back?"
"I don't know. What if they only show up at night? And this time, the severed head might not belong to just some random person. It could be Lucareth, Annabel, or someone else important to me. He probably know I'm hunting him."
Rebecca fell silent for a few seconds. Then, without breaking eye contact, she straightened up.
As the sun cast its final orange glimmers on the horizon, surrendering the sky to a deep indigo, we were still trudging along the stony paths of Hollowridge. Rebecca's steps were resolute, but her shoulders carried the weight of fatigue and impatience. Beside us, the remaining soldiers from the search party scanned the surroundings, their hands gripping torches and short swords. No one spoke; the only sounds were the scrape of boots on stone and the occasional rustle of the wind.
"There's nothing here," Rebecca muttered, examining some scratches on a rock. "We've been wandering for hours. Either we're in the wrong place, or this bastard's playing us."
"Be patient," I said, my voice calm but stirring with a hunter's thrill. "They'll find us. I'm sure of it."
Rebecca frowned but said nothing. She gripped her staff hilt tighter and pressed on. The team had slowed, worn down by exhaustion. The flickering torchlight made the trees' shadows dance. Every shadow, every rustle, felt for a moment like it could be the vampire itself. But there was nothing. Not yet.
"We're heading back to the city," I said finally, my voice cutting through the air with resolve. "Let's meet the other teams at the center. If something's going to happen, it'll be there."
Rebecca nodded, though a flicker of doubt lingered in her eyes. "I hope you're right, Leonardo."
By the time we reached the city center, night had fully fallen. The square was lit with torches, filled with the weary but vigilant faces of the other search teams. People spoke in hushed tones, reporting what they'd found or hadn't. The result was always the same: no trace, no sign. It was as if the vampire had melted into the shadows.
Then, a stir rippled through the square, centered on the stone fountain at its heart. At first, it seemed like just a gust of wind, but then the air grew heavy, as if an invisible weight pressed down on our shoulders. The torch flames flickered, some extinguishing entirely. The soldiers drew their swords, though no one knew what they were facing. Rebecca stepped closer to me, her staff half-drawn, her eyes fixed on the darkness.
And then he appeared.
From the shadows of the square, a silhouette rose, as if the night itself had taken form. Impossibly tall, a figure peeled away from the darkness. A long black cloak billowed despite the still air. Their faces gleamed pale as marble in the moonlight; sharp, aristocratic features, deep crimson eyes, and a mocking smile playing on their lips.
Their hair, black as the night, fell neatly to their shoulders. Their hands were long and elegant, but the claw-like nails at their fingertips were unmistakable. Every movement was both graceful and menacing.
"You've been looking for me, young Count?"
The vampire perched on the edge of the fountain, still as a statue, but its eyes scanned everyone in the square. Then, his gazes locked on me. His smiles widened, their teeth glinting in the moonlight. He voices, deep and velvety, filled the square.
"Whoa," I whispered to myself. "This guy… really knows how to make an entrance."
"Leo… that's not just a vampire."
Rebecca's words hit me, and for a moment, I couldn't process them.
Her voice lacked its usual sharpness, sounding not like a warrior's but like someone trembling.
There was something in her tone.
Fear.
"What are you talking about, Reb?"
Rebecca's eyes widened, as if a childhood tale had suddenly come to life.
Her voice slipped through her lips in a whisper:
"He… not just a vampire."
She swallowed hard.
"A *high* vampire."
The surrounding air seemed to grow colder, heavier. The silence in the square was no longer peaceful. It was suffocating.
My eyes returned to its silhouette.
And this time… I truly *looked.*
That thing, that creature, wasn't normal.
At first, I'd thought it only seemed so tall because it was perched on the fountain's edge. But no.
Even crouching on the stone rim, it towered head and shoulders above the surrounding men.
And then it stood.
Without bending its knees, it rose to its full, majestic height.
*Gods. It was at least ten feet tall.*
But its height was only part of its presence.
Its shoulders were broad, not with brutish muscle but with a noble, almost divine proportion. Its cloak flowed behind it like a shadow, its movements not wild but precise.
It was graceful. Flawless. And utterly… unnatural.
My eyes drifted to its face.
The moonlight illuminated its pale, marble-like skin. Not the pallor of death, but the mark of a living curse.
When those deep crimson eyes locked onto mine, something primal inside me shuddered.
It wasn't just fear. It was an existential weight, a feeling of being diminished, fleeting, insignificant in the face of this being.
Rebecca stepped back, her fingers trembling on her staff.
"They're… rare," she said, her voice unsteady. "Most are just stories. When they appear, cities burn. Knights fall. Entire vampire clans produce only a handful of them… and when they rise, they're no longer just 'vampire.' They're *nobility*…"
Oh… I see. I guess this is where our little love story goes to hell, doesn't it?
Maybe I should've accepted that offer from the Hand of the Throne knighthood… Maybe? For Real?