Waking up to the smell of faeces and urine was enough to ruin my morning.
The stench seeped through the cracked wooden shutters of the small room I rented — if it could even be called renting. More like survival space. The alley behind the boarding house overflowed again, and the summer heat pressed the rot into the cobblestones until the air felt thick and sour.
I turned on the thin mattress and stared at the ceiling.
Flakes of paint peeled above me like dying skin.
But to make matters worse, I lost my job at the tavern because some idiotic vampire claimed I was "too tempting" — that he could perceive the pulsing rush of blood in my veins and it made his fangs itch.
The memory replayed in my mind like a wound being pressed.
How is that my fault?
I had been standing behind the counter serving drinks when he leaned closer than necessary, eyes locked onto my throat instead of my face. His nostrils flared. He smiled like I had offered myself willingly.
Moments later, the tavern owner pulled me aside.
"You make certain customers uncomfortable," he had said quietly, avoiding my gaze.
Uncomfortable.
As though I had begged to be looked at like prey.
As though I had controlled the reaction of a creature built to hunt.
I am just a girl trying to make a living after leaving the cult they dare to call a shelter for the homeless.
They repeatedly made us "donate" blood to the undead to keep the place running.
They framed it as cooperation.
As protection.
As gratitude.
The elders would smile while rolling up our sleeves, telling us the blood collected would maintain alliances with vampire houses who promised safety from worse threats.
That was the only payment they accepted.
Blood.
No coin.
No real charity.
Just extraction disguised as mercy.
And some people stayed there…
Only to go missing.
I remember the empty beds.
The quiet nights after someone vanished.
The whispers about "complications."
No bodies were ever shown.
No funerals were held.
Gods, I cannot imagine going to sleep in a supposed sanctuary and waking up as breakfast.
Vampires are cruel.
Deceitful.
I know better than to trust anyone who trusts the undead.
And here I am now — aimlessly walking the streets of Greyhaven — with no coin, no job, and no patience left for this cursed city.
I didn't realize when the cobblestones narrowed.
The further I walked, the quieter the city became.
The noise of vendors shouting prices faded behind me.
The rattling wheels of carriages disappeared.
Even the distant laughter of children playing in the market seemed swallowed by something heavier.
Or when the noise of the market faded.
The air shifted — colder, heavier, pressing against my skin like an unseen presence.
Or when the sun stopped warming my back.
I paused for half a second, confused.
The warmth that had been following me through the streets — that comforting proof that it was still midday — was gone.
A shadow had swallowed it.
My stomach dropped.
When my mind finally registers everything — and where I am — I freeze.
My gaze slowly lifts.
The buildings around me are taller now. Their windows are boarded up. Their doors reinforced with iron bars. Moss crawls along the cracked stone like veins.
The alley stretches ahead in a narrow path of darkness even though the sky above is bright.
This can't be.
No.
No. No. No.
As if the day couldn't get worse, I might actually get killed.
Christ… what a way to die — lost in thoughts and finally lost in the death alley.
My pulse accelerates.
I've heard the stories.
People who enter this place do not always scream.
Sometimes they disappear quietly.
Sometimes there is blood left behind.
Safe to say no alley is safe in this town — not even during daylight.
Most places become dangerous after dark…
But this one?
This alley is called the death alley for a reason.
And my stupid self just stumbled into it while thinking about a stupid vampire.
It is midday.
The sun is high.
But it does not matter.
Whoever enters this alley goes missing — or drained of blood and life.
Maybe if I walk fast enough, I will be the first person to testify to not being dead after carelessly stumbling into the death alley…
My fingers curl into fists as I force my legs to move.
Step.
Step.
Step—
…or so I thought as I see a shadow.
It appears first on the cracked ground.
A distortion of light.
Then it grows.
A rather huge shadow reflecting on the cobblestones.
Not human.
I am sure of it.
Because goosebumps erupt across my skin instantly.
The chill aura of the undead presses into the space around me like a physical force.
My breathing becomes shallow.
My heartbeat pounds in my ears.
"You really have no sense of self preservation now do you?"
That voice.
It slices through my fear.
It's the same voice of the bastard that got me fired today.
My jaw tightens.
"You son of a—"
"Shhhhh."
He moves before I can even finish the insult.
His cold hand grips my throat in an instant.
Ice.
Pure ice.
And suddenly oxygen feels like a privilege I no longer have.
I claw at his wrist.
My nails dig into his skin — though it feels like trying to scratch stone.
He lifts me off the ground effortlessly like I weigh nothing.
My feet kick wildly in the air.
"Let me go!" I cough.
I'm still fighting for my life — but his grip does not loosen.
Instead…
He squeezes tighter.
"Your blood….
He trails off.
His head tilts.
His nose moves slowly along the side of my neck as he inhales deeply — like an animal assessing prey.
"It is tempting."
He releases me.
Gravity pulls me down violently and I collapse onto the cobblestone.
Air floods back into my lungs as I cough uncontrollably.
My hands immediately fly to my neck.
He probably left a mark.
But that is the least of my worries now.
I am in the death alley.
With a vampire.
But damn it all to hell — I will not die without a fight.
I force myself upright.
My body trembles, but adrenaline overrides the pain.
The moment I gather strength, I run.
Again.
Stupid decision.
He appears in front of me in less than a second — blocking my escape.
His hand wraps around my waist.
Then he throws me.
I crash into the brick wall with brutal force.
The impact knocks the air out of my lungs.
I collapse to the ground with a painful groan.
He crouches beside me slowly.
Too calmly.
A sinister smile curves across his lips.
He brings the same hand that had choked me earlier and — absurdly — begins playing with my hair.
His touch is invasive.
Mocking.
His eyes are darker now.
Emotionless.
"You see that is what I like about you humans…"
His voice is soft — almost conversational.
"You like to run like the prey you are, but you seem to forget… the predator loves to chase."
He leans closer.
"That's what makes the meal fun. The pulsing in your veins becomes even more evident because of that rush… Your fear makes me hungrier…"
His fingers tighten slightly around a strand of my hair.
"Do you really think you can escape me? Hmm little girl?"
He is taunting me.
I cannot move.
My back hurts.
My head is spinning.
"Don't worry," he continues casually, "I will make your death a little better than the rest…"
My stomach twists.
"Let's say I just want to savour you… your smell intoxicates me…"
He pauses.
His expression shifts — like he is calculating something.
"I will make you a promise."
My heart sinks.
"I will bite you and drink your tasty blood but—"
He tilts his head.
"I won't drain you of life. That would be too evil of me. I will drain your blood till an inch of your life and let you stay here to die."
He makes an odd satisfied noise in his throat.
"That is much better. It is up to the gods now to save you or let you die."
His grin widens.
"This will pinch a little."
And then——
He opens his mouth.
His fangs gleam under the faint light.
He sinks his teeth into my neck.
Pain explodes through me.
Sharp.
Burning.
Violent.
I gasp loudly as his fangs pierce skin.
He begins drawing my blood.
I feel it leaving my body.
Warm liquid flowing outward as he drinks.
I hear it.
The quiet hum of satisfaction vibrating in his chest as he swallows.
His hand presses firmly against my shoulder — keeping me pinned.
My strength drains with every second.
My head becomes heavier.
My limbs feel distant — like they belong to someone else.
My vision blurs at the edges.
My thoughts drift.
I start thinking about everything I have done in this life.
Which is not much.
I don't have a family.
I have not been in love.
I have not even had my first kiss yet.
I don't even have any friends that will notice my absence.
A rather lonely life I have lived… one might say.
The realization hurts more than the bite.
Because it means dying will not leave behind much proof that I existed.
After what feels like eternity…
He finally pulls away.
I feel my body fall forward.
Then I hit the ground again.
"That was delicious."
His voice sounds distant now.
"Did not disappoint me."
He stands.
Smiles.
Turns away.
"Let the gods determine your fate little girl."
His footsteps echo as he walks away.
And then…
Silence.
He leaves me to die.
Alone.
My mind seems to be playing tricks on me.
At first there is nothing.
Only ringing.
A high-pitched sound filling my ears as my body lies motionless against the cold cobblestone.
My hearing is awful and my head is still spinning — but slowly… shapes begin to form above me.
Dark silhouettes.
Two figures standing over my broken body.
Their shadows block out what little light filters into the alley.
Maybe he has changed his mind.
Maybe he decided to come back and kill me properly.
I can barely keep my eyes open now.
"She is still alive," I hear a voice say.
It sounds close.
Curious.
Concerned — but restrained.
"Barely. Her heartbeat is weak."
Another voice responds.
This one deeper.
Measured.
"There might be something we can do."
Something?
My fingers twitch weakly.
Maybe the gods have sent me a saviour.
Maybe this is mercy.
I knew it was too good to be true that they would just let me die in vain.
Maybe I do have unfinished business.
"The only thing we could do is give her a burial."
The words stab through whatever hope was forming inside me.
No.
No.
Please.
I need to live.
I want to live.
I cannot die just like that.
Gods, please!
"What if I turn her?"
The words freeze my fading consciousness.
Turn me?
Are these—
Vampires?!
My chest tightens.
I would rather be buried alive than become part of these devils.
I scream internally.
Gods take me.
"If you say so, she will be sired to you," the other voice says.
Fear floods through me again.
No.
No.
No.
I feel them stepping closer.
Their presence is different from the one who attacked me.
It is colder — but not malicious.
Conflicted.
"And you will have to explain to Dare what happened."
"But we don't know what happened."
"Possibly a rogue with no sense."
"Or a noble man with shit for a brain."
"Either way I have to save her one way or another. That way we will know who is behind this and hunt him down."
My vision flickers.
"So you'd rather turn an injured person to one of us without her permission? What if she hates you?"
"It is better than dying."
The reply is immediate.
Sharp.
The other voice snaps back.
"Oh well surprise! We are dead! Just because we are walking around doesn't mean we are alive! Think, Cass — this is a wrong move."
"Si — listen. I know you don't want Dare's wrath but leaving her here to die won't do any good."
"Neither will resurrecting her."
"The more we deliberate, she'd die. Please, Si. I will not involve you, okay? I will say it was my decision and you had nothing to do with it. I swear."
Silence.
Heavy.
Tense.
"Fine. But make it quick."
Footsteps approach me again.
One of them crouches.
I feel movement near my face.
Gentle — careful — unlike the brute who attacked me.
"I know you are barely conscious but I need you to tell me your name."
Another voice interrupts angrily.
"Oh come on, what do you need her name for? For gods sakes. Turn her and get this over with."
The one crouched beside me ignores him.
He waits.
His patience feels intentional.
He wants consent.
Or at least acknowledgment.
"Is—Is… Isolde," I manage to breathe.
The word escapes my lips like ash.
"Isolde…"
He repeats it slowly.
Letting it settle.
Letting it anchor me.
My body is numb now.
My vision fades in and out.
I might not want to be undead.
But maybe it is for the best.
If I survive this…
I will find that bastard.
The one who drank my blood and laughed.
And I will kill him.
Even if it is the last thing I do.
"I'm sorry," Cass says softly.
And then—
Everything changes.
I feel hands gently turn my body.
Fingers press against the wound on my neck — not to hurt, but to reopen it.
Cold.
Intentional.
I feel something sharp again — but this time it is different.
Not violent.
Controlled.
A new set of fangs pierce my skin.
Pain returns — but it mixes with something else.
Something burning.
It feels like fire racing through my veins.
Not consuming.
Rewriting.
His blood flows into me.
Thick.
Cold.
Powerful.
It spreads through my chest first.
Then my arms.
Then my legs.
My heart stutters violently — as if it is fighting against the invasion.
I gasp.
My body arches slightly as the transformation begins.
The sensation is unbearable.
Every nerve feels like it is being pulled apart and stitched back together.
I hear Si mutter under his breath.
"Too late to stop now."
Cass does not respond.
He remains focused.
His blood continues to flow into my system.
I feel something inside me shift.
My pulse — which had been weakening — suddenly beats harder.
Stronger.
But wrong.
It no longer feels entirely human.
The pain spikes.
My back curves as heat floods my spine.
My fingers claw against the ground instinctively.
My lungs burn.
My senses sharpen violently.
I can hear their breathing.
I can hear the faint movement of rats behind the walls.
I can hear the distant drip of water somewhere deep in the alley.
The world becomes louder.
Clearer.
Overwhelming.
And then —
The pain begins to fade.
Not disappear.
Transform.
My heartbeat slows.
But it does not stop.
My body feels heavier — yet stronger.
The fire in my veins settles into something steady.
Cass pulls away slowly.
He watches me carefully.
Waiting.
Observing.
Testing.
I remain on the ground — breathing.
Alive.
But no longer what I was.
"I'm sorry," he repeats quietly.
Before everything stabilizes.
Before the new reality fully sinks in.