The streets of Whitmoor were unusually silent by morning.
Not peaceful—silent. The kind of silence that felt wrong. Like the whole town was holding its breath. Like the ground itself knew something terrible had been unleashed.
Alex woke up drenched in sweat. His sheets clung to him like a second skin. He sat up, gasping. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, not out of fear—but hunger.
The kind he couldn't explain.
The kind that made his throat burn.
Flashes of the night before struck him like lightning. Fangs. Blood. Screams. Dreams—or were they memories? He stumbled to the mirror and froze.
His eyes were different. Not fully changed, but faint lines of crimson swirled around his irises like ink in water. His skin had lost its warmth. He touched his face, half-expecting it to flake off.
"Damn it…" he whispered. "What's happening to me?"
Downstairs, his mother called out gently, "Alex? You okay, sweetheart?"
He swallowed hard. "Yeah—just tired."
Lying was becoming too easy.
—
Meanwhile, Adam was pacing his bedroom like a caged animal. He hadn't slept. He'd heard the sirens last night—the ambulances that never came back. His phone buzzed endlessly with rumors: blackouts, missing persons, screams near the forest.
But the worst thing?
He couldn't reach Alex after 2 AM.
When he finally did, Alex had texted just three words: "It's starting now."
Adam grabbed his duffel bag, tossed in a baseball bat, flashlight, and an old hunting knife his dad once gave him. He wasn't sure what they were up against, but he wasn't going to watch his best friend go through it alone.
—
Across town, Mr. Sabastin stood in the ruins of the school lab. Someone—or something—had broken in. The vials were shattered. Blood samples stolen. Even the vault had been tampered with.
And the worst part?
Symbols were carved into the walls.
Vampiric glyphs. Ancient and forbidden. Each one radiated with dark energy.
He clenched his fist.
"They're calling him out."
Sabastin turned to the wall behind his desk and opened a hidden compartment. Inside was a weapon forged from alchemy and silver—a jagged blade humming with radiant light.
"If I can't stop this…" he muttered, "then I'll burn the whole town before they take it."
—
But in the shadows of Whitmoor, the Broken Court was already moving.
Steve prowled the underground tunnels with two new vampires—twins who could split into mist and reform at will. Their hunger was insatiable. They'd already drained half the morgue. Children's laughter echoed behind them, but no child lived down there.
Steve paused.
He sniffed the air and grinned.
"He's close. The Monarch's blood is calling."
"Should we take him now?" one of the twins asked, fangs gleaming.
"No," Steve said, licking his lips. "He needs to choose who he becomes. That's the beauty of it. And once he kills, the real change begins."
—
Alex walked alone through the alleys behind Whitmoor's bookstore. His hands trembled. His ears picked up whispers from blocks away. His senses were growing stronger—too strong. He could hear hearts beating behind closed doors. He could smell people.
He dropped to his knees, panting.
Then—he heard it.
A scream.
A real one.
Raw, human, terrified.
It came from the alley behind the laundromat. Alex ran toward it before his mind even processed what he was doing.
What he saw froze him.
A man—pale, with torn lips and bloodstained fingers—was feeding on a girl pinned to the ground. Her eyes were wide, her mouth gagged. She was still alive.
Alex's instincts screamed.
Do something.
He grabbed a broken pipe from the dumpster and swung it with all his might.
CRACK.
The vampire reeled back, hissing like a beast. His face twisted with fury.
"You shouldn't interfere, fledgling," he snarled.
Fledgling?
The word cut through Alex's rage. The vampire knew. He could sense it too.
The vampire lunged.
Alex moved faster than he should've been able to. Time seemed to bend. He ducked, sidestepped, and drove the pipe into the creature's ribs. Black blood spilled out. The vampire shrieked.
Alex's eyes flared red.
Something ancient stirred inside him.
With one last cry, Alex grabbed the vamp's head and twisted it violently. Bone cracked. The body collapsed, steaming.
The girl was already unconscious, but alive.
Alex stood there, panting, blood on his hands.
He had killed.
And something in him awoke fully.
—
Far away, Steve smiled.
"It's done," he whispered.
He turned to his court. "Now we begin the real hunt. He'll be stronger now. But conflicted. He'll seek truth, answers… and vengeance. We'll feed that fire. And when he's ready to break?"
He raised a clawed finger to the sky.
"We crown him king of the ruins."