The wind howled against the windows of Whitmoor like a wailing chorus of ghosts, but the town barely noticed. Shadows slithered through alleys, cloaked figures moved in packs, and the air itself felt charged with something old and angry.
Alex stood at the edge of the woods, his breath fogging the cold night air. His eyes, once an ordinary blue, now shimmered with a glint of crimson. His fingertips buzzed with heat — not pain, not discomfort — but raw, unfamiliar energy.
He could feel it. Something deep within was shifting. Something ancient had been stirred.
"Adam…" he whispered, but his friend wasn't with him tonight. Alex had come alone, drawn by the pulses of power surging through his veins and the whispering voices that had haunted him since drinking the strange blood-like chemical in Sabastin's lab. He had tried to ignore it, tried to pretend things were normal. But the nights had become louder, the visions more violent, and now… he couldn't deny it any longer.
As he stepped deeper into the forest, a tree bark cracked behind him. He spun, teeth bared — and for a terrifying second, he wasn't himself. His vision blurred in tones of red and silver, and he could smell the blood of the deer hiding behind the brush. He blinked, gasping, and dropped to his knees.
"What's happening to me?" he rasped.
Then he heard footsteps. Not human. Too quiet, too precise.
From behind the tree line stepped a man — tall, dark trench coat trailing behind him, eyes glowing the color of dried blood. He smiled like death had a face.
"Steve," Alex muttered.
The vampire walked toward him slowly, savoring each step like a predator sizing up wounded prey.
"I've been watching you," Steve said, voice smooth and sinister. "You don't understand what you've done, boy. That thing you drank… it wasn't meant for humans."
Alex stumbled back. "Who the hell are you?"
Steve tilted his head. "Let's just say… I'm the rightful heir to the darkness that's coming. And you're playing with fire."
Before Alex could react, Steve appeared in front of him — too fast, too close. He grabbed Alex by the throat, slamming him against a tree.
"You reek of awakening," he hissed. "You've touched power that should've stayed buried. But you're not ready for it."
Alex coughed, struggling, the bark of the tree digging into his back. Then something in him snapped.
His eyes flared crimson.
A pulse of energy exploded from his chest, hurling Steve backward. The vampire crashed through two trees before hitting the ground, hard. For a moment, neither moved.
Alex dropped to his knees again, panting. "What the hell was that?"
Steve rose, slowly, brushing dirt from his coat. "Interesting," he said. "You're not just awakening. You're evolving."
Then he vanished into the night, his laughter echoing between the trees.
Meanwhile, back at Whitmoor College, Mr. Sabastin sat at his desk, the lab lights flickering slightly. Papers were scattered everywhere — ancient tomes, chemical blueprints, and drawn sigils with blood-red ink. His hands trembled as he traced the latest report: Third body found behind Whitmoor East. No blood. All organs intact. Eyes burned out.
Steve was sending a message.
Sabastin lit his pipe, inhaling deeply. "It's begun…"
He turned toward the vault hidden behind the lab wall, its engravings glowing faintly now — claw marks etched deeper than before. Something was stirring inside.
He'd created this storm. And now he had to decide whether to stop it — or join it.
Steve stood atop Whitmoor's old bell tower, looking down at the sleeping town.
Beside him knelt three vampires — new recruits, each recently turned, their eyes filled with hunger and chaos.
"The Blood Monarch is awakening," he said to them. "But he's not ready. Not yet."
One of the vampires, a pale girl with ash-blonde hair, asked, "What will you do, Master?"
Steve grinned. "We'll test him. Break him. Make him choose: monster or martyr."
He raised his hand, and from the shadows, more vampires appeared. Dozens. Silent. Deadly.
"Tonight, we begin taking Whitmoor."
Alex sat in Adam's room, his hoodie soaked in sweat, his hands trembling.
"I think I'm turning into something, man," he said.
Adam stared. "You pushed Steve with just a thought?"
"I don't know how. But I felt… rage. Hunger. It wasn't me."
Adam stood, pacing. "Then we train. We fight it. Whatever's inside you — control it. Don't let it control you."
Alex looked up, his eyes flickering again. "I'm scared, Adam. Not of them… of myself."
Just then, they heard sirens. Screams. In the distance, the town's emergency alarms began to wail.
Adam ran to the window.
"Bro… the town. They're attacking."
They raced outside, and what they saw turned their blood cold.
Fires burned across downtown Whitmoor. Shadows moved like liquid death between houses. People ran, stumbled, cried for help. And above it all — standing atop the church roof — Steve, arms wide, bathed in moonlight like a god.
"Welcome to the hunt!" he roared.
Alex clenched his fists. His heart thundered. This was no longer about secrets or science.
It was war.
And he was no longer human.