Savannah, Georgia — July 19, 1838
I don't know how to begin today's entry without admitting I nearly lost my mind last night. After Vaneiro's brutal demonstration in the swamp, I staggered back to the main house under a sky bruised purple by storm clouds. Every muscle burned, every breath felt like glass.
When I reached the veranda, the door was ajar. Inside, the oil lamps were guttering low, and the air was thick with overturned furniture and the stench of spilt rum. Footprints—bare and smeared in dark fluid—led down the hallway. My heart froze at the sight of Julia's white shawl, torn and stained.
I called for her, my voice echoing off the walls. No answer. Only the whisper of wind through the broken windows.
I checked Samuel's room next. Empty. The four-poster bed was stripped of sheets; blood had dripped onto the floorboards and pooled in the corners. On the bedside table lay Samuel's discarded nightshirt, stained black with ichor and torn at the collar where his bite wounds had been.
I sank to my knees and pressed trembling fingers to the blood—it was warm. That meant… he was still alive. Or some version of him.
Turning, I heard a soft scuff behind me. A small boy—one of the servants' children—stood in the doorway, eyes wide and unseeing. He held out a porcelain teacup cracked down the middle. Inside, a single drop of thick red liquid trembled on the surface.
He whispered, voice hollow: "He drinks."
And then the boy vanished into the darkness.
Savannah, Georgia — July 19, 1838, 4:47 AM
I found Elias in the kitchen, packed and ready to leave. He glanced up, grim. "I'm heading for town," he said. "Need reinforcements—or at least a priest."
"Stay here," I snapped. "We need you."
He shook his head. "I'll be back with help—or I won't come back at all. You know what we're facing."
I grabbed his arm. "I can't do this alone."
He released me with a sad shrug. "You won't be alone. He's closer than you think."
By the time I returned to the hall, the afternoon sun was a pale bruise behind rotting shutters. I know now that Vaneiro was marking the place, claiming it.
I gathered what little courage I had and moved through the house, checking every room for Julia or Samuel. In the library, a portrait had been stabbed with a dagger—blackened oil dripped from the wound in the canvas. In the dining room, half-eaten plates of congealed food lay abandoned. No sign of life.
Finally, in the back wing, I found Julia huddled in a servant's quarters, clutching a lantern like a talisman. Her face was streaked with tears and something darker—resignation.
She looked up, relief and fear mingling in her eyes. "Ambrose," she whispered.
I knelt beside her. "Julia, where is he? Where's Samuel?"
She shook her head. "I heard him calling me from below… calling me into the cellar."
My blood ran cold. Vaneiro's minions must have dragged Samuel there.
Lighting her lantern, Julia led the way to a trapdoor behind barrels of pickled vegetables. The stairs descended into damp earth and the scent of mold. I held the stake and silver vial at the ready.
The cellar was low-ceilinged and lined with ancient stone. Shadows clung to every corner. At its far end, bound to a post by thick ropes, was Samuel—shirtless, pale as death, eyes glowing faintly red. Bruises and punctures covered his chest. He looked up at us, mouth stretched in a silent scream.
"Samuel!" Julia sobbed.
He stared at me, face devoid of recognition. He whispered, "Thirsty…" His voice was distant, hollow.
I stepped forward, slipping a drop of silvered water into my hand. "Samuel, if you can hear me, drink this. It will…" I hesitated, "help."
He didn't move. Instead, a new voice filled the cellar—soft, mocking: "How touching."
Vaneiro emerged from the shadows, coat swirling, eyes gleaming. In one hand he held Samuel's bloodied nightshirt; in the other, a slender porcelain teacup.
"Your remedy is sweet, Doctor," he said, voice low silk. "But inadequate." He lifted the cup and drank. Liquid glimmered black in the pale ceramic. He placed it to Samuel's lips.
Julia screamed, lunging forward, but I stopped her with the stake's tip. "Wait."
Vaneiro smiled, showing those long, cruel fangs. "The bargain is sealed," he said, pressing the cup to Samuel's mouth. The boy-servant's words echoed in my mind: "He drinks."
Samuel drank, eyes rolling back, a guttural sob shaking his frame. When the cup was empty, Vaneiro crushed it in his hand. Porcelain shards sprayed like teeth around him.
He turned to me. "The first of many," he whispered. "Soon this plantation will feed me for eternity."
My throat tightened. I squeezed the stake until my knuckles whitened. "No."
Vaneiro leaned close, voice dropping to a hiss. "Your friend is lost. What will you sacrifice next?"
Behind him, the walls seemed to pulse—ancient blood vessels throbbing beneath the stone. I realized then that the Night Hunger itself was present, hungry and ecstatic.
I swallowed fear. "I'll sacrifice myself," I snarled, driving the stake forward.
But before I could strike, Vaneiro vanished into a plume of black mist, taking Samuel's form with him—leaving only empty ropes and Julia's cries behind.
I spent hours untying Samuel's bindings and gathering Julia into my arms. The cellar's stones dripped with ichor, and the air was thick with his laugh—echoing, distant, victorious.
We staggered upstairs as thunder rolled overhead. The storm was breaking. We found the front door smashed, the courtyard flooded with rainwater and fallen masonry. The iron gates hung crooked, as if pried open.
Julia clung to me. "He'll come back," she sobbed.
I nodded, though my heart felt shattered. "He will."
Now I'm holed up in the library, surrounded by books that offer no comfort. Every shadow moves. Every whisper of wind outside sounds like his footfall.
I can't sleep. I can't eat. I've only one thought: rescue Samuel from wherever Vaneiro has taken him.
But how do you chase a shadow through the darkness of the swamp—let alone through time itself?
I'm writing this because I don't know what else to do. If anyone reading this has faced something like this, please—tell me what to do next.
I'll post again as soon as I dare.