Rael dropped to his knees beside Dagen, fists clenched, trembling.
The vampire—tall, rail-thin, face expressionless—still held his uncle against the wall like a pinned rag doll. Dagen's breath was shallow now, eyes dimming by the second. But they never left Rael's face. Not even as the vampire turned.
Rael barely registered the motion, only the result: the sound of wood splintering as the creature flicked its arm, sending Dagen's body flying across the room.
He didn't move again.
Rael's mind fractured in the space of a heartbeat.
A scream tore from his throat, but it came out wrong—distorted, too deep, too old, like someone else was screaming through him. The air around him bent inward. Loose ash began to spiral off the floor.
His fingers twitched. His nails lengthened.
Bones cracked—not broken, but reshaping.
The vampire lunged.
Rael didn't dodge.
He moved forward.
His hand shot out, claws raking the vampire's face mid-lunge, splitting skin like paper. The creature staggered, genuinely shocked. It bared its teeth, hissing in a low, warbling tone.
Rael's breath steamed the air.
His eyes glowed—one silver, one pitch-black—and a thin black mist spilled from his shoulders like smoke made from shadow and memory.
The vampire lunged again, faster.
Rael caught its wrist—stopped it cold.
His grip sank into the bone.
With a roar, he slammed the vampire to the ground hard enough to crack the floorboards. The thing twisted, kicking up—but Rael didn't budge. His movements were too fluid. Not trained. Not taught.
Inherited.
His foot came down on the vampire's throat and pressed. Bone cracked. The creature choked, clawing at Rael's leg.
Rael leaned down, eyes glowing brighter, and growled a single word through clenched teeth:
"Burn."
His hand ignited—not with fire, but with something darker, a twisting violet light that shimmered like a dying star. He thrust it into the vampire's chest.
The vampire shrieked—not in pain, but like it was being unwritten. Its body convulsed, limbs folding inward, skin melting into a liquid shadow that slithered up Rael's arm.
And then—
Gone.
Silence.
Rael stood panting, swaying slightly. The floor under him cracked with each breath. He looked at his hands—still clawed. His veins glowed faintly. His mouth tasted like iron and fire.
He didn't know how long he stood there—seconds? Minutes?
And then—
Footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate. Barely audible beneath the creaking timbers and distant screams.
A silhouette stepped through the burning doorway.
Cloaked in black. Hooded. The firelight didn't touch them—it seemed to bend around their edges, like the air itself was afraid to get too close.
They said nothing.
Rael tried to stand. His body screamed. He bared his teeth, ready to fight, even if his bones snapped from the strain.
The figure raised a hand.
Not in threat.
Not in greeting.
Just held it out, palm down.
A pulse—soft, invisible—moved through the room. Rael's knees buckled. The claws retracted. The glow in his eyes dimmed.
And then… nothing.
Darkness swallowed him.