People fear many things. The dark. Insects. Animals. The depths of the ocean. Death, hunger, sickness. But in this age, the thing people feared most could be summed up in a single word: Creatures.
The sound had come once. Only once.
But it had been enough.
When the thing between the trees moved, Eren couldn't process what he was seeing. His eyes tracked it — his brain fell a step behind. It was fast. Not human-fast. Something different, something that didn't follow the rules he knew — unpredictable, incalculable, like it had a private disagreement with gravity.
By the time it reached Luna, it was already too late.
One strike.
Eren's eyes closed — opened — and Luna was gone. Or rather, Luna was still there, her body still standing for half a heartbeat, but Luna was gone. Her head hit the ground. Eyes open. Expression caught somewhere between surprise and incomprehension, like she hadn't understood it either.
Nobody screamed. Nobody moved.
A second passed. Maybe less.
Then Sahra screamed — or started to. The sound cut off in the middle. When the vampire turned, Sahra's hands were raised, her mouth was open, and her eyes found Eren's. That look said something. She had just understood what had happened. She had just understood what was about to.
Second strike.
Sahra was gone too.
Raphael let out a sound that hit the trees and came back changed.
Kayra had frozen. His feet were rooted, his hands had closed into fists, his eyes moved from one body to the other to the vampire and back again. He tried to say something. No sound came out.
Eren had frozen too. But it was a different kind of frozen.
He felt it — that half-second. The one where his father's knees buckled. He knew this feeling exactly: the stomach dropping out, the legs going, the hands losing their grip. That helplessness. That this is happening and there is nothing I can do feeling.
But something was different this time.
This time he wasn't eight years old.
No.
The vampire was looking for the next one. It was wounded — a deep gash ran down the right side of its body, black fluid seeping from the edges. A lesser vampire. Not intelligent. Just hungry. Just in pain. And something in pain was always the most dangerous version of itself.
Its eyes moved to Raphael.
"KAYRA!"
Kayra's body moved before his mind did. His hands hit the ground, fingers pressing into the dirt, and blue light erupted from the earth.
Chains.
Bright blue chains rose from the soil and wound around the vampire's ankles, its legs, its waist — tight, heavy, real. The vampire stopped. Just for a moment.
But it was enough.
Raphael was already running. His sword was in both hands, and the expression on his face hadn't changed since Luna fell — flat, sharp, something that had moved past grief and anger into a place that didn't have a name.
The blade went into the vampire's chest. Straight through the heart.
The vampire made no sound. It looked down at the sword. Then it looked at Raphael.
And it raised its arm.
"RAPHAEL, GET BACK—"
Too late.
The vampire's arm went through Raphael's stomach. Straight, clean, fast — like a spear. Raphael's mouth opened but nothing came out. His eyes went down. The vampire's arm was inside him. Actually inside him.
Then the vampire pulled it back.
Raphael collapsed.
Eren had already drawn the revolver.
His hands were shaking. He didn't notice.
He aimed at the vampire's head. Pulled the trigger.
One.
The vampire staggered.
Two.
Black blood sprayed.
Three. Four. Five.
The vampire dropped to one knee. Its eyes were dimming. But it was still up. Still.
Eren fired the last round.
Six.
The vampire fell. It didn't get up again.
Silence.
Real silence — as if even the wind had stopped. Eren looked at the revolver. A thin thread of smoke curled from the barrel. Six rounds. All of them gone. No spares in his pocket; he'd left the box in his bag.
He turned to Raphael.
Raphael was sitting against a rock, both hands pressed flat against his stomach. Red seeped between his fingers. His face was white — that brown skin, that face that was always halfway to a grin, now the color of old paper.
But his eyes were open.
"Raphael." Eren crouched beside him. "Raphael, stay with me."
"I'm here." His voice was hoarse but present. "It hurts."
"I know. I've got you."
His hand went into his jacket pocket — the green bottle. The healing potion. He pulled the stopper out and brought it to Raphael's lips.
Raphael drank half of it. Coughed. Tried to say something. Couldn't.
Eren stood up and turned around.
Luna. Sahra.
He stood there for a long time. His brain refused to process it — his eyes were receiving the information but something upstream had stopped translating. This wasn't them. It couldn't be. Last night they'd been sitting around the campfire. Luna had rested her head on Raphael's knee. Sahra had jumped onto Raphael's back.
Now—
Footsteps.
Someone stepped out of the treeline.
A young man — twenty-two, maybe twenty-three. Long white hair fell to his shoulders. His eyes were blue and still. He wore a hunter's outfit, well-made, the kind that suggested he hadn't just wandered into a fight. His walk was unhurried — like he hadn't come to witness this scene, like he'd simply been passing through and happened across it on the way.
He looked at Kayra. Stopped.
"Kayra." His voice was level. "I hope your family is well."
Kayra's hand went to his sword. "Who are you."
"Kael Duskgrave." The man looked around — the vampire, Raphael, Luna, Sahra. Nothing moved in his face. "You've had a difficult night."
"Stay back."
Kael didn't even look at him. His eyes had moved to Eren. He was studying him — top to bottom, bottom to top. Looking for something. Or confirming something.
"You." He turned to Eren. "What's your name?"
Eren didn't answer.
Kael took a step forward.
Kayra drew his sword. "I said stay back—"
"I have no business with you." Kael looked at him — one second, just one. "I have business with your family. Not with you. Put it away."
Kayra didn't.
Kael shrugged and turned back to Eren. Eren tried to step back — his legs didn't cooperate. Kael closed the distance, stopped, and raised his hand—
A heavy blow landed on the back of Eren's neck.
His knees gave. The world went dark. As he hit the ground, the last thing he saw was Kayra's face — furious, helpless, and completely still.
Then nothing.
When he opened his eyes, the ceiling was stone.
He was cold — wherever he was, it was cold. There was moisture in the air. A dim light somewhere he couldn't identify. His head was throbbing. The back of his neck burned.
He tried to sit up. His hands weren't bound. Neither were his feet. It was just a room — or a cell. Stone walls, an iron door, a small window. Through the window, a night sky.
No forest.
No revolver. No sword. No bag.
He looked to his side.
Kayra was sitting against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, eyes open and fixed on nothing. There was nothing in his expression — no anger, no fear, no confusion. Just exhaustion.
Eren wanted to say something.
He couldn't.
Neither of them spoke. From outside, there was no sound at all.