It was Sunday morning. My eyes opened to the dull, cloudy light seeping through a break in my window curtains. I must have forgotten to close them all the way last night.
I frowned at the messy state of my room. Oh, right - last night. Everything came flooding back, gut-punching me with emotion. When I moved to get out of bed, my collarbone reminded me of the chaotic night before. I touched the swelling; the bump where Carter's elbow had smacked me was still there. I sighed, pinching my lips to hold back tears.
I grabbed my phone and groaned. 7:34am. Only five hours of sleep. Normally I would have gone back to bed, but seeing the remnants of last night left a sour taste in my mouth. I turned my phone face down, ignoring the notifications from Iah, Val, and of course, Carter. I rubbed my face, as if that might rid me of this emotional hangover. No good. I needed coffee.
I popped on my robe and headed downstairs. My parents were still asleep; the soft echoes of my dad's snores drifted through the house. I fired up the coffee machine. I had put an extra spoonful of the ground coffee in the machine for a small kick. The loud chortle of the machine and the trickle of coffee into the large pot brought some small comfort.
Then the wolf flashed into my vision causing me to wince in annoyance.
Ah, yes. The void had come knocking again.
I sighed, knowing I wouldn't be able to avoid sketching it. I grabbed my favourite purple and white polka dot mug, and poured. I added milk and a little extra sugar, hoping it would help with the tiredness. I cradled the coffee in both hands, loving the roundness of my mug to allow so. I hurried back upstairs, hoping to avoid any interactions about last night. Not that it mattered - my dad snored on, and there was still no movement from my mamá.
Once in my room, I shut the door and placed the coffee on my nightstand. I pulled my sketchbook and white charcoal pencil from the desk drawer. Last night's events played through my head like a montage: moments that made me smile, ones that made me cringe, and the ones that still caused pain. How could all of that happen in one night?
The image of the wolf surfaced again, insistent this time, reminding me to sketch it - yet again. I sipped my coffee as I drew, letting my thoughts wander. How could so many things happen in one night?
Then the image of Darien slithered into my mind. I would like to believe it was uninvited, but truthfully, I welcomed it. I thought about the vision I'd had - and how it had almost come true. The first time, I supposed. This vision had been different from the others, for sure. For one thing, it had been in full-blown technicolour instead of the dull black and white of the void.
I started sketching the wolf's eyes, and Darien's intense purple gaze flashed into my vision. I sucked in a breath, chewing at my inner lip. The wolf's eyes had flashed purple in my dream too.
Maybe the wolf represented Darien.
It had acted so flaky, though - unlike Darien, who I believed was into me. Maybe even protective of me. I shuddered, remembering that the wolf had attacked me as well. And yet… I had welcomed it.
What an odd dream. It was the first time a symbol had ever interacted with me. Usually they remained still, floating on the edges of my vision, or flashed briefly before disappearing again. Seeing them move around me like that - surrounding me - was deeply unsettling.
Though not as odd as the dead figure and the stranger calling out to me two nights ago. No, that had been far worse than the wolf attack.
I finished the sketch of the wolf and immediately felt my mind calm. It was always like that when I visited the void. There was an anxious need that built inside me, and if I didn't sketch it, it only got worse, almost like a panic attack.
Once I finished the sketch, the tension drained away, leaving me exhausted from the whole thing. I yawned, as if to prove my point. No amount of coffee ever took away the fatigue after a vision; I usually just had to sleep it off.
I shut my sketchbook and rested my head against the headboard. After tasting a bit of freedom at Club Dusk, I'd finally realised this wasn't the life I wanted. I didn't want this college degree. I didn't want to be the picture-perfect daughter for my parents - or for Carter. Or anyone for that matter.
So what the hell was I going to do?
I found myself envying people who knew their paths, who seemed certain about where they were headed and how to get there. I, on the other hand, was completely clueless. All I felt was the need to get away from it all. Maybe even get out of Averon City. Or out of the country entirely.
My eyes snapped open at the thought.
Of course. Why not take a break? Travel. Explore. Do some soul-searching. People did that all the time.
I felt my lips pull into a small smile and gradually grow into a grin. For the first time, I felt content about an idea for my future.
I was tired of feeling so one-dimensional.
How sad was it that, at nearly twenty-one, I couldn't figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life? It felt like I couldn't see past the day ahead. I had no urge to pick a career and fight for it - just an overwhelming need to breathe. Perhaps taking a break was the perfect idea to figure out my life.
I checked my phone again. Roughly forty minutes had passed since I'd woken up. My parents would most likely be waking soon. I wanted to tell them my idea, but I needed to do some research first - like whether my college would let me keep my scholarship if I decided to take a year off. Would they let me change my major if that's what I wanted to do? I would need to get a job to raise funds for my travel as well.
That would have to wait until tomorrow, when I was back at college. I could schedule a meeting with my advisor and find out my options. Then I could present them to my parents and hopefully get their full support. My mamá would expect a full, detailed plan - proof that I'd thought of everything.
Okay. That was the plan.
I was going to show them the real me, warts and all. My smile grew wider at the thought. Then I heard his voice in my head.
"It's like you want those closest to you to see you as you are - and call that perfection."
Yes. I wanted it more than I could ever say out loud.
Just talking to Darien had inspired me. It was almost like he understood, as if he lived the same way I did - always hiding our true selves for fear of disappointing the ones we loved. I realised then that I wanted to see him again. Even if he didn't feel the same way, as disappointing as that might be, I wanted to thank him.
There was only one place I knew he went.
Club Dusk.
But what were the chances of him being there? My memory replayed our conversation from the night before.
"I like to sit on the stage here during the day, when the club's closed."
It was possible he'd be there today. The idea took root, settling deep in my chest. I was going to take a chance and see him.
I pulled the covers off and looked around at the messy state of my room. First things first - I needed to clean this up. I got to it, sorting Iah and Val's things into piles and tidying the empty bottles, pizza boxes, and cups. The stale pizza leftovers kind of smelled… good, and it took every ounce of strength (and my mamá's scolding voice in my head) not to take a bite.
The stale alcohol, however, needed to be removed immediately. That was not appealing in the slightest.
I ran the rubbish downstairs and dumped it in the bin, then hurried back up as quietly as I could and started getting dressed.
I grabbed my favourite green bardot jumper and paired it with dark blue denim jeans. My hair was still wavy from last night, so I tried to tame it into a half-up, half-down style. This time, I actually went to the bathroom and washed my face properly. There were still remnants of make-up that the wipes hadn't quite managed to remove.
Once I was satisfied I no longer looked like a pirate panda, I stepped out of the bathroom - and nearly collided with my mamá.
"Oh! Morning, mamá. How was your dinner last night?"
She took one look at me, scanning me up and down like a detective, before crossing her arms.
"It was... lovely. The food was so fancy, your father and I felt a little out of place. But they treated us really nice and felt spoiled the whole night. Why are you dressed so early?"
She had every right to be suspicious. Like any normal twenty-year-old, I should have been sleeping until midday. My face fell as I remembered why I hadn't. Whatever I was feeling must have been written all over my face, because my mamá's voice softened as she asked,
"¿Qué te ha pasado, mi niña?"
When she spoke to me in Spanish, I felt a little choked up. I opened my mouth as if to speak, but I hesitated. Part of me wanted to run crying into her embrace about everything that had unfolded - the guilt over Darien, being caught by Carter, the fight between the two of them that had ended with me getting hurt, and the breakup itself. Maybe she would know how to make it all better.
Yet it was the part of me that didn't want to disappoint her that made me close my mouth. I couldn't bear that right now, not when I was finally building the confidence to become who I had always wanted to be. So I gave her a half-truth.
"Oh, I woke up early and couldn't sleep, so I spent the morning tidying up," I said. "I was planning on going into the city to meet Iah and Val for a coffee, since they left their stuff here last night."
Okay that last part was a straight-up lie. I regretted it the moment the words left my mouth. My mamá didn't look impressed.
"What about your project?"
Aw, crap. I'd forgotten I promised to finish that today. After deciding to take a year off, it suddenly felt redundant - but there was no way I could say that to her now.
"Yes, of course," I said quickly. "I meant I'm meeting them later this afternoon, after I finish my project."
I said it far too fast, and I knew my mamá could smell the lie on me. If she did, she didn't call me out on it. She simply nodded and said breakfast would just be cereal this morning, before disappearing into the bathroom.
I scuttled back to my room with guilt written all over my face.
Tomorrow will be better. Once I have the information I need, I can open up about everything. I just need to get through today.
I switched my laptop on and, while it booted up, I stared at my favourite poster for inspiration. The soft drawing of a lotus with the word Clarity written beneath it helped ground me. Thinking more clearly, it was far too early to go to Club Dusk anyway. Finishing this project - however poorly - would at least mean I could leave the house later without a scolding from my mamá, and it increased the chances of Darien being there.
So that's what I decided to do.
I sat back down and sped through this disaster of a project, every keystroke showing how disinterested I was in Business administration.
*****
I stared at the black wrought-iron gates that safeguarded the entrance to Club Dusk. A cold, misty rain descended, clinging to the hood of my jacket and forming tiny droplets that rolled off and dripped onto my nose. The thick cloud cover made the afternoon darker than it had any right to be.
Beyond the gates, I could see the stairs leading down to the club, roughly fifteen feet ahead of me, disappearing into shadow. I'd forgotten about the gates entirely, and I hadn't expected them to be closed. How idiotic of me.
I sighed. It had taken two buses and a fifteen-minute walk to get here. That walk had been terrifying, filled with numerous dodgy alleyways that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I'd avoided eye contact with a group of rough-looking men and nearly turned back more than once. But something pulled me forward - an invisible draw towards the club.
I shifted my bag where it hung from my right shoulder. I'd decided on a whim to bring my sketchbook with me. Or maybe it wasn't a whim at all. I had the sudden urge to show Darien my artwork, something I'd never done before, to let someone in on my strange dreams and compulsive need to sketch them. Maybe I thought he would understand. Or maybe he'd think I was a complete freak for stalking him here with my stupid sketches.
I exhaled in embarrassment and rested my forehead against the gate. To my surprise, it moved, opening slightly under my weight. I glanced around, but the street was empty, swallowed by mist and rain. I pushed the gate open fully; it let out a metallic screech that made me wince.
Great. Any minute now I'd be caught and told to leave - or worse, arrested.
I walked towards the stairs and remembered seeing them the night before, bathed in the red glare of the Club Dusk sign. Now the light was off, but the stairs felt even more daunting as I took my first step down. As I drew closer, I saw that the wooden door at the bottom was ajar -thankfully, because the thought of getting all this way only to find it locked made my stomach twist. I could have tried the back door again, like last night, but I didn't want to risk being caught that way twice.
I pushed the door open. It was heavier than the gate. The smell of damp and stale alcohol hit my nostrils (a rotten mix of sweet and sour) and even without a hangover, it was enough to make my stomach churn.
Even though it was during the day, the club was pitch black as I descended the stairs. The place felt oddly ominous with no people or flashing lights. I did however hear music, a small acoustic guitar to be exact.
Darien.
My heart beat with anticipation, a nervous excitement buzzing beneath my skin. I would get to see him again.
I finally reached the bottom of the stairs and stood beside the bar. A single light shined down on the stage washing the dance floor in a dull sepia glow. There was no music. No one on stage.
A sudden, icy dread slid down my spine.
I turned slowly, scanning the shadows, but nothing stood out - nothing that should have caused that instinctive fear. Then I heard it: a scraping sound somewhere in the darkness. I jumped, fingers curling around the edge of the bar for balance.
I stared towards the sound, my pulse thundering, but there was nothing there. Panic surged. I needed to get out of here. Fast.
I looked back towards the stairs and ran.
I'd almost reached them when something grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me backwards. The force lifted me off my feet and flung me across the dance floor. I skidded helplessly until my body slammed into the wall, pain exploding through my head.
I groaned and pressed a hand to the back of my head, checking for blood and thankfully there was none.
When I looked up, my stomach dropped.
There was still no one there.
My breathing came fast and shallow as real fear set in, a whimper slipping from my throat before I could stop it. I had to get out. Now.
I pushed myself up, pain radiating through my head and spine from the impact. I glanced around, trying to aim for the door again and then I saw it.
Something moved in the shadows beside me.
A dark figure. I couldn't tell who - or what - it was. It moved ridiculously faster than any person I knew.
I fought through the pain and ran, but the shadow was on me in an instant. A sharp scratch tore across my chest, followed by a brutal blow to my face that sent me crashing backwards.
I landed hard and scrambled away on instinct, my palms burning against the floor. I looked down and saw blood - torn flesh merged with torn fabric from my top, from my left shoulder down across my chest. I cried out in panic, the pain unbearable.
What was happening? Why was I being attacked?
Surely coming into the club during closing hours wasn't punishable by violence?
I looked up at the shadowy figure, tears spilling freely now.
"Please," I sobbed. "Why are you doing this? I'm sorry — I didn't mean to trespass."
I kept retreating, but the figure only slowed, stalking towards me with deliberate steps. Each one made my whimpering worse. I had never felt so terrified, so helpless. How could I not see them or make our their features? Even with minimal lighting, this shouldn't have been possible.
I tried to get up again, flipping myself to a crawl, but turning my back to them, a mistake.
Sharp hands seized me and slammed me into the wall. This time my forehead took the impact. Stars burst across my vision and I felt warm blood trickle from a cut above my eyebrow.
I cried out, my voice breaking. "Please… stop. Someone help me!"
Silence answered me.
The figure dragged me back, an arm locking across my chest and throat while the other wrenched my arm behind me in a vice grip. Pain screamed through every part of me. I was sobbing now, breath coming in ragged gasps, my heart hammering wildly.
Then the figure forced my head to the side, exposing my neck.
Teeth plunged into my skin and I screamed, pain now coming from my throat. I clawed at them, trying to push them away, but their grip and their bite only tightened - crushing, unyielding - stealing my breath along with my strength.
And then I realised what they were doing.
They were drinking from me.
I felt their lips move against my flesh, teeth still locked in place, the sensation horribly intimate and wrong. My body went rigid, frozen, as if my limbs no longer belonged to me.
I trembled and cried as a creeping numbness spread through me, the world beginning to blur as my blood drained away.
Then I saw it — the eye from my visions.
It hovered before me, joined by the others: the flame, the owl, the forest, the flower, the wolf. They circled slowly, deliberately, as if I were standing at the centre of some ancient ritual.
The wolf moved first. It stepped towards me, its gaze locking onto mine.
"Help me," I whispered.
For a heartbeat, it hesitated.
Then it turned and ran.
Panic flared in my chest, sharp and sudden, before the figure tightened their grip and the pain dragged me back under.
They continued to drink, slow and unhurried, as though savouring me. Their hold never faltered, even as my body grew weak and unresponsive.
My eyelids grew heavy.
I think - I think I was dying. Slowly.
Whatever this thing was, they were taking their time.
Faces began to surface in my mind - my parents, Iah, Val. Even Carter. Darien came last and i tried to hold on to all of their faces. One by one, I apologised to them all.
I'm sorry to leave you so soon. I'm sorry for the pain this will cause.
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks, mixing with the warm, sticky blood at my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut as darkness crept in from the edges of my vision.
I couldn't die like this.
I was only just beginning to turn my life around. I was finally choosing myself. I wanted more - more living, more feeling, more everything.
How unfair was it that the moment I decided to change, my life was being cut short? Taken by some monster I could barely believe even existed.
What even was this monster?
And then, through the haze, a bitter, almost hysterical laugh echoed in my mind.
A vampire.
The thought felt ridiculous - something ripped from horror films and half-remembered stories -and yet nothing else fit. No human could tear flesh like this. No human could vanish into shadow, move with that kind of speed, or drink from another person as if it were instinct.
They weren't supposed to be real.
As if to prove their existence, the vampire dragged me closer, forcing my neck into a better angle as they fed hungrily. I let out another sob. I felt like a rag doll now - useless, limp. My arm slipped from my control, and sensing it, they released my other wrist. They spun me and slammed me back against the wall, continuing to drink.
The pain began to fade.
Everything blurred.
I stared into nothing, waiting for the inevitable darkness to claim me.
The symbols still hovered around me, silent witnesses to my death. All except one.
The eye stayed close. Though it appeared only as a white outline, its iris began to glow — flashing green. How strange. And yet… warmth radiated from it.
Then, behind the eye, the wolf emerged.
Relief flooded me. It hadn't abandoned me.
It stepped forward calmly, stopping beside the eye. Its own gaze flared a brilliant purple - vivid, alive, beautiful. I smiled weakly.
How ironic that the symbols that haunted my sleep were the ones bringing me comfort in my final moments.
"That's enough."
The words sliced through the haze - quiet, controlled, absolute.
I barely registered what happened next — only the violent wrench as the figure was ripped away, an inhuman growl tearing through the air, followed by the brutal crash of a body hitting the far wall.
I was free of them. My body slowly slid to the floor as I stared ahead, the symbols still dancing around me, fighting to keep me awake.
The world spun as I struggled to stay conscious.
Then I felt gentle hands on me.
"Fuck. Elena?"
Darien's voice was soft, velvety - completely at odds with the fury etched across his face. I forced my eyes open and looked up at him. He was beautiful. Achingly so.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
He was already checking me, hands moving quickly but carefully. My breathing was shallow, and I winced whenever he touched somewhere tender or bleeding.
"I-I came to… see you," I managed between breaths.
He looked at me like I'd lost my mind but didn't stop. His hands hovered over the wound at my neck, and that's when I saw it - his eyes flared purple.
How did they do that?
He pulled his hands back suddenly, visibly flustered.
"Your eyes… are… beautiful," I whispered.
He didn't roll his eyes, but his expression tightened - wary, as if he thought I was already slipping away.
"Hush," he said softly. "You've been bitten in the jugular. I can't stop the bleeding. Fuck… fuck."
He dragged a hand through his wild, untamed hair, in sheer frustration.
"Darien… please." My voice was barely there now. "I-I don't want to die…"
The words broke something in him.
Agony crossed his face - real, raw - as if he were locked in a battle only he could see. Then he looked at me again, really looked at me.
Our eyes met.
And for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
He looked away from me and quietly said, "I can save your life, but you will lose the one you had."
There was a lot of heavy meaning behind those words. But all I could focus on was "save your life". I so desperately wanted to live.
"Please," I whispered. "Just...take me away from all of this."
He nodded solemnly and pushed up the sleeve of his black long‑sleeved shirt. He lifted his wrist, and I watched as two sharp canines slid into place when he opened his mouth.
He bit down.
Dark blood welled instantly at the wound.
Emotion surged through me - hot, overwhelming, nauseating. No, it couldn't be. He was one of them. A vampire.
My chest tightened painfully and I turned my face away, betrayal slicing through me far deeper than fear ever could.
Then I felt the presence of his wrist near my mouth.
"You'll have to drink from me," he said, his voice unsteady even though his grip was firm. His eyes flared a brilliant purple.
How could I do this? Become something like him? When he said I would lose my old life, I never imagined this was what he meant. I then felt his other arm cradle me pushing me into a more sitting position. So gentle compared to the monster that attacked me.
The eye appeared again, flashing a vivid green, urging me forward. The wolf watched on, expectant and calm.
And then I smelled his blood.
It was nothing like mine - no bitterness, no metallic tang. It was sweet. Addictive. Like nectar.
I wanted to live. No matter the cost.
This life was mine, and for the first time, I wanted to claim it and to be who I had always wanted to be. In control.
I met Darien's gaze, there was a sadness written across his face, and then I pressed my mouth to his wrist and drank.