Flashback – 12 years ago
The afternoon sun slipped through the cream-colored curtains of the Coren household, tinting the floor with a golden glow.
Little Sophie, her blonde hair tied into a messy bun, twirled in the middle of the living room, practicing ballet steps with the delicate grace of someone who believed the world was light and kind.
"Perfect, my little angel," said a soft voice. It was her mother, Eliza, sitting on the couch, smiling warmly.
In the nearby armchair, Cletus Coren — dark brown hair, glasses resting on his nose — closed a thick, black-covered book and said,
"Every step you take, my dear, must be made with your heart… and with control. Always with control."
He stood, walked over to her, and knelt, smiling with pride.
"You have the gift of discipline, Sophie. That will take you far — whether in ballet… or whatever you choose to be."
The girl laughed and hugged him.
"Daddy, tell me the story of the vampire and the werewolf again?"
Cletus sighed with a faint smile and sat beside his daughter.
"Very well… A long time ago, when darkness still spoke to men, there were two brothers. One was named Erick, the father of vampires. The other, Ulisses, the first werewolf.
They both loved humanity, but disagreed on how to protect it. Erick wanted to grant humans power. Ulisses feared the cost of that power. And when that power corrupted Erick, Ulisses sealed the vampire in the underworld, preventing him and his demons from invading Earth."
Sophie listened intently, her chin resting on her hands.
"And what happened after that?"
"After that…" he smiled, glancing at his wife,
"…Ulisses vanished. And the seal was kept, waiting for the day a fool would try to break it."
Eliza chuckled softly.
"I hope that fool isn't you, dear."
Cletus looked away and laughed, but there was a bitterness behind it — something almost sad.
A few days later…
Gray skies hung over the city. Sophie was walking home from school, her backpack slung over one shoulder.
When she opened the front door, something felt off.
"Mama? Dad?"
The only answer was the sound of rain outside. She walked down the hallway carefully, until she heard a wet sound — a low, slurping noise.
Following it, she entered the living room.
And froze.
Cletus was hunched over Eliza, who trembled in his arms.
Blood ran across the floor in a crimson trail.
When he lifted his face, his mouth was drenched in red, and his eyes glowed a deep, hungry crimson.
"Daddy…?"
Eliza, pale and barely breathing, whispered her daughter's name through trembling lips:
"Run… Sophie…"
Cletus turned, and his gaze — empty and starving — met the girl's.
Sophie dropped her backpack and ran, but her father was faster.
In a single movement, he grabbed her by the wrist and said, his voice distorted and guttural,
"This was necessary. I needed to understand the power. You won't understand now… but if you're going to hunt me, little girl, you'll have to get stronger."
Then, he vanished into a swirl of dark mist.
The girl fell to her knees, tears burning her eyes.
She crawled to her mother, lifting her in her arms.
"Mom, wake up… please, wake up!"
Eliza raised a trembling hand, brushing her daughter's cheek with bloodstained fingers.
"Sophie… my angel… you were the best thing… that ever happened to me… I love you."
Her eyes dimmed, her head falling against Sophie's shoulder.
Sophie screamed — the sound cutting through the silence of the house.
Through her tears and rage, she swore:
"I'll find you, father… and I'll kill you."
Years later
The young Sophie Coren — now no longer using her birth name — walked through a military base under the rhythmic clang of synchronized boots.
She trained in shooting, close combat, and survival. She was one of the best. Her gaze still carried the pain of a wounded child, but now it was buried beneath a cold, lethal calm. She didn't seek glory — she sought vengeance.
Present Day – Underground of the Twilight Eye Castle
Silence reigned.
Cletus Coren's body lay motionless on the stone floor, the blood-stained book resting on his chest.
Tory stood over him, eyes filled with tears, breath trembling. For a moment, she wasn't the cold hunter — she was the lost girl from years ago.
Then, his hand twitched.
A rasping groan escaped his lips.
Tory stepped back, startled, guns snapping up instinctively.
"What the hell… you're still alive?!"
Cletus slowly turned his head.
"Where… am I? It's dark. I can't see anything…"
Tory swallowed hard, her pulse racing.
He tried to turn toward her voice.
"Sophie…? Is that you? What's happening? Where's your mother…?"
The name Sophie hit her like a blade through the heart.
She cocked her gun sharply.
"My mother? You killed her, remember?! You drained her dry — right in front of me!"
Cletus was silent for a moment.
Then, in a hoarse, broken whisper:
"Yes… that's right. I killed her… with my own hands.
What a horrible thing I did… I was weak… I succumbed to the influence…"
"Influence?" she asked, hesitating. "You mean… you were possessed?"
He tried to say her name again but coughed, blood spilling from his mouth.
She knelt beside him, holding his head.
"Father…?"
Cletus gripped her arm with what little strength he had left.
"Yes… I was being manipulated. Manipulated by a werewolf… named Nyra…"
Tory's eyes widened.
"Nyra?!"
He kept speaking, his voice faint.
"She's trying to bring back Dracula's underworld… A world Ulisses sealed… to protect us."
"Ulisses…?" she murmured.
"I thought he was just a myth…"
Cletus gasped, barely breathing.
"If Dracula and his demons return… this world… will fall into chaos. Stop… her…"
"Me?" she whispered, tears streaking her face.
He touched her cheek, his eyes already fading.
"You're so beautiful… and so sweet… just like your mother…"
His arm fell, lifeless. The silence that followed was pierced only by the sound of her tears hitting stone.
Tory stayed there, sobbing, calling his name — but no answer came.
With trembling hands, she crossed his arms over his chest, placing the book atop his heart.
She wiped her tears and drew a steady breath. Her fragile expression hardened into steel.
"I'll end her," she said, firm. "I swear I'll end that Nyra."
Without looking back, she walked into the darkness ahead, leaving her father's body behind — her footsteps echoing like the ticking of a clock counting down to damnation.