Sandra's body hit the water with a shock that knocked the air from her lungs. For a moment, she was suspended in darkness, weightless, senses screaming at her to rise. The cold bit into her skin, sharp and unforgiving, yet it was nothing compared to the fire igniting in her veins.
Instinct took over. She kicked and thrashed, breaking the surface with a gasp that burned her throat. Water streamed down her face, chilling her wet hair to her shoulders. Her lungs screamed for air; her chest heaved violently. She dragged herself toward the riverbank, fingers clawing at the slick stones, nails scraping against rough edges. Each movement felt alien, unnatural — her body moved faster, stronger than it had ever done as a human.
The fog above the river shimmered in the weak light of streetlamps, curling like smoke around the cracked railings. Her reflection wavered on the water's surface. Pale, eyes glowing faint red, skin almost translucent under the dim light. She stared, trembling, at the creature in the water.
It's me. I'm… this now.
The hunger hit then, in full force. It was not a craving; it was a demand. Her veins pulsed, burning with desire. Every beat of every living thing nearby called to her. Every stray animal, every pigeon, every rat on the riverbank — she could hear their hearts, smell their warmth.
She pressed her hands to her head, trying to resist. No. Not like this. I'm not a monster. I can control it.
But control was a lie. The sensation overwhelmed her. Every breath, every heartbeat, every shiver of muscle demanded one thing: blood.
A soft sound made her pause — a footstep, light, cautious, deliberate. She froze. From the shadows of the fog, a figure emerged: a stray dog, small and malnourished, its coat matted with mud and rain. Its eyes, wide and fearful, locked with hers.
Sandra's stomach convulsed, her lips parting involuntarily. She could feel the river of life inside the dog, hear it, smell it. The world narrowed to that heartbeat.
"No!" she whispered, shaking violently. "I can't—"
The hunger roared. She lunged, instincts overriding reason, teeth scraping against the dog's shoulder. The world narrowed, everything else fading. The taste — metallic, hot, sharp — burned down her throat. Pain and pleasure collided. Her vision blurred, tears mixing with rain.
When it was over, she stepped back, shaking, gagging, eyes wide with horror. The dog was dead.
Sandra sank to her knees on the wet grass, hands pressed to her mouth. The river beside her rippled softly, oblivious. What have I done?
A voice cut through the fog — low, calm, steady.
"You've survived your first feed."
Sandra looked up. Raven stood at the edge of the fog, coat wet, hair plastered to his face. His eyes glowed faint red, watching her without judgment.
"I…" she choked. "…I killed it."
"You fed," he said simply. "Control comes later. Survival comes first."
Her chest heaved. "I'm… a monster."
"No," Raven replied. "You're learning. That's all."
She shook her head, tears streaming freely now. "I can't… I can't live like this."
He stepped closer, kneeling beside her. "Yes, you can. But you must accept what you are. Denial will kill you faster than hunger ever could."
Sandra pressed her palms against her face. The river reflected distorted images — her pale, trembling self, the dog she had taken. She wanted to scream, to throw herself into the water and never rise again.
Raven placed a hand on her shoulder. The touch was warm, steady. "Look at me."
She obeyed reluctantly. His crimson eyes locked with hers, unyielding. "Your blood is old, ancient. It carries power others would kill for. You're not just surviving, Sandra. You're awakening."
She swallowed, her throat raw. "Power? What kind of power?"
"The kind that can tip balance in this city," he said, voice low. "The kind that can make or break the clans. And right now… you are alone."
"Alone?" she echoed, voice barely audible. "I'm not alone. You're here."
Raven's lips twitched faintly. "I can guide you, yes. Protect you. But only for so long. Others will come. The Veil will come. And they will not see mercy."
The words sank into her bones. The riverbank seemed colder suddenly, more isolated. Sandra looked around — fog, water, darkness — and felt a shiver of understanding. She wasn't just a victim anymore. She was prey. And predator.
Her hand brushed against the wet grass. She could feel the faint tremor of insects, the pulse of water movement, even the subtle heartbeat of distant humans living their oblivious lives in the city above. Her senses were alive in ways she had never imagined.
"I don't know if I can control it," she admitted, voice trembling. "I… I don't want to hurt anyone else."
"You won't," Raven said. "Not if you listen. Hunger isn't the enemy. Ignorance is."
Sandra looked at him, exhausted, broken, yet alive. A part of her clung desperately to humanity. Another part — a darker, wilder part — was emerging. The part that craved, that needed, that hungered for life itself in the rawest form.
"You must train," Raven said. "Control comes from discipline, not denial. From knowledge, not fear. And you must move quickly, before they discover you fully."
"They… they know about me?" she whispered.
Raven's jaw tightened. "The Order of the Veil has eyes everywhere. They felt the awakening. They will come for you. And you are unprepared."
She swallowed hard. "Then what do we do?"
"We survive," he said. "And we prepare. The night has only just begun, Sandra. And so has your bloodline."
The words echoed in the mist. The river flowed silently beside them, indifferent to death, to hunger, to the storm raging inside her veins.
Sandra stood slowly, trembling, yet strengthened by resolve. "I… I want to survive," she whispered.
Raven nodded, stepping back into the fog. "Good. That's the first step. Everything else comes after."
And in that moment, Sandra realized that the human world she had known was gone. There was no turning back. Only forward.
The taste of blood lingered on her lips, sweet and terrible. And somewhere deep inside, she understood that it would never leave her again.
The night swallowed them both as they disappeared into the shadows of Noxbridge City, the river murmuring their secrets to no one but the fog.