The blood stopped. The man was running… and then, in an instant, he froze. His eyes snapped open, lungs straining for air that would not come. Something inside yanked at his blood.
Veins bulged. Dark lines snaked beneath his skin. His mouth opened, silent and wide. And then… he collapsed. At the same moment, a woman fell in the street.
Then a child. Then two more. No wounds. No blood on the ground. The bodies were hollow, drained of life itself. Above, on the rooftops, figures watched.
But they were no longer human. Faint red eyes glowed in shadowed forms. Fingers stretched outward, moving with the pulse of life—or what remained of it. One of them clenched a fist. The blood stirred.
Thin threads rose from the victims' chests, slicing through the air, converging into a single point. A pulsating orb of blood. Alive.
"The quantity is sufficient,"
a cold, emotionless voice intoned.
Another presence approached.
"Humans weaken faster than expected."
__"It does not matter," came the reply.
"The important thing is the eclipse is near."
The blood orb swelled, pulsed, and finally settled.
"And what of Arkael, the Vampire King?"
Silence fell.
Then, a faint laugh echoed.
"He does not feel what flows in their veins. And if he does… it will be too late."
The threads vanished. The bodies disappeared. The city stood… lifeless.
Far from the mortal world, in a palace carved of black stone, Arkael, the Vampire King, opened his eyes suddenly. He pressed a hand to his chest. Something called to him—a blood not his own. It moved at his name.
The palace was silent, black walls looming, red candles flickering, blood etched into the floors like ancient sigils. He rose from his throne.
The air shifted instantly. Guards fell to their knees without command. Even shadows recoiled. The king raised a hand.
"Reinspect the borders."
His voice was calm, but weighted with authority.
A noble hesitated.
"My lord… we have seen no attack."
Arkael turned. One look. The noble froze, breath caught, veins trembling.
"I did not say they attacked," the king said.
"I said… inspect."
All bowed. He stepped to the balcony. The moon hid partially behind clouds—the eclipse was near. He extended a hand. The air tore. A single drop of blood appeared before him. Not his own. His face hardened.
"Human blood…"
The drop trembled and vanished.
Arkael clenched his fist.
"And without a trace."
"Such a thing…" he murmured.
Neither vampire… nor sorcerer… nor human could do this.
"Where is she?" he demanded.
A maid stepped forward swiftly.
"In the inner garden, my lord."
With a single step, he vanished.
The garden lay still—black trees, a stagnant blood fountain. Alina was there, hair flowing, eyes calm, yet her heart raced. The king appeared behind her.
"You feel it too," he said.
She did not turn.
"The blood is afraid tonight."
He moved closer.
"Blood is always afraid."
Finally, she turned. Their eyes met. A moment of silence. He reached out, touching her fingers. Her blood responded. Powerfully.
The king frowned—an unnatural reaction.
"Do not leave the palace tonight," he said quietly.
"And if you hear screaming…"
He stopped, looked away.
"Do not look."
She smiled faintly.
"You always say that."
The king did not smile.
Above, the moon slipped further behind shadow. The garden emptied. Servants withdrew. Guards stepped back. They were alone. The fountain behind them remained still. She sat on the stone's edge. Arkael stood before her.
"You are not looking at me tonight," she whispered.
"Because if I looked… I would ask things I have no right to." he said
She lifted her head.
"And who said you have no right?"
Silence.
He extended his hand, hesitating. She took it first. Her fingers warm—too warm. Her blood reacted violently. The king's fist tightened.
"Your blood is different."
She smiled. "And you are the only one who feels it."
She stepped closer.
The distance between them vanished.
"Tell me the truth," she demanded.
"Are you afraid?"
He looked directly into her eyes. Dark red. Ancient.
"I have not feared in centuries," he said, pausing. "Except for you."
Her smile stiffened.
"Why?"
He brought his forehead to hers.
"Because you are the only thing I cannot sacrifice… yet I know I will."
Their breaths mingled. She closed her eyes.
"If anything happens to you… I will not forgive this world."
He touched her cheek, a light tremor in his hand.
"If anything happens to me… you live."
She opened her eyes, whispering, "Promise me."
He smiled—a sad, resigned smile.
"I promise you."
He drew her close. Her forehead rested against his chest. She felt his heartbeat—strong, steady. The sky darkened, the moon's shadow shifting. The blood in the fountain behind them began to boil. No alarms sounded—it was triggered from within. The ground trembled. The garden split. The fountain exploded.
Blood soared into the air, twisting into red blades, raining in all directions. Guards fell before comprehending the chaos. He pulled her behind him.
"Stay behind me."
The sky tore open. A black gate loomed above the palace. Warriors descended in dark armor, faceless masks, banners bearing the Council's ancient seal. Arkael scanned the battlefield.
"The Council…?"
Another voice broke the moment.
"My lord."
It was his closest adviser, standing unharmed.
"I wished it wouldn't end this way."
"You opened the gates," the king said.
_"The war was inevitable," the adviser replied.
"And you… were the final obstacle."
Blood exploded around him. The air burned. One step—and three warriors fell. A second step—their chests ruptured. Alina screamed.
"Do not look!" he shouted—but she did.
One of the Council's warriors reached toward her. Her blood froze. The king felt it instantly. Half a second too late. A chain of blood wrapped her body, lifting her toward the gate.
"No!"
He surged forward, tearing through the warriors—they fell, torn apart.
The gate widened. Entities descended—Weavers of Blood, red eyes gleaming. One raised a hand. The palace blood rebelled. Nobles fell. Servants died standing. The adviser smiled.
"By the eclipse's oath, we declare the end of your reign."
The king stood amid corpses. The palace burned, sky red, blood raining like fire.
"If you want war… I am the war."
He surged. Blood everywhere. The palace a slaughterhouse. The chain lifted her, the Weavers surrounding her. Ritual nearly complete. He stood alone, wounded, royal blood spilling endlessly.
"You are late, King," one Weaver said.
He did not respond—only looked at her. Tears filled her eyes.
"No… please…"
Alina could not move.
He smiled calmly.
"I knew this night would come."
He pressed a hand to his chest, blood trembling.
"But not like this."
He closed his eyes, releasing all. Royal blood erupted like a storm. Symbols ignited. The gate cracked. The Weavers screamed. Too late. He entered the ritual's heart. Chains shattered.
She fell, screaming his name. "Nooo!"
He turned to her one last time. Red light surrounded him. His body disintegrated, blood evaporating. He looked at her, smiled, voice weak but clear:
"No matter how many times I am reborn, I will search for you… and I will find you."
Her eyes widened.
"No… do not leave—"
He did not finish. Red dust consumed him. Bones vanished. He reached out… but could not touch her.
"Please…"
She ran to him, fell to her knees. Dust slipped through her fingers. Nothing remained but the echo of his voice. The sky exploded. The gate collapsed. The ritual failed… but the war had begun.
She screamed—a sound tearing through the night. As the moon sank fully into shadow…
In a place outside of time… A pair of eyes opened. For the first time.