Prologue: 1- The Vampire

- Lucien Draven: Fangs

The night air tastes like ash.

I can feel it on my tongue, gritty and bitter, like the memory of a thousand burnt-out dreams.

The wind whips through the remains of this long-dead village, howling through hollow doorways, and rattling the skeletal rafters of what used to be homes.

My boots grind across the rubble, the debris crunching underfoot—broken pottery, splintered wood, and the brittle bones of the past. This place is a graveyard of lost hopes, a testament to my father's legacy.

Darius Draven—the first vampire. The vampire king. The monster.

And my father.

I clench my fists, trying to quell the surge of memories that threaten to swallow me. Sometimes, it feels like his voice is still echoing in the back of my mind, slithering through the cracks of my resolve. The scars he left on me—physical and otherwise—throb in the cold night air, reminding me that escape is never simple.

The cold dungeons beneath his throne. The iron chains biting into my wrists. The scent of blood—my blood—pooled on the stone floor. His voice, smooth as silk and sharp as a blade, whispered in my ear.

"You will obey me, Lucien. You are my son. My heir. You were born to rule—so why do you insist on being weak?"

Weak.

That's what he always called me. A failure. A disgrace to the Draven name. I was never ruthless enough, never cruel enough, never eager enough to spill blood in his name. He wanted a prince of darkness, a conqueror who would enforce his will with an iron fist. Instead, he got me.

And so he broke me.

Over and over again, he tried to carve the mercy out of me, to hollow me out until there was nothing left but the thirst for power.

He wanted me to be an extension of his ambition, another weapon in his endless war against humanity. He thought he could mold me into a reflection of himself—cold, remorseless, driven by a hunger for destruction.

But I never gave in.

I remember the endless nights in that dungeon, the stench of death and fear thick in the stale air. I remember how he'd test my resolve with cruelty beyond measure, demanding I turn my back on every scrap of compassion. For a century—an entire century—I endured his torments, his punishments, his endless lessons in pain.

And now, after 105 years, I am finally free.

If only freedom didn't come with a price.

I pause in the middle of the deserted thoroughfare, letting the wind carry the echoes of my past away.

The rotting structures around me lean at impossible angles, as though they might collapse at the slightest touch.

A tattered banner, once bearing the symbol of some forgotten house, flutters weakly from a broken pole. The entire village smells of abandonment, of decay that goes beyond mere physical ruin.

I tilt my head, listening. The forest beyond these ruins is quiet, but that means nothing. My father's influence stretches across this land like a disease, his shadows prowling the night in search of me. I know they're out there, lurking just beyond my vision, waiting for a chance to strike.

Because if he finds me…

No. I won't go back.

I won't kneel before him.

I won't become the monster he wants me to be.

I inhale deeply, letting the cool night air fill my lungs.

My senses, heightened by my vampire nature, pick out every detail: the faint rustle of an animal darting through the underbrush, the distant drip of water trickling through the cracks of a toppled well, the dry rasp of wind scraping over charred stone.

Every sound reminds me that danger could be lurking behind any corner, ready to drag me back into my father's clutches.

My strength is undeniable—I am my father's son, after all. His ancient blood makes me powerful, his lineage makes me dangerous. It's a power that hums beneath my skin, a force that begs to be unleashed.

I can feel it in my veins, the primal energy that has fueled centuries of terror under Darius's rule. A whisper in my mind tempts me to embrace it, to revel in the might that could crush anyone who stands in my way.

But what do I choose to do with that power?

That is mine alone.

And I choose not to kill.

Not to conquer.

Not to destroy.

Even if the rest of the world refuses to believe it.

I know what they see when they look at me—another Draven. Another predator in the dark, another nightmare wearing the face of a man.

The hunters want my head on a pike, convinced I'm just as vile as my father.

The vampires want me chained at his side, a traitor to their cause who needs to be dragged back into line.

And humans? They look at me with fear and hatred, the same way they look at every creature of the night.

I don't blame them.

After all, they've seen what my father can do. Entire kingdoms have fallen to his insatiable thirst for power.

He's burned cities to the ground, shattered alliances, and twisted good people into monsters.

He's turned the very notion of hope into a cruel joke. And I carry his name, his blood, his legacy.

But I will not let them decide who I am.

I am not my father.

And I will never become him.

Still, there's an ache in my chest whenever I think about how the world perceives me. It's a loneliness that gnaws at me, a reminder that even if I stand against Darius, most will never see past my lineage.

They'll never believe in my intentions or my desire to stop him. I can't count how many times I've nearly been cornered by hunters, and forced to defend myself without drawing blood.

It's a balancing act—staying alive without becoming the killer they expect me to be.

Sometimes, in the quiet hours before dawn, I wonder if there's a place for me in this world at all. I can't return to my father's court, and I can't blend into human society.

Even among other vampires, I'm an outcast, the "weak Hybrid" son who refused to follow in the king's footsteps.

That leaves me wandering the edges of existence, hiding in the ruins of a civilization my father helped destroy.

Yet, despite it all, I refuse to give up. The cruelty I've seen has only strengthened my resolve.

I've witnessed how the innocent suffer under Darius's reign, how fear cripples entire communities. I've watched families torn apart, and villages left in ruin.

And every time I see the aftermath of his darkness, I'm reminded why I must stand against him.

Because someone has to. Someone has to believe there's another way.

The wind shifts, bringing with it the faint tang of ozone. A storm is brewing, clouds rolling in to smother what little moonlight remains.

My gaze drifts to the ragged skyline of broken rooftops and crumbling walls, a graveyard of ambition and hope.

This place—this forsaken village—could have been home to hundreds, maybe thousands. All gone now.

All because of him.

I close my eyes, letting the storm's first droplets of rain wash the ash from my lips.

My cloak flutters in a sudden gust, and I take one last look at the skeleton of this once-living place.

Then I turn away.

I may not know where I'm going or how I'll stop him, but I know one thing: I will never stop trying.

I will never give him the satisfaction of seeing me break, of watching me become the very monster he always wanted me to be.

Because I am Lucien Draven.

And I will choose my path—even if I have to walk it alone.