The Last of His Kind

Damian's legs burned as he struggled to keep up, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The city blurred around him, neon lights flashing past as Lucian dragged him through the maze of back alleys.

Behind them, the hunters didn't follow. Not immediately. But Damian knew—this wasn't over.

Lucian didn't speak. His grip was firm, his pace relentless. It wasn't until they reached the edge of the city, where the glow of streetlights faded into darkness, that he finally stopped.

Damian doubled over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "What the hell… was that?"

Lucian remained silent.

Damian lifted his head. Now that he could finally see him up close, Lucian looked… ageless. He was tall, lean but strong, with sharp features and piercing, icy blue eyes. His black coat barely moved in the cold night air, and there was an intensity about him—like a storm contained in human form.

"Who are you?" Damian demanded.

Lucian's gaze never wavered. "The only one left who can help you."

Damian clenched his fists. "That doesn't answer anything."

Lucian exhaled, as if debating how much to say. Then—

"You're being hunted, Damian. And if we don't move soon, you'll be dead before sunrise."

A chill crept down Damian's spine.

"They called themselves The Elders," he muttered. "Who are they?"

Lucian's expression darkened. "They are the keepers of the old ways. The ones who enforce the rules of our kind."

Our kind.

Damian stiffened. "I'm not one of them."

Lucian tilted his head slightly. "Not yet."

Damian took a step back. "No. You're wrong. I'm just—" He stopped, the words dying on his tongue.

Because deep down, he knew.

The dreams. The hunger. The whispers in the dark.

Something inside him was changing.

Lucian took a slow step forward. "You've felt it, haven't you?" His voice was low, measured. "The thirst. The strength. The way your body is no longer… normal."

Damian's pulse spiked.

No. It wasn't possible. He was human.

Wasn't he?

Lucian watched him carefully, then spoke the words that shattered everything.

"You are not fully human, Damian. You never were."

Silence.

Damian's mind reeled. He felt like he was standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable, staring down into a truth he wasn't ready for.

His voice was barely a whisper. "Then… what am I?"

Lucian's eyes locked onto his.

"A vampire. Like me."

Damian's breath hitched.

No. That was impossible. It had to be. He would have known. He wasn't some blood-drinking monster—he was just a normal guy.

But then he remembered the way the hunters had moved. The way the lock had unlatched on its own. The way his body had moved faster than it ever should have.

And the thirst.

That deep, gnawing hunger that he had ignored for weeks.

Lucian studied his face, then sighed. "I know it's a lot to take in. But if you don't accept it soon, the Elders will make the choice for you."

Damian's stomach turned. "What does that mean?"

Lucian's expression hardened. "They won't let you exist as you are. Half-human, half-vampire. You're an aberration to them. A threat to the balance."

Damian's blood ran cold.

"They'll either force your transformation…" Lucian paused. "Or kill you."

A heavy silence hung between them.

Lucian watched him carefully. "You need to decide, Damian."

Damian swallowed hard. "Decide what?"

Lucian's eyes gleamed in the dim light.

"Whether you'll run… or fight."