The screams echoed, each second closer. His hurried steps would make his presence easy to trail, yet he could only care about shielding the ones he led. There were faint ominous echoes some alleys away.

Randel huffed, fighting to be fast and careful at the same time. He looked over his shoulder, fearfully. Terror was not an emotion he usually felt, and yet, it flowed intensely in him now. He could not avoid it, not while he gazed into those scared young eyes.

The three kids gasped for breath while they followed him. Lyssa and Bastian were holding his hands tightly, struggling to stay by his side. Nerys ran close behind, all on her own, one year older. Even if she was keeping watch on what could lurk behind them, she was as afraid as the other two. All knew what roamed.

Randel growled, for he comprehended much better than them the gravity of the situation. What crept was far worse than death, and it was closing in on them. There were faint pained screams in the distant streets of their village, muffled by the cracks of fire and falling debris. In between it all, there were growls and vile laughter.

He had to ignore his son’s cries as he led the three away from it all, through a darker alley. His heart was full of impotent ire, unable to ease their terror, burdened by the trust they showed in their eyes. Every breath was reluctant, dreadful, possibly heard by what hunted in the dark.

Randel gasped, because he spotted a door. It was unlocked. The kids flinched when he kicked it open, fast to hush them past it, hurriedly. Once inside, Lyssa glared at a window, having seen a shadow begin to loom in the alley.

The house was dark; there was no light, no candles or oil lamps. It seemed to have been abandoned in a panic. Nerys could only worry when Randel commanded again, pointing at a trapdoor in a corridor.

“Hide.”

It was not a question; his voice was firm, decided. And due to it, Bastian shivered. His father finally let go of his hand, to reach for a knife on a nearby counter. His young grey eyes widened, seeing him step away and face the door, giving them a hushed yell upon their baffled stillness.

“I said hide!”

Bastian shook his head in disbelief, finally understanding his intentions.

“N-no! You can’t-!”

“I must!” He growled out another command, seeing that Bastian was not obeying. “Nerys, Lyssa, you heard me!”

The two girls exchanged glances as Bastian snarled, stepping back to try to stop his father.

“I’m not hiding! It will-!”

Bastian gasped, feeling hands grip his shoulders. He could only let out a panicked cry as he was pulled away, against his will. Randel gave the two a silent grateful nod, bowing his head as Lyssa opened the trap door at the far corner. Nerys dragged Bastian in with her, not easily, for the boy struggled angrily.

The man let out a tired sigh, because Lyssa gave him one last worried glance. She then let the hatch fall shut above her, obeying his silent order. Once alone, he slowly approached the trapdoor, thinking fast. There was a table near him, and he could hear footsteps outside. And so, his hand clenched harder around the handle of the knife, ready to act. Below, in the dark basement, Bastian growled and kicked while Nerys held him.

“Let me go! I can’t-!” He gasped when he heard something crumble, right onto the trapdoor above. Lyssa could only sit in a corner while he cursed, hearing Randel step away. “No! If you don’t let me go, I will never forgive you, Nerys! I can’t let him fight it! It will-!”

“It will kill him, and anything it spots!” Nerys tightened her grip on him, keeping him from climbing up the ladder. “That’s why I will not let you go.”

Bastian clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, surrendering under her aggrieved whisper. Nerys cried silently as he did, remorseful yet firm. Meanwhile, Lyssa kept herself from crying, feeling the need to be alert for them.

The three heard rustling outside, closer. And that made them fall silent at last, much to Randel’s relief. He had broken the table onto the trapdoor, hid its presence, hoping it would be enough to fool that thing. He could hear it, stepping into the alley, finally.

He grinned angrily, twirling slightly the knife. Two red eyes were glinting in the dark outside, voracious. And they were looking right at him. Under such stare, he leaned slightly, growling as he readied himself.

“Come on, you bloody monster…”

Sharp fangs showed in a sickening smile, bloody. It repulsed him, but he did not fear. Not for himself at least.

Bastian winced when he heard his father roar and dash forward strongly, while fast clawed feet lunged. The air above was slashed by a knife, repeatedly and intensely. The sounds of the quarrel echoed for two minutes… until they heard a pained gasp. It was followed by a faint thud soon enough. Then silence.

The boy did not struggle anymore. Nerys could feel him tremble between her arms. Lyssa noted his agonizing dread, which could not be voiced. The silence lasted for a long painful minute, in which they held hope and fear. All faith faded from Bastian’s eyes when they heard the unmistakable sound of clawed feet moving above.

It was alive, and it was creeping over them. They held their breaths, knowing they had to. The steps were slow; the beast was surely scouting the rooms, searching for any possible prey. They could only wait, its movements dangerously close to the trapdoor. It was too near, at reach. One single glance over the broken table and it could find them. That was Randel’s last desperate attempt to shield them.

Lyssa glared at the small glints above them, a small crack on the wooden floorboards. She did not breathe or make a single sound, not until she heard the thing move away. It finally left through the door, back into the alley. And yet, they did not dare move. They kept waiting.

Hours passed until the silence was broken. Lyssa and Nerys could not blame Bastian when he finally sobbed. And still, none reached for the ladder, needing to wait. For what, they wondered. They were not sure that the dawn would make those things vanish. Perhaps leaving the basement would not really make a difference. There was too much blood spilt.

Faint pained screams still echoed outside, and it was something that made them keep still, quiet as the dead. Lyssa had always loved the sight of the moon, yet she hated it now. The night was far too long.

———-

 

He could only bow his head down, averting his gaze from the corpses. His men scouted the village, safe under the sunlight. The sun was comforting, a shield, yet it did not bring them any hope. Debris had fallen all around, blood dripped below the doors of broken homes, and the dead filled the streets. All perished for trying to run or fight. They were late.

No. I was.

A small group had managed to avoid being slaughtered in the middle of the night. They evaded being prey, in yet another raid from those beasts. However, they had not reached their camp in time to warn them. There was no chance to save anyone else.

He had the power to fight these monsters, yet he was never able to predict their next feral move. There was no way of predicting how many lives he could protect with his small squad. They could fight and repel the vampires, but never win. They always lost something, far too many things.

He opened his eyes once more, after taking a deep breath. He had to search every corner of this village. Every burnt house, all rooms painted in red. Any of those beasts could still roam, for sunlight was harmful, but not deadly. As well, there could be survivors, even if he doubted it.

He glared at every shadow cast by the debris, every broken door and window, silent upon the murders committed. All these people were dead because of bloodlust, mockery. Vampires were proud, arrogant. They despised humanity. They were always ready to rip apart anyone who dared defy their supremacy. A human was only good if dead, or if kept as cattle.

He would choose death before servitude. Their disgusting acts and orders would never befall him. A life of enslavement was not for him, never again. And he would not let anyone suffer that fate if he could fight it.

There was a small alley, which he investigated as well. He spotted yet another shadow, which made him tense. He approached slowly, and indeed, it was a figure. He did not avert his gaze, not even if he was staring at the corpse of a man. His hand was still clenching a knife tightly. Blood had dried below his cold body, clearly dead. The room where he laid was a mess, something that was never a surprise in a vampire incursion.

Once more, he shook his head, and then let out a small prayer out of respect. It was obvious there had been a fight. He slowly turned around, with no reason to dwell… until he heard it. He froze and looked over his shoulder, slowly. There was a faint sound, coming from inside. If his senses were not fooling him, he was sure it was muffled crying. His eyes narrowed, paying closer attention. There was the unmistakable sound of sobs. Yet it seemed like they were trying to be kept down, held back painfully. They were quiet, high toned.

There was someone there.

Nerys cursed, hearing footsteps nearing above. Bastian grimaced, really trying to stay quiet. Lyssa was in front of him, smiling; it was a silent plea, reassuring, even if she dreaded as well. He knew he should be silent like them. Yet he could not hold it in, small cries escaping him. He cursed himself, everything. The only thing he could do was close his eyes with a wince, because the broken wood over the trapdoor was moved away.

Nerys’ hold tightened, not only on Bastian, but on Lyssa too. She tried to shield both of them, for there was no doubt they had been found. They had no idea how much time they spent hiding, but a lot for sure. And it still did not feel enough. The fear of a vampire returning for them was still fresh.

Bastian apologized silently, his own hand slamming onto his mouth to silence himself. He felt guilt, for the trap door opened at last. Nerys had to shield her green eyes, the sudden light blinding. Lyssa was the first to adjust to it, glaring up at their foe. Her ochre eyes hinted how much disdain she had for the ones that brought the screams in the night.

Such hate faded quickly from her gaze, for it was not one of those creatures. There was a blond man above them, kneeling with a baffled expression. There were no fangs, no claws, and definitely no blood on him.

Sergius could only stare as three kids looked up at him with confused fear. They kept hugging each other while they cowered. And so, he smiled slowly, joyful surprise evident in him. He called softly, with a hand raised.

“It’s morning.” He closed his eyes as he assured, feeling relief and guilt. “Nothing will hunt you now.”

Lyssa finally allowed herself to cry as the words echoed down to them.

“It’s alright. The sun shines outside.”

He showed kindness in his voice, remorse as well. He should have arrived faster, as always.