It was so ordinary, so familiar… and yet, now it felt all too strange, odd. Every time they left a hideout behind, he didn’t doubt. He would usually be the first to stride away, having previously studied the planned path.

Today he was the last to leave the shadows of the tunnels. His eyes never glanced back towards the chamber where she rested, but he still looked for her around him. He kept picturing her jogging out of her alcove in an apologetic hurry, perhaps due to oversleeping, or maybe having gotten distracted by some trinkets she collected.

He delayed; he waited all that he possibly could. The others were already outside, surveying the area to make sure nothing crept silently. They wouldn’t wait for him forever, and he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

Nestor finally dared to look back into the dark, unbelieving that she was not by his side. She had always been, ever since he could remember. Her lighthearted laugh had always buried away any nightmare, granted him the courage to face every new day. And now she was gone.

There came the call, from someone that was as heartbroken as him, if not more. Alma had stepped back to beckon him out, leaning on the debris that concealed the entrance. Her eyes were still clouded due to the tears she shed, but there was a clear determination in them.

He couldn’t break down, not in front of her sister. That was why he managed to take a deep breath and stride out, climbing over the logs and stones that had hidden their latest residence. He tried to imply some sort of normalcy with his next words, something neither felt but wanted dearly.

“You haven’t forgotten anything, right?”

There were not many possessions that they could hold dear, not with the constant and demanding travels they had to commit to. Still, emotions were what made them human, and they could not help but perceive meaning in items and heirlooms.

He glanced sadly at the small ring she now wore, one Gereon gave her during a small and humble memorial. She brushed it softly with a sad smile, mourning the fact it had also belonged to their mother.

“No. I can’t bring with me what I’d wish to keep.”

He cringed as she turned and began to walk towards the others, regretting his choice of words. Since the incident, conversations were short and direct, not as lighthearted as usual. No one could be blamed, none but the beast that stole them of such joy.

Nestor closed his eyes for a moment, resisting the urge to look back. He tensed and began to walk behind her, knowing they had to move and that he was delaying them all. Cyrus was not lenient in his discipline; he was making an exception today, out of care.

The three men were standing cautiously by some pines. They were eyeing the foggy distance warily, holding vials in their hands. As the two neared, they heard their customary arguments, doubtful as always.

“North. The fields are lush with lavender. We can gather some more and hide in the tall grass.”

Samir interjected, warning Cyrus.

“If we go there, the wind won’t flow in our favor. We might risk luring what pounced onto Luce as our scent is carried away in the air.”

“The alternatives are far worse. We don’t know what lays south. And if we roam east or west, the marshes won’t conceal us much. We must go back north, Samir.”

“There was not much game to hunt there. We may run out of food if we-“

“We can survive with a few rabbits and pheasants.”

“No. What we need is to collect forage. Chasing animals may cause us to become prey instead.”

“We’re always prey.”

“That is why-“

Gereon got in between, softly, the voice of reason as always.

“Enough, please.” He leaned onto his wooden staff, sighing before determining an ultimatum. “We’re heading south. Our previous hideout was detected, much like this one. Those beasts could have moved onto those fields and may be headed here as we speak. We must go where no human has roamed recently, for they always follow the steps of what they hunger for.”

“But we don’t know-“

“Do we ever?” Gereon let out a sneered groan, shaking his head as he patted Cyrus sympathetically. “It’s always a gamble, and the odds never play in our favor. Wherever we go, there are risks and losses.”

Cyrus snarled loudly, but he surrendered. His paranoia was constant, and although helpful, sometimes it could be a deterrent and handicap. He glared softly at Samir, but the brunet ignored it, used to it. The three did not pay much mind to the two youths, who listened silently as a choice was made for them.

No one dared say more as Gereon pointed his staff south, past the crags that crowned the forest. The vials were handed and opened reluctantly, their perfume something scarce. All dreaded marching into the unknown, but they knew it was better than returning to the areas where they had been stalked.

They began to walk in the usual formation, just slightly smaller. Cyrus strode fast ahead, scouting through with his clear-cut eyesight; Samir was in the middle, keeping Nestor and Alma right behind at reach; Gereon always followed some distance away from them all, the last in line. If something were to lunge for their necks, it would target Cyrus, or take down Gereon and give all the others time to run. Once fangs sunk, there was never any attempt to fight.

The sun shined bright above, yet they made sure to roam in the fog and shadows. No one ever dared utter a word in their journeys unless it was of utmost importance, because they had to rely on their hearing, which was surpassed by the beasts they wished to avoid. Every step and murmur could doom them.

They left the area, crossing a land that had once been home to a proud realm. As descendants of uncountable surviving nomads, they would never be aware of the grand borders that once stood in their chosen path. Nothing but ruin remained, for not a single hamlet endured the hunger that ravished the world.

As always, they ventured away into shifting shadows, knowing that they would only be able to find momentary respite in them. Safety never lasted, torn by the incurable ailment that afflicted the land.

————–

They found a river. Long ago, humanity would settle by ones like this one. It was not only due to the inherent need for water, but for what it did to the beings that antagonized them.

As they sat near the shore and the shade of some trees, they eyed their surroundings warily. They had not found any caves or ruins where to hide inside, and that left them in the open. It was dangerous, but not as much with the waters nearby.

Samir had cut some branches and procured some rope, all to craft an improvised fishing rod. Due to the proximity of the marshes, the ground was humid; it did not take too long for him to find some worms to use as bait.

For two days they had walked without sleep, and it took its toll. Rest was a luxury, something to debate carefully. Hunger was also an issue, but one that could be ignored for much longer. There were unspoken rules and roles. Cyrus suffered most in each incursion, keeping a faster pace than anyone to scout the paths.  No one objected when he was the first to fall asleep by a tree, exhausted. While Samir delayed his slumber to find food, Nestor kept watch by the other three, alert.

He had climbed the tree above their improvised camp to keep an eye over the area. His focus on the forest was so intent that he flinched when a very subtle sound reached him. He took Cyrus’ bow in his hands and pointed towards the echo, ready to pierce whatever approached.

The arrow never soared. He sighed and relaxed when he saw that it was Samir, who had left the river’s edge at last. The man whispered softly as he saw him up there, with a tone that hinted slight jest.

“Good thing it is you and not him.” He smiled down at Cyrus, who had dropped down to a side in his deep sleep. “He’d rather shoot first than risk a threat from getting too close.”

Samir stepped closer while Nestor climbed down the tree. He dropped what he caught onto a rock, something that prompted the others to stir and begin to wake up. Cyrus was the first to open his eyes groggily, and he did not doubt to scowl at what he saw.

“Seriously?” He looked up at Samir, who smiled calmly and apologetically. “Only one?”

“There wasn’t much to ensnare.” He leaned the fishing pole down and offered, taunting him. “You can try your hand at fishing if you’d like. Surely, you’ll do better than I.”

Cyrus shook his head, defeated by Samir’s unfaltering confidence. He grabbed the fish and eyed it in dislike, hating how Alma had procured a knife already.

“Are you sure we don’t have any rations left? I loathe eating raw fish.”

Alma twirled the knife and stole the salmon from his hand, scolding him softly as she proceeded to prepare a humble meal.

“Without the shelter of a cave or ravine, we can’t afford to light a fire.” Her eyes were fixed on the task, but she could still scold him. “Stop complaining; make sure to spot one next time before we set camp.”

“I have no control over what the landscape offers, dammit.” Cyrus stood angrily and stepped away, snatching his bow from Nestor’s hand. “Some animals must eventually roam by the river. I’ll get meat and salt it.”

Gereon commented while Cyrus walked away, pointing out a fact plainly.

“You can also do that to your portion of the fish.”

There came the rough refute, typical and expected.

“I said I don’t want it.”

He marched away, stubborn. All sighed, remembering the time he got sick eating raw fish, the main cause of his intense dislike. His apprehension was not unfounded, however. Medicine was uncommon, and each illness could be a great hazard.

The four sat there, father and daughter recently awoken, the other two expectant of a small meal and a chance for sleep. Samir sat down cross-legged and tied the rod to his backpack, knowing it would be useful in the days they would roam along the river. Nestor watched while Alma sliced the fish, discarding bones and scales.

It did not take long for Alma to finish. She placed the thin slices on the rock, divided into six piles. Nestor gave her a raise of eyebrow for the fact, which caused her to frown and falter. All noticed well how she forced a small chuckle and quickly rearranged five heaps instead. She feigned ignorance for her unconscious mistake with a curt comment.

“Let’s save some; he’ll be back.”

Samir was very aware of how they still felt like Luce was around. Gereon had coughed and looked away, fumbling with his staff; meanwhile, Nestor simply glared at the ground. For it, he began to eat with well-practiced levity, not doubting to interject with his mouth full.

“You underestimate Cyrus’ pride, Alma. He’d rather starve than lose face.” He said that, but he did not suggest them taking that fifth heap for themselves. “Salt them and tuck the pack in his coat. He’ll give up once no one looks.”

With that last caring proposal, Samir swallowed and let himself fall against his back, intending to doze off. He knew that Cyrus was not only trying to spot game, but also patrolling. His stern demeanor was always a ruse to conceal his caring scrutiny.

While Gereon ate slowly and Samir rested, Alma tied the scarce slices into a small bundle. Nestor tried to not stare, but without the usual jovial chatter, it was very hard to keep his mind busy. There was nothing he could think of to talk about; his thoughts always returned to that dilapidated cottage, and the blood that poured in it.

In such reluctant silence, he pondered the moment, over and over. She had looked back at him, smiling, signaling him to scout another room while she inspected some tools that hanged on the walls. There was nothing in the alcove they stood on, not that they could see.

He left her side. She trusted he would be careful, armed with his old knife. Both failed in noticing the beams above, which concealed a decrepit roof space. When that thing slid down from the shadows, it did so silently… Then he heard her scream.

It awoke to their heartbeats. That sleep was dead-like, soundless. The hunger alerted it to their arrival and sicked it onto her. It grasped her urgently, desperate for what would make it stop burning. And so, she burned too, the bite non-deadly.

I should have been more careful. Never should have looked away from her. If she had been the one to leave the room, maybe-

“Nestor.” He snapped out of it, hearing that soft whispered call. A stammered mumble escaped him, seeing her staring at him, commanding disapprovingly. “Eat.”

She nudged his pile closer, scowling for his absentmindedness. He proceeded to smile shakily and try to excuse his reluctance, knowing she had a worse temper than Cyrus if pushed.

“I am not very hungry; maybe I’ll just salt it too and-“

“Then sleep already.”

He flinched a bit, bothered by that command as well. She let out a very long huffed sigh, seeing him grab a slice and throw it into his mouth, refusing to doze off. He looked away from her and kept glancing at the surrounding forest, in a subtle manner. Such demeanor did not please her, but she did not keep insisting.

In truth, it was not easy to sleep. Even Samir was alert in one way or another, no matter how fatigued and relaxed he looked. They could not trust in each other to be on the lookout, but not due to resentment or malice.

A small while passed. Nestor ended up finishing his food, and all ever slowly, he found himself leaning against a trunk behind him. The more time passed, the more lethargic he grew. He fought against it, listening closely to the sounds of the forest.

Birds were singing. The distant flow of the river was comforting. His eyes were closing slowly, the sight of the green pasture fading and blurring in his tiredness. The faint breeze carried the warmth of the sunlight, and the presence of his companions eased his mind, even if he did not want it.

He truly would have fallen asleep. But then he heard a very faint sound, muffled, quiet. He jolted upright, hitting the log behind him in the process. Such sudden movement made the others jump a little too.

Samir opened his eyes with a small shake of head, looking at Nestor with a frown. Alma and Gereon tensed too, listening in as much. A minute passed; no other sound echoed around. No steps, no growls. That prompted the dreadful comment.

“The birds aren’t singing.”

As soon as Nestor said that, he stood. The others had not heard the subtle scraping he noticed, and they wished to dismiss the way the forest had grown silent.

“They probably got scared by Cyrus shooting an arrow.” Alma pondered, smiling nervously. “Maybe it was just-“

She did not manage to suggest it could have been a bird of prey that scared the wildlife. All felt a shiver when another sound echoed in the distance. A shout. It was not pained, but still startled and intense. Samir jumped to his feet instantly, recognizing it immediately.

“Cyrus!”

Nestor trembled and dashed into a sprint as well, both rushing towards the river. Alma stumbled up too, only taking a moment to grab her knife and help her father stand. All held their respective weapons as they did their best to run, alarmed.

Smithing was an art that had been lost. If one did not come across rusty utensils left behind by the previous culture, they needed to be inventive. Samir was talented in his crafts; he took out a wooden club from his bag while he dashed, one he had learned to improvise with as the years went by. Gereon only had his staff, but its top was layered with small razors he kept finding in his travels. Knives were easy to carry, something that made the two youngsters faster.

Nestor was the first to see what had lurked. He stopped dead in his tracks as he set eyes on the river and what struggled by it. As he eyed the two fledglings that had lunged onto Cyrus, his blood boiled, remembering what had happened in that cottage.

He growled and dashed forth onto the shallow shore, desperate to aid Cyrus. The blond was swinging the point of his bow wildly, threatening to stab with its sharp edge the two vampires that kept inching closer towards him with their claws bared.

If Cyrus had not been bitten already, it was only because the river was near; he stumbled into it as the beasts leaped from the bushes. They had slowed down in their rush, hateful of the water. Their pause and intense glare at their target were what allowed Nestor to take them by surprise, if only slightly.

Both beasts hissed, one slashed at by the young man. Clear and sharp jade eyes met for an instant, hatefully. As the human swung his knife, he also let himself slide into the river, dodging the swipes of claw that missed him by inches.

Cyrus panted, seeing Nestor dash to his side and point his knife at the fledglings. Such rush bothered the blond greatly, even if it helped him fend off the creatures.

“Idiot! Why did you-?!”

Nestor pushed Cyrus back, deeper into the water, because one of the two vampires dared step closer to try to claw at them.

“I won’t stand idly and lose you too!”

The vampires hissed, having evaded the bigger group to try to pounce onto the lone human. With them failing to snatch him in a single dash, they had alerted the rest and allowed them to move into the water. It did not matter, they were adamant, and no river would stop them.

Cyrus paled, seeing the two beasts swallow their reluctance, desperate to drink their blood. Their scaled hide seemed to creak loudly as they dropped onto their fours, willing to go into the flow that would daze them if it meant that they could rip them with their tusked maws.

While Cyrus dodged and moved around the one that surged towards him, Nestor welcomed the lunge of the other. His heartbeat fastened, enraged, for he recognized those disgusting eyes and thorned shoulders. All who fell to the disease would twist and grow deformed, turn into an animalistic abomination… but he recognized that gaze, which still conserved a faint trace of human visage.

The one who attacked her was a mere fledgling, a vampire that had not grown to mutate as much as the monsters that ravaged entire regions. They were the lesser menace a human could come across, but he felt the most rage for them. That beast had indeed followed their scent, and now he was seeing it again.

Nestor shouted in uncontrolled anger, throwing himself against the vampire he failed to protect her from. Cyrus gasped, seeing him drop with it into the shallows, where blood began to mix. His knife sunk again as they made contact. This time, it stabbed into its scaly face. The vampire snarled and swung a claw, prevented from biting for a moment; it tore his face and scarred it side to side.

He wheezed, letting go of the handle of his knife to hold his face. As he lost his balance and fell onto his back, he choked with the water that surrounded him. The vampire let its weight fall onto him, sinking almost as much; it was as stunned, but its instincts made it ignore all pain and daze. It opened its maws, leaning in a second to tear at his throat. 

Cyrus could not dash to stop it from happening, struggling to keep his own attacker off. That did not mean Nestor was bitten. As those fangs closed in, something swung fast onto them, shattering them with great force.

Nestor panted and coughed, sitting up as soon as the beast stumbled off him. He glanced up at Samir, who had sprinted to them and swung his club strongly onto the vampire’s head. The brunet grabbed his shoulder and yanked him to his feet, growling as much as the creatures.

“Wash your wounds, now!”

With that, Samir rushed to Cyrus’ side, swinging his club at the other vampire. Nestor only took a second to obey, throwing water onto his cuts, realizing that the beast had bled too. It only took him an instant to shake his head and look at it again, but it had been enough for it to stand and prowl again.

He did not have his knife; it was only thanks to its growing and angered caution that he had time to look for his weapon. He spotted it at the bottom near his feet, but by the time he reached for it, the fledgling dashed. A staff was what pushed it off, sharp razors brushing its bare scaled chest. Its wielder was old but experienced. No human survived so long without great endurance and proficiency. The few humans that roamed the world had learned to confront their predators, or else.

Nestor snarled, blinking as Alma held him up and ran a cloth over his cuts, all in a second. Gereon stood now in front of them, keeping his staff up and threatening the vampire with it. There was a stalemate. The humans stood in the shallow water, sticking together to shield each other; meanwhile, the two vampires had retreated blindly onto the shore. In their bestiality, they still could think.

Thanks to Samir’s strong stance, Cyrus was able to take aim with his bow again, no longer needing to swing its sharp points to defend himself. He shot at the vampire who tried to creep closer again, missing as it jumped off. With them keeping their distance, he wouldn’t manage to hit them; their kind had unnerving reflexes, uncanny speed. He was lucky to have been near the water when they lunged.

Truly, if they had not found this river, these two would have found them long ago in their march. Sadly, it was not easy to shake off a persistent predator, not when they were hellbent on killing. All could see the desperation in their sharp eyes, which never stopped piercing their necks as they paced on their fours.

They could not leave the water, but they could not stay in it either. Once a vampire had you on sight, a drastic move was needed to escape it. As they glanced around, they barely saw many options other than to fight or flee, and those would surely lead to death.

“Alright, just-“ Samir swung his club again, making the beasts flinch back when they tried to crawl closer. “Stay together, don’t dare move away from me. We outnumber them, but they’ll rip apart whoever they can snatch.”

That was what they intended. Feeding on one of them would sate the hunger, at least for a day, and make them stop burning. Still, their instincts were all ever-shifting, and their collective heartbeats could drive them to slaughter them all in a frenzy.

They couldn’t kill these things. Even the youngest vampires suffered alterations that turned them into resilient abominations. These, to be precise, were ones that could not be burned, the most common ones to roam the continent. They had scaled skin that almost looked like stone, sharp bristles that swelled from their limbs, and mandibles that would lengthen and sharpen with the centuries.

If somebody somehow survived a feeding frenzy, they would soon grow twisted, inheriting the traits of their accidental sire at a rapid rate. The disease had once been slow in its torment, but the ages made it change; now it forced its hosts to mutate hastily, in order to increase their chances of survival. All against the voracity it itself fostered in the world.

It was a self-consuming hunger. Every day, there were fewer humans to witness it… and also fewer monsters to transmit it. Few were born, and all too many were devoured. Even fledglings needed to fear.

Samir had been trying to stay calm as always, but he did not manage to keep such composure for long. As he glanced back at Cyrus, he saw his hold on his bow tremble. It was not because he did not have many arrows to spare in his quiver. He saw something, which one of the beasts seemed to notice as well.

The humans tensed more when they saw that vampire stand upright to its feet, gasping and turning sharply to glance behind it. While the other kept prowling and glaring intently at them all, that one bolted sideways into a sprint, fleeing into the woods.

The vampire that stayed was bleeding, stabbed by Nestor. It was so focused on feeding on them that it did not realize that its mate left suddenly and abruptly. There was no thought or alertness as it leaned for another lunge at them, surely intending to dive into the water. And for it, it bled again.

Alma jolted and threw her hands to her mouth when the shadow Cyrus saw made a move. The fledgling screamed as six huge wings slammed it down to the ground, allowing two slender claws to stab into it. A huge abomination screeched loudly, closing its hairy long maws around that scaly neck. A throat was ripped out in one swift yank, which sent a splatter of blood onto the shore.

All stumbled back, paling and trembling. The elder vampire growled deeply, unfazed by how the fledgling twitched weakly under its unbreakable grip. Its impossibly sharp irises seemed to shift and grow even darker, as if it had been angered by the taste of the blood. It slowly turned to glare at them instead, letting go of the first figure it had smelled from the distant cliffs.

“…” Samir tried to utter a yell, a command. He only managed to do so when the monster hissed incredibly loud and opened its six deformed wings behind its slender back. “Run!”

It took flight, even if there were uncountable holes in the hide that dressed its brown wings. In a second, its sharp talons swung over the water, attempting to grab them all. They dodged by inches, some of them coughing as they let themselves sink to do so. By its size, they were sure that it had lived centuries, perhaps more.

Cyrus finally decided to use everything in his hand, knowing there would be no other days to do so if he didn’t. While he shot and ran with them all, Samir acted cunningly, having caught onto the dark shade of those eyes. They did not have a jade tonality.

No one knew anymore why there were so many distinctive vampiric species, but they had no choice but to grow wise to their characteristics. The most common ones were strong against fire, yet the rest feared and dreaded it greatly.

As Gereon pulled at Alma and Nestor through the river, Samir delayed, letting Cyrus pass him by. The blond sent him a very worried glare, seeing him take a flask from his pocket. As the beast circled above and soared down for another swipe, he broke the vial against his club, strongly.

The monster screeched loudly and made a sharp turn in the air, startled by the gleams of the fire that surged around the weapon. Samir snarled and waved the improvised torch above the water, hitting those talons in his defiance.

Nestor scowled while he ran reluctantly through the shallow water. Gereon was leading them all downstream, as fast as possible. However, they would not be able to run forever. Alma could see the edge of the tall waterfall as well, where the river led.

Their run came to an end after a few minutes, and the fire would not take too long to fade too. Samir had done a great job at keeping the beast off, but not without getting a few cuts and burns in his efforts. It was not easy to dodge into the water and keep the flames alight at the same time.

All stood there at the edge, cornered by the huge drop and the shadow that loomed on them from above. It kept circling them in the air, waiting for a good moment in which to soar down. Each consecutive glide was fiercer, and less deterred by Samir’s swings and Cyrus’ shots.

No arrow would make that thick hairy hide bleed enough. Multiple ones had pierced it, yet the fact had only made it more rageful. They would perish as soon as the fire died out. Those fangs were as big as their trembling hands.

“Father.” Alma called to Gereon, pulling at his sleeve to point at the deep flow of water below. “We must jump.”

Nestor shivered, shooting a glance down the edge. The waterfall was very tall, and its end uneven. There was indeed a pond below, but there were many sharp stones inside it and at its shore. Statistically, a leap could prove to be fatal.

There were risks to such a jump, and yet, it was better than staying at the edge doubting. That was why Gereon nodded grimly, returning her strong grip with his own hand.

“We must.” He commanded, alerting Cyrus and Samir. “Everyone, before that thing lunges again, step closer and-“

Gereon did not manage to tell them to jump.

“Over my dead body.” All gasped, hearing a sudden splash and rush. They paled as they saw Nestor run off slightly offshore. He left the security of the group, shouting and waving his arms for the beast to see. “Hey, fat piece of guano!”

He purposely left the river, trying to get the old vampire’s attention. Of course, that prompted everyone to yell in shocked alarm.

“Nestor, what the hell are you doing?!”

“Come back here you idiot!”

He ignored Alma’s inquiry and Cyrus’ demand. As intended, the monster set eyes on him, judging by the growled hiss it let out above. The shadow began to loom over him instead, something that prompted him to run faster towards the trees.

Samir tried to run after him, but as he did, those six wings batted strongly near them all. He was forced to stop sharply and shield the fire from water and wind, for it was the only thing that kept the beast off. All panted as the vampire soared swiftly over the river, right between them and Nestor. It glided towards him quickly, faster than any arrow Cyrus could shoot. The blond did aim for it and pierced it again on its back, yet it was unfazed; its rush was unbreakable. It wanted lone prey, a prompt end to its hunger.

They screamed and called at the waterfall’s edge, secured by both fire and water, things the vampire would rather avoid. As Nestor ran into the forest, he stopped hearing them; their voices were drowned by the sound of loud hisses and deafening flaps of wing.

It was fast, and now there was no way he could go back with it in between. The only thing that prevented it from impaling him on its long talons was the fact that he dodged behind trees constantly, evading by inches each lunge and swipe.

The forests offered some protection while he tried to flee and take it away, but not much; it stopped flying. He wheezed when a fierce thud made the earth shake. It landed on the ground, using its maws to bite past any branches in its way. When he would hide behind a tree, it would jump and perch onto it, to then try to swat him to the ground with its long arms or wings.

It truly did its best to catch him, and it seemed to be due to divine intervention that it failed for so long. In its rage, it threw down heavy logs and trees, allowing him to duck below or by them. The bushes kept hiding him from its dark gaze, no matter how sharp.

He was only human, fragile, and weak. It tired too, but not physically like him. With a stronger lunge, it managed to hit him with the point of one of its tattered wings. All breath escaped him when it made contact with his side, sending him tumbling to the ground.

The huge beast leaned forth and bit down onto the bushes he fell through. Its fangs tore at branches and stones, but no flesh or bone. As it realized this fact, it arched its body up and swiped at it all with a claw, revealing the pronounced slope behind the shrubs.

Nestor huffed and groaned, rolling violently down the hill. He got more cuts as he hit rocks and saplings, which he did not manage to shield himself from. His fall was abrupt, sudden. He could not spot the drop in his instinctive rush, and the swing of that wing only worsened the plunge.

Eventually, he hit the bottom. In his daze, he tried to stand. A hiss escaped him as he did, feeling a very acute pain surge through his leg. At the very least, he had an injured ankle, if not a broken bone. That always meant a death sentence for anyone unlucky enough to suffer it. Physical prime was a must… more so when a predator lurked nearby.

He cried and huffed, doing his best to get up. His hand pushed desperately onto the humid ground, for he saw the huge shadow inch closer from above. It was crawling towards him, and his clouded vision did not hide the fact that it was opening its maws in a hellish, silent hiss.

Its approach was not slow, yet it felt eternal. He could swear that his life was flashing before his eyes. Her smile was interposed over the beastly sneer that loomed over him, his mind a hazed blur of terrified and longing thoughts.

He closed his eyes, having seen those six wings tower over him, hiding any trace of light. He felt that strong breath, and he knew it was over. Those fangs would sink into his body and tear him apart until no blood was left, yet he did not regret what he did. He just hoped that his remains would distract it enough for them to run far.

There was no fighting, only sacrifices. He was glad it was him this time. A claw laid onto him and stole all his breath; although huge, the vampire was not as heavy as it seemed. It only stabbed him slightly when its nails got a hold of him.

He was pulled up, something that made him let out a sharp cry, both due to the cuts and pain in his leg. The smell of blood made the beast gurgle in anticipation; there was no pause, just simple methodical deliberation. It could remember in a primal way the times in which it would hold its prey in a tight embrace, long before it lost its human body.

It leaned him in an angle that would allow it to drain him completely, by piercing his chest and heart. Those wings tangled around him, binding him between them; meanwhile, it arched its neck and torso up, opening its jaws to a great extent.

He did not see any of that, keeping his eyes closed tight. That was why he screamed when a hiss echoed in the air, not knowing it had not been the monster biting down sharply. It was only when the wings parted and dropped him that he realized he was not torn apart, and that the beast had stumbled back.

Nestor did his best to raise his gaze from the ground, only to see the vampire squirm and howl in pain. It was swatting wildly at its own chest, pierced by something he had never seen in his life. Survivors like him had never had the chance to study the weapons that the olden civilization used. He had no idea what a ballista was; to him, what had gone through the vampire looked like a huge arrow.

He was bleeding, in pain. His vision blurred even more, and he couldn’t actively choose to move. Shadows moved all around him, not only due to the towering trees that swayed with the wind. Multiple figures dashed past him, wielding weapons that gleamed, pointed at the huge abomination.

The smell of blood mixed, both vampiric and human. It was not only his. If he had a clear mind, he would have been witness to something unfathomable. Although soon wounded, those figures were not the ones to perish. The biggest shadow twisted and swiped for some minutes, yet it kept retreating, struck again by another big bolt.

The loud hisses did not flow in rage, but in agony. As he lost consciousness, he saw the gleams of fire surge onto the forest, caused by the last desperate rush of that shadow. The beast fell down dead in the distance, and while the figures neared him… he heard the distant echo of familiar voices, which called as he fell into a deep slumber.