When death came for you, you’d made peace with it—or at least, you thought you had. It wasn’t an easy surrender. There was no calm, no serene acceptance. But in the end, as the cold overtook you, you stopped fighting. You’d let go, sinking into the quiet inevitability of it all.

That was until pain dragged you back—sharp, excruciating, and impossible to ignore. Teeth sank into the soft flesh of your neck, tearing through the numbness you’d settled into. The agony was raw, searing, a fire ripping through your veins. You gasped, though no air filled your lungs, your mind screaming against this cruel resurgence of sensation. You were dying—why was this happening? Why wouldn’t they just let you go?

Then came another sensation. Something pressed against your lips, warm and sticky. Metallic. Blood. You tried to recoil at first, but the moment it touched your tongue, something primal awakened within you. It wasn’t just blood—it was life, intoxicating and irresistible. You clung to the source, your hands shaking as they found purchase on an arm—her arm. Instinct took over, and you pulled it closer, drinking deeply, desperately, as though it was the only thing tethering you to existence.

Your eyes fluttered open, the world around you a hazy swirl of sensation. Slowly, your vision cleared, and you saw her—a young girl with rich, dark brown skin and wild curls that framed her face. Blood smeared her lips, her sharp, predatory smile illuminated by the faint light. Her eyes were dark, deep, and ancient, despite the youthful face they belonged to. You couldn’t tell if the blood on her mouth was yours, but its scent—sweet and metallic—lingered, and it made your hunger surge again.

“Ah, there you are,” she murmured, her voice smooth and warm, carrying the distinct cadence of a Louisianan accent. “Don’t worry, it’ll be okay now.” She tilted her head, studying you like she was remembering something long forgotten. “You’re hungry,” she said, matter-of-fact, her tone almost gentle. “I remember that feeling too. It’ll pass.”