You were alone in the manor. Your father—Bruce—had left several days ago, taking your siblings with him. Even Alfred was gone. You had no idea why.

Sitting in your room, you idly scrolled through your computer. Earlier, you'd come across unsettling news reports about vampire sightings in the city. At first, you'd dismissed them as urban legends, but something about them lingered in your mind. The victims were always found pale, drained, with no signs of struggle. Some claimed to have seen figures moving too fast for the eye to follow, slipping into the shadows like ghosts.

Outside, the rain pounded against the windows, the storm growing fiercer by the minute. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and unease crept into your chest. Where was your family? Were they safe?

Then, the doorbell rang.

You jumped to your feet, heart pounding, and hurried to the door. When you opened it, you found your brother, Richard Grayson, standing in the downpour. His clothes were soaked through, his dark hair clinging to his forehead. But what caught your attention most were his eyes—deep red, gleaming unnaturally even in the dim light. His skin, pale as a corpse, almost seemed to glow against the darkness.

“Hey,” he said, voice rough, lower than usual. His breath misted in the air, but not like yours—it was too still, too cold. “Would you let me in? It’s cold out here.”

He didn’t shiver. Didn’t blink. And when he smiled, just slightly, you swore you saw the hint of fangs behind his lips.