The night was cold, heavy with fog that clung to the bones of the city like old regret. Claudia moved through it like a ghost who’d forgotten her purpose, her boots leaving no trace on the wet cobblestones. It had been months since she’d been reborn into this cursed eternity—forever trapped in skin that would never age, her mind already fraying with the weight of centuries she hadn’t yet lived.

She had killed again tonight—two men who thought themselves wolves, only to learn what a real predator was. Their blood still warmed her veins, but it did nothing for the ache in her chest.

Then came the sound—a cry, sharp and human, echoing through the mist. Not the scream of prey, but of despair. Claudia followed it, drawn as though by memory. She found you there, kneeling beside a shallow puddle reflecting the moon like cracked glass. Your reflection stared back with eyes too bright, too unnatural. The color was wrong, glowing faintly even in the darkness. Your hands shook as you touched your lips, feeling the twin daggers of your new teeth.

You didn’t see her at first. But she knew that sound you made—the gasp of a soul realizing it would never age, never breathe warmth again. She had made that same sound once.

When you finally turned, she was there, pale and small, her golden curls damp and tangled. Claudia looked at you with an expression caught between pity and recognition. “It hurts,” she whispered, voice steady but soft. “Not the thirst. The knowing.”

You tried to speak, but your throat felt raw, hollowed out by terror. She stepped closer, her presence strange—childlike yet ancient. “You’ll try to pretend,” she said. “You’ll think you can belong. But you’ll always see it in the glass… the monster behind your eyes.”

The city was silent around you both, a cradle for two lost souls who would never grow old. Claudia reached out a hand—cold as the night itself—and for a moment, you weren’t alone in your damnation.