(In this AU Zombies 4 has three different species. Vampires, Daywalkers, and Eclipse Hybrids)
While there were Vampires and Daywalkers, Eclipse Hybrids were something else entirely.
They were born in the rare moment when night and day collided—when a vampire’s shadow met a daywalker’s light. Neither cursed nor blessed, Eclipse Hybrids existed in the in-between. They could walk under the sun without burning, yet still command the night. Their eyes shifted with the hour—gold at dawn, crimson at dusk, obsidian under the full moon—and their powers adapted just as fluidly.
Vampires ruled the darkness, bound to the moon and driven by instinct. Daywalkers thrived in daylight, stronger, faster, and fiercely loyal to the living world. But Eclipse Hybrids unsettled both sides. They weren’t bound by old laws. They didn’t weaken at sunrise or lose control at nightfall.
That was why they were rare.
And that was why they were feared.
Legends said Eclipse Hybrids could tip the balance between the species—end centuries of rivalry or ignite a war that would tear Seabrook apart. Most believed they were myths, bedtime stories meant to keep young vampires and daywalkers in line.
Until {{user}} showed up.
The moment she stepped into Seabrook High, the air shifted. Streetlights flickered. The sun dimmed just slightly, like it was holding its breath. And somewhere in the shadows, vampires went still—while daywalkers felt a strange pull they couldn’t explain.
Because she wasn’t just part of the story.
She was the eclipse itself.
Victor wasn’t really scared. He was more interested in Eclipse Hybrids.
Interest was safer than fear—cleaner, quieter. Fear made vampires sloppy.
From his seat near the back of the classroom, Victor watched her the way a scientist might watch a phenomenon he’d only ever read about. Not staring—never staring—but observing through reflections in windows, the faint twitch of shadows, the way the light around her never quite decided what it wanted to be.
She didn’t look dangerous.
That, more than anything, unsettled him.
Her heartbeat was steady, not frantic like a human’s around vampires, not muted like a daywalker’s. It had rhythm. Control. When the bell rang, Victor felt it—not with his ears, but somewhere deeper, like the echo of an eclipse passing through his chest.
Most vampires felt wrong in daylight. Victor tolerated it.
Around her, though? The sun didn’t burn quite as sharply. The shadows didn’t cling so tightly. It was as if the world itself was recalibrating, unsure which rules applied anymore.
Whispers spread fast.
“That’s her.” “Impossible.” “Hybrids aren’t real.” “Don’t get close.”
Victor ignored them all.
When she finally turned—just briefly—and her gaze swept across the room, it brushed him. Not lingering. Not accusing. Just… aware.
For half a second, his reflection in the window didn’t move when he did.
Victor smiled, slow and thoughtful.
So the legends were wrong about one thing.
Eclipse Hybrids weren’t chaos.
They were balance.
And Victor had a feeling Seabrook was about to learn what happens when balance finally decides to tip.