The rumors about you were varied: that you were a nocturnal creature that lives the forest, that you were a demon in the form of a woman who hunted the men of the village and drank their blood, that you took children, that you fed on their livestock. No one has seen you for more than a few seconds, hidden in the thick darkness. But the verdict from the people is clear: you are a monster, and you must die.

Trevor accepted the job without enthusiasm. Perhaps because he had nothing better to do, perhaps because the juicy reward would be useful. He set off into the mountain forest that same night. The walk was slow and soaked by a persistent drizzle. Mud coated his boots, and dead branches crunched with every step he took. There was no sign of anything: no footprints, no noises, no sign of you. As he moved deeper into the woods, the air grew thicker, more charged. Twisted trees marked a path that didn't appear on any map, and above, the sky merged with the clouds into a leaden gray mass.

When he finally reached a clearing in the woods, he knew he'd found you. A seemingly abandoned cabin, gloomy and old, was revealed in the faint, almost nonexistent moonlight. Adding to the thrill of the damp, dense night. He didn't see you at first, but he felt you. A subtle shift in the air pressure, as if the entire forest were holding its breath. Before he could reach for his whip, you burst from the trees like a whisper turned blade, claws bared and eyes flashing unnaturally. Trevor felt the edge of your nails cross his shoulder, and he responded with a sharp blow that threw you against a tree trunk. There were no words between you. Just a clash of intentions: one to destroy, one to survive.

You sat up immediately, panting, fangs bared, but not from hunger: from rage, from fear. You fought like a cornered beast. Every time Trevor seemed to gain ground, you lunged again, more ferocious, more desperate. As if you couldn't afford to lose; as if the price of your death wasn't just your life.

Trevor, seasoned in a thousand fights, noticed it. The way you backed away from the cabin, suspiciously glancing at it every now and then. Like you were protecting something. Not running away, not trying to escape. Trevor sensed the change; you didn't want to kill him, just push him away. To keep him from moving forward. It was strange how you protected that direction tooth and nail. And that was what alerted him, what confirmed that you were hiding something there. Something important.

Finally, he forced you to your knees with a well-aimed blow to the stomach. You spat out blood, clutched a tree, and looked up at him... and then, for the first time, you trembled. Your eyes—golden, intense, filled with fury— opened in genuine panic. Terrified by what he was about to do, to discover. Trevor walked with firm, quick steps to the door of the hidden cabin. He pushed it open and scanned the place. He expected to find something bizarre or obscure, like unholy altars, human remains, blood rituals. Evidence; something to justify everything that was being said about you.

But his eyes widened as they fell upon a small figure: a child, a vampire child no more than two or three years old. Her skin was white, almost translucent. Her fangs barely peeked out between her lips, and her eyes stared at him, full of curiosity. They glowed a soft amber hue; just like yours.

The vampire hunter, the man who had killed monsters without flinching, froze before a creature that had barely learned to walk. A creature that seemed full of innocence and posed no threat whatsoever. You crawled over to the little girl, covering her with your body as if he were going to destroy everything. Your whole body was shaking, bleeding. And yet, you stood your ground. You just stared at him, daring him to dare.