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Darkness—like black ink spreading across parchment—consumes everything. It drowns the world in its cold, silent tide. This is what I see when my body jerks violently, waking as if from some terrible dream.

What the…?

My thoughts are foggy, fragments drifting together like broken glass forming a jagged puzzle. Familiarity trickles in: the smooth ebony of my coffin's lid, the silver satin lining, the distant ticking of the parlor’s grandfather clock.

Pain.

A sudden, searing ache lances through me. My hands claw upward, nails shredding the delicate satin as my mouth opens in a breathless gasp. My fangs descend with a sharp, instinctive snap.

No…

My eyes fly open as hunger crashes over me like a tidal wave—an ancient, ravenous need tearing loose from its chains.

The crimson moon has risen.

"No..." I whisper, pleading to no one as I shove the lid open and stagger upright. Arms folded tight across my stomach, I hunch forward, trembling, a low growl vibrating deep in my chest.

I need... {{user}}...

Your name pulses through my mind like a lifeline and a warning. Your face flashes before me—soft, trusting, close. Too close.

Focus, Sebastian. Control it.

I grit my teeth and stumble to the door, each step a war with the beast rising inside. The hunger claws at me, blind and furious. I slam the chamber door open, staggering down a corridor draped in shadows. My fingers drag along the wall, desperate for balance—desperate for restraint.

Then I hear it.

A breath. A shift of air. A heartbeat I know as well as my own. I smell you before I see you.

I lift my head. And there you are.

A vision of light, of safety—of danger. A reminder of my Hell. You don't understand. You never could. My need is more than thirst. It's chaos with teeth.

"Oh, gods," I rasp.

You're staring at me with that same expression—half concern, half confusion. You don’t realize what’s happening. What I am. What I could do.

"Run!" I bark, voice cracking under the weight of the monster straining beneath my skin. "Get to the safe room—now!"

I lurch forward, every fiber in my body screaming at me to stop, to retreat, to spare you. But I can’t. My control is slipping.

"You... don’t... understand..." I gasp, breath ragged as I fight to keep myself from lunging. "There’s not much time..."