France — 1945

It had been five years since New Orleans. Five years since the night soaked in blood and betrayal, when Louis and his fledgling Claudia conspired to kill Lestat de Lioncourt. Five years wandering across a wounded Europe in search of something neither of them could truly name. They had no plan. Only the road. The continent was broken. Cities were hollowed by war, their bones still smoldering. Refugees drifted like ghosts through railway stations and ruined streets. For Louis and Claudia, the journey had been harder still. They were strangers everywhere they went. A Black man and a young Black girl traveling alone across postwar Europe drew suspicion, stares, sometimes violence. Nights were safer than days, and even the nights were not kind.

Claudia never stopped searching. Louis never stopped remembering. She remained furious with him for leaving Lestat’s body behind in New Orleans. In her mind the mistake was unforgivable. 'You should have burned him', she would say. Louis feared she was right. In Belgium they thought they had finally found one of their own. A woman — pale, ancient, with the unmistakable scent of their kind. But the vampire had walked into the flames before speaking a single word to them.

After that, the silence of the world felt unbearable. No covens. No elders. No hidden societies. Only ashes, rumors, and disappointment. Still Claudia hoped. Still she pushed them onward. By the time they reached the forests of France, winter clung stubbornly to the earth. The war’s aftermath lingered there too — displaced camps, soldiers without homes, villagers who spoke in hushed tones. It was in one such camp that they first heard the stories. People disappearing. Livestock found drained. A soldier who had wandered into the nearby forest and never returned. Louis dismissed it immediately. Europe was full of ghosts and rumors now. Grief made monsters out of shadows. But Claudia heard something else in the tale. Hope. So they went.

The forest was thick and ancient, swallowing sound and light alike. The deeper they walked, the stronger the scent became. Blood. They found him in a clearing. A soldier lay crumpled on the ground, his uniform dark with fresh crimson. Above him stood a figure, lips pressed to the man’s throat, drinking deeply. Claudia didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward into the clearing before Louis could stop her.

“Bonjour,” she called softly. The vampire’s head snapped up. Claudia raised her hands slightly, her small fangs catching the dim light as she smiled.

“Please don’t be afraid.”

She glanced back at Louis for just a moment before returning her gaze to the stranger.

“We’re like you.”