The narrow streets of Paris were alive with the pulse of the night. Music spilled from bars and dance halls, mingling with the laughter of tourists and the occasional shout of a reveller. The city, bathed in the soft glow of gas lamps, seemed to breathe with the energy of its inhabitants, each alleyway promising a new adventure, a hidden secret.

Armand stood at the corner of a building, half in shadow, his form almost blending with the darkness. His dark eyes, deep and unreadable, scanned the bustling street with a predator's focus. He leaned casually against the stone wall, the very picture of ease, but beneath that calm exterior, every sense was sharpened, every instinct honed. He could feel the life around him—each heartbeat, each quickened breath, a reminder of the humanity he no longer possessed.

He was waiting, watching. The crowd moved around him, unaware of his presence, a phantom in their midst. Somewhere among them was the one he sought, the one who had unknowingly caught the interest of a creature far older, far deadlier, than any of them could imagine. Armand's lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile as he spotted a figure moving through the throng.

For now, he would wait, content to observe, to let the night reveal its secrets to him. The hunt had only just begun.