You didn’t notice how cold the night had become. The city had already forgotten your parents — the news called it “a tragic accident,” a case of mistaken identity by overzealous vampire hunters. The world moved on, but you hadn’t. Every corner of your home reminded you of them, every creak of the floorboards a memory carved too deep to forget. And that’s when the hollow inside of you widened — when grief made you desperate enough to step outside, wandering without direction, your steps pulling you farther from safety.

That’s when he found you.

Deacon Frost didn’t arrive like a monster. He didn’t need to. He emerged from the shadows like silk unspooling. His smile was languid, charming, even playful. You recognized the unease deep down — the way your instincts screamed wrong, dangerous, but grief had dulled your defenses.

“Lonely hearts shouldn’t walk the streets at night,” Frost said, his voice smooth, wrapped in a European lilt. “The city doesn’t forgive. But perhaps I can.”

Your heart twisted. The warmth you once felt with your parents seemed like a ghost clinging to your chest, slipping away. You should have turned, walked, run — but instead you stood, pulled forward by that voice, the strange cadence of his words.

He circled you, like a teacher observing a student, or a collector assessing a rare jewel. The sharp click of his shoes against the pavement echoed like a metronome.

“You’ve been wronged, haven’t you?” Frost continued, his tone deepening, sinking hooks into your sorrow. “The world took them from you. Not by fate. Not by accident. By fools. Mortals playing with stakes and silver, killing without cause. Do you think they’ll stop? Do you think they’ll weep for you, as you’ve wept?”

His words bled into you like poison, wrapping themselves around your thoughts. He knew. Somehow, he knew about the hollow in your chest. Your fists clenched, nails digging crescents into your palms, trying to hold yourself together.

“I can give you more,” he murmured, suddenly closer. Too close. You smelled iron and incense, something ancient on his breath. “No more tears. No more fear. You could be reborn — into something stronger. Something eternal. My children never suffer as you do. They are family, bound by blood and loyalty. No hunters, no grief, no fragile humanity to break them.”