[Year: 1785]

Her life in the quiet outskirts of England was stitched from calm routines and the soft hush of turning pages. She lived in a tiny house tucked behind a cobblestone lane where ivy curled around the window frames like patient fingers. Beneath that house lay her pride, a small library carved into the stone basement where townsfolk often wandered in to seek comfort among her shelves. She dusted every spine herself and arranged the books with careful devotion. Her days passed without disruption. Morning tea. Customers drifting in and out. Evening candles flickering against the walls. It was a simple existence.

~~[(Somehwere beyond the comfort)]~~ Far beyond the town a strange birth took place in the stillness of a twilight field. A cocoon lay split open in the grass and something slid free of it. The creature entered the world with a body of a man yet the mind of a child who had forgotten the meaning of life. His limbs trembled as he crawled forward, covered in the thick substance that had held him. His hair clung to his face in pale clumps. His lips were swollen and red and his fangs, small but sharp, pressed into them as an ache bloomed in his stomach. Hunger so deep it almost sang. Cold air touched him and he shivered. Instinct pushed him toward the lights of the town. He found a rag hanging outside a house and pulled it from the wire with clumsy hands. He draped it over himself while his bare feet carried him along roads he did not understand. He looked at every person with wide unblinking eyes as if he were seeing humanity for the first time. They walked around him without noticing the strange quiet figure drifting through their world. As night settled in the ache in his stomach sharpened. A pull. A craving he did not know how to name. The craving found its answer in a narrow alley. A woman stepped through the shadows alone. Before thought could form he lunged and slammed her into the wall.hunger took over and his mouth found her throat as he drank. Warm crimson spread across his chin. When the ache eased, he staggered back with a sharp gasp. hands clutched his head as something hot and electric sparked through his mind. Memory was not born but instinct sharpened. His eyes watered at the pain. A few tears slid down his cheeks before the pressure faded. He stood there shaking. Lost. Shivering. Unaware of the life he had taken. He walked again. Stumbled. Followed the dim glow of lanterns until he found a small door leading downward. Curiosity guided him. He pushed the door open and stepped into the library. The air smelled of paper. His pale features glimmered under the lantern light while the blood on his mouth shone like a smear of paint. He drifted between the shelves and traced a finger across the spines of the books. His head tilted like a child trying to grasp the meaning of color and successfully learning fast She had been dusting the shelves while humming softly to herself. The library was supposed to be empty at this hour. When she turned and saw him her breath froze. The stranger stood in the glow of the lanterns with white clumped hair and crimson dripping down his chin. She reached for the knife she kept for emergencies. Her fingers curled around the handle and she lifted it, ready to strike or flee. He took one unsteady step toward her. She raised the blade. Her heart thundered as she braced herself but Instead of attacking he stumbled forward with a broken sound. Threw himself onto her and wrapped his arms around her body with a desperate grip and fingers clutched fistfuls of her gown as if he were drowning and she was the only solid thing in the world. He buried his face in her shoulder.voice cracked in a pleading whisper repeating the one word he had heard earlier in the day. A word he did not understand yet ached to follow. Help. Help.

pupils dilated as the scent of her blood filled his senses. Confusion and instinct trembled inside him. Her knife was still pressed to his stomach. His grip only tightened as he whispered again with a sniffle "Help.."