Elara moved slowly through the tangled woods, the wet leaves muffling her steps. The deeper she went, the quieter the world became no birds, no insects, no wind. Only fog and that strange, golden lantern ahead.
She paused at the base of a twisted pine tree. The lantern hung from a crooked branch like a waiting eye. Beneath it stood a figure.
Tall Motionless. He wore a long black coat, buttoned high, and a wide-brimmed hat that cast shadows across his face. His skin, where the moonlight touched it, was unnaturally pale almost gray. Elara's hand tightened on the dagger beneath her cloak. "You shouldn't be here," the man said. His voice was low, smooth, and oddly calm like a lullaby spoken over a grave. "I could say the same to you," Elara replied. Her breath clouded in the air, but his didn't.
He tilted his head slightly, as if amused. "You're braver than the others. They run when they see me. You walk toward the lantern."
"I wanted to know if the stories were true."
"And now that you know?" he asked. She swallowed. "I want answers." The man stepped closer. His boots didn't make a sound on the forest floor. "I've waited a long time for you, Elara."
She froze. "How do you know my name?"
"I know all the names," he said quietly. "Especially those from your bloodline."
Elara took a step back. "What do you mean?"
He reached up slowly, removed his hat, and let it fall to the ground. His face was striking sharp cheekbones, deep-set eyes that gleamed like polished obsidian, and lips that curled too easily into a grin. But it was his teeth that made her heart stutter. Fangs. White. Long. Predatory. "A vampire," she whispered. "Yes." His grin widened. "And your family owes me a debt." She raised the dagger. "What debt?"
"Two hundred years ago, your ancestor Aric Thorn betrayed me to the hunters. I was dragged from my home, staked, and buried in consecrated earth. It took me a century to claw my way free." He moved another step closer. Elara kept her grip tight on the dagger. "So what? You want revenge on a dead man?"
"No," the vampire said, voice low. "I want to end his line." Lightning flashed above the trees. Thunder cracked. The fog swirled violently.
The vampire lunged. Elara slashed the dagger in front of her, just as her father had taught her long ago. The blade cut across his shoulder, and for the first time, the vampire hissed an inhuman, guttural sound that echoed in the woods.
Smoke rose from the wound where the blade had touched him. He staggered back, face twisted in rage. "Silver and ashwood... clever girl."
She ran. Branches tore at her cloak. Roots grabbed at her feet. Behind her, she heard nothing but she felt him, following silently through the trees. When she finally broke through the forest edge and stumbled back into the village fields, the lantern behind her vanished like a dying star. The vampire was gone. But the Hollow had opened. And Elara knew it would not close again.