Elara didn't sleep that night. She sat at the edge of her bed, hands trembling, the dagger across her lap. Her grandmother tried to question her, but Elara gave no answers only silence and wide, haunted eyes. By morning, her world had changed.
The villagers were whispering. Another person had vanished Ronan, the woodcutter's son. He was last seen heading toward the forest for firewood. His axe was found near the edge of Black Hollow... the blade bent, the handle bloodied. Elara knew. The vampire had returned. At midday, she slipped into the attic. There, behind a false panel in the wall, she found the object she half-remembered from childhood stories an old, leather-bound journal with the initials A.T. pressed into the cover.
Aric Thorn.
Her ancestor. The betrayer. She opened it with shaking hands. The pages smelled of ash and time. Inside were entries from two centuries ago some in ink, some in faded blood.
> October 13, 1812
He came again tonight. Pale as death, eyes like coal, whispering sweet promises to the others. But I see what he hides beneath the charm. He is not a man. He drinks the blood of sheep... and now children.
> October 21, 1812
I've made contact with the Order. They've given me the tools: ashwood, silver, salt. But they warned me what is slain in darkness may not stay dead.
> October 25, 1812
His name is Thorne. A cruel joke I share his cursed name. He must be sealed in the Hollow. If I fail, let this book be my warning.
Elara's breath caught. The vampire had a name: Thorne. And he had a history with her bloodline older than the village itself. She flipped to the back, where symbols had been drawn circles of protection, burial marks, sealing runes. All ancient. All worn.
Suddenly, the lantern in her room flickered violently.
The air dropped in temperature. A chill crawled up her neck. She wasn't alone. Elara turned slowly. Standing in the hallway beyond her door was a shadow tall, still, and watching. "Your blood remembers me," the voice whispered. She grabbed the dagger and rushed forward but when she flung the door open, the hallway was empty. Only the smell of smoke and something... metallic remained. She backed into the room and locked the door, her heart racing.
He was toying with her. Not killing testing. Outside, the red moon was rising. Elara opened the journal again, this time determined to memorize every line, every symbol. Because Thorne had cursed her family. But she would be the one to break it.