My breath tore from my lungs in ragged gasps, each inhale cutting sharp and cold against the night air. The forest floor was a treacherous maze beneath my pounding feet, roots and jagged stones threatening to trip me with every desperate stride. I didn't dare slow down. My foster parents' voices echoed in my mind, a relentless chant that drowned out the howling wind: Run, Selina. Run and never look back.

But how could I not look back? It wasn't defiance that made me glance over my shoulder—it was something far more primal. Fear tangled with a sickening curiosity, compelling me to turn even when every fiber of my being screamed not to. The sight that met my eyes stole what little breath I had left. Flames roared in the distance, consuming my village with an unholy hunger, their violent glow painting the night in hues of crimson and orange. It was as though the sky itself had been set ablaze.

Shadows darted and stumbled through the inferno—villagers scattering like leaves in a storm. Their screams, shrill and animalistic, sliced through the smoky air. The sounds of terror mingled with the brutal clash of steel and the inhuman snarls of our attackers. Through the chaos, monstrous figures on horseback loomed, their dark cloaks billowing as they cut down anything in their path. Somewhere among the fallen were Elisha and Thom, my foster parents. My family.

A hot tear escaped, carving a path down my cheek, but there was no time to grieve. The village was gone, swallowed by an unstoppable tide of death. And I? I was next if I didn't keep running.

The air seemed to grow colder, heavier, as a prickling sensation raced up the nape of my neck. It was the kind of feeling that defied explanation, an instinct older than words—a predator's gaze on prey. My stomach churned. I wasn't alone. Panic surged through my veins, my legs finding a second wind I didn't know they had as I pushed myself harder, faster.

The villagers had always warned against venturing this far into the mountains. The higher paths were shrouded in superstition, tales of spirits and cursed woods meant to keep the curious at bay. But those stories meant nothing now. Survival demanded that I go where no one dared, even if it meant trading one nightmare for another.

The forest closed in around me, the towering pines like sentinels, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky. Shadows danced wildly in the faint moonlight, and my own mind betrayed me, turning every rustle of leaves into imagined footsteps, every gust of wind into a whisper of pursuit. My chest burned, my breaths coming in shallow bursts as my pace faltered. I couldn't keep this up much longer. My body was reaching its limit, muscles screaming for relief, lungs aflame.

I was so consumed by fear that I didn't see it.

The collision was brutal, the impact knocking me flat on my back. Stars exploded behind my eyes as pain rippled through my skull and down my spine. I lay there, disoriented, the cold earth biting into my skin. Before I could scramble to my feet, hands clamped around my arms, their grip iron-strong.

"Who—?" My voice cracked, a pathetic croak, as I fought to make sense of what had happened.

"Quiet," a voice growled near my ear. Low, smooth, and commanding, it sent a shiver down my spine. The warmth of breath against my skin felt almost intimate, but it carried the weight of a predator's claim. "No more running."

I blinked rapidly, the world around me coming into sharper focus. My captors stood like statues on either side of me, their features hidden in shadow. But it was the figure approaching from the darkness that held my gaze. Regal, impossibly poised, he stepped from the shadows with a predator's grace. His carriage gleamed faintly in the dusky light, an ornate thing that seemed more a relic of some bygone era than an actual mode of transport.

The man—no, the vampire—was as striking as he was terrifying. His angular face was pale, almost luminescent under the moonlight, framed by sleek black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Eyes like molten gold glinted with an intelligence and cruelty that made my stomach turn. As he moved closer, I caught the faintest scent of something metallic, like blood mixed with earth.

"You're afraid," he said, his voice a rich blend of mockery and menace. His lips curled into a smile, revealing elongated canines that gleamed like daggers. My body stiffened as he reached for me, tilting my chin with a deliberate gentleness that only made the moment more horrifying. He angled my neck, exposing the vulnerable line of my throat.

The bite came swiftly, a searing pain that stole what little composure I had left. It was sharp, invasive, and all-consuming. My body convulsed, my vision blurring as the world tilted on its axis. But just as quickly as it began, it was over.

The vampire staggered back, spitting my blood onto the ground with a hiss of disgust. His elegant features twisted into a mask of fury, his golden eyes darkening until they were ringed with black.

"She's a Morose," he snarled, the word laced with venom. His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like the crack of a whip.

The term sent a chill through me. I knew enough to grasp that it wasn't good. Blood unfit for vampires. Useless but a threat, if I were to have children it would spread the spoiled blood.

 My heart hammered in my chest as his claws elongated, each one glinting in the faint light like a blade. I was going to die.

"Wait!" The word burst from my throat, desperate and raw. The vampire paused, his claws poised mid-strike. His gaze bore into me, a predator deciding whether its prey was worth the effort.

"I'm barren," I blurted, the words tumbling out before I could think them through.

His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer. The air around him seemed to grow colder, heavier, as he leaned in, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply near my skin.

"You don't carry the scent of a man," he muttered, his tone a strange mix of curiosity and disdain. "A virgin, then. But barren?" His disbelief was palpable.

"It's true," I insisted, my voice trembling as I struggled against the vampires holding me. "I've never experienced a woman's bleeding."

"Impossible." The word was a hiss, low and dangerous, but his hand lowered slightly.

"I swear it," I whispered, my breath hitching as exhaustion dragged at me. "I'm... I'm still useful. I can cook. Clean. I know herbs. Medicine. I can read."

His hand froze mid-swing, the razor-sharp claws inches from my face. His eyes locked onto mine, calculating. For a fleeting moment, I dared to hope.

But hope is a cruel thing.

In one fluid motion, his arm transformed, claws scythe-like blades that ripped through me with impossible precision. Pain erupted, white-hot and all-consuming. My scream lodged in my throat as blood surged, filling my mouth.

The vampire loomed over me, his golden eyes burning like twin suns, as he cleaned his hand of my acrid blood.