Dark.
It was dark as pitch black as I made my way finally to the only place I liked to call home. It didn't feel like any other night but today it seems different. The night air was thick with the scent of rain and old books, the university library was a great place to escape reality was starting to kick on for tomorrow's exam.
I walked hurriedly through the dimly lit corridors of the university library. It was well past midnight, and the halls were deserted, save for the occasional flicker of a dying fluorescent bulb. It was somehow comforting than the constant yaps of humans around. I was never fond of being the people's pick, I would rather just burry my bodies in the books and called it a day. It was boring, but somehow the lingering feeling of peace always calls in my system and to be honest I rather have it that way.
It felt right, when the constant of migraine always kicking on because the constant battle with oneself to finish a job. In my defense, I wasn't supposed to be in here anyways as it was late, no mere human was really stupid enough to go out adventuring in to the late night and eerie halls of these corridors but deadlines couldn't wait for anyone and besides I've gotten a good book to dose around for a while trying to procrastinate over the constant ambush of work.
Curiosity does kill the cat. As I slowly pulled out an ancient book —a dusty, leather-bound book with pages that smelled of forgotten history—was unlike anything I have ever read. Sure trying to forget a horrible past was one thing but this seems different and I want to know what had happened.
The book spoke of creatures that walked among humans, hiding in plain sight. Vampires. But not the kind from cheap horror movies. These were rulers of the night, their existence woven into the very fabric of history, pulling strings from the shadows. What I have thought to be just myths were absolutely true—for once I had stayed quiet and pretend I didn't remember a single thing. Not even when the people who had cared for me abandon me in a place I was forcedly called home for 15 years before finally moving out, and manage to get into university. It was sure a blessing, but I know luck that runs like that will only hit the jackpot once, not twice but definitely never trice.
But of course, those silly memories I try to forget was merely something I had seen and long forgotten, purely the books now was just a blaff to some people—stories meant to entertain or scare—but something about this book felt different.
I have always love a good humor on those nightly fanged creature, stories that was pushed into my mind a bit to hard, was merely just stories as I have never encountered one. Fictions and novels that depicted in those humorous books were vividly reminding me of the memories I try to bury. Nevertheless I felt like I too believe in those silly stories as for once, they seem a bit more accurate than what I had remembered back than.
But the book I held, was too real. Too precise. The inked words burned into once mind, filling me with unease. I have a fair share of thousands of rumors of those nightly fanged creature being all to real. Although some choose to worship them like mighty Gods, I like to think of them of stories that are used to pry people from learning any truth of the world. I mean the world works in wonders, and sometimes, it seems like a big information to handle for just a small meekly human.
But when given such information words after words given, I'm starting to believe that all the things I've seen before might be what people who had given me a roof over my head nightmares every night.
"The Blood Moon will rise, and with it, the heir shall awaken."
I couldn't help to shiver at the thought of mere words creeping in. As I flipped the pages, what brings shiver to my spine is that a book in a place I had never thought would exist in-scripted the family name. I thought it was just a pure coincidence that anyone could have similar and even same family names, but when I saw mothers name, I knew it wasn't just a pure coincidence anymore.
Loosely I held the book in my fingertips trying my best to remember if I had ever touched the book when I was little or if mom had ever held the book closely to her, but nothing. No memory of it, I can remember, only the tingling feeling when the pages brushes in my fingertips, flipping through the book and knowning that every moment of the stories or warnings in-scripted in the books were familiar yet so distance.
But before I could process what was happening, and eerie feeling came creeping inside my body and I felt it, the shivers. I felt it in my bones that something was not right that night and I should have listen to my guts when I knew something was wrong.
It was late pass midnight and I knew I needed to get out of this place, I check my phone and there were messages from the foster family that I grew up with. I packed up my belongings and quickly headed outside, while passing the now dead silent corridors the overhead light flickered violently. A whisper of cold air brushed against the back of my neck, and I quickly look back to see what happened.
I thought that it might be the wind brushing my skin, but as I turn back the wind wasn't the kind from an open window.
And as my steps begin heavily thumping throughout the halls of library, I have notice something that caught my breath. Every turn I took, I notice that my steps were somehow counted double to what I've walked. That's when I notice that someone was behind me.
I turned sharply, with heart hammering through my ears, and my breath hitched as I notice a figure standing in shadows between the giant pillars of the halls. Tall, dressed in all black, there stood a person lingering in the dark, as if he had darkness wrapped around his fingers.
The figure notice that I had notice his presence and he stood there eerily quiet observing my quietly, and then exact moment I felt the room was suffocating. His dark eyes glowed under the dim light—an unnatural, golden hue that send my body in a shock of waves, my body begins to tremble and my mind, body, head was screaming and begged to run.
I knew that he was danger.
"You shouldn't be reading that," that stranger said, his smooth velvet but edged voice rasped out slowly. I was still in shock as whoever 'it' was he could understand my language. He was still observing me slowly, detail by detail as if he was afraid I might shifted into something unrecognizable.
I swallowed hard, gripping the book tighter. "Who are you?" I asked, pretending not hearing his statement. Of course, I shouldn't read the book, but who was he to banned me from doing anything that I wanted to know.
He had notice I wasn't the kind who would just give up and answer and he chuckled. He stepped forward, slow, deliberate, the scent of something sweet—almost metallic—lingering in the air between us. To be honest, I was ready to make a run for it, but at the back of my head, I knew that I needed to be here, in this moment and in the presence of the mysterious figure. "Someone who's been watching you for a while."
My blood turned to ice. He had been watching me? Who was he?
"Why?"
His lips curled into a smirk, revealing a hint of sharp canines.
"Because, sweetheart… you're not supposed to exist."