The moon bled red over Whitmoor.
Church bells tolled midnight, though no one had rung them.
A shiver ran through the spines of those still awake — and a scream shattered the silence from the north end of town.
Steve stood in the center of the street, his hands drenched in blood. A torn body slumped at his feet — one of the town's police officers, shredded like paper. His eyes, once icy and calculating, now burned with crimson fury. He was evolving — more powerful, more unstable.
"Bring me the boy," Steve growled, turning toward a line of cloaked figures emerging from the shadows.
They weren't human.
One by one, vampires of different bloodlines crept into Whitmoor under Steve's command — some ancient, some wild, others bound by blood-debt to the Crimson Order. The town was no longer just a place. It was a target. A feeding ground. A ticking time bomb.
Farther south, in the quiet corner of a narrow alley, Mr. Sabastin adjusted his coat as he observed the signs — symbols carved into walls, ash lingering in the wind, whispers carried by ravens. The magic in the air was old. Dangerous. Familiar.
"Something is here," he muttered. "Something older than me."
Meanwhile, Alex stood in his backyard, his breathing unsteady. The skin along his arms prickled as veins glowed faintly red beneath the surface. He had tried to sleep, but the dreams wouldn't let him. The monarch with eyes like fire. The voices that echoed his name. The shadows reaching for his soul.
He clenched his fists. Sparks of blood energy surged in his palms. They hissed and burned like living fire.
"I need answers," Alex whispered. "I need to find him."
Just then, Adam burst through the gate, his face pale. "Bro… we have a problem. Huge. They're here."
Alex's eyes snapped up. "Who?"
"Vampires. Loads of them. I saw them. A woman near the station — she drained a guy in seconds. Then disappeared. Like smoke."
Alex felt his bones ache again — a hunger crawling up his throat.
He didn't feel like himself anymore.
"Let's go," he said, voice sharper now, unnatural. "We need to find Sabastin."
---
Mr. Sabastin's office had been torn apart. Glass beakers shattered. Papers strewn. Bloodstains on the floor. The vault door stood wide open — but what lay inside was more terrifying.
A coffin. Black. Ancient.
It was now… empty.
Sabastin stood at its side, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the blood trail leading outside.
"They found it," he whispered. "The Crown of the First."
A loud crash outside made him reach for the hidden blade under his coat. Before he could move, the shadows shifted. Steve stepped into view, smirking, blood dripping from his nails.
"Well, well," Steve drawled. "Sabastin, the alchemist. Still hiding secrets?"
Sabastin's expression didn't change. "I taught you better than this."
Steve laughed — a cruel, echoing sound. "You taught me formulas. I learned power on my own."
And then, without warning, Steve lunged.
Sabastin met him midair, their collision shattering a lab table. Glass and flame erupted as the two immortals clashed. Sabastin's blade slashed through Steve's coat, drawing a line of black blood — but Steve only grinned.
"Old man," he whispered, "I'm not here to kill you. Yet. I want the boy."
"You won't have him," Sabastin growled, his voice laced with ancient magic. "He is the heir."
Steve's smile vanished. "Then I'll rip the crown from his corpse."
With a feral snarl, he vanished into mist, leaving Sabastin coughing amid smoke and ruin.
---
Across town, Alex and Adam reached the edge of the forest. It was colder here. Too quiet.
Alex stepped forward and placed his hand against the tree bark. The symbols appeared — faint runes glowing under his touch.
"Sabastin marked this path," he said.
Adam hesitated. "Are you sure we should keep going?"
Alex looked at him, and for a second, his pupils turned slitted. His voice deepened.
"I'm not turning back."
As they moved deeper into the woods, they found remnants of a ritual ground. Stones soaked in old blood. Candles still flickering despite the wind. At the center, a sigil — a monarch's crest carved into earth.
Alex stepped onto it. His heart thundered.
A voice echoed in his mind.
"You cannot escape your blood."
He fell to his knees as visions flooded his mind — a great war between vampires, the rise of the first monarch, a pact made with death itself. His ancestors. His destiny.
Adam knelt beside him. "Alex, you okay?!"
Alex stood slowly, eyes burning bright.
"I know what I am now."
From the shadows, a figure watched.
The vampire girl — crimson cloak, twin daggers. Her name was Elira. She had been sent to find Alex… or kill him.
But as she looked into his changing face, something inside her stirred.
He's not like the others.
She whispered to herself, "He might actually survive it."
And then she vanished, leaving no trace behind.
---
Night deepened over Whitmoor.
The vampire clans gathered at the edge of town, and Steve stood above them all.
"Bring me Alex," he shouted. "The crown belongs to the strong. And I will become the true Blood Monarch."
The hunt had begun.