Chapter 1: The Drowning Dark
Consciousness returned like a knife to the skull.
Not gentle. Not gradual. One moment—nothing. The next—everything.
Pain. Ancient, settled agony that had burned so long it had become texture instead of sensation. Silver through my chest, pinning me like an insect in a collection. Water pressure crushing the coffin around me. Darkness so absolute it had weight.
And awareness. Full, complete, horrible awareness.
You've been awake the entire time.
The realization hit and I would have screamed if my jaw could move. A thousand years. I'd been conscious in this coffin, at the bottom of the ocean, drowning but unable to die, for a millennium.
The memories were there now. Both sets. Crystal clear.
I remembered dying. Nineteen years old, walking home, car running the red light. Impact. Darkness. Then—
"You have been chosen."
The voice had come from everywhere and nowhere. The entity—I never saw its form, just felt its presence like standing before a star—had spoken with absolute certainty.
"You will be reborn in a world of vampires and witches, of ancient magic and eternal night. But first, you may make one wish. Choose carefully."
I'd been terrified. Confused. Dead, apparently, and being offered reincarnation like it was a prize on a game show. But the fear was distant, muted, and the words had come out before I could think them through:
"I want to be an Original vampire. Before the Originals. The first."
"Granted. You will have what you seek. But know this—power without wisdom is burden. Immortality without purpose is curse. Choose your path carefully in the life to come."
Then... nothing. Until I'd woken up.
But not in a coffin. Not in torture. I'd woken up as a baby, crying in a village I'd later learn was near Mystic Falls. Normal childhood. Normal life. No memories of the entity or the deal or dying in another world.
Just Roy Stark, living in a world where Vikings still raided and magic was whispered about in fear.
The transmigrator memories hadn't been there. I'd just been... him. Living. Growing. Surviving.
Until the golden light.
I'd been eighteen. Hunting in the woods outside the village. The sky had split open—silent lightning, golden and pure—and something had fallen like a meteor made of sunshine.
I'd run toward it. Found a bottle half-buried in scorched earth. Golden glass, impossibly beautiful, filled with liquid that glowed like captured starlight.
I'd drunk it without thinking. Because I was eighteen and stupid and it had seemed like the thing to do.
The power had hit like drowning in reverse. Strength flooded my muscles. My senses sharpened until I could hear a rabbit's heartbeat a hundred yards away. Hunger—thirst—had clawed up my throat, desperate and all-consuming.
I'd killed a deer. Drank its blood. And felt alive in a way I'd never experienced before.
But I hadn't understood what it meant. Hadn't known I'd become vampire, become something ancient and powerful. I'd just thought I was sick. Cursed, maybe.
I'd hidden it. Kept living. Kept pretending to be normal even as I stopped aging, stopped needing food, started craving blood.
That's when Esther had found me.
The memories sharpened, coming faster now.
"Remarkable," she'd said, examining me like livestock. "You're immortal. Stronger than any human. But not through any spell I recognize. How is this possible?"
I'd trusted her. Gods, I'd been so stupid. She was a healer, a witch, someone important. When she'd offered to help me understand what I was, I'd believed her.
Mikael had been there too. Her husband. The warrior. He'd looked at me with cold calculation and said, "We could use this."
And they had.
Five years of draining. Of experiments. Of Esther documenting my blood's properties while Mikael held me down and carved runes into my flesh to see how fast I healed.
"Your blood is the key," Esther had whispered during one session. "The perfect foundation. We can make our children immortal like you. Powerful. Eternal."
I'd tried to escape. Failed. They were stronger together—magic and violence combined.
Then came the dagger. Mikael driving silver through my heart while Esther chanted, sealing the paralysis. The last thing I'd seen was her clinical smile.
"You'll serve your purpose from the ocean floor. Thank you for your contribution to my family's future."
And as the dagger's magic had taken hold, as they'd sealed me in the coffin—that's when the memories had returned.
The entity. The deal. The wish I'd made for power.
The golden bottle—that had been the wish fulfilled. I'd become an Original vampire before the Originals existed. Exactly what I'd asked for.
And Esther had stolen it. Used my blood to create her children as vampires. The Originals—Klaus, Elijah, Rebekah, all of them—were made from me.
I'd spent a thousand years underwater with that knowledge. Knowing I'd been used. Knowing my wish had been perverted into torture.
Knowing I'd been conscious, drowning, for every single second.
But now—
The world lurched.
Power surged through the bloodline connection I'd never understood. Vampires. Hundreds of them, all tied back to me through stolen blood. And one connection burning like the sun.
Someone had just broken a curse. Become hybrid. The magic rippled backward through every vampire and hit me like lightning.
The silver dagger's grip loosened.
Not much. Not enough. But the crushing paralysis pulled back from "can't breathe" to "can barely move."
I focused everything on my right hand. Fingers scraped against rotted wood. Twenty minutes to curl my hand into a fist. Another twenty to press my palm against the coffin lid.
I pushed.
Wood groaned. My shoulder socket ground bone against bone but I kept pushing. The coffin lid splintered. Ocean water sprayed through the cracks, pressurized and freezing.
I didn't care. I pushed harder.
The wood shattered. Water flooded in and the pressure should have crushed me but I was already too broken to break further.
I grabbed the silver dagger with both hands. Felt metal sear through my palms. And pulled.
The scream was soundless. Just bubbles rising toward a surface I couldn't see. But the dagger moved. Inch by agonizing inch.
The moment it cleared my heart, sensation exploded through my body.
Hunger. Overwhelming, ancient hunger. A millennium without blood screaming for satisfaction.
But also: freedom.
I kicked through the coffin remains. Looked around. Black ocean in every direction.
Bubbles. Follow the bubbles up.
I swam. Every stroke was agony. Muscles atrophied from a thousand years of paralysis screaming in protest.
But I swam anyway.
Black water turned to deep blue. Deep blue to lighter blue. The pressure decreased. The temperature warmed.
Moonlight.
I broke the surface gasping and just floated for a moment, staring at the moon that looked exactly the same as it had a millennium ago.
Then I started laughing. Broken. Half-mad. The sound twisted into something that might have been sobbing.
I forced myself to stop. Because if I kept going, I'd never start again.
Land. I needed land. And blood.
I looked around. There—miles north—a dark smudge against the horizon.
Coast.
I swam.
The beach was empty when I dragged myself onto sand.
I collapsed. Couldn't move. My healing factor struggled against a millennium of damage while I stared at stars I hadn't seen in forever.
You made it. You're free.
The thought should have been triumphant. Instead it felt hollow.
Because I had no idea what year it was. No resources. Just memories of the entity's deal, the golden bottle, Esther's betrayal, and a thousand years of drowning.
Hunger answered the question of what came next.
I smelled deer. My body moved on predator instinct. Found a doe. Killed messily, desperately. Drank until it was drained.
Five deer later, my hands stopped shaking.
I found a beach house. Broke in. Found clothes that almost fit. Then saw the device on the counter—thin, black, glowing when I touched it.
A date displayed at the top: October 15, 2011.
I'd been sealed in 1011. One thousand years exactly.
The device spoke with a woman's voice—"How can I help you?"—and I dropped it in shock.
Magic? Technology? I had no idea.
But I understood the date. A millennium had passed. The world had moved on.
And somewhere out there, Esther's children—the Originals she'd made with my blood—were probably ancient legends themselves.
I sank into a chair, staring at the broken device.
My body was weak. I had no allies. No plan beyond revenge.
But I'd survived a millennium of drowning.
I could survive this too.
Esther. Mikael. I'm coming for you.
The promise echoed in the empty house.
This time, I wouldn't be the helpless victim.
This time, they'd answer for their sins.