The forest at midnight was a different world.
Branches creaked softly above, their fingers tangled in a sky drained of stars. Leaves rustled low and secretive, whispering between the trees like gossiping ghosts. The fire back at camp flickered in the distance, a warm dot in the sea of black.
Two warriors walked shoulder to shoulder beneath the towering pines, their boots crunching softly over the forest floor. The taller of the two, Bram, carried a long dagger strapped to his thigh, while Klem—his younger, leaner patrol partner—had a bow slung across his back.
"I'm telling you," Bram muttered, yawning, "we're wasting our damn time. Nothing ever happens during night patrol."
Klem gave a chuckle. "That's what you said last week—right before we caught those rogue scouts sniffing near the river."
"Yeah, and we chased 'em off with piss-poor arrows and no backup." Bram sniffed. "At least this time we have the fire to go back to."
Klem shook his head, lips curving into a tired grin. "You just want the roasted rabbit."
"And maybe a bit of that honey wine Doria brought from the north. Makes your toes curl."
A branch snapped to their left.
Both men froze.
Bram stiffened. "Did you hear that?"
Klem waved it off. "Probably a fox. Or the wind knocking down a branch."
Bram's grip on his dagger tightened. "Foxes don't sound like that."
Klem sighed. "Relax. I'll take a look. You head back to the fire."
Bram frowned. "You sure?"
"Yeah. I'll catch up in five."
But Bram didn't move. "Klem—"
Klem was already walking toward the trees, drawn by the sound, curiosity tugging at him stronger than caution. His silhouette melted into the woods, swallowed by the shadows.
A moment passed.
Then another.
The silence grew.
Bram took a step forward. "Klem?"
A scream tore through the night.
Sharp. Choked. Then nothing.
Bram's breath caught. His eyes burned yellow in an instant. Claws pushed through his fingertips, his jaw elongating just enough to show fangs. Not a full transformation—just enough to fight.
He took off toward the sound.
The trees blurred past, the wind slapping his face, roots clawing at his boots. He broke through a cluster of brush and skidded to a halt.
Klem lay crumpled at the foot of an old ash tree.
His eyes were open.
Too open.
His skin was pale—unnaturally so. Almost translucent. His mouth hung slightly ajar, lips tinged with blue. The ground beneath him was soaked in blood, pooling slowly around his neck.
Bram moved closer, heart hammering.
"Klem?" he whispered.
He reached out, trembling fingers brushing against the still-warm body—just as something moved behind him.
A whisper of breath.
A shadow.
Then—pain.
Two sharp fangs sank deep into his neck. Bram's body arched, mouth open in a silent cry. The grip was impossibly strong. Cold. The life drained from him in seconds. His claws twitched. His legs kicked once. Then… nothing.
The forest returned to silence.
The fire back at camp continued to burn.
Unaware.
Dawn broke, reluctant and gray, casting long shadows through the thick trees.
Beta Feliz stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The corpses of the two warriors—Bram and Klem—had been found only hours ago. Now, they were laid side by side under white cloths, their boots still stained with mud.
A handful of warriors stood nearby. Gabel, the patrol captain, knelt beside one of the bodies, frowning.
"These two were on duty last night," he said grimly, lifting the cloth. "This one—Bram—was drained of blood. I've never seen anything like it."
Feliz said nothing.
Beside him stood his son, Tyrone. The young warrior's eyes locked on the corpse. He noticed the two puncture holes on the side of Bram's neck and felt a chill slither down his spine.
"Do you think it's the same person who killed Theron?" Tyrone asked quietly.
Feliz shook his head, slowly. "This one's different. More… savage. Calculated."
Gabel stood. "Could be a wild beast. Something from the deep woods. Maybe even a rogue cursed wolf."
"We would've smelled it," Tyrone said. "Whatever did this moved clean. No scent. No tracks."
Before anyone could speak further, the air shifted.
Alpha Koran arrived.
The warriors straightened immediately, bowing low as he strode into the clearing, his black cloak dragging over leaves and twigs.
He didn't look at the bodies. His eyes were on the trees. Listening.
"Double security," he said firmly. "I want patrols every hour. The creature that did this—find it. Kill it."
The men nodded.
Koran turned to Tyrone, voice lower. "With your brother gone, your role has changed. You are now my personal servant. Stay close."
Tyrone bowed stiffly. "Yes, Alpha."
Later that morning, by the river, the world felt far away from the blood and whispers.
Brina knelt at the water's edge, washing garments with steady hands. The water shimmered in the sunlight, catching ripples of red and gold.
Footsteps approached behind her.
Elyndra.
"You've been busy," she said, folding her arms, her shadow stretching beside Brina.
Brina acknowledged her presence with a nod but said nothing, continuing to scrub.
Elyndra crouched beside her, eyes narrowing. "Something's been bothering you lately."
"I'm fine, Madam Elyndra," Brina replied evenly, dipping the fabric deeper into the current.
Elyndra's hand slid across hers—gentle, deliberate. "You've been avoiding Daria. I noticed. You can tell me, Brina. I only want to help."
Brina hesitated. For a moment, the truth trembled on her lips.
But she shook her head. "Daria and I are fine, madam."
A voice interrupted them.
"Is there a problem here?"
Eleanor stepped into view, her pale hair braided over one shoulder, eyes sharp as ever.
Elyndra smiled as she stood. "Just checking in on your slave, Eleanor. She looked a little... tense."
Eleanor moved to Brina's side, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. "She doesn't like being interrogated."
Elyndra's smile thinned. "Of course." She turned and walked away.
Both women watched her leave.
When she was gone, Eleanor turned to Brina. "How long will you keep avoiding me?"
Brina stood, wringing the water from the last cloth. "Until my real Daria comes back."
Eleanor stepped closer. "She died that night, Brina. You know that."
Brina's jaw clenched. She picked up the basket.
"What happened with Theron…" Eleanor's voice cracked, barely above a whisper, "he tried to kill us. It was self-defense."
Brina didn't look at her.
"Please," Eleanor said. "I need you. Maybe... maybe if you stay, Daria might come back."
Brina paused. Then walked away.
Aedric appeared as if from the trees, smirking. "Hello, dear fake Daria."
Eleanor turned with a groan. "What now, Aedric?"
"I need to borrow you," he said cheerfully, "and your lightning sword."
Her brow rose. "Why?"
"To catch a wild beast."
The hut smelled of death.
Two bodies lay side by side on wooden slabs, candles flickering in the corners. Aedric closed the door behind them, voice low.
"Keep your voice down. We weren't exactly invited."
Eleanor crossed her arms. "Why are we here?"
Aedric moved toward the bodies and pulled back the cloth.
"These are the warriors found this morning."
Eleanor stepped forward, gaze hardening.
"And?"
Aedric pointed to the neck. "Look at the bites."
She leaned in.
Her breath caught.
Two perfect holes. Sharp. Precise.
Not claws.
Not fangs.
But something else.
"I've seen this before," she murmured. Her fingers hovered over the wound.
Her memories stirred—of blood. Darkness. A figure standing over her in a different lifetime.
"This isn't a beast," she said. "It's a vampire."
As the word left her lips, the faint sound of metal echoed—then a voice in her head.
[Mooncore: New Quest Updated.]
[Objective: Find the Vampire. Kill It.]
[Reward: Level Ten Upgrade.]