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Chapter Text

Scott gazed thoughtfully through the stained glass windows of his ancient castle, swirling his goblet filled with a mixture of dark wine and blood, the liquid catching the flickering torchlight. Outside, he could see a procession steadily marching across the grand stone bridge that led to his fortress, the flickering flames of torches darting across the night sky like tiny, shimmering stars. This was not the first time he had faced such uprisings; over his 800 years of existence, he had quelled numerous revolts and rebellions. No matter the chaos or the threat, he knew this would be no different.

“My Lord.”

Scott turned toward the sound of the voice, a faint smile creeping across his face as he recognized the familiar figure of the head maid of his castle. Gem, a remarkably lovely woman with an air of quiet confidence, had been taken in by him some time ago. Occasionally, he would encounter a human who managed to amuse him, and Gem had proven to be one of those rare exceptions. A skilled practitioner of the mystical arts, she had faced harsh judgment and rejection in the nearby town because of her extraordinary gifts. Recognizing her potential, he had extended her an offer to serve within his castle walls, providing her with a secure position and encouraging her to pursue her studies into the arcane further. Having someone of her formidable power and knowledge on his staff was always advantageous, especially in moments such as this, when her skills might be needed the most.

“Excellent timing,” he said, placing his goblet down gently on the table and approaching her with his arms outstretched. “It seems the unruly crowd has decided to revolt. I would rather stay out of the chaos, so would you mind taking care of them for me?”

Gem offered a small, graceful curtsy, her posture maintaining its usual flawless poise. Scott's smile widened slightly as he stepped past her, intrigued to assess how much her abilities had developed over the years. From his vantage point on the balcony, he anticipated gaining a better perspective. Perhaps after this, the humans would finally recognize their place and-

A sharp, stabbing pain in his back caused Scott to freeze abruptly in place, as if hit by an unseen force. A sudden, sharp exhale escaped his mouth, despite the fact that he had long since ceased to need to breathe. His vision blurred slightly, and he wavered on his feet, stumbling forward until he managed to catch himself on the polished mahogany dining table. With his free hand, he instinctively reached behind him, his fingers curling around the hilt of a knife. He grasped it firmly and pulled it free, immediately sensing the faint, rhythmic hum of magic—a binding spell that was gradually taking hold of his undead body, seeping into his flesh and bones, locking him in place and draining his vitality.

I'm sorry,” Gem said softly, taking a few cautious steps back. Her face reflected a mixture of terror and a strange sense of vindication, as if she had just made a difficult but necessary choice. "They promised me that they would let me live if I was the one to end you, that I could walk away free after doing what I had to do."

Despite his body growing ever more frail and weak, Scott’s fury surged fiercely within him, flames of rage igniting his chest. 

“You turned against me?! I took you in, cared for you, gave you a sanctuary when the others cast you out!! And this is how you repay my kindness?!"

He lurched forward, claws extended and teeth bared, intent on tearing her ungrateful throat out. But at that moment, his legs suddenly buckled beneath him, causing him to collapse to the ground with a heavy thud. Black spots flickered at the edges of his vision, and a chilling realization washed over him: Oblivion was near.

"I know..." Gem whispered softly, her voice tinged with guilt and regret. "I'll tell them I ended you. But instead, you'll rest peacefully. They won't be able to touch you, not while my spell both binds and protects you, keeping you safe from harm and interference."

He was panting heavily now, struggling to stand despite his arms trembling more intensely than they had in a long time. He looked up at her, his piercing red eyes blazing with fury.

“Do you think they will accept you?” Scott let out a bitter, condescending laugh. “You're nothing more than a tool to them. They'll cast you aside as soon as your usefulness runs out. Or perhaps..." His laughter turned cold and dark. "Perhaps they'll send you to join me. Maybe they'll finally throw you onto that pyre you are so terrified of.”

“Maybe so,” Gem admitted quietly, glancing back out the window. From his position, he couldn't see what was happening outside, but Scott could hear the pounding of footsteps and the shouts growing louder. It was only a matter of time before they broke down the doors, flooding his home with their filth and chaos. “But I am still human, and I must stand with humanity. Consider this binding spell my final act of kindness and my gratitude for everything you've done.”

Scott managed one last snarl, a raw, unrestrained sound of defiance, just before the spell took hold of him completely. The final image etched into his mind as everything faded to black was the violent splintering of his front door and the flickering lights of torches, their flames dancing ominously in the darkness.

Chapter Text

Owen sat in the plush velvet chair of the mayor's living room, a gentle smile playing on his lips in a way that was reserved solely for moments like this. The warmth radiating through the mayor's house didn't stem from the crackling hearth or the sturdy oak walls that protected against the chill of the night outside. Instead, that comforting warmth, the kind that made you linger and feel at ease, emanated from the man sitting across from him, whose presence seemed to fill the room with a subtle yet palpable sense of kindness and reassurance.

Louis, the Mayor of Oakhurst.

As a humble lumberjack, Owen never imagined he would forge a friendship with a man like Louis. For the longest time, the very idea of having friends seemed like an impossible dream to him. From childhood, he had been shunned and ostracized, ever since the day his skin became covered in foul boils and lesions that no doctor could cure. Even now, as an adult, Owen could still vividly feel the piercing looks of pity, disgust, and contempt cast by the townspeople. They all viewed him with disdain, except for Louis, whose kindness stood as a stark contrast to the harsh judgments of the others.

Where others might have stared or winced at the sight of his skin, despite the linen wraps that Owen had practically mummified his body with, Louis merely smiled. He offered his hospitality—a warm beverage to ward off a cold night, and his friendship to a man starving for even a small glimmer of kindness. And Owen… It was almost impossible to fully express how much he loved the mayor, how eagerly he looked forward to those nightly visits and those heartfelt talks by the hearth. Just the simple promise of seeing that kind and gentle smile was enough to help him get through each painfully lonely and difficult day.

“Owen…” Louis spoke up, setting down his wine glass before meeting the lumberjack’s gaze. “May I ask you something?”

Owen laughed lightly, imagining that the mayor would offer up some witty question. He’d had many to offer for the past several weeks, all never failing to make the lumberjack smile.

“Ask away,” he declared without hesitation.

“What would you do… if I told you I knew a cure for your condition?”

Owen's smile faded when asked the question. His mind flooded with memories of the empty promises from doctors he had seen over the years. He had tried countless remedies—tinctures, ointments, bloodletting, leeches, and many other procedures—that left scars nearly as visible as his disease. He had long given up hope for a cure, and hearing his only friend offer false hope now made him want to get angry. He was moments away from shouting at them for speaking such words. But then he noticed the seriousness—and the fear—in Louis's face. That fear was familiar to Owen: the fear of an outsider finally trusting someone, knowing one wrong move could break that trust. Owen held back his anger and spoke calmly again.

“What do you mean?”

“If you could get rid of your condition, but live your life never truly belonging amongst those you care about… would you?”

At that last part, Owen couldn't help but scoff. 

“I'm already an outcast. Even now, I have nowhere to truly belong. If I had that still, but at least could live a life free of this ailment and pain, I would.” The anger he felt faded slightly as he turned his gaze to Louis. “Particularly if it meant living it with you.”

Louis sat in silence for a moment, his gaze lingering on Owen for what felt like an eternity. Then, he stood up, offering a hand to the lumberjack. Without hesitation, Owen took the offered hand, the novelty of someone willingly touching him without grimacing at his mottled skin never getting old. He let the mayor lead him down into the cellar of the mansion, away from the dim lights of the sun through the window.

“What I am about to show you,” Louis said quietly, almost cautiously, “I have never shown to another human being. Tell me, have you heard the tales that they say in the pubs? The stories told around campfires about monsters and creatures of the night?”

Owen nodded, having heard a few stories during the rare times the town's folk would be willing to take his coin. There were tales of wolves that walked like men, those who practiced magic that corrupted their souls, and creatures that looked human but were distinctly not. He never gave much thought to them, seeing them as little more than superstition. After all, he knew where the actual monsters were.

“I can't say this for all the stories…” Louis released Owen’s hand, stepping back into the darkness of the cellar. “But I know that there are things out there that humankind will never accept. I know… because I am one.”

As the mayor finally looked up, locking eyes with the lumberjack, Owen was struck by the unearthly red glow that seemed to slice through the darkness like twin beams of light. The hand that reached out to him was now revealed to have long, inhuman claws—designed seemingly to rip and tear with savage intent. It suddenly dawned on him: Louis wasn’t just a man. He was something else entirely—one of those creatures of the night, a vampire, a being of darkness and eternal hunger.

“I'll ask you once more,” Louis repeated, his stance firm but unwavering, his hand still outstretched toward him. "With everything you now understand, do you accept my invitation? Would you choose to become like me and walk this path?"

With little hesitation, Owen grabbed that outstretched hand, noticing for the first time the unearthly coldness of the skin. It felt like a cool summer breeze, and he never wanted to let go.

“Yes,” he declared, gripping that hand in both of his.

~\~/~

Three days later, Owen awoke. He was not in his lonely hut, or on the mouldy hay bale that served as his bed, but in a coffin—a stone tomb erected in the cellar of the mayor's house—a place for him to rest, for his body to adjust to his new life. Louis had warned him that it would take time, that his body would need to relax and properly accept the gift. He had promised that Owen would wake in comfort, that he would be there to greet him. As he pushed the lid of his coffin aside, Owen smiled, eager to see the face of his sire, the man he would spend eternity with.

But he wasn't there.

Confused, Owen emerged from the coffin, feeling unsteady on his feet. The world around him seemed overwhelming—too sharp, too loud, and the smells were almost overpowering. He leaned slightly against the wall, one hand pressed against the rough brickwork to steady himself. As he struggled to regain composure, the lumberjack stepped out of the cellar, emerging into the ransacked living room that once belonged to Louis. 

Cold dread sliced through him, and panic seized him as he took in the destruction. The familiar teacups that had always been ready for him when he arrived were now shattered on the wooden floor. The plush chair he had come to see as his own was now torn into ribbons. The windows were smashed, leaving jagged glass framing the broken frames, and the door was cracked open, hanging ajar. Through that open doorway, a sickening smell wafted in—smoke, burning flesh, and the unmistakable scent of fire.

“No…” Owen whispered, praying to whatever God may be listening that this wasn’t happening. He couldn't remember the last time he had prayed, having long since accepted that God had abandoned him. But now, for the man he loved, for his sire, for the one person who ever gave a shit about him, he prayed.

And it was for naught.

In the very center of town, a wooden pyre had been erected, the flames still burning hot. And in the center of the fire, Owen could see the charred remnants of his friend. There was no mistaking it, especially as he saw the burning tatters of red cloth from the shirt that Louis always wore, floating on the wind. One of those remnants fluttered past his face as if to mock him for his loss. Bloody tears ran down Owen's face as he stumbled toward the pyre, his throat seizing up as he tried to speak, but no words would come out.

Through the roar of the flames and the pounding in his head, Owen could make out the voices of some of the townsfolk. They seemed to be trying to assure him of his safety with words like ”you're safe now” and “worried about you,” piercing through the haze of grief. From the snippets that he was able to process, Owen put the story together.

Despite their disdain for him, the town's folk had begun to notice Owen’s frequent visits to the mayor. When he had not returned from one of his visits, the citizens grew worried. They raised an army against the mayor, ransacking his home just hours ago. When they found proof of the occult hidden among his belongings, they assumed the worst. And so, they sought to rid the town of the monster hiding among them.

Owen crumbled to the ground, his chest tight and his eyes burning with bloodstained tears. He was alone again. Louis hadn't done anything to them, and they had burned him at the stake. They took him, and now Owen was alone. Even worse, now he would be alone for eternity. Once again, this town had doomed him to life as an outcast, robbing him of his one chance at happiness.

Finally, through his raw and burning throat, Owen screamed. His scream echoed through the town, the cry of a man with nothing to lose and the roar of a monster ready to make everyone pay. No one would be spared; no man, woman, or child would be leaving Oakhurst alive! They took everything from him, so he would take everything from them.

His bloody rampage lasted for hours, the bodies piling in the streets that were soaked red with their blood. He was merciless, hunting down every last one of them. And when they sought refuge in the public house, he burned it to the ground. Let them die as they had condemned Louis to. 

And when he was finished, blood dripping from his arms and mouth, Owen trudged toward the lumber mill he had commissioned. The very commission that had once united him and Louis. Gazing up at it, he dropped to his knees and then just collapsed. He closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them again, he would be back with the one person he had ever loved. 

Chapter Text

Cleo the Zombie.

That was the name the townsfolk gave her when she moved here with her master so many years ago. They could see that there was no life in her eyes—no spark, no will to live. And in truth, there wasn't. Not since she was 13 years old and had been forced to watch her mother be killed right in front of her. Not since the man she was forced to call her master had stolen her free will. It had been almost 80 years since that fateful day, and she was a zombie no more.

The axe was heavy in her hand, its edge dripping with dark, long-congealed blood. Still, she dragged it behind her, her other hand firmly wrapped around the ankle of the man she had once called master. She pulled both the axe and the body over to a pit—the same pit that now held the decaying remnants of the “farm animals” she had been made to care for. How fitting that the vampire who fed from them would now rot alongside them.

With a heave, Cleo tossed the body into the pit. It joined its severed head, the fanged mouth still open in the midst of a scream, but the eyes completely lifeless. The silver axe had done its work, but Cleo wasn't one to take chances. As such, she had staked the body at least a dozen times, long after it stopped moving. Even now, sitting in that lye-filled pit, the stake remains protruding from the bastard's chest.

With her task now complete, Cleo released a long, trembling sigh she had kept inside for decades. She sank to her knees, her face a mix of laughter and tears that tore from her throat. At last, she was free after so many years—free from hunting people, treating them like livestock, and offering innocent lives to a man who saw her only as a useful tool. He had lived in luxury, while she was fortunate to have a small hutch on his property. She had been made to feel grateful for the limited land that allowed her to grow some vegetation for survival, constantly groveling for even the smallest privileges.

Not anymore.

Thanks to her former master, Cleo had lived a long life and learned much about vampires. Her mother had told her about her old home in a town called Oakhurst, where she had been turned a long time ago. Her former master had also spoken of Oakhurst, how he had been turned there, how he longed to see his old friend, one who had been sleeping for centuries. Perhaps, Oakhurst would be where she could find answers—answers to who she was, to where she came from, and maybe... just maybe... she could find a cure for what she had become.

Returning to her hutch, Cleo brushed aside the ratty rug to reveal the loose floorboards that protected her few personal possessions. An old journal, books on herbs and plants, and her mother's favorite dress. Her former master had tossed it at her, saying that perhaps one day she would grow into it, and that he looked forward to the day she would fit in it. Cleo had hidden it away, but couldn't bring herself to get rid of it. Not when it was one of the last remaining ties she had to the woman who raised her.

Gathering her things in a simple hemp bag, Cleo stepped out of the hutch, taking one last look at the manor that had been her prison. With a snarl that would have put her former master’s to shame, the former thrall pulled a flint and steel from her dress pocket. On the dried hay near that long, empty stable, she struck the flint and ignited the hay. There had been a dry spell for days, so the fire burned easily, and soon it engulfed the house, consuming everything inside.

With the roaring flames at her back, Cleo set off on her journey, hoping to find answers about who she was — beyond her master's thrall or her mother's farmer, beyond the zombie everyone saw. Maybe she would finally learn how to live.

Chapter Text

My Dearest Cherri,

How are you? I’ve missed you every single day I’ve been away. I truly long for our peaceful days together—those quiet moments watching you tend the garden, creating something beautiful out of nothing. Even now, I curse the cruel conscription that snatched me from your side, counting down the days until it runs out and I can finally come back to you.

The military life has been as harsh and unforgiving as ever. I find myself, and I quote, “the most hopeless recruit to ever curse their ranks." My shooting scores remain the lowest recorded, and I can’t even manage to stab a dummy properly with my bayonet. The drill sergeant tried to show me how it’s done, but he ended up cutting his hand when he snatched the gun from my grasp. I couldn’t help but vomit on his shoes in front of everyone, and spent the rest of the day scrubbing the latrines with a toothbrush as punishment.

PS, thank you so much for the care package with the spare. I really appreciate your thoughtfulness.

Anyway, one of the higher-ups decided that I might be better suited for their engineering corps. They’re sending me on a new mission to construct a base of operations. I’ll be leaving in the next few days for a small town called Oakhurst.

Well, I call it a town, but honestly, it’s more like a ruin. It was abandoned around 200 years ago, for reasons that remain a mystery. The stories vary wildly depending on who I ask. Some say a deadly plague wiped it out; others talk about a catastrophic fire. A few whisper that it’s a cursed land. Personally, I don’t buy that nonsense—monsters and curses belong in fairy tales, not real life. Come on, what is this—medieval times?

I will say this much: the military seems quite eager to be rid of me. Sending me out into the backwoods to serve the rest of my tour? Honestly, I see it as a win-win situation. I avoid going into battle, and they get to rid themselves of what might be considered a black mark on their record—all without having to break my conscription. Still, I’m not sure how often I’ll be able to send you letters from Oakhurst. I’ll do my best to stay in touch, but please don’t worry too much about me.

I love you more than words can say, and I cannot wait until we’re together again.

Yours, always and forever,

Apo.

Chapter Text

Gunfire ripped through the air, distant explosions ringing in his ears. The smell of blood mixed with the stench of decay and rot, adding to the nauseating atmosphere of human misery. He couldn't focus on anything specific; the landscape was too blurry, too full of smoke to process fully. Distant voices could be heard—young, old, all filled with so much pain. 

The cry of "I can’t stop the bleeding!" echoed countless times across the chaos, emanating from numerous voices filled with fear and desperation. Sometimes their voices wavered with panic, other times with anger, and occasionally they sounded broken, exhausted by the relentless struggle. In the midst of their cries, harsher voices pierced through, dismissive and unfeeling, disregarding the pain and the dying around them.

“We need him on the front line!" one demanded urgently.

“I don't care what's wrong with him, we need him on the front!" another shouted, voice edged with urgency.

“Do your job and fix him! He's no good to me dead!" a commanding voice ordered, frustration and desperation mixing.

Amidst the chaos of screaming and shouting, his own heartbeat thundered in his ears, each thumping pulse echoing his rising anxiety. His breathing became ragged gasps as he struggled to find calm amidst the storm. His vision blurred at the edges, the world around him tilting into crimson. It was overwhelming—everything was becoming too much... too much to bear.

~\~/~

With a sudden gasp, Dr. Legundo sat upright, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead as he desperately fought to regain his bearings. His heart pounded fiercely in his chest, and he struggled to catch his breath amidst ragged gasps. Despite the chaos raging within him, he closed his eyes and, through sheer force of will, gradually managed to steady himself. After a tense moment, he took one last deep, calming breath before slowly opening his eyes again, carefully assessing his surroundings with a clearer, more focused mind.

He found himself inside a small tent that he had set up the previous night, as his recent travels had brought him to a place where proper lodging was hard to find. This was the latest stop on his pilgrimage, driven by a desire to use his medical skills to help the less fortunate. Although he maintained a detailed journal of his journey, he had long lost track of exactly how long he had been on the move. Memories of having a permanent home or anyone he could consider a friend seemed distant, almost forgotten.

Then again, someone like him didn't deserve to have those things.

Anticipating where such thoughts might lead, the doctor shook his head slightly. He closed his eyes once more and began to recite the oath that had governed his life for many years, serving as a reminder of his purpose and resolve.

“Into whatsoever houses I enter, I will enter to help the sick, and I will abstain from all intentional wrongdoing and harm, especially from abusing the bodies of man or woman, bond or free. And whatsoever I shall see or hear in the course of my profession, as well as outside my profession in my intercourse with men, if it be what should not be published abroad, I will never divulge, holding such things to be holy secrets.”

He repeated these words twice more before he felt his mind steady enough to begin his day. He had a long journey ahead of him if he wanted to reach his destination before nightfall.

Oakhurst, an abandoned town in the countryside, deep in the wilderness and far from any sign of civilization. Some of his more… imaginative patients had been spreading all sorts of rumors about the town, warning him that it is not one he would want to visit. However, the Doctor found himself intrigued. Rumors like these are often used to explain misunderstood scientific or medical phenomena, suggesting this might be a place deserving further investigation.

If he could find the cause of whatever illness was afflicting the town, he could help restore the area. It would be a significant step on his journey, bringing him closer to his ultimate goal.

The doctor stood up and reached for his surgical robes, which he wore like armor. The white fabric always brought him peace, reminding him of his mission and helping him stay focused. As he checked the breast pocket, he felt the familiar weight.

His Golden Cross.

He wouldn’t forget. He couldn’t. He owed them that much, at least. As long as he lived, he would remember them—every detail, every moment, every face. Their presence would linger in his mind forever. And he would atone for what had happened, seeking redemption for the past.

Chapter Text

Drift stared in absolute horror at the single flower left on her doorstep—a delicate orchid. It was the same flower that had appeared at the scene of multiple attacks terrorizing her hometown. This was the one case she had been unable to solve, and now it seemed to be taunting her from her own doorstep.

Nobody knew who the attacker was or what their motives might have been. There was no clear pattern to their target choices or the locations they visited. Everything about the attacks seemed completely random, except for one detail: the orchid. It was consistently found at every scene, carefully placed on the chest of each latest victim, as if the attacker were paying their respects with a flower, like putting a wreath on a grave. No one ever saw the attacker, never heard a sound, and the victims' families could never identify anyone who might have had a reason to harm their loved ones. If it weren't for that flower, one might think these attacks were totally random.

From the beginning, Drift sensed something strange about this case—a feeling that it was more than just simple violence, something darker. This intuition fueled her determination to work tirelessly to solve the mystery, to bring comfort and justice to the victims and their families, and to make sure the innocent wouldn't be forgotten. She tried many different avenues, including checking flower shops and talking to florists, hoping that someone would remember someone who had purchased this type of orchid. But no— it was a rare variety that needed a particular environment to grow.

You might think that this would make it easier to find, but that was a mistake. The person or group responsible was clever enough to avoid getting caught and dangerous enough to leave these flowers as a signature or calling card.

And now, one was sitting right on the welcome mat of the lead detective's home.

Drift slammed the door shut with a loud bang, causing the frame to shake hard enough to make the walls tremble. She threw the deadbolt, then leaned against the door to catch her breath. How was this possible? How did they know where she lived? Had she been followed? Was it someone she knew? How much did they know? Was this a warning? A threat?

So many questions, fears, and what-ifs tore her apart. She was trembling, breathing heavily, her eyes darting wildly around her apartment. Not even five minutes ago, she'd felt perfectly safe, drinking her morning coffee while getting ready for work. Now, all it took was a single flower to shatter that sense of security.

She had to go. She had to leave right now!

Rushing to her room, Drift reached under her bed for a leather suitcase she kept there. She then began grabbing clothes from her closet and shoving them into the bag without regard for neatness. She didn't care what she was grabbing, only that she would have enough—enough to get far away from this town, away from that orchid, and from the psycho who left it on her doorstep. The police could take over the investigation, and she could find something else to do. Maybe she'd go to the countryside, find a small town to lay low in for a while.

Thinking about the countryside reminded her of the old stories of Oakhurst, a cursed land shrouded in mystery that had remained unsolved for centuries. It sounded like something that could distract her from this terrible experience, especially if it put several counties between her and the orchid attacker.

Slamming her suitcase shut, Drift ran out her back door, heading for the nearest train station. She didn't even bother to close and lock the door behind her. Deep down, she knew she wasn't coming back.

Chapter Text

Abolish Veylocke was raised in a household surrounded by stories and legends about monsters. From a young age, he saw a terrifying scene of a monster killing his parents, a trauma that left a lasting emotional scar and continues to affect him as an adult. As he grew older, with the careful guidance of Lord Morcant Thornvale, he developed his skill in recognizing different types of monsters, especially vampires. However, his experiences and increasing understanding of the world revealed that good and evil are not always clear-cut. Not all humans are virtuous, and not all vampires are evil. Both groups include individuals who consciously choose their actions and identities. Among the monsters of the night, some seek peaceful coexistence and harmony rather than conflict.

That was how the Organization came to be.

Founded centuries ago, the organization was an extensive group of both humans and vampires who worked together to maintain a carefully balanced equilibrium. Together, they aimed to protect humanity's good and eliminate the evils that hunted them. Abolish’s parents had been among their members, with stellar records spanning their careers. That is what made them a target for the fiend who murdered them, leaving young Abolish an orphan.

Lord Thornvale ensured he knew the full truth, never dumbing down the reality and treating him with the respect due to someone worthy of such knowledge. He dedicated himself to training the young man in the subtle arts of stealth, mastering the delicate skill of blending seamlessly into surroundings, and the importance of unwavering preparation. He shared crucial information about garlic, silver, and the most effective methods to trap a vampire, preventing it from causing harm. Yet, he also emphasized the importance of restraint, teaching him to look beyond the intimidating fangs and deadly claws. Instead, he encouraged him to recognize and understand the men and women lurking behind the monsters, fostering compassion and insight amid the darkness.

Abolish, now in his early twenties, had flourished under the guidance of the Lord, developing into one of the most outstanding members of the organization. His skills and dedication rendered him perhaps the finest in his field, and the Lord couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of pride in the man he had become. In recognition of Abolish’s exceptional efforts and accomplishments, he was entrusted with a critical and sensitive mission.

Far out in the rural stretches of the countryside, there lay the abandoned remnants of a once-thriving town called Oakhurst. This was the place where the Veylocke family had once made their home, having served alongside the local mayor nearly two centuries ago. It was also in Oakhurst that the Holy Spirits chose to manifest, bringing with them ancient and mystical tomes—rich with knowledge that could help humanity stand against the menace of the evil vampires.

Abolish’s task was to locate a specific volume hidden among these sacred texts and deliver it back to the Organization. His mission also included eliminating any vampires that threatened innocent lives. As with any mission undertaken for the Organization, maintaining absolute discretion was crucial. To blend in seamlessly, Abolish would assume the guise of a butler, claiming he was there to help his family lay their loved ones to rest. Interestingly, this disguise coincided with a personal wish of his—an authentic, heartfelt desire to see the town and its memories laid to rest. After all, the most convincing lies often contain a kernel of truth, and this particular story had that in spades.

As dawn came, Abolish stepped into Lord Thornvale’s carriage, taking his seat. Morgant, his handler for this mission and the Lord’s carriage driver, flicked the reins, and the carriage took off, leaving the town of Blackwood in its dust.

Chapter Text

Renhardt Dogmourne was an unfortunate character, having lived a life full of hardship and struggle. He had no memories of his father, only the warm, loving smile of his mother. She was a talented baker by trade and one of the most renowned in their small town. Her cookies were legendary, drawing people from distant places eager to taste them. Her reputation grew so much that the local Town Lord himself took notice, inviting her to live and work at his estate as his personal baker. Young Renhardt was overjoyed at his mother's success, celebrating her achievements with heartfelt pride. For a time, their life was joyful and prosperous.

Sadly, not everyone wished them well. One of the town lord’s cooks, driven by envy, resented the young baker, believing she had taken his place. In his bitterness, he sabotaged Renhardt’s mother by replacing her sugar with salt. When the Lord tasted the infernal cookies, it was so disgusting that he spat them out, denouncing her as a fraud and a poisoner. This was not helped by the cook's words in his ear, whispering false testimony against the two, painting them as conniving and untrustworthy. As a result, she and her son were cast out of his home, with the promise that she would never hold a job in the town again.

With nowhere to go and no home to return to, the young man and his mother wandered into the shadowy, dense woods. The baker was overwhelmed with grief and inconsolable. Sensing his mother's despair, young Renhardt tried to comfort her with gentle words, hoping to ease her distress, but nothing seemed to help. 

As night fell and the cold air settled in, they desperately searched for a place to rest and find shelter. Their eyes soon spotted a rickety, old shack hidden far from civilization, surrounded by tangled trees and thick underbrush. Driven by desperation, the mother and son cautiously approached, seeking refuge and hoping it would shield them from the biting cold winds. 

As they hesitantly opened the creaking door, they found they were not alone. Inside, an old woman was stirring a bubbling stew, filling the hut with the rich aroma of meat and vegetables. She turned at the squeak of the door hinge, her withered face breaking into a gentle smile as she looked at them with kind, knowing eyes.

“Good evening,” she called out to them. “Come, come, warm yourself by the fire.”

Perhaps they should not have been as trusting as they had been, but the two were desperate, and the woman seemed kind enough. So, the two let themselves in, sitting down on the log bench set up in front of the hearth. the old woman looked them up and down with an appraising eye.

“I sense that something has happened to you,” she remarked, a strange Edge to her voice. “Someone has done wrong by you, haven't they?”

With her emotions still raw, the young Baker immediately started to sob, letting her anguish escape between hiccups. Throughout, Renhardt gently rubbed her back and offered her his handkerchief to dry her eyes. The old woman listened, nodding slightly as she did. 

“I see. such a terrible thing.” The old woman straightened up slightly, approaching a chest sitting up against the wall. “Here, I think I have just what you need.”

From the depths of the chest, the old woman carefully pulled out a plate of pristine cookies. Each cookie was perfectly shaped, its surface gleaming with a delicate dusting of powdered sugar. A rich, enticing aroma of baked goodness wafted through the hut, filling the air and making both mother and son’s mouths water in anticipation. In the dim light, the cookies almost seemed to shimmer, their surface catching the faint glow of the hearth.

“Here, take these.” The old woman held out the plate, which the young baker tentatively took. “One bite of these cookies and your employer will speak differently about you. Even that cook who dared to slander you will find his tongue changed.”

The wording should have been a clue; it should have warned them exactly what they were agreeing to. But both mother and son were so desperate, so heartbroken over what had happened, that they ignored all the obvious red flags. In fact, young Renhardt found himself staring longingly at the cookies, licking his lips to try one. Seeing his gaze, the old woman's smile seemed to widen.

"Go on,” she encouraged, ushering him toward the plate. "Take one. I promise your tongue will never be the same.”

The young Renhardt looked amazed as he reached out to take one of the perfect cookies. He bit into it eagerly, his eyes going wide as the flavors filled his mouth, unlike anything he had ever tasted before. With tears of joy in his eyes, he turned toward his mother, nodding eagerly. With cookies like these, the town lord was sure to accept them back! He just knew it!

But then, everything went wrong. His mouth began to burn, his tongue swelling as he coughed and choked. He tried to spit out the cookie, but it was too late. The old woman, upon seeing his distress, let out a laugh that was more of a maniacal cackle. Her kindly facade melted away, revealing the withered, vile face of a witch. Renhardt tried to speak, but no words could come out. Distantly, he heard the sound of a plate shattering on the ground and felt his mother's arms wrap around his chest. He was hoisted off the ground and pulled from the hut, the witches’ cackling echoing as they ran.

After that, Renhardt was never the same. His tongue had indeed changed, twisting into an accent that could barely be understood at times. He considered himself lucky that he hadn't consumed the entire cookie. If he had, he feared what might have happened—if his voice would have been taken permanently instead of being mangled like this. As for his mother, she never fully recovered. Grief-stricken over the loss of her job and her son's curse, the young baker fell into despair. Within a few years, she was on her deathbed, clinging to her son’s hand as she squeezed it.

“My son…” she croaked, clinging to life just a little longer. “You must… seek the town… of Oakhurst.”

“Oakhurst?” Renhardt repeated.

“Yes… There is magic there. Maybe… you can find… a way… to be free…”

With those dying words echoing in his ear, Renhardt set off on a journey. He knew little about Oakhurst, having only heard stories during his time as a bartender. But literally had hurt spoke of a town that was cursed, much like himself. It seemed a fitting place for him to settle down. And perhaps his mother was right. Perhaps he could finally find a way to cure his tongue. Only time would tell.

Chapter Text

Shelby giggled softly to herself, a playful smile forming as she stuck her tongue out slightly while she carefully scribbled in her journal. She was completely immersed in working on her latest fanfiction, feeling a wave of inspiration that kept her on a creative high. Next to her, neatly arranged, were her treasured copies of Mr. M’s latest novels—things she always carried with her wherever she went. Over time, the spines of these beloved books had become cracked and bent from countless readings, and her favorite bookmark was boldly sticking out of the last volume. This burst of inspiration was so intense that she almost felt an uncontrollable urge to get her thoughts down on paper immediately, fearing that if she didn’t, she might drive herself into oblivion from the sheer force of her creativity.

Ever since she was a little girl, Shelby has developed an intense love for stories about the strange and unusual. Every night, her father would sit beside her and tell vivid tales of incredible creatures. He spoke of fairies that danced gracefully in the night sky, howling werewolves roaming in packs across the countryside, and mighty behemoths migrating across the globe, leaving only enormous footprints as their silent traces. Shelby eagerly absorbed these stories, her imagination ignited, as she ventured into the forest beyond Sunny Side Cliff, searching for goblins, brownies, and other fantastical beings her father's stories had conjured. 

When Shelby was five, her father went on an expedition to hunt down werewolves. He promised to stay in touch, sharing his adventures and bringing back a proof or souvenir of these elusive creatures. Sadly, that was the last time she saw her father. However, she refused to let his memory fade. She carried on his legacy of exploration right in her hometown, meticulously keeping journals of every discovery. She devoured every piece of media related to the mysterious and unknown—books from various authors, many fictional but some with details that made them feel astonishingly real. 

Nearly twenty years later, her passion remains alive. When she’s not out searching for the next great mystery, she spends her time writing in her journals—crafting stories inspired by Mr. M's novels or creating her own original tales, filling pages with her imagination and dreams.

Finishing up the latest chapter of her fanfiction, Shelby closed her journal and tucked it into her bag. She got up, brushing the pieces of grass off her skirt before adjusting her thick glasses. It was getting late, and her mom didn't like it when she was out too late. So she gathered her things and headed home. 

~\~/~

“Mom! I’m home!”

Shelby entered her small home, closed the door behind her, and set her belongings down. She saw her mother at the kitchen table, her messy hair tied back in a ponytail, surrounded by a disorganized pile of papers. Her stressed expression was familiar these days. Since her father left, her mother had to work a second job to support them. Shelby wanted to help, but her job at the library didn't pay much. She chose to focus on boosting her mother's mood instead.

“Guess what? I found this really cool book about ancient legends at the library. And Mr Fwhip? He said I could have it! How cool is that?!”

Her mother said nothing, her eyes remaining fixed on the scattered papers. Shelby glanced at them, noticing that not all of them were bills. One was a letter from a neighbor, insisting that Shelby needed to be sent away so she could get her “delusions” dealt with. Seeing those words, the young woman couldn't help but frown. She knew she wasn't exactly well-liked; she didn't have any friends, and some people whispered behind her back. It had taken an embarrassingly long time for her to realize that they pitied her because of her father. They all believed him to be a drunk, a man so sloshed by wine that he couldn't tell fact from fiction. The whispers warned that she would be just like him, just as strange and abnormal as the stories he told. 

“Mom?” she called out, reaching for that letter. “Here, let me get rid of that.”

Her mom's hand came down on top of the letter, preventing Shelby from taking it. That action made the young woman flinch, her hand pulling back sharply.

“Mom?”

“Shelby…” Her mother's voice was gentle but tinged with resignation. She sounded exhausted, as if she had been crying. “Listen, I know you loved your father. I know you're trying to keep his memory alive with his stories... but there comes a time when you have to grow up.”

“What?” Shelby shook her head. “No, Mom.”

“I think it would be good if you spent some time out of Sunny Side. Your uncle owns a flat out in the capital, and they have some great schools there. Maybe you could go there and-”

“Mom, no!” Shelby shouted, taking a few steps back. “No, listen. I know everyone thinks Dad was some drunk, but he wasn’t! That book I got? It tells of this town in the countryside called Oakhurst! It’s got so many legends about demons and magic and curses and-”

“ENOUGH!!” Her mother’s voice was loud and harsh, shattering the atmosphere like a rock through glass. “Enough, Shelby. Demons and magic aren’t real. None of that is real! Your father’s stories were just that: stories. And the sooner you accept that… the better.”

Shelby was silent, reeling from being shouted at by her mother for the first time in her life. She could feel hot tears welling in her eyes and a lump forming in her throat. She took a step back, then turned and ran up to her room, slamming the door behind her. She threw herself onto her bed, sobbing like she hadn't in a very long time. She sobbed and she sobbed until her face ached. Then she just lay on her bed, face buried in her pillow.

Sometime later, long after the sun had set behind the curtains of her window, she would finally rise. Her tears had given way to a determined expression. She got out of bed, threw open her closet, and grabbed a large bag. She packed a few essentials, including her journals and books, and shoved them all into the bag, tying it shut with a final knot. Throwing the bag over her shoulder, she turned toward her window, sliding it open with ease.

Her mother didn't want to believe her? Fine. She would go and find proof. She would go to Oakhurst and find proof that monsters were real, that her father's stories weren't just drunken ramblings. She would show everyone that she wasn't delusional.

 Without a moment of hesitation, Shelby slipped out the window, heading off into the night.

Chapter Text

In the foggy town of Brookville, a place known for industry and academics, there lived a man called Mythical J. Sausage, or simply M. He was a writer who picked up the quill at a young age, creating fantastical stories that amazed his audience. 

For a while, he showed great promise, with tales of folklore and the undead making readers eager for more. His talent for blending fiction with reality kept many awake at night, wondering if the monsters in his stories would come to life and haunt them.

However, as all good things do, his fame began to fade. Publishers began seeking fresher ideas, grounded in fact and reason. M would go to the pub, drowning his frustrations in ale that blurred his focus. More and more of his manuscripts and drafts were returned, and the corrections and criticisms increased with each setback. His name started to disappear, like ink washed away by rain.

Maybe if he had turned to a different muse, M could have made a comeback. But the supernatural was his obsession, one that held him in a tight grip. He couldn't just cast it aside, not when it had defined his identity for most of his life. Even as his fans shifted toward more academic works, M kept writing feverishly and alone, convinced that the truth behind the old legends was closer than anyone dared to believe.

Then came the letter.

The envelope was yellowed with age, its surface slightly worn and fragile. Sealed with an old wax crest, it bore a design that M did not recognize. There was no return address; only his name was handwritten on the front, left deliberately on his desk for him to find after returning from the pub. Stumbling slightly, M made his way over to his chair, took the envelope in his hand, and carefully broke the brittle wax seal, revealing the letter inside. The handwriting was rough, almost frantic, with a hurried and uneven scrawl, yet M recognized the penmanship. It belonged to Oliver Soundley, an old university colleague. Oliver had been a fellow folklorist—an adventurous soul who had vanished without a trace two years earlier while pursuing a mysterious legend in the remote southern counties. To hear from his old friend for the first time in years had M sobering up immediately.

M.

If you still seek truth behind shadows, come to Oakhurst. There, you will find a tale that will make your name eternal. But beware, the soil remembers, and the date draws near. Do not come lightly. The anniversary awakens them.

Oliver Soundly

Oakhurst. That name sounded vaguely familiar, tugging gently at the edges of M’s memory and stirring a faint recognition. Clutching the letter firmly in his hand, the author turned toward his extensive research archive, methodically pulling down aged texts, newspapers, and archives, determined to uncover any mention of that place. And eventually, he found it.

A remote, nearly forgotten town engulfed by towering trees and swirling mist. Once a vibrant settlement, it boasted a burgeoning livestock industry and rich mineral deposits supporting a lively mining community. However, nearly 200 years ago, everything changed. A terrible massacre swept through the town, slaughtering every man, woman, and child within its borders. The church declared it a divine curse, possibly punishment for some grievous sin the townsfolk had committed against the Holy Spirits. Survivors, if any, were never documented or found. Now, only days remained before the 200th anniversary of that dark night, casting a shadow over the present.

This was it.

This was what M had been searching for. This was his chance to prove the truth behind the old legends. But there was no time to waste. He had to get moving immediately, lest he lose his window. He rushed to his desk, packing his ink, journals, and a change of clothes. Then, heading out into the darkened streets, he hailed a midnight carriage. The cost for a trip to that forgotten town was far from cheap, but it would be worth the expense.

This would be it. His greatest story. His final chance at greatness. And Oakhurst was waiting.

Chapter Text

Avid was thrown into the deep end of the supernatural at a young age. Elle, his best friend and partner in crime, had been playing with him out in the woods near their homes. They knew those woods like the back of their hands, treating them as their playground since they were old enough to be on their own. But on that day, they had been a bit too cocky, traveling further than they ever had before. And, of course, they got lost.

As children do when they are terrified, they screamed for help, calling out for their mothers to find them. After a while, something answered their cries. But whatever it was, it was far from human. Avid has little memory of what happened after that creature appeared, only recalling waking up with deep scratches on his neck and Elle dragging him out of the woods.

No one ever believed their stories, assuming that their childish minds had exaggerated what really happened. They dismissed the two as traumatized children and insisted that Avid's marks were caused by either a wolf or a bear. However, the two of them knew the truth, and they were determined to prove it.

As they reached adulthood, both Avid and Elle dedicated themselves to studying the supernatural. He immersed himself in alchemy, absorbing every bit of knowledge about legendary creatures and mystical potions. The constant scratches on his neck motivated him to continue searching for a solution to remove them. Meanwhile, Elle focused on the physical side of their work. Her expertise with a crossbow was unmatched, making her the brawn to Avid's brains.

Their latest obsession was vampires, especially regarding the legends of Oakhurst. One of the tomes the pair had found spoke of a time when vampires ruled over the town. They noticed a pattern: every 200 years, some new threat would rise, almost always vampiric in nature. The result would end in the town being wiped out, its citizens either turned or murdered. It fascinated the two hunters, leading them to question if there was a way to stop the vampires without staking them. After all, it was called an infection for a reason, and all infections could be cured. All they needed was a test subject.

Unfortunately, capturing a vampire proved to be nearly impossible. Finding one was difficult, to say the least. Since these creatures had existed for so long, they were experts at hiding. But Elle was confident she had located somewhere they might be. She promised to head out and bring one back, grinning from ear to ear as she left.

The next day, she came back with a strained smile, tears running down her face as she showed her hand. On her palm, two tiny holes clearly indicated a vampire bite. Avid looked at her hand in horror and met her frightened gaze.

"Well…" she let out, her breath shaky, "at least we have a vampire to work on."

Working quickly, Avid grabbed a vial from his work table, using it to collect some of the blood dripping from that open wound. He had to work quickly and find a cure. If Elle was infected, there was no telling how long he had before…

Elle cried out loudly, dropping to her knees in pain as she clutched her injured hand tightly. Avid spun around in shock, his eyes widening as he watched his friend suddenly collapse, overwhelmed by an unknown force. When she finally looked up, her eyes had turned a deep, sinister blood red, her teeth had become sharp and jagged, and her gaze appeared feral and wild. Without hesitation, she lunged into a pouncing stance, launching herself aggressively toward Avid. Thinking quickly, the alchemist reached for a wooden stake from the nearby weapons table, gripping it firmly and positioning it defensively in front of himself as he prepared for the attack. 

In her madness, Elle threw herself straight onto the stake, the wooden point piercing straight through her chest. She choked, coughing up blood before collapsing to the ground, completely unmoving. For a good minute, Avid just stood there, panting heavily as his hands shook. Her blood was all over him, the coppery smell overwhelming. And then, he fell to his knees, collapsing into full-body sobs.

She was dead. His best friend in the entire world was dead, by his hand.

No.

No, he did what was necessary. The blame lies with that monster—the vampire who bit Elle and caused all this. Grief turned into furious tears as Avid forced himself to stand. His eyes were fixed on the weapons rack, where Elle's crossbow and belt were hanging. Without delay, he took both, fastened the belt around his waist, and slung the crossbow onto his back. He may not have Elle's skills, but he would learn.

Walking out of their base, Avid turned toward the dense forests surrounding them. He could feel the creatures of the night lurking in the shadows, as if waiting for him to step into their territory. He knew they would want to turn him, just like they turned Elle, but it wouldn't happen. He would find and kill every last vampire to avenge his friend.

Either way, he had nothing left to lose…

Chapter Text

Jack von Pyroscythe, or Pyro to his friends, was the eldest son of the renowned Pyroscythe family. They were well known in the Capital, with his father and every other member of his family serving as important figures in the military. Generals, Admirals, Naval commanders—his family was full of strong men like that, brave fighters who fought for king and country and never backed down from a challenge. 

So, needless to say, Pyro was a bit of an oddball. 

From an early age, he preferred books over anything else. He’d rather study in his family’s grand library than train in the family’s garden with a sword. His physical abilities were lacking — his strength below average and his stamina nearly nonexistent. But his knowledge and eagerness to learn made him an excellent scholar, so his family reluctantly enrolled him at the Capital University. They figured that perhaps he could become a military advisor, continuing the family legacy from a different angle.

Of course, his family wasn’t the only obstacle Pyro faced.

Czeslaw was a member of another noble house, one with ties to the military similar to those of the Pyroscythes. He also enrolled in the university, studying battle strategies and martial law, hoping to become a General. When he saw Pyro among his classmates, he wasted no time in making his life miserable. Constant ridicule and mockery followed him throughout his school years, with ongoing hazing leaving him with missing assignments, torn books, and his personal belongings trashed. It got to the point where Pyro would be forced to find somewhere secluded on campus just to get a moment of peace.

On one such occasion, when he was reading his favorite book by the lakeside, Czeslaw found him. He was stumbling around, his face flushed with alcohol, and a half-empty bottle of expensive whiskey in his hand. The moment he spotted Pyro, the usual hazing and ridicule began. As he normally did, Pyro tried to leave, to get away from his tormentor, but Czeslaw blocked his path every time. The venom he spat from his alcohol-laden breath chipped away at what little self-restraint the scholar had left. He closed his eyes, covered his ears, but it wouldn't stop. 

Then, he felt his book being ripped from his hands.

This wasn't just any book, but rather a personal Journal containing all of Pyro's notes and his research dedicated to his thesis. He'd been working on it for weeks, and now the drunken bastard was gleefully tearing it to shreds. Of course, he tried to take his notes back, only to get a boot to the chest that sent him sprawling into the mud. Czeslaw laughed loudly, the tiny shreds of parchment falling to the ground as he dropped the now-empty journal cover into the lake. That laughter echoed loudly in his ears, making the normally timid scholar see red.

What happened next was a bit of a blur, but he remembered getting to his feet, picking up one of the large stones that liked the lake’s edge. He remembered lifting the stone, a sickening thunk, and that irritating laughter finally coming to an end.

It was the splash that followed that managed to snap Pyro out of his stupor. He looked down, shocked to see Czeslaw’s form lying face-first in the lake. His head looked almost caved in, and one look at the bloodstained rock in his hand made it all too clear what had caused it. In a panic, Pyro threw the stone into the water, stumbling away from the shore as the realization hit him. Without hesitation, he ran away from the lake, putting as much distance between himself and Czeslaw.

By the next morning, Czeslaw’s body was discovered by the constables, not far from the place Pyro preferred to go to read. Immediately, the blame fell on Pyro, with his tormentor’s family demanding retribution for their son’s death. Of course, Pyro denied any wrongdoing, using his own weakness and the whiskey bottle recovered at the scene to try and defend himself.

“Maybe Czeslaw fell!” he argued. “Those rocks are treacherous. Maybe he hit his head when he fell and drowned!”

But of course, his pleas fell on deaf ears. No one believed him, not even his own parents. He knew they didn't care for him, seeing him as a weak link in their otherwise pristine bloodline. But to have them so openly burn him left him reeling. They had been waiting for a chance to be rid of him, especially now that he had no chance of doing anything worthwhile in their eyes. And so, they gave him an ultimatum: denounce his family name and be cast out, never calling himself a Pyroscythe again, or be arrested for the murder.

What other choice did he have? He packed what little he was allowed to take from his home and set off that very night. He couldn't stay in the capital, but that didn't mean he was giving up. His notes were gone, but he didn't need them. He would find a new avenue of research, a new thesis that would show everyone his worth. He would impress them all and be welcomed back with open arms. And he knew exactly where he could go.

Chapter Text

Pearl covered her ears, unable to stomach the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bones. This was her fifth full moon since the incident— the fifth time she had to lock her parents away for their safety. They never argued or fought her when she led them into their silver cages. Instead, they offered their hands to the manacles and voiced words of love and support. Not once did they blame her for flinching or her discomfort with being touched by them. They knew what they were and what they had become.

Werewolves.

Most of the time, they could pass for normal humans. Yes, they were a little stronger, with teeth and nails sharper than usual, but they could still act like the people they were. It was only when night came, when the full moon rose into the sky, that was when they ceased to be people and became the monsters they had been forced to become.

Ever since that fateful night, Pearl has been trying desperately to find a cure. She pores over every single tome, record, and book, recording anything even remotely related to werewolves, but finds nothing. She tries experimenting on her own, using well-known werewolf weaknesses like silver to try and steady their minds. It doesn't work. In desperation, she even attempts to ingest werewolf blood, hoping to possibly gain their strengths while avoiding their weaknesses. All she gets is a pretty bad stomachache.

By now, she knew she had exhausted all options available to her. She had to face the fact that her parents were beyond saving. They were doomed to this life, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Nothing… save for avenging them.

Locking down the Moon Estate took a long time, and finding the right wards that would keep outsiders away while keeping her parents contained was even harder. Luckily, she’d managed to find a specialized containment spell that would completely seal off the estate. No one would be able to find it once the spell was enacted, and those inside would find themselves trapped forever. As such, Pearl ensured several fruit trees were planted, that a freshwater brook ran through the lands, bringing fish and clean water, and that fields could be sown during her parents' better days. They could seal themselves away on the full moon and sustain themselves during their human times.

A life of a caged animal, but it was still a life.

Standing outside the Moon Estate’s main gates, Pearl triple checked that all of the sigils she’d carved into the wall were in position. One small mistake could ruin weeks of hard work, so she had to be thorough. After making sure everything was perfect, she stepped back, opening the worn, leather tome that contained the spell she needed.

“Hae terrae in perpetuum obsignentur, et nemo earum beneficia aspiciat.”

The sigils carved into the stone wall began to glow before a shimmering wall of light descended over the area. As it fell over the wall, it vanished from sight, leaving only a misty blanket covering what appeared to be an inconspicuous clearing. Already, she could feel the spell urging her to move on, that this land was no longer welcoming to her. With a heavy sigh, Pearl lowered the book, tucking it into her luggage along with her few worldly possessions.

 Her home was gone, sealed away forever. Now, she would need to find somewhere new to live, somewhere else to call home. She didn't know where her journey would take her, but she knew that one day she would have a new home, and if she was lucky, a new family. But for now, she had a job to do as a werewolf hunter. So, picking up her bags, Pearl turned toward the Rising Moon and took her first step toward her new tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Martin groaned softly as he stretched his limbs, awakening from a long, restful slumber. He didn't have a clear sense of how much time had passed, but the brightness of the sky suggested it had been quite a while. As his eyes fluttered open, he expected to see the familiar sight of the caravan he had been traveling with, along with the other men of his merchant convoy. However, what he encountered instead was a sprawling, deconstructed campsite, devoid of any sign of life or activity.

Great. Once again, he had been left behind.

This wasn't the first time such an occurrence had happened, especially considering his narcolepsy, which often made him a bit of a burden and hindered his ability to wake up on time. His father, the leader of the merchant caravan, had grown increasingly frustrated with Martin’s repeated struggles. As a result, he had made a stern declaration: if Martin could not wake up on his own and join the group in the mornings, he would be left behind.

Martin initially thought it was just a bluff. After all, this was his father—what kind of father would leave his son stranded in the middle of nowhere? He learned the harsh truth the very next morning when he caught the faint tail end of the caravan’s departure. It took him over an hour to dismantle his tent and hurriedly catch up, only to be met with glares of annoyance and impatience.

The second time it happened, Martin had been slightly quicker. He managed to keep the caravan in sight just long enough to start disassembling his camp and then hurried after them, finally reintegrating with the group. But now, apparently, the third time was the charm. He had no idea where anyone was, and he was well and truly stranded.

Letting out a groan, Martin pulled himself free of his sleeping bag and began the familiar process of disassembling his camp, cursing his luck the entire time. It wasn't his fault that he was like this. He had tried to wake up; he really had. But he couldn't control it, and nobody seemed to understand that. When he needed to sleep, he needed to sleep—that was all there was to it. Had he not already proven himself to be a valuable member of the caravan? He was the only member of their group willing to take risks, put himself out there, and try to make a difference. He was the one constantly seeking out new things to sell, new ventures to make them rich. But did any of them appreciate that? No! All they saw was some sleeping idiot. 

Well, screw them!

He was sick of being a merchant anyway. Sick of always traveling, never having a stable home. He wanted to be someone. He wanted to have money and power, to be recognized for his strength and abilities. He wanted to be like the nobles he saw while hawking his wares. And maybe, this was his chance to do it. This could be the time when he reinvented himself. He didn't have to stay Martin the Merchant's son. No, he could be someone new. He could be... he could be... 

Crap, what could he be?

Whatever. He'd figure it out along the way. He'd find a way back into civilization and reinvent himself. Maybe even give himself a new name. Wait, no, that's a bad idea. Knowing him, he'd likely fumble his name if he tried to come up with something. It would be better to stick with Martin. Though maybe he could change the spelling.

Martyn.

Yes, the Y added in made him sound a bit more posh. He would need a surname, though, but he could come up with one later. He’d also need to come up with a backstory. So many things to consider.

On the bright side, he had plenty of time to think while he ventured out to find people.

Chapter Text

There was a noticeable shift in the winds that swept through the dense forests of Oakhurst, signaling unmistakable signs that humanity had once again come to reclaim these cursed lands. The sacred spirits, who had finally chosen to descend upon this blood-soaked town, let out a jubilant cry, a sound that echoed loudly across the abandoned countryside. From all directions, twelve new visitors entered the borders of Oakhurst, and yet, two more souls were awakened, adding to the unfolding story…

Deep, deep underground, in an almost labyrinthine crypt, a massive stone coffin was placed in the center of a grand chamber. In this stone coffin, a man lay—pale skin, blue hair, and a hint of something poking through his perfect lips. This was Scott Goldsmythe, the manor lord who had been cast into an unnatural sleep. 

He had not moved in nearly 600 years, but now, the ancient magic that kept him asleep had finally been broken. His finger twitched, then his hand, and finally his eyes began to open as he stretched his arms—only to be immediately stopped by the cramped confines of his stone bed. His sleepy smile immediately turned sour, recalling the events that occurred before his great slumber.

“Gem…” he snarled. “That traitorous… You'd better hope you’re already dead, or I’m gonna turn you into my first meal.”

Scott could tell that he was weak; one does not sleep for however long he has been and not become weaker. He was probably at the level of a freshly turned fledgling at this point—frankly, an embarrassment for someone as ancient as him. But he at least had enough strength to shove the massive lid off his coffin with one hand. It flew across the crypt, smashing into one of the support columns and finally allowing him to sit up. 

To normal eyes, the gloomy darkness of the crypt would have been suffocating, but Scott was a vampire, a creature made for the dark. As such, he saw everything with perfect clarity and was immediately disgusted by the dust and cobwebs everywhere.

“Who let my family crypts turn out like this?!” he exclaimed, absolutely aghast. “Just because you sealed me away doesn’t give you leave to just neglect your duties. Surely someone has been living here while I’ve been asleep.”

He could no longer use his strength to jump to the upper levels of the chamber, leaving him no choice but to climb a ladder like an ordinary peasant. He urgently needed food and refused to remain weak, especially with the invaders possibly living in his home. However, if foolish humans did inhabit his castle, he might be able to feed on them and restore his strength—he just needed to be clever about it.

However, as Scott emerged from the top of the winding staircase leading out of the crypt, he was shocked by what he saw. 

His once-beautiful castle was utterly gone, replaced by charred, overgrown ruins. He could see the remnants of construction he didn't recognize, as if someone had modified his castle for a new purpose before a raging fire had taken it out. Through the overgrown weeds and encroaching wildlife, he could make out what almost looked like bodies. Long decayed and reduced to little more than skeletons now, it seemed that whoever had overtaken his castle was long gone. Too bad they took the castle with them.

“Well…” he let out, clicking his tongue before hissing through his teeth. “So much for my free meal. I doubt Gem’s alive either. Shame.”

Surveying the damage done to his castle, Scott tried to piece together how much time had passed. He wasn’t the biggest fan of calendars, seeing as they were mainly religious documents, and he and the church didn’t exactly see eye to eye. That was to say nothing of the fact that they kept changing the time system every couple hundred years. Still, he needed something, anything he could use to reliably tell him how long he’d been asleep.

Luckily, something revealed itself to him: a massive oak tree perched near the edge of the cliff. Judging by its placement and the surrounding landscape, it had once been a small sapling planted in his grand garden many years ago—specifically, 27 years before he was cursed. A grin spread across Scott’s face as he gazed at the tree; he stepped forward, reached out with both hands, and pushed against it.

Ugh, he hated feeling weak! In his prime, he could have uprooted this tree with ease, tearing it from the ground. Now, he was struggling just to bring it down. Frustration boiled inside him, and he growled under his breath. As he stepped back, his foot unexpectedly caught on something beneath the fallen leaves—an old, rusted axe embedded in the shattered skull of one of the bodies lying scattered around.

It wasn’t much, but it would suffice. 

Scott grasped the axe firmly and began swinging. Each blow was hard and deliberate—one, two, three—until after 72 relentless swings, the mighty oak finally toppled over with a thunderous crash. As the dust settled in the wake of the falling tree, its cross-section became available to Scott; the countless rings etched into its trunk were now visible to him. It’s well-known that you can determine a tree’s age by counting these rings, and, as anyone familiar with vampires would know, they also love to count such things.

Seating himself on the now felled tree, Scott made himself comfortable and began to carefully count the rings.

A short distance to the northwest of the crumbling castle ruins, at the foot of a dilapidated tower, something suddenly began to stir. A figure, frozen in time and motionless for over two centuries, finally started to move again. The world around him had changed drastically since he had collapsed at the base of the now-decaying lumber mill. Tree roots had wrapped tightly around his limbs, grass had grown across his body, and weeds were tangled among his mud-brown curls. From a face half-covered in dirt and debris, a single eye slowly opened. That eye reflected nothing but cold emptiness, a void that seemed unfazed by the passage of time, even as the figure gradually lifted himself from his resting place.

“Really?” he grumbled, his voice tinged with annoyance, unconcerned about the plants that still clung stubbornly to his body. “Someone had to come and wake me up... Why can’t they just let me die…” 

Owen, the former lumberjack turned vampire, reluctantly wiped away the dirt caked onto his face before flicking it aside with a tired gesture. His body felt stiff and weak, a clear consequence of the endless hours he had spent sleeping in the shadowy confines beneath his lumbermill, lost in a mindless, restless slumber that seemed to stretch on indefinitely.

Finally standing, Owen hissed as he felt the sun's rays fall on him. He was a weak enough fledgling that the sun didn't burn him, but its brightness still made him wince. He retreated into the confines of the ruined tower, the foliage dropping from his body with each step he took. Leaning against the wall for a moment, Owen took stock of his surroundings.

Seeing his and Louis's lumber mill reduced to this state made his long-dead heart ache. It just went to show how much time had passed, and yet here he was—still living, and still alone. But if something had returned to Oakhurst, if something had spurred the Holy Spirits to finally make their move, then maybe he had a reason to keep living—at least for a bit longer. 

Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly in any shape to go on another killing spree. He was hungry, and he looked like some sort of feral plant creature. Looking down at his clothes, he realized most of them had been completely eaten away by time, leaving him in little more than rags. Luckily, since Owen spent most of his time at this lumber mill back when he was human, he had kept some personal effects here. Hopefully, time had been kinder to them than it had been to him.

He discovered the old wooden lockbox concealed among the broken remnants of the roof. Remarkably, the box remained intact, and upon opening it, he found his clothes were still relatively unscathed. They were stiff and a bit dusty, but he had worn worse — in fact, he was already accustomed to much worse conditions. Carefully shedding the ruined garments he had slept in for the past two hundred years, Owen donned a fresh set of clothes. He also retrieved some linens stored at the bottom of the box, skillfully wrapping his arms, legs, hands, and neck with a practiced precision that he had never completely lost. 

As he finished, he moved to close the box but hesitated. At the very bottom, nestled among other items, was a single red tunic — Louis’s tunic. Owen almost forgot he still had it; he recalled the day Louis lent it to him when his own shirt had been torn by a falling branch he hadn't managed to dodge. Louis had given him this shirt to wear home, and Owen had kept it close, treating it as a treasured keepsake. 

With trembling hands, Owen carefully pulled the shirt from the box, pressing his face against the folded fabric. Sadly, any traces of his sire’s scent had long since faded, leaving the vampire feeling utterly empty once more. Unwilling to leave it behind, Owen gently placed the shirt into his satchel, convinced that holding onto that small piece of Louis might help him retain some of that warmth now missing from his life. Anything, he thought, to feel even a fragment of comfort amid the coldness that had engulfed him.

“Right…” he let out, cracking his neck. “Time to go find some food.”

In the blink of an eye, Owen had transformed into a flurry of bats. They scattered on the winds as he himself took flight, following his nose toward the smell of humans.

“624, 625, 626… I’VE BEEN ASLEEP FOR 600 YEARS?!”

Scott’s sudden shout startled a nest of crows that had settled on one of the broken battlements of his castle. Still, could you blame him? 600 years! How much had he missed during that time? He had lived for nearly 800 years before, and in his human lifetime alone, he’d seen the fall of the Roman Empire. His family had sacked part of Brittania in the name of the Goldsmythes! Sure, he hadn’t fought in the battles himself, but he’d funded them!

Hang on, he was off topic. He needed to focus.

Scott knew from experience that humanity was constantly changing, and after 600 years, there was no telling what had changed. He would need to be cautious about how he went about things. It would do him some good to try and blend in with the humans for a while, until he could get his strength back. It was his best option for now.

With a sigh, Scott got to his feet, turning toward the worn-out bridge leading from his castle to the mainland. From experience, he knew that if he went across the bridge and kept traveling southeast, he would reach a small human settlement called Oakhurst. Hopefully, he can find some food there and get some thralls to help rebuild his castle. So, with a flourish of his cloak, Scott crossed the bridge, making his way toward the town.

Little of the once-bustling town of Oakhurst remained, as the forest had long since overtaken it. However, a notable clearing still held its remains, with staggered wooden walls standing as the only visible relic. The roads leading into the town were nothing more than dirt paths, overgrown with weeds and strewn with sharp stones that could damage any passing carriage. The town itself was in utter ruin—no buildings remained upright, only the overgrown shells of former wooden homes and the crumbling stone outline of what might have been a church. The few structures that appeared somewhat stable were the entrance to a stone crypt and a once-elaborate fountain, now filled with stagnant green water. 

Cleo stepped through the crumbling wooden gates of Oakhurst, surveying the wreckage with a weary air. She hadn't expected much from the beginning, knowing that this area had been abandoned long ago. Her mother had told her that she left because of the plague, unwilling to risk contaminated food. 

Speaking of food, what exactly was the situation she was working with? She had seen several pigs on her travels, but humans cannot live solely on meat. The remnants of farming plots were scattered about, with some potato and carrot crops. Oddly enough, there was a rather large abundance of garlic fields. Not precisely a dinner-time staple, but it would do in a pinch.

The sound of a twig snapping pulled Cleo from her ruminations. She turned with a start, shocked to see an older gentleman trying to pull some of the larger weeds out of the side of one of the skeletal houses. One look at his graying hair and thick glasses made it clear that this man was just another traveler, someone who had likely been on the road for quite some time. Not someone she needed to fear, but she wasn't going to take any chances.

“Hello?” she called out, garnering the man’s attention.

Upon hearing her, the man lifted his head, his road-weary eyes brightening at the sight of the red-haired woman. He straightened up, wiping his hands on his trousers before approaching her.

“Ah, good day to ya, missy.”

Cleo nearly did a double-take at the THICK accent on the man. It felt like four to five different dialects shoved together into one barely comprehensible voice.

“U-um…. Hello.”

“I must say, ‘tis good to see a friendly face amongst the ruins of this here town, doncha know. Might I ask as to what I be callin’ ye?”

After taking a moment to recenter herself and do some mental translations, she cleared her throat.

“Right. I’m Cleo.”

“Cleo.” The man’s warm smile softened even further. “'Tis a beautiful name, Miss Cleo. I am Renhardt Dogmourne, a pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. Who exactly are you? Do you live here?”

Renhardt shook his head with a soft laugh. “Nay. I am but a humble traveler seeking out the lands of Oakhurst. I arrived naught a bit ago, only to find this… crumbling husk. I take it from ye questions that ye too be a wayward soul, wandering this vast world of ours, doncha know.”

Now it was Cleo’s turn to chuckle, but her laughter wasn’t of mirth, but of a world-weariness of someone who had never had a home to call their own.

“Yeah. You could say that.” Cleo’s hand went to her neck, where a pendant lay flush against her throat. “My family used to live here a few hundred years ago, but left when this plague swept through. Didn’t want to risk getting sick.”

“Aye, twas the smart choice.” Renhardt’s eyes swept across the shambling ghost town. “‘Tis clear from looking at this place that no living thing has dared to tread upon these lands for some time.”

Cleo bit her lip at Renhardt’s choice of words. Indeed, nothing living had been here for some time. Though from how ruined this place was, nothing undead was likely here either.

“Oh, thank the Word, people!”

Both Cleo and Renhardt turned back toward the entrance, seeing that two more people were just entering the town. One was an older woman, her conservative clothing and monocle marking her as a scholarly type. The cloak alone made Cleo think of the local constabulary, so this one was some sort of law enforcement. As for the other, her rosy cheeks and cheerful smile clearly showed her youth and her naivete, given that she seemed to eagerly approach veritable strangers with the openness that would get anyone killed or worse.

“Hi!” the younger woman with hair even redder than Cleo’s cheerfully greeted. “I’m Shelby! Nice to meet you!”

Cleo blinked slowly at her, more than a little caught off guard by her exuberance.

“Cleo…” she offered up.

“And I be Renhardt Dogmourne.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” the older woman declared with a soft, yet cautious smile. “I’m Drift, a detective from a few counties over.”

“Yeah, we met on the road,” Shelby cheerfully offered. “I was all kinds of turned around out there. Seriously, you’d think with a place as legendary as this, there would be some signs. But not a one! Though maybe there were signs at one point.” The young girl’s eyes widened behind her thick glasses. “Ooh, do you think Bigfoot pulled them out to keep people away?”

The silence that settled over the small group after that comment was thick, with only the distant crows and the rustling wind in the trees audible. Cleo could already feel a sense of dread creeping over her, knowing her time in Oakhurst would be... eventful, to say the least.

~\~/~

On the other side of the ruined town, someone else was finally arriving. Avid, drenched in sweat, out of breath, and frantic with urgency, came running out of the woods as if the bats of hell were on his heels. He practically staggered through the southern gates, collapsing onto the ground as he finally found a moment to catch his breath. He was never the bravest of people, which was why he had chosen the role of support in his duo with Elle. But with her gone, he knew he had to summon courage and be brave himself. 

Unfortunately, the forest was dark and full of terrors, its shadows concealing dangers at every turn. And as he surveyed Oakhurst, he realized the town wasn't much better—no solid structures, no semblance of shelter, and only a few small patches of garlic scattered about like fragile remnants of life. Avid practically pounced on one of those patches, clawing at the dirt until he grasped that precious, paper-wrapped bulb, clutching it tightly as if it were his salvation.

“Thank the Word…” he let out in between gulping gasps. “Thank you.”

With almost feverish intensity, Avid began digging up the remaining garlic patch. He couldn't precisely gauge how much he would need to confront whatever monsters might be lurking in this abandoned ghost town, but he preferred to be overprepared rather than caught unawares. Never again, he silently vowed to himself, feeling his neck ripple subtly beneath his bandages as he worked.

“Hello?”

Avid shrieked when he heard the sudden voice, his heart pounding in his chest. Without thinking, he jumped to his feet quickly and instinctively pulled out his crossbow, ready for whatever threat might be present. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to fire or hold back, and was relieved when he chose the latter upon realizing who he was about to face. Before him stood two travelers, both with fair skin and dark eyes, clearly human and not anything more sinister. Letting out a nervous laugh, Avid lowered his crossbow cautiously, rubbing the back of his head in a gesture of embarrassment and relief at having misjudged the situation.

“Sorry about that,” he hastily apologized. “Are you new here?”

One of the men, who appeared to be only a few years older than him and was dressed impeccably in a suit reminiscent of a butler's uniform, seemed to scrutinize him, examining him from head to toe with a critical and discerning eye. It was evident that he was not entirely pleased with what he saw, as evidenced by the deep furrow forming between his brows, suggesting a clear display of disapproval. Conversely, the other man responded with a warm, bright smile, effortlessly dismissing the earlier tension with a casual wave of his hand, as if the incident was insignificant to him.

“Don't worry about it, we've all had those days.” The friendly man extended a hand, his smile never fading. “My name is Mythical J. Sausage, but you can just call me M.”

“Hi.” Avid took the outstretched hand. “I’m Avid.”

After a firm handshake, the two broke apart as the disapproving butler scanned the area.

“Do you live here?” he questioned, his voice a low monotone that made him sound like some consummate professional.

“What, here?!” Avid quickly shook his head. “No, no. I just got here myself. I'd heard rumors about this place, all the legends and tales of what happened here. And I figured, why not? What did I have to lose?”

“Oh, us too!” M cheerfully said, draping an arm around the bewildered butler, who obviously wished to be anywhere else. "I received a letter from an old friend mentioning that Oakhurst is the place to find the story of a lifetime! I haven't seen it yet, but who knows? Who knows what secrets and mysteries are hidden in the crumbling ruins of this once lively town?”

Pinching his fingers gently around a part of M's sleeve, the butler carefully pulled the arm away, then stepped forward with a deliberate motion. After releasing the author's arm, the butler lightly brushed his own shoulder as if to regain composure, then cleared his throat softly.

“I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Abolish, and I'm just here to pay my respects to my family.”

“You have family here?” Avid questioned, eyes scanning the crumbling homesteads and weed-riddled streets.

“No, but they used to live here a long time ago.” Abolish looked out at the town, his deadpan expression never changing. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting much, but I had hoped for more than… this.”

“You’re not alone on that one.”

This time, Avid managed to keep himself in check as the new voice reached his ears. He and his two new companions turned to see a fourth man entering the town. He was older than all of them, with short hair that still showed some gray. He had a rather nasty scar running from the top right of his forehead down to just below his left eye. He wore a monocle over his right eye and a white surgical robe.

“Greetings,” the man said with a small smile and a slight tip of his head. “I’m Legundo, but most people call me Legs.”

“You’re a doctor,” Abolish noted, gesturing casually toward Legs’s attire.

Legs gave a modest nod, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Yes, I am. I’ve been on… a bit of a pilgrimage, so to speak. Traveling through different places, trying to help those in need and… just be useful, honestly.”

“Oh, is that what you are?” Avid chuckled softly, feeling more at ease with a doctor present. “That’s wonderful! I’m a man of science myself, actually.”

Abolish raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Are you?”

“Pfft. Yeah! Of course!” Avid straightened his back, puffing out his chest confidently before bringing his fist to his sternum in a ceremonial gesture. “You happen to be in the presence of a first-class alchemist and potion maker,” he declared proudly.

Abolish remained visibly skeptical, but Legs seemed to regard him with some curiosity and respect. M looked positively giddy at the mention of alchemy.

“Potion making? Did you happen to branch into distillery? I would kill for some ale or beer right now.”

At that, Avid winced, his proud demeanor faltering a bit. If he didn’t squash this now, then he’d be hounded to make beer for however long they were together in Oakhurst. However, he also knew from experience how well people took it when he talked about what he really did. Still, better to rip the bandage off now than let it fester.

“Actually, I never explored that particular tree,” he admitted, holding up his crossbow for emphasis. “My expertise lies more in… hunting. Specifically, hunting vampires.”

The instant that word escaped his lips, Avid could feel the unmistakable sharp decline in how his companions viewed him. Abolish maintained a neutral expression, betraying not a hint of emotion, but Avid was acutely aware of how the butler silently judged him, his gaze sharp and assessing. Mr. M, on the other hand, looked quite excited—almost eager—which, in a strange way, was oddly reassuring to Avid amidst the tension. As for the doctor, his look was one Avid recognized all too well—pity mixed with exasperation—an expression he had seen countless times on the faces of adults dismissing his concerns as either exaggerated or merely the product of an overactive imagination.

“Great…” he heard the doctor mutter under his breath. “He’s a lunatic.”

“No!” Avid was quick to step up, his voice rising an octave. “No, I’m perfectly sane, Mr. Bedsheet! Vampires are real, and I’m gonna find them and kill them! Every last one of them!”

“This,” the Doctor interjected, pulling at the white robes he wore, “is my surgical apron. I would appreciate it if you didn’t call it a bedsheet.”

Avid wanted to argue further, but there was something in the Doctor’s gaze that stayed his tongue. Nothing monstrous, but something… unsettling. He shook it off, though, holding up his hand in a placating gesture as he slung his crossbow back over his shoulder.

“Alright, that was my bad. But I’m not crazy!”

“Sure.” The Doctor gave a slow nod that made it clear he didn’t believe Avid in the slightest.

“Excuse me,” Abolish cut in, getting everyone to focus on him. “I hate to interrupt, but maybe we should see if there’s anyone else here.”

“Oh yeah, good idea!” Mr. M agreed, nodding eagerly. “Should we head on in? I think I can hear some voices up ahead. Maybe it’s actual townspeople!”

“Yeah, let’s go!”

Avid hurried forward with anticipation, eager to see if there was anyone else nearby. Perhaps he could find someone who believed his story—a new partner to trust. While they couldn’t replace Elle, it would certainly be comforting to have someone watching his back in this uncertain situation, especially as the terrifying threats of Oakhurst started to reveal themselves more openly.

Owen touched down on the edge of a strange, stone crypt that had been erected abruptly in the middle of the dense woods. It was unlike any structure he recognized, having practically grown up amidst these trees. Times had changed, and the woods had grown wilder and more mysterious since he was a man, but he knew enough about the land to realize that this crypt had not been here before. The entire place reeked of Holy Light, especially from the unnatural glowing stones that sat at the top, as if guiding lost souls safely towards it. He sneered, considering smashing the stones, but ultimately decided against it. His strength was not yet enough to meddle with such sacred relics of the Holy Word, not without risking severe consequences.

Turning away from the crypt for the moment, the lumberjack's sharp eyes caught sight of fresh footprints imprinted in the dirt surrounding the entrance. Clearly, someone had recently been here—no, perhaps two individuals. Their presence was evident in the lingering scent of humans in the air. His stomach growled loudly, a constant reminder of the thirst that seemed to never truly fade, no matter how much he ate. The tracks appeared to be relatively fresh, indicating that his prey was not far away. Unfortunately, his brief stint as a bat had already sapped much of his energy, forcing him to continue on foot. It was an inconvenience, indeed, but one he hoped to remedy soon, preferably after he satisfied his thirst with a proper meal.

Following the scent, Owen made his way through the forests, heading toward a lake nestled within a sandy clearing. A tower had been erected there long ago, once serving as an outpost for fishermen who used the lakes to catch their dinner. He snagged a sheep along the way, his ravenous thirst overwhelming him as he drained the creature of its blood. It wasn't as satisfying as human blood, but it would do for now—enough to quench the thirst just a little longer.

As he enjoyed his meal, Owen managed to spot two figures crossing the lake via the crumbled remnants of the bridge. They were a little more than stepping stones now, and Owen didn't quite trust his agility just yet. Maybe he could find one of the old boats? He turned away to do just that, pretending not to notice the voices calling out to him. Not until they got closer, close enough that it would be reasonable for a human to have heard.

“Hello!” a woman’s voice called out.

Owen turned around slowly, forcing a fake smile onto his face before calmly greeting the humans. They consisted of a man and a woman, and they looked vastly different from what he remembered being the common fashion when he was still alive. The woman was dressed in a striking outfit, featuring a skirt that was shorter in the front and longer in the back, revealing glimpses of her calves and the knee-high boots she wore. There was also something unusual about her scent—wild, untamed even—that piqued his suspicion. He knew he would need to keep a close watch on her.

As for the man, every aspect of him screamed spoiled rich kid. His attire was expensive and stylish, his skin was flawlessly smooth, and his hands looked as if he had never experienced a single hardship in his life. It took all of Owen’s self-control not to sneer at the sight of him. This one's blood probably tasted like some sort of expensive wine, Owen thought, bitterness flickering in his mind.

“Hello there,” he said, consciously maintaining a calm and friendly tone, free from any hint of anger or hostility. “I saw you across the lake and was attempting to find a boat.”

“Oh, can’t swim?” the wealthy young man sneered, his tone dripping with mockery. The remark ignited a fierce desire in Owen to tear his throat out. Without a doubt, this one would be his first meal.

“No, I can swim,” Owen responded steadily. “But these waters don’t look particularly welcoming or safe.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” the woman nodded in agreement, her expression serious. “It’s quite cold right now, and I’d rather avoid anyone catching a chill.”

“Right,” the rich boy said with a dismissive nod. “Fair enough.”

“Suppose I should introduce myself,” Owen said with a courteous smile, scanning the group. “I’m Owen. Who might you all be?”

“Oh, right,” the woman cleared her throat, adjusting her posture. “I’m Pearl. Nice to meet you.”

“And you can just call me Pyro,” the wealthy boy chimed in, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “Say, do you happen to know anything about that tower over there? It’s rather strange, isn’t it?”

Owen glanced over Pyro’s shoulder at the tower situated in the middle of the lake. He took a moment to carefully consider his response, deliberately choosing to keep his true familiarity with the land a secret for the time being.

"It appears to be some kind of fishing outpost to me. Perhaps a watchtower designed to ensure that travelers and fishermen alike don't capsize or get into trouble out on the water."

“Ah, yes, that makes sense," Pyro replied thoughtfully. "Water can be... It’s often a perilous environment, especially for those who aren’t prepared."

Owen’s eyes shifted back to Pyro, his gaze narrowing slightly as he studied him more closely. There was something in the way Pyro expressed that sentiment — a subtle, peculiar tone — which struck Owen as unusual. Coupled with his earlier remark about the lumberjack’s supposed inability to swim, it clearly marked Pyro as one of those humans Owen needed to keep an eye on more carefully. However, for the moment, it was too early to reveal his true intentions or to start scrutinizing everyone around him. Not when he didn’t know how many other humans might be lurking nearby.

“So, what brings you to Oakhurst?” Pearl asked, her tone casual as she gently brought Owen back to the present moment. She tilted her head slightly, curiosity evident in her eyes. “You live around here?”

Owen hesitated briefly, choosing his words with care.

“Well, I did,” he replied with a cautious tone. “I was a lumberjack working in this area, but… well, I left for reasons I’d rather not get into. It’s a complicated story. But I’m back now. Trees are ripe for the chopping this time of year, and a man has to make a living, after all.”

Pearl tilted her head with a teasing smirk, glancing back at Pyro. “Then, do you happen to know where the town is?” she asked, voice light with amusement. “This absolute buffoon here managed to get us more than a little turned around.”

Pyro looked a bit defensive but also amused. “I’ve said sorry like five times already! Besides, you were the one who was down in that crypt when I found you.”

Pearl chuckled softly, crossing her arms. “And I was doing quite well on my own until I got saddled with you.”

Owen cleared his throat, attracting the attention of the two humans. "Fortunately for you both," he said with a slight smile, "I do know where the town is. If you follow me, I’ll lead you directly there."

As the two expressed their gratitude for his assistance, they began to follow Owen away from the lake, heading toward the old, winding paths that led to the heart of Oakhurst. Owen wasn’t eager to set foot again in that forsaken town, with its memories and shadows—yet he doubted these two were the only humans who had sought refuge or had been drawn here. This place had an almost magnetic pull, attracting prey like a greedy beast, and Owen knew he would encounter all kinds of people—some dangerous, some not—and that blending in would be a crucial advantage in the long run. 

Lucky you, Pyro, Owen thought silently. You get to live just a little bit longer.

Scott stood atop one of the sturdier parts of the wooden wall encircling the ancient Oakhurst ruins. Inside, he could see roughly a dozen people gathered in a fairly large group, engaged in conversation, exchanging stories, and sharing their experiences. He had been standing there for a while, observing everyone present. Most of these individuals appeared to be strangers to one another, trading names and discussing what had brought each of them to this place. From the snippets of information he had overheard, the site had been abandoned for approximately 200 years. The stories explaining how it came to be deserted varied greatly depending on who was recounting them. It wasn't much, but with 600 years of history behind him, Scott realized he couldn't be too selective about the details he absorbed. Every piece of information could be valuable in this unfamiliar past; he needed to catch up fast.

 Just as he was beginning to grasp who everyone was and what their roles entailed, two more faces entered the scene. One was a woman carrying a musket strapped to her back. It was different from the muskets Scott remembered from his earlier experiences, which only confirmed his belief that humanity continues to grow and evolve. The other was a somewhat shy young man who seemed to be pretending to be wealthy. He exuded an air of desperation and poverty, or perhaps that was simply the scent of the town in general. It was a place best described as a dumpsite.

Well, he wouldn’t accomplish much just standing there idly. If he wanted to find something to eat, he needed to move closer to the source. He shuddered at the very thought of having to interact with the chaotic crowd below, especially some of the more… unstable individuals. The one named Avid, who was currently hurling garlic at people while loudly screaming about vampires, was already starting to irritate him. However, on the bright side, it didn’t seem like anyone was taking Avid’s ramblings seriously. That was at least a small comfort for Scott.

Jumping down from the wall, the ancient vampire landed lightly on the outside, then walked through the gate as if he hadn’t been watching for the past several minutes. The red-haired woman who called herself Cleo was the first to notice him, along with the doctor and the butler. For some reason, Cleo looked already fed up at the sight of him, looking at him as if he were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“Let me guess, you’re new too?”

“I mean…” Scott spread his arms, gesturing to himself. “I just walked in, so I’d say so.”

“Great,” she sneered, shaking her head and turning away. “Lunatics and rich snobs. Cheers!”

“Don’t mind her,” the doctor interjected, clearly attempting to play peacemaker. “This has been… a rather interesting day.”

“Interesting?” the timid man who called himself Martyn interjected, no longer sounding particularly timid. “I came here after being lost in the woods for days, hoping to find some sort of civilization. Instead, we've got someone looking for Bigfoot, a guy throwing seasonings at everyone and rambling about vampires, that guy with the weird as heck accent, and now this blue-haired weirdo. I'd say this day has become downright psychotic.”

Scott placed a hand over his chest, clearly annoyed at being called a blue-haired weirdo. It wasn't his fault that his hair was this striking shade of blue; he had dyed it impulsively after a particularly drunken night at the Local Tavern. Initially, he intended to keep it this way for just a few weeks, mainly to annoy some visiting dignitaries he didn't care for. However, everything changed when he was turned, and now his hair color is permanently stuck this way. He couldn't wait to become a full vampire once more, then he could finally get rid of this blue hair and leave behind the embarrassment of that egregious oversight.

"For your information, my family once held dominion over this land. I have merely come to reclaim my birthright. However, I must admit, I did not expect to find it in such a sorry state."

"Then you're a local,” the doctor remarked.

"Not exactly,” Scott corrected. This was not the moment to reveal precisely how old he was. "My family moved away quite some time ago, but this land still belongs to us, so I have come to reclaim it.”

"And let me guess, you're not entirely pleased with all these ruffians mucking about?” Martyn questioned, his earlier brash tone giving way to a somewhat pretentious attempt at sounding posh.

“Oh no, quite the opposite. Frankly, if you lot want to move in and clean this place up, you're more than welcome! I'd even be willing to help you out, get you settled, and assist with whatever you need. The more, the merrier!" 

With the old town gone and the area seemingly abandoned of all human life except for these eclectic individuals, Scott felt the urgent need to rebuild his human population. This group might not be the absolute best, but their blood would sustain him just as well as anyone else's.

“Wait, wait!”

This interjection was prompted by the soldier girl who had entered the scene not long ago. Scott turned to face her, recalling that she had introduced herself as Apo. The expression she wore towards Scott was one of mild panic mixed with significant annoyance. 

"What's this about you claiming ownership of this land?” she demanded. 

"Like I mentioned earlier, this land has been in my family for generations. Perhaps you've heard of us? The Goldsmythes?" 

"This land belongs to the military,” she cut in abruptly, reaching into the sack slung over her shoulder to retrieve what appeared to be some kind of official documentation. She then waved the document aggressively in Scott's face, prompting him to snatch it from her hand and glance at it quickly. "See? I have orders to establish an outpost here, to convert this land into a military garrison."

"I see," Scott said, lowering the documents and turning to Apo with a raised eyebrow. "Last I checked, didn't the military send their construction crews with, oh, I don't know, supplies? Or maybe more than one person to do the job? And you certainly don't look like any military personnel I've ever seen before." 

“It was a joist stint,” the doctor explained, causing Apo to tense visibly. “I've seen it before—they sent her out here basically to get rid of her. My guess is they don't really care about any outpost or garrison. They just wanted to get rid of her and keep her out of their hair." 

From how red Apo's face was turning, Scott took it to mean that this was the truth. He couldn't help but let out a mocking little laugh at that.

"I think I understand now," he said, turning to face the soldier girl with a condescending pat on the top of her head. "How about a compromise? How about I let you build a small Watchtower here in the town? That way, you can report back to your superiors that you did your job, and I get to have my land restored. Sound fair?" 

Apo mumbled something under her breath, a sound that vaguely resembled reluctant acceptance of the deal. Scott smiled, feeling satisfied that the situation had resolved itself.

Suddenly, a powerful thrum rippled across the land. Scott took a step back, recognizing the sensation of holy magic. He wasn't the only one confused; everyone turned sharply toward the ruined church at the center of town, feeling the same energy surge through the air.

~\~/~

Owen was just outside the gates of Oakhurst when the Holy Magic struck him with the full force of a punch to the stomach, leaving him momentarily breathless. His two humanoid companions reacted similarly; they exchanged surprised glances before quickly running past Owen and into the heart of the town. Owen watched them go, unable to steady his features after that overwhelming wave of power. The Holy Spirits were unleashing their fury without restraint this time. Not only were the crypts stirring from their slumber, but it seemed that some powerful holy beacon had been brought to life right here in the town. From the intense feeling of energy radiating from the ruined church, that was where he would find it.

“Avid, what did you do?!”

That shout was coming from a rather large woman who smelled like dirt and seeds, standing over a skinny man with bandages on his neck. He was smiling while sweating, his heart hammering as he pulled his hands away from a glowing, golden beacon set up in the middle of the church. This was likely the Avid that the woman was yelling at.

“I was consecrating, Cleo!” the man shouted. “I’ve read all about these! They’re tools sent by the Holy Spirits to cleanse a land of dark forces! It’s part of a massive circuit, and if we consecrate them all, it will erase the creatures of the night!”

Owen clenched his fists tight, already finding himself hating this Avid character. He knew too much.

“Avid…” Cleo groaned before throwing her hands up. “You know what? Forget it. Drift, you’re a sensible one. Come deal with this idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot! You felt that power! It’s real!”

“Sure it is,” a new woman, probably this Drift person Cleo had summoned, said as she pulled Avid to his feet. “Come on, we should probably try to figure out what we’re going to do about shelter.”

At the mention of shelter, the gathered crowd around the tower began to disperse, with discussions about resources and which plots they wanted flitting among the humans. In contrast, Owen just stared at the now sacred beacon. He could feel its power weakening him further. If he wasn't already at his lowest point, he imagined there would be worse consequences. For now, he was okay, but only for now. He would need to address this sooner rather than later. 

But not yet. Not with all these people. 

For now, he would need to keep his cards close to his chest and make himself useful so he could blend in. He could find one of the humans to stick around with, one less irritating than Avid or Pyro had been. It had been a while since he'd built anything, but he could at least make himself useful. After all, Lumberjacks were known for providing resources.

Chapter Text

Following the dramatic activation of the beacon, the new citizens of Oakhurst found themselves faced with the immediate task of establishing basic survival and safety measures. As night rapidly approached, they realized they had no shelters to retreat to and no reliable source of food. Cleo, drawing on her background as a farmer, took it upon herself to address the food shortage. In response, every member of the newly formed Oakhurst Township eagerly threw whatever seeds and plants they could find at her, hoping to contribute to the effort. Avid, in particular, threw in an exorbitant number of garlic seeds, so much so that Cleo had to threaten him with her makeshift hoe to make him stop. 

Despite the chaos, it was a start. 

Cleo then began setting up a basic agricultural plot around the old fountain, which was the closest water source available at the moment. An irrigation system was essential to sustain crops and ensure a steady food supply. While she worked to establish the field, the rest of the townspeople began scouring the area for supplies. Some of the more prepared travelers among them carried axes and pickaxes—tools they generously shared with the others—so they could mine stone and fell trees.

Around this time, small groups began to form as people organized themselves. Some individuals paired off and headed into the woods, their nerves heightened by the distant howling of wolves that kept everyone on edge. A few more ventured toward the old mines, hoping to find coal or metals that could be forged into better tools or used as protection against whatever might be lurking in the trees. Among this group was Avid, especially after learning that the town had been known for its massive silver deposits.

"Silver is an incredible vampire deterrent!" he eagerly explained to Drift, who had somehow been roped into being the straight man in this comedic duo. "We need to gather as much as we can! I'm talking armor, weapons, even silver decorations hanging in front of doors to keep those bloodsuckers out!"

"Sure," Drift replied, deciding that she could probably channel his enthusiasm into helping the town instead. "Let's go get as much silver as we can carry."

Practically giddy with excitement, Avid eagerly grasped Drift by the arm and firmly dragged her out through the town gates, heading toward one of the nearby caves. Pearl watched the two figures disappear beyond the wall, shaking her head slightly in amusement and perhaps a hint of concern.

"That boy's got issues," she muttered to herself, a bemused expression on her face.

"Right?!" Cleo exclaimed, raising her hands in relief at having someone else to talk to. "Thank you! I mean, who goes around screaming about vampires and throwing garlic at people? I get it, this town is full of crazy folks like him, but he really takes the cake."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Pearl replied thoughtfully, turning toward one of the nearby houses. From her vantage point, she could see Shelby sitting quietly, humming softly to herself as she carefully trimmed the weeds from around the house's frame. "I mean, I believe in vampires before I believe in Bigfoot."

Cleo didn't have much of an argument for that one. And frankly, she was being a bit hypocritical when it came to the vampire issue. After all, she knew very well that vampires existed, and the reminder made her instinctively adjust the choker around her neck. Once she took a moment to collect her thoughts, she shrugged lightly and turned to Pearl with a soft, understanding smile.

"Have you figured out where you're going to live yet?" she asked gently.

Pearl hesitated for a moment before responding, "Honestly? I haven't quite figured it out yet. There aren't many houses here—well, technically, there aren't any traditional houses. There are just not enough plots of land available. Some of us are going to have to share spaces, and... well, I guess you could say I'm waiting to see if anyone is willing to share their home with me. I've been alone for so long that the idea of living by myself no longer appeals to me."

Cleo nodded thoughtfully, then added, "Well, if you want, I was planning to turn that house in the middle into some sort of public bunkhouse. But that was before everyone started selecting plots and deciding where they'd settle. So, I suppose it's mine now—well, or ours, if you want to share."

Pearl broke out into a big, cheerful grin, quickly throwing an arm around Cleo to give her a friendly side hug. 

"Sounds like a plan, roomie!" she said enthusiastically. "I'm going to go chop some trees so we can start working on those walls." 

With that, she scampered excitedly toward the woods, leaving Cleo a little momentarily stunned by the physical affection, yet oddly feeling a warm sense of happiness from it. Cleo turned back to her work, feeling a bit more uplifted, comforted by the thought that she at least had one person—someone who wasn't completely off their rocker—to talk to.

Over where she was working, Shelby took a moment to catch her breath after successfully pulling the last of the weeds from the plot she had chosen. The patch was somewhat small, but she felt confident she could turn it into a cozy little space. She already envisioned a small writing desk set against one side and a reading nook with a shelf to hold all her books. All that was left was to gather some wood. As she turned to head towards the woods to fetch some, she suddenly paused, her eyes falling on a figure standing nearby by the ruins of the old church. It was Scott, and he was gazing intently at the beacon with an expression that Shelby didn't quite recognize — a mixture of curiosity, confusion, and a hint of uneasiness. 

"Hey," she called out softly, causing the blue-haired man to turn in her direction quickly. "Are you doing alright?"

"Huh?" Scott blinked, seeming momentarily startled, but then he seemed to understand. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just looking at this strange beacon thing. I've never seen anything like it before. Have you?"

"Not in person, no. But I've read about them," Shelby replied. "It's supposed to be some kind of holy binding spell, I think. From what I understand, it's a circuit made up of seven parts — six forming a circle, with one in the center. Once they're all consecrated, they're said to emit a holy energy that can banish the darkness lingering over the land."

"Darkness like…" Scott gestured vaguely toward the distance, "vampires and stuff?"

Yeah, maybe. I mean, everything I've read about these things has just been in my books." At the mention of books, Shelby absolutely brightened. "Speaking of, I still can't get over the fact that Mr. M himself is here in Oakhurst! How cool is that?! He's like my favorite author, and I... I'm totally fangirling. I told him how I love his works, and he said he'd sign some of my books when we get the chance. I all but screamed!"

Scott gave a slight nod, smiling slightly as he did while chuckling softly. This girl was an amusing one, and her positivity was infectious. Her thing about big feet was a bit weird, but no human was without their quirks. He spared a glance at the plot she had chosen, giving it an appraising look.

"So is this where you're going to live?"

"Yep! Do you have anywhere to live? I know you said that you, like, own the lands and all that, so do you have a mansion somewhere?" 

Scott clicked his tongue, hissing softly through his teeth before giving us a slight shake of the head. "Unfortunately, the family property is... well, let's just say it's not livable at the moment."

"Oh. Well, if you want, you can stay with me. I haven't lived on my own before, and with all those wolves outside, I'd feel much safer knowing that I had someone to come home to at the end of the day." She smiled warmly, her eyes encouraging.

Scott perked up at her offer, a glint appearing in his eyes and a slight tick of a smile forming on his lips. "Are you inviting me to live with you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, totally! You're more than welcome to," she replied cheerfully.

Scott grinned widely, a genuine smile spreading across his face. He then performed a regal bow, gesturing with his hand. "Then I humbly accept your kind invitation," he said with a charming smile.

While most of the citizens of Oakhurst had decided to band together for safety in numbers, not everyone adhered to this rule. Mr. M was already riding a creative high after the recent events with the beacon. The sense of power emanating from it proved that the supernatural forces he had been seeking did exist. And if Avid's words were even somewhat accurate—though he took them with a grain of skepticism—it meant there were at least a few more of those strange beacons out there. He was determined to find them. He trusted the other townsfolk to gather enough wood and resources to rebuild the town; they could manage without him for just one day.

 With these self-assurances fueling his confidence, Mr. M ventured deeper into the forest, trusting his intuition to guide him toward the next part of his journey. Already, he could hear whispers carried by the wind, like a voice beckoning him onward. The sound felt warm and inviting, almost as if someone was calling him forward. He followed the voice without hesitation, even as a small, rational part of his mind warned him that this might not be a safe idea. Nevertheless, he couldn't let this chance pass him by. Not if he wanted to redeem himself and rise once more among his peers in the writing community. Taking risks was necessary.

And this time, that risk paid off handsomely.

In the dense forest's heart, along a narrow, hidden trail beneath the ancient trees' thick canopy, Mr. M discovered a tall, imposing stone crypt. It was accessed by stone stairs that rose several feet before abruptly ending in a steep drop into darkness. Known for his endless excitement and curiosity, Mr. M was cautious. He decided to test the depth of the drop by carefully picking up a loose stone from the crypt's edge and tossing it into the darkness below. After a brief fall, he heard a gentle splash—surprisingly, there was water at the bottom, cushioning the fall. 

"Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Geronimo!" he declared with a grin and leapt into the crypt, landing effortlessly in the water below. 

As expected, the water caught his fall, and he quickly noticed a sturdy ladder that led out of the water and into the crypt itself. He climbed out, shook off his coat, and looked around. The crypt looked just as he imagined: dark, damp, filled with cobwebs and long-extinguished candles. The only light came from the sunlight filtering through the entrance, leaving Mr. M wishing he had brought a torch or lantern. Fortunately, some old torches lined the walls, making them easy to light. Mr. M took out a flint and steel from his pocket, struck it against the torches, and ignited them. With the torches flickering, he felt a surge of excitement and decided to explore further into the crypt. 

 At the very end of the crypt, displayed on a raised pedestal, was a single chest. Silvery white in color, with edges lined in gold, it was clear that no man had crafted it. Licking his lips in anticipation, Mr. M slowly reached for the chest and pushed it open. Inside, sitting on a plush velvet interior, was a book. It was a simple leather tone with golden embossments across the cover. Picking it up, Mr. M looked at the cover, where the golden letters shimmered in the torchlight.

"Way… of the Land?"

More than a little curious, Mr. M opened the book, and when he did, it began to glow with a light so brilliant that he had to shield his eyes. Whispers filled his ears as his mind started to fill with knowledge, his head aching as he stumbled backward. The book tumbled from his hand, but it never reached the ground; instead, it disintegrated into particles of light that floated away like fireflies. He was left standing there, panting slightly as the whispers faded and his mind settled. Standing there for a moment, he didn't know what to say or what had just happened. But he did know one thing.

"Magic is real! Magic is real!! I knew it was real! I knew it! I've got to show the others, I have powers now, I have to show them!! I'll show them all! I have powers!"

With a spring in his step and an infectious grin plastered across his face, Mr. M rushed out of the crypt, making his way back to the entrance. There was a strange column of water in the very center, and when he pushed himself into it, he found himself pushed all the way to the top, where he could safely reach the surface once more. Once more, having to shake himself free of the water, he ran back in the direction of Oakhurst, excited to tell everyone about what he had found. 

It felt profoundly strange and nostalgic to return to his roots as a lumberjack after so many years away. Owen wasn't exactly enthusiastic about supplying wood for these despicable humans, but he knew he had to blend in for now. The rhythmic swinging of his ax allowed him to drown in the monotony of the task, giving his mind space to wander over everything he had learned and experienced. 

The humans here were an odd lot; one in particular was especially mouthy about vampires and seemed eager to kill them. Owen, however, wasn't worried. That man reeked of weakness and fear. He was confident that if it ever came to a fight between him and Avid, that human would be reduced to a drained husk on the ground before he could even reach for that revolting garlic of his. 

Still, it wouldn't matter in the end. He had every intention of slaughtering every last one of those vile pests. Not a single one of them would be leaving Oakhurst alive. 

Or better yet, why let them take the easy way out? Why let them enjoy the peaceful, final Embrace of death that had once been denied to him? Why not make them suffer as he had suffered? Why not make them feel the same loneliness, the same ridicule and scorn that had plagued his entire existence? He could show them what it truly meant to be an outcast, to be shunned and misunderstood by the world around them. 

Yes, that sounded like a grand idea—a fitting revenge for everything they'd done. 

The distant sound of voices pulled Owen from his thoughts. He turned toward the noise, from where he knew one of the many old mine shafts existed. The framework had long since rotted away, the entrance overgrown, but it was still there. And it seemed some of the humans had found it. From the shrillness of the voice he heard, he realized it was Avid and his supposed handler, Drift. With a smirk, Owen rounded the tree he was chopping, just as the pair emerged from the mine. Both of them carried sacks bulging with stones and shimmering ores. 

"Nice haul," he called out, unable to stifle a laugh as Avid screamed and dropped his sack, falling flat on his arse.

"Oh, hey," Drift greeted, not startled in the slightest by Owen's presence. "Didn't see you there."

"Where the hell did you come from?!" Avid exclaimed, pointing a quivering finger in the lumberjack's direction. "Why are you just standing there all quiet?!"

"I'm felling trees," Owen answered, gesturing with his thumb to the logs ready to be dragged back to town. "You know, lumberjack? It's my job."

"No! No, you were just standing there! You're waiting for us to come out of that cave! What are you hiding?!"

"Avid…" Drift pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "Literally everyone is out here trying to get resources, just like us. I swear, you are so carriage-lagged." 

Avid ignored her, getting back to his feet before continuing to point at Owen, who just blinked slowly at the pathetic show of bravado.

"You were waiting for us, I know it! Are you a vampire?"

Owen easily laughed off the question, fighting back the urge to flash one of his fangs. Instead, he turned around, pulling his peavey hook from his belt.

"Oh, there are worse things out here in these woods than vampires, Avid." He stabbed the hook into the log with a practiced motion; the movements felt natural to him even after 200 years of nothingness. "This time of year? I'd be more worried about the wolves. They migrate east around this time, and they tend to be quite ravenous things. To say nothing of the bears and the other creatures that torment the foolish who venture out beyond where they're welcome."

Yes, these woods were quite dangerous indeed. Back when he was still a man, Owen had to contend with the occasional skeleton that would rise from the grave or the zombie that would shamble about. Then there were the spiders, much larger than the tiny ones that often nested in his rotten hay bed, and the creatures as green as the brush that would explode if you dared to get too close. Oakhurst had been safe from them when Louis was in power, one of the gifts granted to him as a fully-fledged vampire. Sadly, Owen was not strong enough to instill that much fear into the creatures of the night. Not yet, at least.

"Actually, speaking of all those things, let me ask you this." Avid approached Owen, arms crossed and brow raised. "We see undead creatures come out of the woodwork every night. Why is it that they are just an everyday occurrence, but you find the idea of vampires ludicrous?"

At that, Owen just shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's just cuz I've never seen one."

Laughing lightly at his joke, Owen began to drag his log back toward Oakhurst, the two humans following behind him. The entire time they walked, Avid continued to pester the lumberjack.

"And what if I told you I had seen one? What would you say if I told you that I had come face to face with a Vampire?"

"I'd say you were full of it," Owen answered honestly. "If vampires are truly as dangerous as you claim them to be, then I highly doubt that you would have been able to come face to face with one and live to tell the tale."

"Not true!" Avid moved so he was in front of Owen, forcing him to stop. "I did see a vampire. They got as close to me as you are now… and I had to defend myself."

"I don't doubt that you had to defend yourself against something," Drift spoke up, gently taking Avid's arm before pulling him out of the lumberjack's path. "But maybe... maybe you were just defending yourself against a person."

At that, Avid pulled his arm free, shaking his head with a look of pain in his eyes. It was an expression Owen recognized all too well — the eyes of someone who had lost their closest person.

"Trust me when I say, the person I had to defend myself from... if she had been a person, I never would have had to."

Despite himself, despite the animosity he still held toward humanity, Owen couldn't suppress the pang of sympathy that pierced through his long-dead heart. He knew the sound of grief all too well, and this was fresh grief as well. Quickly, he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He couldn't get distracted now; he couldn't become soft. Humans didn't deserve his sympathy, especially not some wannabe vampire hunter. Tightening his grip on his peavy hook, he continued his trek back toward Oakhurst.

The sun gradually set over the horizon, casting the sky in the rich, warm hues of twilight that slowly gave way to dusk. By this time, the various expeditions were returning from their daily ventures, carrying numerous logs and bags filled with cobblestone and shimmering silver ore. All the coal they had managed to gather was carefully transformed into lanterns and torches, providing crucial illumination for the skeletal remains of the town. Since the conditions weren't suitable for settling down comfortably for the night, they planned to continue their work, making light an essential resource—especially once darkness fully enveloped the town.

Unfortunately, as night fell, a new, terrifying sight unfolded before them. An ominous blood moon replaced the warm, peaceful hues of twilight that hung high in the sky. Gone were the twinkling stars and the deep blues of night; instead, they faced a haunting expanse of crimson, as if the entire land had been bathed in blood, transforming the night into a landscape filled with dread and foreboding.

"That's not natural," Abolish commented, his usual monotone remaining even as he looked up at the sky from the plot he had chosen for himself.

"You can say that again," Martyn agreed, pausing work on his own homestead to shudder at the terrifying sky. "That wasn't like that before I got here. Just a normal sky with normal stars. Not this… Bram Stoker nightmare fuel."

Legundo, who had arranged his base of operations between the two men, couldn't help but shake his head at Martyn's comments. He straightened up, wiping his hands on his apron before leaning on the framework he had arranged with the cobblestones.

"You're overreacting. This is an easily explainable scientific phenomenon."

"What, the bloody moon, or the equally bloody night sky?" Martyn shot back skeptically.

"It's called a lunar eclipse. The Earth passes directly between the Sun and Moon, blocking direct sunlight. The remaining light that reaches the Moon's surface is scattered by Earth's atmosphere, with blue light being filtered out, leaving behind the longer, reddish wavelengths. Thus, we get the phenomenon known as the Blood Moon."

Martyn didn't look the slightest bit convinced. If anything, he seemed more confused by the doctor's scientific explanation. Abolish, on the other hand, merely stayed silent, his eyes returning to the sky with a slight narrowing of his vision. However, this was not the end of the conversation. As if drawn by the mention of the Moon and the ominous sky, Owen seemingly appeared out of nowhere, dragging along a fresh log of wood.

"Are we talking about the moon?" he asked, looking around at the gathered men. "Are you saying you haven't heard the tale?"

 The minute he said the word 'tale,' Mr M came running from the house he had been working on. He had been feeling a bit down after telling everyone about his magical power, only to discover that it basically just made crops grow a little faster. Those he had shown it to had laughed, with Cleo straight up yelling at him to get away from her fields, so he was feeling a bit down and out. But the mention of a potential story had him starry-eyed once more, rushing over to Owen with an almost manic grin.

"You know the tale of Oakhurst?!" Mr. M practically shouted, practically vibrating where he stood. "Is it about the massacre from 200 years ago?"

Owen smirked, sitting down on the log he had been dragging before lacing his fingers together.

"It is indeed." Everyone gathered around Owen as he began the tale. "Two hundred years ago, the townsfolk of Oakhurst committed a grave and unforgivable sin. They took the life of an innocent man, one who had been protecting the town longer than anyone could remember— even longer than the oldest residents had been alive. When that man died, a terrible and powerful monster was unleashed upon the populace. This beast tore through the town with ferocity, killing every man, woman, and child in its path. The blood spilled that night permanently tainted the skies over Oakhurst, turning them a perpetual shade of red that remains visible to this day. As the legend goes, anyone who is foolish enough to attempt reclaiming the lands of Oakhurst from this vile and merciless creature will suffer the same fate as those sinners—either a gruesome end at the hands of the monster or be swallowed by the darkness that still lingers there."

A larger audience had gathered amidst Owen's Tale, with all the citizens of Oakhurst listening intensely. Avid was practically shaking in his boots, and almost everyone looked a little spooked. The only ones who remained unfazed were Cleo, the doctor, Abolish, and Scott.

"Wow…" Shelby let out, a nervous smile on her face. "I don't remember reading about that in my books."

"It's just an old Tale," Owen said, getting back to his feet. "old superstitions passed down through the generations. I don't really think there's much to it. After all, I used to live here back when I was a boy."

"Oh, really?" Scott questioned, eying Owen up and down. "And how long ago was that?"

"Eh," Owen gave a small wave of the hand. "30… 40 years ago? I never really learned to count, so I don't really know."

"You're over 40?" Mr. M. let out in amazement. "Wow. You don't look a day over 20."

"Healthy living, fresh mountain air," Louis's gift, his last remaining trace of his beloved sire. "That kind of thing. Unfortunately, while I'm adept at felling trees, I'm not exactly skilled at construction. If I supply materials, would someone be willing to help me build a house here?" 

Mr. M. was quick to offer his services. "Oh, absolutely! We're running out of available plots to rebuild some houses, so why don't you just room with me? Trust me, you will be living in the lap of luxury with me. I used to be a carpenter before my publishing career took off. I may be a bit out of practice, but the body never forgets." 

"Cheers," Owen declared, allowing Mr. M. to lead him toward the plot the writer had chosen.

The construction of the houses was advancing smoothly, with all workers committed to finishing their tasks efficiently. The houses themselves were straightforward in design, featuring functional layouts and modest sizes. However, a handful of the more experienced and skilled members of the town's workforce dedicated extra effort to enhance the aesthetic appeal of some structures, adding decorative touches and design elements. In total, nine houses were being built, with about five groups of roommates spread about the neighborhood. 

There were Cleo and Pearl, who took the initiative to decorate their house by transplanting some Rose bushes they had discovered nearby. They also gathered berries to serve both as food and to enhance the aesthetic appeal of their home, adding natural beauty and practicality to their surroundings. 

Next, Apo and Pyro, who had recently become roommates after discovering they shared the same goal of developing the same piece of land, began working together. They had built walls and a roof to create a basic shelter, though the floor remained mostly dirt. Apo appeared particularly focused on the idea of building a simple watchtower on their roof, perhaps to get a better view of the surroundings or to serve as a lookout.

Drift and Avid became roommates as well, primarily due to Drift's insistence, so she could help keep her new friends' enthusiasm for vampires somewhat in check. Their home was a two-story house with a bathtub on the second floor, adding a unique touch to their living space.

 Shelby and Scott shared a charming, cozy cottage that served as their home. Shelby had gone to the trouble of installing a mud-brick floor, using a clever trick she had picked up from her books to craft them. Scott wasn't entirely happy about living in such a small space, but considering the alternative—living in the ruins of his castle—he saw no reason to complain outright, at least not aloud.

 Mr. M kept his promise to Owen by building a beautiful house with a lovely mossy cobblestone roof. He even went as far as to set up some interior decorations, including a small kitchen and two different bedrooms. Owen insisted on taking the attic bedroom, saying he preferred being high up. Mr. M, always accommodating, obliged.

 Everyone else had a home of their own. Renhardt said he would turn his home into a sort of tavern, hoping that having a public house for them to enjoy would help boost morale and town fellowship. Martin and Abolish were just going with simple stone houses for them to live in, with the latter adding on some small fields of his own so he could help with the farming. Finally, Dr. Legundo took the only house with a stone foundation, knowing full well that it was likely to be the sturdiest place for him to build. His home would serve not only as his residence but also as a future clinic. He had a feeling he would need it in the days to come. 

Surveying the town, Avid was glad that everyone now had a home they could retreat into. So much so that he had proposed a house judging contest to be held in a few days so that everyone could showcase their hard work. It had been met with a lukewarm response, but Drift had convinced everyone to humor him, so they reluctantly acquiesced. 

As he looked around, Avid couldn't help but feel a bit nervous about how many people had roommates, especially since he already harbored suspicions about a few members of the village. One of his main suspicions was Scott. There was something about that man that set off every alarm bell he had. The way he looked, the way he talked, the way he dressed—all of it felt dangerous. Plus, he'd seen how the man had been staring at the beacon, as if it had offended him at some point. Was he feeling the effects of its holy energy? Unfortunately, he didn't have enough evidence, but he needed to be sure.

To try and combat this vampiric threat, Avid went all out on his vampire defenses. He had an entire patch of garlic growing right next to his house, posted signs everywhere warning everyone to stay vigilant, and, after making sure everyone had the silver tools they needed, took the leftovers and began smelting silver blocks. He did his best to ensure that every single house had at least one silver block buried beneath it, with the first one going under Shelby and Scott's front door.

Shelby had been one of the few people not to think he was crazy. Yeah, he did get a little frustrated when it came to her incessant obsession with Bigfoot and the fact that she still believed in Santa Claus in her twenties. But, he still considered her a friend, and he didn't want to risk Scott doing something to the one person in town who believed him. 

After carefully burying a silver block under his own front door, Avid stood up and stretched, feeling a sense of accomplishment. He then turned around, prepared to move on to the next house, only to let out an all-out scream when he suddenly realized that Owen was standing directly behind him. Startled, he stumbled back, but thankfully, he was caught and steadied by Drift, who had been standing nearby and watching the scene unfold. 

"So, is this where you're staying?" the man asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn't just startled the young alchemist into nearly pissing himself.

"Yep!" Drift cheerfully responded while quietly steadying Avid. "I'm going to be working on a chimney next. The nights are getting colder, so we'll need a way to stay warm."

"I can't help but be a bit worried about all this wood," Owen said with a sly smile creeping across his face. "What if a vampire comes along and sets it on fire?"

Avid sputtered slightly, trying to think of a defense, but the lumberjack kept talking.

"I mean, all it takes is just a small piece of flint and a piece of steel, and suddenly—fwoosh," Owen mimicked a burst of flames with his hand. "And there goes the house."

"Why would they do that?" Drift asked, frowning. "If a vampire was attacking, why burn down the house? They bite people, not burn their belongings."

Owen was grinning, clearly enjoying this little scene of his. "Well, you see, vampires are pretty clever creatures. They're not like the undead who shamble around, causing a nuisance." He took a step forward, the smirk never leaving his face. "Nah, they're calculating. You go into the house, and all they have to do is burn it down, smoke you out. You'll come running right into their open arms."

Avid was starting to breathe a bit heavier now, his hands shaking as he reached for the wooden stake he had hanging from his belt. Owen's gaze flicked onto it for a split second, and the amusement in his eyes just seemed to grow.

"You seem to know a lot about vampires," Drift commented, which gave Avid's panicking mind something to latch onto.

"Yeah, I thought you said you didn't believe in vampires! Were you lying this whole time?!"

Owen just took another step closer, leaning in so his mouth was mere centimeters from Avid's ear.

"I'm pulling your leg."

The sudden sigh of relief from Drift broke the tension in the air, though it left Avid feeling more than a little angry. especially when Owen reached out and ruffled his hair like he was some sort of child. 

"You're gonna be alright," the lumberjack said as he walked off. "You're gonna be alright."

Avid grumpily smoothed his hair out as Drift chuckled nervously.

"Oh man, he almost got me with that," she said quietly. "Wasn't very nice though. I think he enjoys scaring people. First that story, now this? Man…”

Avid sighed, shaking his head. "Come on… we still got work to do."

Chapter Text

As the first morning rays finally dispersed the lingering shadows of the dark and bloody night, everyone felt a wave of relief. The night had been dark and full of terrors, but it was now over, and it was time to resume their efforts. The houses looked noticeably better than the day before, yet the town still needed significant work. The town walls required repairs here and there, the fountain needed fixing, and there was an urgent need to find some animals to add much-needed protein to their diet. 

Beyond these immediate concerns, the beacons also warranted attention; if more existed, discovering and consecrating them could prove immensely beneficial. The humans instinctively felt that they needed to act quickly in this regard. Additionally, Mr. M's mention of a mystical tome hidden within a crypt piqued the interest of the more adventurous and exploratory members of the group, eager to venture out and uncover its secrets. 

Dr. Legundo was among the first to depart, hardly waiting for the morning sun to rise. He liked to see himself as a patient man, with a high tolerance for nearly anything the world could throw at him. Yet the madness he encountered among some of Oakhurst's more outspoken residents was beginning to show him that he wasn't as composed as he thought he was. He urgently needed some fresh air and a break, especially from the barrage of garlic and signs claiming vampires were real. Fortunately, he had a valid excuse: he needed more cobblestone to complete his house.

"Are you going somewhere?"

For a brief moment, the doctor tensed up, a flicker of tension crossing his face. Yet, he quickly recognized that the familiar monotone voice belonged to one of the only four sane individuals remaining in this unpredictable town. Relief washed over him, and he turned his attention toward Abolish. 

"I was about to set out on a mining expedition," he explained, motioning toward his half-finished house. All he possessed at the moment were some wooden frames, which served as a rough outline of his plans, and a cobblestone foundation built from the rubble he had gathered around his chosen plot of land. "That, and I really need to get away from these crazy people."

"Tell me about it," Abolish responded, a trace of exasperation creeping into his voice. "I had to remove three different signs from my house declaring that vampires were real."

"Right?" Apo chimed in as she walked over to where the two of them were talking. "I swear, if I have to listen to Shelby going on about Bigfoot or Avid talking about vampires one more time, I am going to scream. It's like everyone's got their own supernatural obsession, and none of it is ending anytime soon."

"I have to agree," Pyro added, having followed Apo over. "It makes me feel bad for Scott and Drift. They have to room with those two, and I bet it's even more exhausting for them."

"That was their choice," the doctor reminded him, shaking his head slightly. "Although I have to admit, I chose to be Avid's neighbor, so I don't really have much room to talk about their situations."

"As fun as commiserating like this is, maybe we should go and do this out of town?" Abolish gestured toward the town gates with his thumb. "We're burning daylight, and I'd rather not have to listen to anyone going on and on about how dangerous it is at night or asking if I have garlic."

There were immediate murmurs of agreement and quick nods. And so, the three "sane" people teamed up and headed toward the mines, hopeful of finding a little peace and escaping the endless supernatural chatter that had become their daily routine. 

~\~/~

Meanwhile, a different group was forming just across the street. Cleo's primary goal when arriving in Oakhurst was to find the head vampire who turned her mother and the man who had once been her master. She couldn't achieve that if she stayed stuck in town, and like the doctor before her, she was growing tired of the madness of the people around her. Also, if she had to listen to Martyn talk in his rich-boy way or see Scott eyeing everyone as if they were beneath him, she was going to commit murder.

Of course, Cleo understood that confronting an elder vampire would require her to have significant power backing her up. Mr. M's minor trick with the plants might not have been anything extraordinary, but she had to acknowledge that there was some degree of magic involved in his actions. She was eager to explore the area further, hoping to locate one of the crypts where he claimed to have discovered his magical book. If luck was on her side, she might stumble upon one that would truly be valuable to her. Fortunately, she already had an ally willing to accompany her on this pursuit.

"I've seen one of those crypts before," Pearl explained as she slid a simple sword into its sheath attached to her belt. "I came across it during my journey here. There was just a basic enchantment book—nothing as impressive as magic powers or anything. But who knows? Maybe we'll uncover something new and powerful."

"That's what I'm hoping for," Cleo replied, ensuring she was well-stocked with supplies so that they wouldn't face any unexpected difficulties in the woods.

"Oh, are you planning to look for more magic books?"

Immediately, Cleo felt her face fall. Reluctantly, she turned to see Avid cautiously approaching the group, with Drift trailing not far behind him. 

"I have a theory that the magic books were placed there by The Holy Spirits," Avid explained. "I want to get one for myself, hopefully one that will help us defeat vampires. Maybe a lightning spell, or perhaps a fire spell. Fire works well against vampires."

A passing Owen let out a noise that sounded like a choked-off hiss, but nobody paid it any mind.

"Can we come?" Drift asked eagerly, giving Cleo a pleading look.

"Are you going to be going on and on about vampires the whole time?" Pearl questioned, fixing her gaze on Avid.

"Uh…" Avid looked caught off guard for a moment, but quickly cleared his throat. "I mean… not the whole time."

"Can it be none of the time?" Cleo snarked.

"He won't say a word," Drift promised, wrapping an arm around her roommate and pulling him closer. "Right? You won't say a single word about vampires."

"Oh yeah, totally!" Avid agreed, sweating slightly while holding up his hands. "If I mention vampires even once, feel free just to send me back home. Deal?"

Cleo narrowed her eyes, staring down the would-be vampire hunter. He withered under her glare, shrinking back behind Drift a bit. Taking a moment to glance back at Pearl, who just shrugged, the redhead sighed in acquiescence.

"Fine… but I'm not joking, you say vampires even once, and I'm leaving you for the wolves."

Avid smiled and nodded quickly, though he remained hidden behind Drift. Cleo had a bad feeling about letting him join the group, but her options were limited, and having more eyes watching her back would be a good thing. And if all else failed, she could leave him for the wolves like she promised. It would mean one less loon to deal with, at least.

Owen swung his borrowed pickaxe, striking the stones with more force than necessary. He was working on a makeshift mine inside the crypt, located within the borders of Oakhurst. The valuable book had already been taken from here, and everyone thought it would be a good idea to establish a mine close to home. That plan worked for him. At the moment, he desperately needed a way to vent his rage without revealing his true feelings or identity.

Avid's words still echoed in his mind—how fire worked effectively with vampires. Those words mingled with the memories of the flames that claimed Louis from him, and even now, Owen could almost feel the searing heat of those flames. He saw, again, the burning scrap of Louis's shirt fluttering past his face. Owen thought Pyro, the privileged rich kid, was irritating, but Avid was slowly surpassing him in that dangerous rivalry. It had taken every ounce of self-control to resist turning on the sniveling human and silencing him with a monster's brutality. He couldn't afford to do that—not yet. Especially not while that rambling fool was there, serving as the most significant proof that vampires weren't real.

As he continued chipping away at the stone wall of the crypt, Owen suddenly heard footsteps approaching from behind. The scent that accompanied the footsteps was one of refined fabric, suggesting someone well-dressed. That narrowed down the potential Intruders to Scott, Pyro, or Martyn. Glancing over his shoulder revealed them to be Scott, who was walking toward him, holding a pickaxe of his own.

"Surprised to see you down here," Owen muttered, returning to his work. "Didn't you say something earlier about being adverse to manual labor?"

"Yes, well, right now this town is in the sort of state where you can't exactly afford to just sit around." Scott raised his pickaxe and brought it down on the stone. "That and I desperately need to fix the roof of my and Shelby's house. Not that it'll do much for that hovel, but it's better than being out in the elements."

Surprised you didn't turn tail and run back to your silver spoon and Ivory Tower the second you saw this place," Owen glanced over at Scott with a smirk. "Or did your family banish you here or something like that?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that." The dismissive wave Scott gave with that particular comment grated on Owen's nerves. "I was just getting a little bored with the manor life, but the stories about this land and how it belonged to my family—it made me figure I'd come out here and see what I could do. Lot more crazy people than I expected, but I'm sure some sane ones will show up eventually."

"Eh, I doubt it." 

Scott lowered his pickaxe, leaning against it with a cocky attitude. 

"And what about you? What brings you to Oakhurst?" he asked, his tone almost casual, yet carrying an undercurrent of curiosity.

"Just coming home," Owen muttered softly, glancing away as if the words themselves were weighty.

"Oh, you lived here?" Scott probed, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Long ago, long before all..." he gestured vaguely around with one hand, indicating the small town and its changes, "this."

"And how long ago was that?" Scott pressed, interested now.

"30, 40 years ago?" That was the answer he gave Martyn, he was pretty sure. Good to keep it vague. Exact numbers would seem suspicious and unnecessary.

Scott let out a loud snort, a noise that betrayed his amusement, hiding a laugh behind a fist to his mouth. "I'm sorry, you? There's no way you're over 40 years old."

How ironic. His body was technically in his twenties, yet illness had left him gaunt and hollow, often mistaken for someone much older. Transforming had filled him out a little, making him more visually appealing, but there was still a sharpness to his face that he could never quite smooth over. It made him wonder what he would look like if he could see himself in mirrors—what kind of face he would have greeted Louis with had things been different.

"Believe what you want, but I am."

"I'd believe that shirt of yours is that old." A manicured finger pinched at the loose sleeves of Owen's tunic. "Puffy sleeves? Really?"

"Oh, you're one to talk." Owen pulled his sleeve free, turning to face Scott fully. "Look at you! Who turns up their collar like that? You look ridiculous! Heck, you look like you're going to some social gathering, not mining!"

"What, you expect me to dress like you?" Scott snorted again at that. "I'm a Goldsmythe, and I wouldn't be caught dead in anything like that."

Hearing that name triggered a vague recognition in Owen's mind. Goldsmythe… he remembered hearing the name before, but the context eluded him. He squinted slightly as he examined Scott more carefully, trying to recall where he might have heard it. Suddenly, the manor lord swung around on his heels, breaking the moment.

"You know what? You can keep playing with the rocks. I am going to go get some food."

"Yeah, you do that." Owen waved him off. "Go on, get going."

Scott rolled his eyes before heading back out of the crypt, leaving Owen to his work. The lumberjack let him, his suspicions growing. There was something off about that Manor Lord, and then there was that name. Where had he heard that name before? Great, this is going to bug him. As if he needed another reason to be annoyed. With a low groan, he turned back to the stones and heaved his pickaxe once more.

~\~/~

Scott left Oakhurst feeling a gnawing hunger in his stomach. Shelby, a very diligent person, had cooked nearly all the food they had stored, including some raw meat Scott had been saving. It was too early to start killing humans for food, so he would need to go hunting. Animal blood wasn't as satisfying as human blood, but it would suffice in a pinch. Hopefully, he could find some wild pigs or perhaps a cow. He'd have to be cautious, though—if he wiped out all the livestock, there wouldn't be enough to breed up, and his food supply would be in trouble. 

He managed to find a couple of wild chickens and a cow, which he eagerly consumed. He was feeling much better but didn't want to overindulge. If he consumed too much blood too quickly, his true nature would begin to show. As much as he wanted to get stronger, it was too soon to show his hand. So, he merely took enough to satisfy his hunger for the time being. And that's when he came across a rather interesting sight.

Near the entrance of one of the town's old silver mines, Scott found a pig. Oddly enough, this pig had a rope around its neck, attached to a nearby tree. It was just sitting in the dirt, though it looked up at Scott when he approached. As with all animals, it seemed initially wary of him. Animals always had a better sense of danger than humans did; that's why it was eyeing him this way. He was just about to reach for it when he heard voices coming from the cave.

"Is someone up there?"

Scott quickly pulled his hand away from the pig, turning just in time to see Pyro emerging from the mine. The scholar's face brightened at the sight of the blue-haired man, and he immediately gave a friendly wave. 

"Oh, it's you, Mr. landlord," Pyro said with a grin, turning back toward the mine. "Hey, everyone, Scott's out here." 

The rest of the mining party soon emerged from the cave, their bulging sacks of ore and cobblestone in hand. Scott offered a slight nod of greeting as they set down their haul. 

"I didn't expect to see anyone out here," the doctor admitted, eyes scanning the the manor lord with his gaze. "You don't seem like you're out chopping trees or mining like the rest of us." 

"No, I'm out here getting food," Scott explained, glancing at the pig. "Although it looks like someone beat me to it." 

"Oh no, this isn't food," Apo said softly as she approached the pig. Gently, she reached out and placed her hand on top of its head. In response, the pig immediately pressed against her, as if seeking comfort or hiding behind her. "This is Truffle. Pyro and I kind of adopted him."

Scott blinked slowly, his eyes fixed on the unusual scene before him. 

"You've adopted a pig..." he said cautiously, a hint of surprise in his voice. "You do realize pigs aren't typically considered pets. They're usually raised for food." 

Pyro nodded, a bit embarrassed but honest. "Originally, we were planning to add him to a pig farm," he admitted, "but then Apo made the mistake of giving him a name, and now we've got a pet pig instead." 

Scott responded with a slow, exaggerated nod, choosing not to delve deeper into that particular discussion. Humans remained an enigma to him, especially this strange group that had somehow found its way to Oakhurst. 

The silence stretched for a moment before Abolish asked casually, "You with anyone?" scanning the area carefully for any other townsfolk nearby. 

"Nah," replied Scott. "It's the middle of the day, and I was just out grabbing some food. Plus, Shelby told me she wanted to go exploring on her own, so I figured I'd go off on my own. Make myself useful, so to speak." 

Pyro looked around. "Oh, Shelby's out?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Sure that's safe?" 

"I mean," Scott shrugged, "it was either let her go or listen to her talk incessantly about big feet. Believe me, I preferred her exploring." 

That remark elicited nods and murmurs of agreement from the group. No one explicitly said anything mean about Shelby, but it was clear that she could sometimes be a bit much. After exchanging a few more words and some light pleasantries, Scott clapped his hands together, signaling it was time to move on. 

"Well, I better get going. Enjoy your… Truffle," he said with a faint smile, then quickly slipped away from the group, leaving them to their own thoughts.

"Well," Pearl let out as she stared out at the horizon. "That's not ominous in the slightest."

Pearl and her team had been exploring the woods beyond Oakhurst for quite some time now. They had yet to locate one of the Crips they had been searching for, mainly because Pearl had become a little disoriented and couldn't quite remember the exact spot where she and Pyro had first met. Unfortunately, this disorientation led them to their current discovery. Across a murky, twisting river, there appeared a new patch of forest. Unlike the dense, vibrant spruce trees that characterized the surrounding woods, the trees in this area were gray and lifeless, standing in stark contrast. Cobwebs covered everything, some far larger than the tiny spiders one would usually expect to find, giving the place an eerie, abandoned feel. Not even the wind seemed to blow through this area, as if the very air was still and heavy with silence. It was truly a dead woods, a bleak, desolate stretch of forest that seemed untouched by life. 

"Oh, I don't like this..." Cleo muttered. "I don't like this at all." 

"You did say there was a plague that came through," Drift recalled, looking at the forest with a detective's eye. "Maybe this area was where it originated? There have been some diseases that can transfer from plants to people." 

"No," Avid said quietly, which was odd given that he didn't seem to have the concept of an indoor voice. "No, this is something else. Something much, much darker." 

Cleo let out a low growl. "If you say one word about vampires, I swear—" 

"Hey, hey!" Avid threw his hands in the air, back to his usual loud self. "Did I say anything about them?! No, I didn't, but you have to admit there's something wrong with this place!"

As reluctant as they were to admit it, Avid had a valid point. Regardless of whether supernatural causes were involved, something was definitely off about this place. Given the oddness of everything and what they observed with the bloody moon (sorry, Doc, but that couldn't just be a normal eclipse), they needed to examine the location closely. 

"Look, over there!"

Drift gestured toward a peculiar arrangement of stones that seemed to extend from the shoreline across the river to the Deadwood. These stones were likely the remnants of a bridge that once spanned the river, now reduced to a simple sequence of stepping stones. Despite their dilapidated state, they represented the only viable crossing without the aid of a boat, which none of the adventurers felt inclined to attempt crafting on the spot. Cautioning each other to watch their footing, the four travelers carefully navigated the uneven stones, steadily making their way across the river. 

Upon reaching the opposite bank, they stepped onto the shores of the Deadwood, where gray sands billowed beneath their feet like ash. This entire place felt as if death had laid claim to it, with no sound of birds or anything else—not even the spiders that might have caused those cobwebs could be heard. It was just cold, eerie silence. 

All four members of the adventuring party were on edge, but they pressed on further. They knew that something important was happening in this place, something probably connected to what had happened in Oakhurst. They needed answers.

"This place feels... wrong," Cleo admitted, rubbing her arms as if to ward off a chill. "This feels like a mistake."

"Maybe so," Pearl admitted, "but I think we all know we need to keep going."

"I don't know…" Drift let out, a shudder in her voice. "I mean, Mr. M isn't even all that magical with his weird plant thing. Are we really going to keep venturing deeper into this just for the chance of that?"

"Hey, guys!" Avid shouted. "I found something!"

Somehow, Avid had managed to climb to the top of a hill amid the dead wood. He was gazing out into the distance, completely transfixed as the three women caught up with him. As they approached, they saw precisely what had captured his attention. 

Nestled in the heart of a secluded valley within the dense forest, there was an ominous clearing encircled by a shallow marsh. At its center stood a towering obelisk, its presence both formidable and awe-inspiring. An unseen power radiated from it, pulsating with a mysterious energy. The aura it emitted was neither malevolent nor divine but instead possessed a neutral, inscrutable quality, leaving onlookers in a state of quiet wonder and curiosity.

"What are we looking at?" Pearl let out, rubbing her eyes as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"I don't know," Drift answered, taking a tentative step forward. "Should we get a closer look?"

Despite being more than a little weirded out by what they saw, the four of them decided to get a closer look. Staying close to one another, they descended the hill, heading toward that towering obelisk. As they approached, they noticed a staircase set into the base, allowing people to climb up. Clearly, this was an invitation, and they accepted it. Reaching the top of the obelisk, they were surprised to find an opening near the bottom. Inside that opening was a beacon.

"Oh, it's one of the beacons!" Avid exclaimed, immediately reaching for it. "Like the one from town! This is great!"

Avid was the only one to see the beacon before it was consecrated. So, while the one back in Oakhurst was a brilliant orange color, like a mini sun, this one was an off-white shade, giving off no glow whatsoever. That started to change as Avid slammed both of his palms down onto the beacon's shimmering surface, and an orange light began to swirl within its center.

"Come on! Consecrate with me!"

The three women exchanged confused glances but slowly reached out and placed their hands on the beacon. The orange light inside seemed to grow larger, expanding faster than when it was just Avid. Despite the weirdness of the situation, something felt right about doing this. The glowing light filled them with more bravery and confidence. In fact, just being in the light of the beacon almost seemed to rejuvenate them. The aches and weariness from their travel seemed to fade, though they didn't disappear completely.

"Maybe there is something to this weird holy circuit that you were talking about," Pearl admitted. "How many of these things do you think there are?"

"Seven," Avid answered without any hesitation. "Six to form a circle and one in the center. And until all of them are fully activated with holy light, then the darkness of the land will still be able to haunt us."

 Cleo went to glare at the would-be vampire hunter, but was immediately met with a defensive shout.

"I said darkness of the land! I did not mention the V word. I said the darkness of the land. You can't say anything!"

"He's got you there," Drift commented.

"Drift, you're supposed to rein him in, not encourage him," Cleo groused.

"But he didn't mention vampires, which is what he promised. He's kept his word, so lighten up."

Pearl giggled a bit, the argument honestly lightening the mood as they waited for the beacon to become fully consecrated.

~\~/~

Cleo and her gang weren't the only ones in the Deadwood. Shelby, who had been on a solo adventure of her own, found herself strangely drawn to those mysterious, shadowy woods that seemed to whisper secrets in the wind. Despite the unsettling atmosphere, the supernatural enthusiast was practically elated as she took in her surroundings, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"Something supernatural has to be here," she murmured to herself, her gaze scanning the hauntingly twisted trees with excitement. "Maybe some ghosts, or werewolves. Vampires maybe? I mean, I'm not so sure about those, but anything's possible! Maybe even Bigfoot!"

Shelby paused, giving that last one some extra thought, her brow furrowing as she contemplated the possibilities.

"Wait, I don't think Bigfoot would live in a place like this," she finally decided, her voice tinged with doubt. "They'd probably live somewhere a bit more… alive. But still, something's out here—I'm sure of it. I can feel it in my bones."

As Shelby successfully cleared one of the larger Hills of the Deadwood, she suddenly caught sight of the very Obelisk that Cleo and her team had discovered during their expedition. Just as she did, she was immediately enveloped by a powerful wave of holy magic emanating from the structure. She couldn't help but let out a sigh of awe and relief as the divine energy washed over her, feeling a renewed sense of strength and resilience that seemed to push her beyond her previous limits.

"Oh, that felt good," she said to herself. "I should go investigate."

Without hesitation, she quickly slid down the side of the hill, making her way steadily toward the structure ahead. She arrived just as Cleo and her group were beginning to descend the towering obelisk. They were engaged in a hushed discussion among themselves, carefully examining the effects of the Holy Light that had recently washed over them. It appeared that they, too, had experienced the same significant bolstering of their strength that Shelby had gained. It may have been some form of powerful mass effect spell, designed to spread across all of Oakhurst.

"Oh, hey!" Drift was the first to catch sight of Shelby, immediately offering a wave. "It's Shelby!"

"Bigfoot girl?" Avid hopped down from the obelisk, grinning when he saw Shelby. "Hey! What brings you out here?"

"Just exploring. Haven't found anything yet, but thought this place looked cool." Shelby turned toward the obelisk. "What do you think this place is? It's kinda creepy."

"We're not sure," Pearl admitted, "but we found another beacon, like the one back in town."

"How are you feeling?" Cleo questioned. "Feeling particularly hearty?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Shelby broke out into a grin. "I felt a wave of power, kinda like what happened yesterday, and I feel so much better."

"Then it doesn't just affect the ones who do the consecrating," Drift noted, pulling a notebook from her cloak and jotting down some notes. "And if Avid is right about this being part of a circuit-"

"Which I am!!"

"-then it might be beneficial to try and find them all."

"Ooh, can I come?" Shelby asked, already excited. "I'll feel better knowing I have someone watching my back."

Cleo was immediately grinning at that. She put her hand on Avid's back, pushing him toward Shelby, who quickly moved to catch him.

"I have a better idea. If we split up, we can cover more ground. Why don't you and Avid go off and see if you can find any more beacons? Pearl, Drift, and I can be the other group, and we'll go this way." Cleo pointed off in one direction. "How does that sound?"

"I'm game," Shelby declared, happily locking arms with a stunned Avid. "Honestly, I was getting a bit spooked being out here by myself, and you're always like super prepared for all the supernatural stuff that's out here. Right, Avid?"

Avid paused for a moment, gazing ahead and blinking slowly, as if processing everything around him. The look of shock on his face made it clear he hadn't anticipated receiving such a warm, welcoming response as a new partner. It was an expression that made Shelby feel a twinge of sympathy for him. She wasn't entirely convinced that vampires truly existed here in Oakhurst—none of the stories she'd heard mentioned anything about them—but she understood what it was like to be considered crazy by others. Perhaps, she thought, they could become friends. And maybe, just maybe, he could help her find definitive proof that the supernatural did indeed exist. Luckily, it seemed he picked up on her thoughts immediately, because a broad grin spread across his face, brightening his features.

"Oh yeah! Totally!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "You got any garlic on you? How about silver?"

"Perfect!" Cleo chimed in cheerfully, raising two thumbs up, then turning to Drift and Pearl. "That takes care of that. Let's keep moving. I want to see if we can find another Beacon before it starts getting dark. Plus, we still need to locate one of those crypts for a book."

"Good luck!" Shelby called out as the three headed off on their quest, then turned her attention back to her new partner. "So, which way should we go?"

Chapter Text

"Are you sure leaving those two alone is the best idea?" Drift questioned, throwing a concerned look back at where they'd left Shelby and Avid. "I'm a little worried about them."

"I think they'll be alright," Pearl assured the detective. "Avid may be a bit kooky, but he's also cautious. He'll watch Shelby's back, and maybe the two will bounce off each other and get some of their supernatural energy out."

"My thoughts exactly," said Cleo, genuinely relieved to have shaken off those two with ease without hurting anyone's feelings. "Anyway, why don't you two keep looking for beacons? I want a branch off this way and see if I can find one of those books M mentioned."

"You're going off on your own?" Drift questioned, sounding a little panicked. "What about all that stuff you said about staying together and watching each other's backs?"

"Trust me, I can handle myself." Cleo nodded in Pearl's direction. "And if you're worried, don't be. Pearl's got you."

"Yeah, I got you, Drift." Pearl wrapped her arm around the detective's shoulder. "You go on, Cleo. Hope you find one!"

Cleo gave a two-fingered salute before heading down a branching path in the Deadwood. This left the other two alone to continue their adventure. They could see a river not far ahead and elected to follow it. Whenever there was water, there tended to be some form of civilization. Likely, whatever civilization existed was gone, but there should at least be something. Whether it be ruins or dilapidated remains, it would be better than nothing. The fog made it hard to see, especially as the Deadwood continued to expand outward, with no end in sight.

 After what felt like an hour of walking, the dense mist began to gradually part, slowly revealing a towering mountain in the distance. At the very top of that mountain, they could make out the faint outline of ancient ruins, which immediately struck them as suspicious. The sight was enough to convince them they needed to investigate further, even though they weren't exactly equipped for a mountain ascent. While it didn't seem like specialized climbing gear was necessary, neither of them felt confident about their ability to scale the mountain, even with the boost they had gained from the beacons. Deciding to play it safe, they continued along the river's shoreline, keeping an eye out for any possible routes up the mountain. They hoped to spot a staircase, a path with a gentler slope, or any terrain feature that might make the climb easier and more manageable.

What they received instead was a bridge.

A massive stone bridge stretched across the river, extending from the summit of the mountain all the way back to the shoreline. Constructed entirely of stone, it was once an ornate and impressive structure, though it had long since begun to crumble with age. The remaining portions appeared sturdy enough to cross, unlike the shattered remnants scattered across the landscape. This indicated the significant time and effort invested in this bridge compared to the others. Clearly, something of great importance was located at the top of that mountain.

"What do you think is up there?" Pearl asked, her voice dripping with intrigue and curiosity.

"Honestly?" Drift hesitated, swallowing hard. "Something about this area is making me feel... on edge. Not like back when we were in the middle of the woods, but more like... like we're not supposed to be here. Like we're not welcome."

Pearl pursed her lips at that, but she couldn't argue. Deep down, she was getting a similar vibe from the place. The very air felt unwelcoming and dangerous; it was a gut feeling she couldn't ignore. That only made it more crucial to investigate. If there was something dangerous lurking here, they needed to learn everything they could about it. If they did nothing, they'd be willfully turning a blind eye to some unknown threat that could potentially terrorize Oakhurst—and they couldn't let that happen, especially when the town was still in rough shape defensively.

"Come on," Pearl urged, her tone firm yet encouraging. "Let's check it out."

~\~/~

In another part of the forest, Shelby and Avid were walking along a rough, winding path, casually chatting with one another as they went. Despite their different concerns, they surprisingly got along quite well, even though Avid still felt that her Bigfoot obsession sometimes distracted her from the more urgent vampiric threat lurking nearby. Nevertheless, it was refreshing to talk with someone who genuinely believed there was something beyond the ordinary. He hadn't had someone listen to him like that in a long time, not since Elle.

"So you're a vampire hunter?" she'll be asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"Oh yeah!" Avid said proudly. "I was in a hunting duo with my best friend back home. I didn't really do most of the hunting. That was mostly her. I was mainly the guy who did all the research, made the potions, and basically supported her. We made a really great team."

Have you ever seen a vampire?

 Avid rubbed the back of his head, his smile fading a bit. "I think so. Not long before I left, we were trying to find a vampire. I was hoping I could find a cure for vampirism. I mean, it's supposed to be some disease or infection, so that means there should be a cure."

"No, that makes sense," Shelby agreed, giving a nod. "And knowing you, I'm sure you can figure it out." 

Avid lowered his hand, his smile fading even further. "Well, unless I find one here, I don't think that's going to be possible." 

"But you said your partner and you were hunting for one, right? Surely you saw it." 

"Not quite..." 

Avid stopped walking, his eyes fixed on the ground. He glanced at his hand, and for a moment, his mind flashed back to his hideout. There, Elle lay on the floor, covered in blood, the stake still protruding from her chest. 

"Elle, my partner, got bitten… And she turned. Before I could even try to find a cure... she tried to attack me. I had to defend myself." 

Shelby gasped, covering her mouth with both hands as shock washed over her. 

"Oh no, Avid, I'm so sorry."

It was a stroke of luck that I was able to defend myself," Avid said quietly, his eyes never leaving his now trembling hands. "When I heard the stories of the monsters that lived here in Oakhurst, I figured this would be the best place to find a new vampire." His hands clenched into fists, his grief giving way to frustration. "And that's why I get so frustrated that nobody is taking me seriously! They don't know what I know! They think I'm some-! That I'm…!"

"Delusional?"

Avid actually looked up at that, turning back to Shelby. Her usual smile was gone entirely, replaced with something different—a sad, melancholic expression. He turned to face her fully, seeing her hug herself as she gripped the sleeves of her sweater.

"My dad used to tell me countless stories, tales about werewolves, fairies, mimics, and ghosts," she said softly, her gaze lifting as she managed a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "When I was five, he disappeared. He told me he was going to hunt werewolves, but he never came back. For the rest of my childhood, I kept his memory alive by always searching for the unknown. I didn't have many friends because of it, and also because of the rumors surrounding him." She paused, her voice tinging with sadness. 

"Rumors?" Avid asked, feeling a stone settle in the pit of his stomach. He knew what it was like to be at the center of rumors—especially ones that painted you as crazy. 

"My dad… had a fondness for wine, and everyone believed that his stories were just drunken ramblings. That when he claimed he was heading out for a werewolf hunt, he was actually abandoning us—leaving so he wouldn't have to deal with me or my mom anymore," she explained, her voice trembling slightly. "Shelby..."

Shelby wiped her eyes beneath her glasses, took a deep breath, and quickly returned to her cheery self.

"But I know the truth. I know my father wasn't crazy. I mean, just looking at this place makes it clear that something weird is going on. The supernatural exists, and my father wasn't some drunk who abandoned my mom and me."

Avid took a moment to collect himself, then returned her smile tenfold.

"Yeah! We'll show everyone that we were right! And who knows? Maybe your dad wasn't killed by a werewolf; maybe he just turned. Maybe it was a vampire, not a werewolf. You never know."

"You're right," Shelby let out. "I hadn't thought about that. Maybe I'll get to see him again!" She then paused. "Oh, wait. Would he try to eat me if he were a vampire?"

Avid thought back to how Elle had been. Up until she went feral, she had acted exactly like she always did. A bit afraid, but still herself.

"I mean, I'm sure he'd remember you," he offered up. "May take him a minute since it's been so long, but I'm sure he'd recognize you. But then he might try to turn you. Which, of course, you would say…"

Shelby hesitated before answering, chewing on her lip. "Um…. yes."

"No!" Avid shook his head violently. "No, the answers no!"

"I mean, sure, but… Immortality does seem pretty sweet."

"No, vampires are plagued. They can't taste anything; food turns to ash in their mouths. They can't sleep, they're restless, sleeping in coffins or upside down like a bat. They burn in the sun." Avid cringed. "Is that really the life you want?"

Shelby was quiet for a moment, her face subdued. "No, I guess not."

Avid, realizing he may have gone a bit far, moved to comfort Shelby. He wrapped an arm around her, smiling at her.

"Don't worry. I'll keep you safe. And if your dad did turn, I'll make sure you get to tell him all about your adventures. Maybe I can even cure him!"

"Really?" Shelby brightened. "You'd do that for me?"

"Totally!" Avid agreed without hesitation. "Anything for a friend."

After completing their mining expedition and chopping some trees, Legs and his group decided to explore further. Pyro chose to leave, taking the supplies and Truffle back to Oakhurst, leaving only the Doctor, Apo, and Abolish. They had recently felt a surge of holy magic and were curious about its source, which led them to the Dead Wood, where Pearl and Drift were. The two women were heading along the shoreline toward an abandoned bridge entrance.

"Hello there!" Legs called out. 

When they saw the approaching explorers, Pearl quickly waved a greeting, while Drift was busy holding onto a tree root to avoid slipping back down the hill or into the river. Noticing Drift's struggle, Apo hurried over, offering a hand and helping her climb to the hilltop. 

"There you go," Apo said as she helped Drift get her feet. "I take it you don't see a lot of wilderness where you're from?"

"Not really," Drift admitted, blushing from embarrassment. "I've lived in the city my whole life."

In stark contrast to Drift's struggles, Pearl easily and swiftly navigated the climb herself, displaying surprising agility. She dusted herself off before turning to face everyone.

"What brings you lot out here?"

"Well, we were exploring and we spotted these creepy decaying trees," Abolish explained calmly and in his usual monotonous way.

"Yeah, I think there may have been some sort of forest fire," Apo commented, looking around at the dead trees and the numerous cobwebs. She paused for a moment, considering the scene before her. "Then again, if this forest had burned down, I don't think there would be as many leaves still clinging to the trees."

The doctor looked up at one of the nearby trees, carefully surveying the ashy, brittle leaves that were stubbornly clinging to the dull gray branches. It didn't give him the impression of a place that had recently been burned to the ground, but somewhat resembled a site that had been ravaged by illness and decay over time. His mind drifted back to Cleo's mention of a plague from a few centuries ago, and he wondered if these trees might be remnants of that devastating outbreak. Perhaps these withered leaves and sickly branches held clues to whatever illness had spread through the area. He made a mental note to consider taking samples of the leaves and bark for further examination later, hoping they might reveal more about the disease that had left such a bleak landscape.

"What about you?" Abolish asked, pulling the doctor back to the present. "What brings you out here?"

"Well, Drift and I were exploring with Cleo," Pearl answered. "She broke off earlier 'cuz she wanted to go find one of those magical girl books or whatever, but before that we found another one of those weird beacon things."

"Like the one back in town?" Legs questioned. "The one Avid consecrated or whatever he did?"

"Yeah, exactly the same," Drift answered. "It was in this weird obelisk that was in the middle of a valley. We consecrated it, and the energy made us feel... I don't know, stronger?"

"Now that you mention it," Abolish remarked, looking down at his hands while flexing his fingers. "When that energy wave hit us, I did feel a bit healthier."

"Yeah, me too," Apo added before letting out a small groan. "Does that mean Avid was right?"

"Just because he was right about the beacons doesn't mean he's right about vampires," Legs quickly shut down. "Even a broken pocket watch is right twice a day."

"Well, anyway," Pearl interjected, "After that, Drift and I found this. We were gonna go check it out once we got up here."

She gestured with one hand toward the broken bridge and the land behind it, currently covered in thick fog. Legs, noticing this for the first time, couldn't help but feel uneasy. He took a step back, sensing the familiar anxiety in his chest. Abolish was the first to notice, with his usually stoic face showing a slight crack as he furrowed his brow in concern.

"Doc?" he called out, reaching for Legs before thinking better of it.

"Sorry," he apologized, taking a breath to collect himself. "Just... something about this place feels wrong."

"Right?!" Drift looked almost relieved that someone else shared her concerns. "I don't know what's going on, but this place feels like we're not supposed to be here. Like every fiber of my being is telling me to run."

"All the more reason to check it out," Pearl countered, pulling her sword from her side. "If there is something dangerous here, we need to make sure we know what it is so we can keep Oakhurst safe."

Apo and Abolish both nodded in agreement, and even Legs had to admit that there was some truth to her statement. He took a breath, steadying his nerves.

"Let's go together," Apo suggested, pulling her musket off her back. "There's strength in numbers after all."

"Sounds like a plan," Abolish agreed, heaving his wood axe onto his shoulder so he would have some sort of weapon.

"You lead and I'll follow," the doc declared.

Both Drift and Pearl looked relieved at the idea of having some backup on their mission. As a group, the five of them began to cross the grand stone bridge carefully. It was mostly intact, but some parts had fallen away, leaving gaps in the stonework. Luckily, there didn't seem to be any significant breaks—just small gaps that could easily be jumped over. After a few minutes of crossing, all five had reached the other side of the bridge, and they were all quite horrified by what they saw, none more so than the doctor.

"Now this looks like the site of a fire," Abolish commented, surveying the blackened stones jutting out of the ground. "And if I had to wager a guess, I'd say it was a pretty deadly one." 

Legs didn't say a word; his eyes locked on some of the skeletal remains that seemed to be clinging to one another in the corner of one of the stone pieces. His ears began to ring, and he could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest. He could almost hear the sound of gunshots and bombs going off, the skeletal remains being replaced by the still bodies of soldiers trying to shield each other from explosions that they had no chance of surviving. He began to shake, the color draining from his face as he took a step back. Before he could take another, a hand shot out and grabbed his arm, violently pulling him out of his PTSD spiral.

"Whoa there," Apo's voice said as it cut through the ringing. "Careful, doc. You almost step right off the cliffside." 

Legs glanced behind him, and sure enough, he was one step away from falling down a very steep, stony cliff. Realizing that, he quickly stumbled away from the edge, catching himself on one of the larger stones. 

"Thanks, Apo. Sorry about that." 

"Are you all right?" Drift asked, her head tilted with concern. "You look a little pale." 

"I'll be all right," he assured the detective, doing his best to put on a smile.

"Hey, guys?" Abolish called out. "I think you'll want to see this."

All eyes turned toward where the Butler had gone, and fortunately, he hadn't strayed too far. He was standing amidst the remnants of what once might have been a grand dining hall. Broken pieces of a large mahogany table lay scattered across the floor, centered within a stone outline, with the husks of chairs strewn about haphazardly. Abolish stood with his back to the head of the table, gazing intently at what appeared to be a raised stone platform; on it rested another beacon. 

Unlike the one from the town, which emitted a bright orange glow like a star, this beacon was significantly different. Its color was a dark, bloody red, and instead of shining, it seemed to absorb and repel light, casting the surrounding area into unnatural darkness. Just being near the thing had the five humans on edge, goose flesh rising on their arms as the hairs on the backs of their necks stood up.

"I think we just found the source of all our uneasiness," Pearl spoke up, her voice cutting through the tense silence that had fallen over them. 

"What could have done this?" Drift let out, her eyes never leaving that cursed beacon. 

"I'm not sure," Apo answered, her eyes narrowing. "But right now, I think we need to focus on purifying it. You said you guys consecrated the one from earlier. How did you do that?"

Pearl re-sheathed her sword and stepped onto the stone platform. Standing before the beacon, she hesitantly placed her hand on its surface. Similar to the obelisk, a small orange light started to emerge in the midst of the bloody red. The red appeared to be attempting to engulf the light, seemingly succeeding. Observing this, the others quickly joined her on the platform, each placing their hands on the beacon. The orange light then sped up significantly, outpacing the red. After about a minute of silence, the red glow surrounding the beacon faded, and the tense atmosphere eased considerably. While it wasn't entirely gone — after all, in a burned castle filled with the dead, some unease remained — the oppressive feeling was no longer present.

"Oh, I already feel so much better," Drift said, visibly relieved. 

"It's taking a lot longer than the obelisk one did," Pearl realized. "Probably because it needed to be purified."

"Maybe it's the area," Apo offered up as a potential explanation. "Something clearly happened here. Something… bad. Maybe all that negative energy infected the beacon."

"It's as good a theory as any," Legs admitted, trying to look anywhere but at the skeletons. "We should look around a bit more once we're done here. See if we can find any clues."

"Sounds like a plan," Abolish agreed, and everyone got back to focusing on consecration.

Avid and Shelby were laughing and smiling as they made their way down the path toward Oakhurst. They hadn't found anything like a crypt or another beacon, but they'd managed to enjoy themselves during their adventure. Avid didn't want them to be out too late, and seeing it was getting late into the afternoon, he thought it best that they turn back. Thankfully, Shelby did not argue at all; if anything, she enthusiastically agreed with him. Still such a novel concept after so long of being ignored and brushed off as crazy. Hard to believe it had just been two days since he came to this place.

As the town gates came into view, Avid couldn't help but freeze in place when he saw who was waiting there, leaning against the town gates like he owned the place: Scott.

"You two look like you were having fun," the blue-haired man said with a strange smirk on his face. "You find your person with the biggest feet yet?"

While Avid was wary of Scott, Shelby approached him without regard for the dangerous aura the man exuded.

"Bigfoot, and no, not yet. We did find another one of those beacons, but not much else. I'm sure we'll find more tomorrow!"

The way Scott looked at Shelby reminded Avid of the way a pet owner would look at their pet, or the way a farmer looks at a suckling pig.

"Well, I went out and got us some food. Which reminds me, try not to cook all the meat at once. It's wasteful."

Shelby's face flushed with embarrassment as she nervously rubbed the back of her head, offering Scott an awkward but apologetic smile. 

"Sorry about that," she said softly. "I guess I got a little carried away. I just wanted to make sure everything was prepared." 

Scott reached out casually and tousled her hair, but his gesture felt so condescending that Avid couldn't help but cringe. It was apparent he was treating Shelby like a child, and he truly disliked it. 

"Don't worry about it," the blue-haired man said reassuringly as he withdrew his hand. "By the way, I went mining earlier and managed to gather some more cobblestone for the roof. Hopefully, we can finish patching it up before nightfall. I'd rather not be sleeping under the stars again." 

Shelby's eyes widened in realization, and her face turned even redder. 

"Oh man, I completely forgot about the roof!" she exclaimed, playfully scolding herself. "I'm so lucky to have a roommate as thoughtful and resourceful as you," she added with a grateful smile.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Scott said with a self-gratulating smile, wrapping his arm around Shelby's shoulders. "Come on, let's get to work."

 Seeing his friend about to be let off, Avid couldn't help but reach out, catching her wrist. Shelby stopped where she was going, turning back to Avid with a confused smile. In contrast, Scott looked at Avid as if he were something disgusting at the bottom of his shoe. For a brief second, his blue eyes flashed a dangerous red, and Avid couldn't help but pull his hand back sharply.

"I just…" Avid forced a smile on his face, closing his eyes so they wouldn't see that it didn't reach. "I just wanted to say... I enjoyed hanging out with you."

"Same here," Shelby replied, her tone making it clear she was oblivious to Avid's distress. "See you around!"

And she let Scott lead her away, leaving Avid standing at the Oakhurst gate, now more sure than ever that something was wrong with Scott Goldsmythe. 

The castle beacon was finally consecrated, with the warm orange light illuminating the surroundings and bringing a sense of relief to the five humans who had done it. Once the ceremony was complete, they dispersed, eager to uncover what had transpired here. Examination of the castle ruins revealed little beyond more bodies and evidence of the fire that had ravaged the site. It was evident that no one had lived here for a very long time and that the castle itself was long gone.

"Check this out!" Pearl exclaimed, standing in front of a square stone pit. The pit featured a staircase spiraling downward into dark depths, beckoning towards unknown secrets.

Everyone gathered cautiously around the edge, peering into the darkness with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

"What do you think it is?" Drift asked, studying the staircase closely. "It doesn't look like the Crypt from back in town."

"I believe this might lead to the sublevels of the castle," Legs suggested. "Royal families often had tombs dedicated solely to their lineage, usually located beneath the castle itself. Perhaps this is the entry to those hidden chambers." 

Pearl hopped onto the stairs, an eager smile on her face.

"All the other Crips we found had books in them. I'm pretty sure we're going to find something down here. Let's check it out!"

No one could genuinely contest that logic. Every member of the group had at least once seen a crypt and was aware of the mysterious books hidden within. The likelihood of discovering another one was too tempting to ignore, especially with the haunting memory of the blood-red beacon still vivid in their minds. With careful deliberation, they began their descent down the staircase, moving cautiously into the subterranean sections of the crypt below. 

The crypts scattered throughout the landscape were generally small, with simple stone floors, occasional niches for coffins, and the ornate chests that housed the books. In contrast, this particular crypt was markedly different. Under the flickering light of the torches that Abolish had provided for everyone, they could see an extensive brick floor that, despite its age, remained remarkably well-preserved. The walls were smooth, with only sporadic patches of lichen growing across the brickwork. Embedded into the walls were separate chambers, each with stone platforms that had likely once held sarcophagi. Most of these had been removed, probably plundered by tomb raiders who had looted the site.

"Geez, this place is a maze," Apo let out, letting out a Yelp as she nearly walked straight into a massive cobweb. Thankfully, she managed to avoid most of it, only getting a few sticky strands on her sleeve. She frantically wiped them away, shuddering a bit before regaining her composure. "Should we really be down here, guys? I don't like this place."

"Do you want answers or not?" Pearl shot back, fixing the soldier girl with a slight uptick of her brow. "I thought you were supposed to be some highfalutin soldier or something like that." 

"I'm part of the Engineering Corps. I'm a builder, not a fighter. I didn't even want to be in the army; I only joined because I was conscripted." 

"Be grateful you're avoiding the front lines," Legs said, his voice carrying a strange undercurrent. "Not everyone is so lucky."

Abolish glanced back at the doctor when the doctor said that, but kept his comments to himself. Apo, however, had no such reservations. 

"I don't feel very lucky right now. I mean, blame Avid and his stupid vampire rantings, but I keep expecting something to jump out of the shadows and stab me or something."

"Look," Drift interjected, moving to stand beside Apo. "I completely understand being afraid of a place like this. Heck, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling a bit nervous. But I think we can all agree there's no such thing as vampires or monsters. Everything always has a logical explanation." 

"Exactly," Legs said with a nod. "Every monster that has ever appeared is usually just a person, a disturbed, sick individual who just needs help. It's the same with curses—half the time, they're just plagues or illnesses that people were too scared or ignorant to understand fully. There is absolutely no such thing as..."

The doctor's voice gradually faded as the group entered a vast antechamber, which appeared to be the very heart of the crypt. They found themselves on a narrow ledge overlooking the chamber below, and what they saw immediately put all five of them on edge. Dominating the space was a massive, open stone coffin. Its plush interior was completely empty, and the lid had been thrown across the room, shattered near one of the support columns. Everyone stood frozen, staring at the scene in stunned silence, unable to speak or comprehend what they were witnessing.

"Oh, would you look at the time!" Drift said a little louder than she probably should have. She had her pocket watch in her trembling hand, holding it up for the others to see. "I think it's high time we get back to Oakhurst! Don't you agree?"

"Yeah…" Apo agreed, already taking a few steps back. "We don't want to be out past sundown. Everyone will get worried."

There was widespread agreement as everyone quickly made their way back, moving with urgency and purpose. Pearl turned so suddenly and sharply that she accidentally knocked over a small urn placed on a nearby table. The urn tumbled to the ground with a soft clatter, and she immediately yelled at the unexpected sound, startled by the noise. Without noticing, she hurried after her friends, her attention focused on rejoining the group. What she didn't realize was that the urn contained what appeared to be almost like ashes — ashes that suddenly began to stir and swirl, gradually taking on a faintly ghostly feline form. The ethereal cat yawned leisurely, stretched its slender limbs silently, and then bounded after the five humans as they made their swift escape from the castle.

Chapter Text

Avid was pacing nervously across the street in front of his house, repeatedly chewing on his thumbnail as his mind raced with an endless stream of thoughts and fears. Every concern revolved around Scott; everything about him just screamed suspect in Avid's eyes. Now that he was friends with Shelby, Avid's worry deepened—he really didn't want anything to happen to his friend. Unfortunately, Shelby was roommates with the guy who was so obviously a vampire it wasn't even funny. Avid had already attempted to place a block of silver in front of her door as a protective measure, but he didn't hold out much hope that Scott wouldn't find a way around it. Desperate for support, he knew he needed allies—someone on his side who would listen to his fears and perhaps help him figure this out.

He paused his pacing for a moment, his eyes drifting upward as he spotted Mr. M working on the roof of his house. Mr. M was currently patching up some of the final holes, carefully fitting the pieces of cobblestone and adding patches of vegetation to make the roof look more inviting and natural. The author was a fellow supernatural enthusiast, known for his extensive knowledge and open-minded attitude. After the positive interaction he had with Shelby earlier, Avid felt a bit more confident about approaching him. Maybe he would get lucky and the man would believe his story—especially since M had claimed to find a magic book that granted him strange plant-related powers.

"Hey! Magic man!"

Mr. M paused his work momentarily, glanced over the edge of the roof, and flashed Avid a broad, welcoming smile. 

“Oh, hey, Mr. Vampire Hunter. You find any yet?”

Avid let out a nervous laugh, sweat pouring down his back. “You know, it's funny you should mention that. Mind if I come up?”

“Sure! Sure!” Mr. M beckoned him upward. “Come on! There’s plenty of room!”

Avid quickly located and began ascending the ladder that the author had propped against the side of his house, allowing them to access the roof. Once he reached the top, he steadied himself, heart pounding slightly from the climb, and found himself face to face with his potential ally.

“Hey, I need to talk to you. Are we alone?”

“Depends on your definition of alone.”

Avid screamed and nearly fell off the roof, only for a linen-wrapped hand to grab him by the back of his shirt and pull him away from the ledge. He fell back onto the cobblestones, looking up to see the smirking face of Owen staring down at him.

“What are you doing here?!” Avid shrieked. “Where did you come from?!”

“I live here,” Owen answered. “I was bringing M here some more stones I brought from the mines.”

“Oh, perfect!” M said with a grin. “Just what I needed. Thanks, Owen.”

Owen ignored the author, his eyes never leaving Avid. It made the vampire hunter feel a bit on edge, like he was staring down a predator. But, he swallowed his anxieties around the man who enjoyed tormenting him, knowing that he needed to say his piece before Scott had the chance to interfere.

“Alright, I was hoping for just M, but I guess you can be here too.” Avid adjusted himself so he was sitting a bit more comfortably. “Just promise me you’ll keep this between us.”

“Oh, let me guess,” Owen said in a mocking tone. “Vampires are real. They walk among us.”

“They do, and I think Scott is one of them.”

Owen’s immediate eyeroll and disgusted scoff were expected, but Avid pressed on.

“Look, I know you don’t believe me, but I’m positive that he’s a vampire. Everything lines up! The signs are there!”

“You mean the ones you’ve been putting everywhere?” Owen sneered.

Avid groaned in frustration. Of course, Owen refused to believe, and his disbelief made it harder to convince M that he was right. Still, he tried to press his case further.

“Not those signs. All you have to do is look at Scott, and you'll recognize that he is a vampire!”

“Avid?” 

The familiar voice of his roommate pulled Avid out of his frustrations. He turned toward the roof's edge, seeing that Drift had returned from her expedition with Pearl. The two girls were staring up at him, looking a little worse for wear. Drift was a bit pale, and Pearl seemed to have something following behind her. It was a blink-and-you-miss-it moment, but it almost looked like she had a strange, ashy cat rubbing at her ankles, but it vanished in an instant. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Avid refocused on the situation at hand.

"Drift, Pearl, listen to me. I believe Scott is a vampire. I believe he's a vampire and that he's dangerous." 

"Are you listening to this?” Owen sneered, gesturing with his thumb at Avid. "The absolute madman, this one." 

"Do you have any proof?” Mr. M asked, sounding more curious than condescending. 

"Well..." Pearl hesitated before speaking. "I mean, I'm not fully convinced that vampires are real, but we did find something really strange while we were exploring.”

Avid practically threw himself at the edge of the roof, his grip tight on the cobblestone ledge as he stared down at the two women.

“What did you find?!”

“Did you find another book?” Mr. M asked. “Are you magical girls too?”

“No, not quite,” Pearl answered. “Did you guys feel that wave of power not too long ago?”

“Oh, you mean the warm wave that makes us feel all nice and warm?” Mr. M began to smile. “Yeah, I felt it twice this afternoon. Feel a lot healthier. It's actually what motivated me to come up here and get all this done.”

“That's because when we were with Cleo, we found another one of those beacons. Avid, you remember that one.”

Avid nodded as Drift began to speak this time.

“Well, later on, we went our separate ways, and Pearl and I found this torn-down castle. It was really grand, with this huge stone bridge leading to it and everything. We went with the Doctor, Abolish, and Apo to check it out... and we found another beacon. But this one... this one was different.”

“Different how?” Owen questioned, no longer sounding annoyed or standoffish. Instead, he sounded genuinely interested, with a heavy glint in his eye.

“It was red,” Pearl explained. “Like a deep, blood red with absolutely no light in it at all. And the aura it gave off… it felt evil.”

Avid's mind raced at the possibilities of what could explain such a beacon. It made sense that there would be an opposite to consecration. Desecration, maybe? But if so, that means something would have had to desecrate that beacon, something spurned by the holy light. There was only one creature he could think of: a vampire.

“There's a little more to it,” Drift chimed back in. “After we consecrated the beacon, we wanted to look around to see if we could find whatever had turned it red. And... we may have discovered this enormous tomb." 

Ripples of surprise washed over the three men on the roof, with Avid feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of him. The surprise only deepened as Drift continued.

"Yeah, it was huge—so much larger and more elaborate than the crypts we've seen around here. It was so grand, more ornate, and… empty. Not empty like the chest had already been looted, but more like the inhabitants—the dead who belonged there—were no longer present."

"I initially thought perhaps tomb raiders had looted everything at some point,” Pearl added, "but when we reached the antechamber, we found this... open stone sarcophagus, sitting in the middle of the room. Old candles surrounded it, and the lid was just off and broken. There was nobody inside—no skeleton, nothing at all."

Everything was starting to fall into place clearly now. Scott insisted that his family had owned this land for hundreds of years, and that he had simply decided to return and claim it. His clothing, his manner of speaking, and the discovery of this abandoned castle with an empty tomb all pointed to the same truth. There was no denying it: Scott was a vampire, and Avid was almost certain that the tomb Drift and Pearl had found was his.

“I knew it…” Avid let out, first quietly, then so much louder. “I knew it! Scott’s a vampire! That has to be his tomb, where he’s been living until now! He’s a vampire!”

“Avid,” Owen cut off, turning to glare at the vampire hunter. “Just because they found some raided tomb doesn’t mean that it belongs to Scott. You have no proof!”

“Wrong! I have so much proof!” Avid began wracking his brain. “I mean…. I mean, just look at his cloak! That upturned collar? It’s like he’s not even trying to hide his true nature!”

“I’ll admit, that is a nice cloak,” M commented, nodding slightly. “I’ve been wanting to ask him who his tailor is so I could get one of my own.”

“Also, have you guys seen the way he just stares at the beacon in town?” Avid lowered his voice now, a little worried that someone might overhear. "Like he stares at it like it's personally offended him. I mean, his whole vibe is just... he feels evil and sinister, and I don't like it. I really don't like that he's roommates with Shelby. I know he's a vampire, and…and we need to get rid of him.”

“Guys, he’s coming!” Drift suddenly said, looking down the street in a panic. “Scott’s coming! Quick, act natural!”

There were a few quick shushes as the blue-haired manor lord rounded the corner. As he entered full view, everyone greeted him warmly with loud and probably exaggerated Hey's. Each person stretched out the greeting for about five seconds, their voices echoing through the afternoon. Once their enthusiastic hellos faded, Scott crossed his arms and eyed all five of them with the most unamused expression on his face, clearly unimpressed by their over-the-top welcomes.

“You’re either all really excited to see me, or you were all talking about me before I got here.”

Of course, they all were quick to try and deny it, this time stretching out the word no a little longer than they probably should. Scott remained thoroughly unimpressed, the only change in his expression being a slight raise of his brow. Not seeing the point in hiding on the roof from a potential vampire, Avid descended the ladder back down to ground level. Mr. M joined him and Owen… Owen just seemed to disappear. Apparently, that was something he liked to do.

“All right, we were talking about you,” Mr M admitted, which initially had Avid in a panic until the author continued, “but it was all good things. We were talking about your cloak and how lovely it is. Which reminds me, who's your tailor?”

For some reason, that question seemed to amuse Scott, who finally cracked a smile and relaxed his stance slightly.

“Unfortunately, my tailor left a long time ago. So this is a one-of-a-kind piece.”

Mr. M pouted, disappointed. Meanwhile, Avid noticed that Shelby was no longer with Scott. The last time he had seen her was when Scott had led her off. His heart plummeted into his stomach as he realized that he had willfully allowed his best friend to go off alone with a family. Crap, he needed to find her!

“Hey, uh, where’s Shelby?” Avid asked, feigning nonchalance.

“Oh, Shelby?” Scott sucked on his lip for a second. “Not sure, honestly. We needed a bit more cobblestone, so I went to get some more. Then I ran into you lot.”

Upon hearing that, Avid wasted no time. He quickly hurried over to Scott and Shelby's house, his heart pounding with urgency. Frantically, he threw open the door, but to his disappointment, the house was eerily empty. He couldn't detect any blood or suspicious stains, nor were there any obvious signs of a struggle. Despite the lack of visible evidence, Shelby was nowhere to be seen, heightening Avid's concern and sense of dread.

“Shelby?" Avid called out nervously as he stepped out of the house, glancing back toward the quiet town behind him. His hurried steps quickly turned into a frantic run as he reached the gate, his voice echoing with urgency. "Shelby?! SHELBY!!!”

Shelby sneezed suddenly, quickly covering her mouth with her hand before wiping her nose on her sleeve. It seemed she had caught a whiff of something, as that sneeze had been especially forceful. She should consider finding some local honey to help prevent any allergies from developing to the land. The last thing she wanted was to sneeze loud enough to scare Bigfoot when she finally found him.

Putting that aside for now, Shelby pressed on, venturing deeper into the woods. Her earlier encounter with Avid had been enjoyable, but she was now craving something more engaging and thrilling. She felt too restless to head back to town and continue with the housework—trusting Scott to handle everything. After all, he had already gathered all the necessary materials, so she knew she could rely on him, which allowed her to go off and enjoy herself and have some fun.

She had set off in one direction already and had been able to find that amazing Obelisk with the beacon. Now, she was heading in the opposite direction. She had a feeling that she'd see even more incredible things out there. All she needed to do was find them. It was getting a little late, but she was confident she could make it back before nightfall. She wasn't some little girl with a curfew anymore, anyway. And if what Legs said was true and the blood moon was just some eclipse and not the horror story that Owen had told, she had nothing to worry about.

In hindsight, maybe she should have told someone where she was going. Oh well, she thought, everything will work out.

Night began to fall once more over Oakhurst, and once again, the sky was bathed in a blood-red hue. The Doctor was getting more than a bit of flak for being wrong about the eclipse, especially since the chances of two happening in one night are astronomical. He had no logical explanation for it but kept insisting that there was one. 

Most of the more level-headed members of the town were choosing to ignore the moon, focusing instead on their ongoing efforts to restore Oakhurst. By now, nearly everyone had returned from their various expeditions, each with different levels of success.

Cleo happily reported that she had found a different Crypt hidden within the Dead Wood, one that contained a magical book very much like Mr. M's. Hers was called 'Way of the Prospector,' and it apparently turned her into a bloodhound for ores. Mr. M had been pleased about that, making a joke about them only missing one for animal husbandry. She then gave him a harsh shove in the face, sending him to the ground. 

Renhardt reported that he, too, had gone on such an expedition, alongside the aforementioned author. Unfortunately, while they found a crypt, it contained only an enchanting book, not one of the holy word books. However, they confirmed that whatever magic had brought these crypts to life was also replenishing them come dawn's light. Meaning that there was a chance to revisit the crypts they had discovered over time and, hopefully, find more books that could be useful to them.

Apo, after returning from the adventure in the castle, decided that the makeshift watchtower she had built on top of her and Pyro's house was not enough. So, she decided to convert the old church ruins into a new watchtower. Nobody objected, with a few even suggesting that having some protection around the beacon might be a good idea. She was already working on establishing a new cobblestone frame that she could eventually expand into a proper watchtower. It would take some time to get it right, but she was more than willing to put in the effort.

 The only one not doing anything mildly productive was Avid, who was currently running around like a chicken with its head cut off, screaming Shelby's name.

“Shelby!!” He was panting now, having to stop in the middle of the road, his hands on his knees to try and catch his breath. “ Shelby, where are you?!”

Despite the trepidation that the townsfolk felt about Avid and his vampire obsession, they had to admit that Shelby's being missing was a significant concern. None of them had seen her lately, and even though they had only known each other for a few days, they couldn't simply allow one of their own to vanish without question. 

Around a campfire near the town center, which served as an impromptu meeting spot for everyone, Cleo, Pearl, Apo, and Pyro had already gathered. Owen was leaning against one of the houses, just out of the firelight, watching quietly. At that moment, Avid approached, still frantic and pale, his hand trembling from a mix of adrenaline and fear, clearly distressed and overwhelmed by the situation.

“Guys, I can't find Shelby anywhere. I think Scott did something to her.”

“Are you sure about that?” Cleo asked, her disbelief evident in her tone. “That's a pretty hefty accusation to just throw at someone.”

“Look, all I know is that the last time I saw her, she was with Scott. And now Scott's here, and she's not. That is too strong a coincidence for me.”

“That does sound rather suspicious,” Apo reluctantly admitted.

“Even so, we can't just go accusing someone of hurting another person,” Pyro insisted, his face hard as he said it. “A false accusation like that, even in a small town like this, can be seriously damaging. We need evidence before we go accusing anyone.”

“Personally,” Owen chimed in from his spot against the wall, “I think we should be focusing more on trying to find Shelby before we start accusing anyone. I know the woods pretty well, so I'm more than willing to go find her.”

“We need more than just one person out on the hunt.” Avid ran his hands through his hair, taking a breath as he tried to steady himself. Now was not the time to be freaking out and acting like a maniac. He needed to get his act together and focus. “Look, even if it's not vampires, we know that there is a whole bunch of dangerous stuff out in those woods. Zombies, skeletons, giant spiders, and she's out there by herself.”

“That is concerning,” Doctor Legundo admitted, having emerged from his home to join the Gathering. “ Shelby didn't exactly strike me as the type to know self-defense.”

Cleo's face twisted with disbelief and annoyance. “So let me make sure I've got this right. You want us to go out there and risk our lives for some girl we met two days ago?”

“Yes!” Avid exclaimed, turning to Cleo with a face twisted in rage. “She would do the same for us! I know for a fact! And if nobody else wants to join me, then I will go by myself to find her because she's my friend and that's what friends do!”

Apo took a step forward, moving to intercept Avid. “Hey, let’s try to calm down.”

“Get out of my way, Soldier girl! I thought you would be the first one to volunteer! Doesn't the military care about the safety of civilians?”

Apo hesitated, then shook her head with a grim expression. "I- I mean… I’m an engineer, not a-” she started to protest, but then paused. After a moment of consideration, she straightened up and nodded. "You know what? Sure, why not? I’ll come help." 

A brief look of relief crossed Avid's face. "Alright, that’s one! Anyone else?”

“I’ll come,” Scott’s voice offered.

The moment he heard that voice, Avid turned on him in fury. He grabbed the stake from his belt, much to the sudden shock of everyone around him.

“Where’s Shelby? What did you do to her?!”

Scott looked stunned for a split second, then his expression turned to anger.

“What did I do? Nothing!” He snarled at Avid, taking a step forward and making the vampire hunter take a step back. “Absolutely nothing! I took her home, left her with the supplies, realized we needed more, and went to get more. That’s it!”

“Avid, that’s enough!” Drift came up behind Avid, trying to pull him back. “You’re acting irrational.”

“Yeah, put the stake away,” Legs insisted, talking to him like he was some kind of rabid animal with his hands raised. “Just put it away, then we can find Shelby.”

“Not until he tells me exactly what he did with her!” Avid’s knees were knocking, but he pulled free of Drift’s grip, pointing the stake right at Scott’s face. “I know what you are, and I know you did something to her!”

“You have nothing…” Scott snapped back, his voice low and dangerous. “And you’re about to be down a hand if you don’t get that twig out of my face.”

Everyone was now gathered around them in a tight circle, resembling spectators at a cockfight, with a mixture of concern and curiosity in the air. Voices rose and fell as people tried to calm Avid down or direct questions to Scott, each voice blending into the next. The commotion continued until a familiar voice suddenly pierced through the cacophony.

“What’s going on?" it asked, clear and steady.

The moment the voice was heard, a hush fell over the crowd. Avid, in his urgency, dropped his stake and pushed his way through the crowd to reach the source. Approaching with a look of curiosity and relief was Shelby, alive and completely unharmed.

“Shelby!” Avid exclaimed, rushing forward and wrapping her in a tight embrace. She stumbled back a step to steady herself, but Avid didn’t care. He was so relieved. “Thank the Word you’re safe! I was so worried about you!”

“Shelby, where were you?” Drift asked, escorting the Doctor to check on the girl.

“We couldn’t find you,” Legs told her, visibly relieved that Shelby was back.

“I was getting accused of your murder,” Scott sneered, bending down to pick up Avid’s fallen stake before dismissively tossing it into the campfire. “You were gone, and they were saying that I’d murdered you and hidden your body somewhere.”

“Murder?” Shelby winced. "Oh, geez, that’s my bad. I probably should have told someone I was leaving.”

“Let me state for the record that Avid was the only one who was accusing anyone of murder,” Legs said firmly, turning to Scott with a serious expression. “The rest of us were just saying she was missing.” 

Scott responded with a reluctant nod, still visibly angry. His eyes fixed on Avid, who shrank under that intense, almost threatening glare. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Shelby said softly, rubbing the back of her head nervously. “I was feeling restless and decided to go out for a bit more exploring. I wandered to this tower located out in the middle of a lake, and I noticed it had another beacon too. I was planning to consecrate it, but then it got dark, and I got scared. I tried to hurry back, but I had to hide from a bunch of mobs, and... yeah, here I am.”

And this is why I was warning you about throwing around such hefty accusations, Avid,” Cleo chastised, being joined by several other townspeople as they all glared at the vampire hunter.

“Exactly,” Scott said, crossing his arms and looking down his nose at Avid. “You owe me an apology, and be grateful that's all I'm asking for.”

Avid grimaced, not meeting the nobleman’s eyes. The last thing he wanted was to apologize to a man who was so clearly a vampire. Sure, he may not have murdered Shelby now, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to kill someone soon. Unfortunately, he was very much in the minority on this one, as everyone began to crowd around him, badgering and lecturing him.

"Yeah, you need to apologize,” Pearl declared, making her disdain known.

"Accusing an innocent man of murder.” Pyro shook his head. "Scott's right, you're lucky that all he's asking for is an apology.”

"Say you're sorry right now,” Drift demanded, demonstrating a surprisingly firm stance. 

Faced with the mounting backlash, Avid had no choice but to submit. Lowering his head and clenched teeth, he reluctantly managed to say, "I'm sorry," which was immediately met with even harsher criticism. 

"This man accused me of murder, and he can't even apologize properly," Scott retorted, turning around and throwing his hands into the air. "I have done nothing to deserve this. Frankly, I don't think I want you in Oakhurst anymore. All in favor of kicking this guy out?”

Upon hearing that, as well as the very few and very quiet protests that followed, Avid was quick to change his tune. He couldn't afford to be kicked out, not when he was the only one who knew the truth about what was out there.

“Okay! Okay! I'm sorry!” He forced himself to meet Scott's gaze. “I'm sorry I accused you. I was just scared for my friend. She's the one person who believes me, and I got a little heated, and I shouldn't have accused you of something you didn't do.” It took every ounce of self-control he had not to add a yet to the end of that sentence. “Please don't kick me out.”

Scott kept up the glare for a good long moment, right up until Shelby came and hugged Avid's arm with a smile.

“It’s so sweet you were worried about me,” she said, sounding like she genuinely meant it. “Just try not to accuse anyone of murder anytime soon, okay?” 

Seeing Shelby acting so affectionate, Scott's gaze softened visibly. He sighed, then reached out and placed a hand on the top of her head. 

“All right, for you, I'll let this go,” his gaze briefly turned back to Avid. “This time. But honestly, I need some fresh air after this, so I think I’m going out on a walk.”

“Care for some company?” Owen spoke up, finally moving from where he had been leaning against the wall. Had he really just been standing there this whole time, not interfering? “That way, no one gets accused of murder.”

“Honestly, I could use a walk myself,” Pyro chimed in. “This whole incident hit a bit too close to home, and I could use a chance to cool off.”

“You know what? Sure.” Scott gave a wave. “Shelby, I’ll be back later. If I don’t, then I recommend getting your defense ready for why you murdered me.”

Avid groaned, burying his face in his hands as Drift led him back toward their home, Merp Manor. This was going to haunt him for a while, he could tell.

Scott was seething as he stormed out of Oakhurst, his two companions trailing behind him. He really needed to get away before he did something he'd regret. More than that, he needed food. He'd already drained a pig before coming back from his mining expedition, but it wasn't enough. He was sick and tired of just using animal blood. He needed something better, something a bit more refined. Luckily, two pliant little blood bags had readily offered themselves to him.

It wouldn't do to kill them, especially so soon after being accused of murder. Even if everyone thought Avid was utterly insane, a seed of doubt had been planted. He couldn't afford to let it sprout even a little bit. Luckily, all he really had to do was turn them both, and not only would he have a couple of fledglings to do his bidding, but he'd be able to cover up his crime easily.

“I can't believe they did that to you,” Pyro spoke up, breaking the tension over the three of them. “You've done nothing wrong. Why are they accusing you?”

"Honestly, I think Avid just has it out for him, " Owen remarked, shrugging as he did. "He was going on about how your clothes were all vampire-coded and how you were staring at the Beacon like it offended you or something like that."

Scott rolled his eyes at that, annoyed that his superior fashion sense and some passing stares had been what got him on Avid's watch list. “I was staring because I'd never seen anything like it before. Finding something new to see is rare for me, so of course I was interested. Nothing offended me. As for my clothes, it's not my fault that he gets all his clothing from Peasants ‘R’ Us.”

“He’s a jumpy fellow, that Avid,” Owen smirked as he said that. “So easily frightened by the smallest of things.”

“Personally, I think it’s a class thing,” Pyro commented. “I mean, you’ve seen how Cleo glares at us and sneers at nobility. She even gives the Doctor flak for being a learned man.”

“Oh,” Owen let out, glancing over his shoulder while toying with his axe. “So you’re nobility too, then.”

“Kind of. My family held a prominent position in the military back home.” Pyro’s tone became somewhat bitter as he kept speaking. “Unfortunately, I was recently disowned. It’s why I’m here. I’m going to write my thesis on Oakhurst and its rich history, show them that they made a mistake in tossing me out.”

“I see.” Owen arranged his axe so it was resting on the back of his neck, his arms hanging off either side of it. “I never had much in the way of material wealth myself. Just a humble lumberjack.”

“And what about the immaterial?” Pyro asked. “Are you awash with knowledge?”

Owen’s laugh seemed a bit bitter. “More than I care for, honestly.”

The idle conversation lingered for quite some time as the three companions delved deeper into the dense forests of Oakhurst. They carefully crossed one of the weathered stepping-stone bridges leading into the dead wood, unfazed by the unsettling surroundings. If anything, Scott found himself to be oddly captivated by the dark, haunting atmosphere. It seemed appropriate, given the sinister plans he had in mind. As they moved forward, his stomach rumbled loudly, and he caught the faint scent of fresh blood flowing through the veins of his prey. The thirst within him grew stronger, gnawing at his self-control. 

Soon, something appeared as they reached the top of a hill. They could see an obelisk in the center of a deep valley. There was shallow water surrounding it, grey and still like the surroundings, and yet the power emanating from the obelisk felt holy in nature.

“Oh,” Pyro exclaimed upon seeing the structure. “I believe this is the obelisk that Pearl, Cleo, and Drift mentioned—the one they discovered and consecrated.” 

“Is that so?” Scott smirked, observing the area as the ideal spot to do what needed to be done. “Perhaps we should take a closer look. Ensure it doesn't require any additional consecration. We can't be sure if these things have an expiry date or some kind of limit.” 

“I’m all in,” Owen said, hopping down the hill and sliding swiftly along the slope toward the marsh. “Let’s go.”

The three made their way over to the obelisk, although Scott was not particularly pleased about trudging through the marsh. While the water was shallow, he was wearing a rather fine pair of leather boots. These boots were high-quality, so they wouldn't get completely soaked through, but now they're covered in marshy mud. He could have his new fledgling help clean them once this task was completed. 

For now, however, he ascended to the top of the obelisk, where the three spotted the beacon. It was glowing a bright orange, similar to how it appeared in town, and he couldn't help but sneer at it.

“Looks alright to me,” Pyro commented, coming to rest his hand on the beacon’s surface. “Yeah, full of holy energy. Come feel for yourself.”

Scott was hesitant to touch the sacred relic, yet he knew he couldn't afford to appear suspicious. Carefully, he reached out and gently placed his hand on the glowing beacon. Owen mirrored his action, and at that moment, something extraordinary began to unfold. A dark red energy seemed to radiate from their palms, flowing into the holy light, but only from their hands. Pyro, standing nearby, was unaffected by this phenomenon. Both Scott and Owen narrowed their eyes, their gaze fixed intently on the beacon, as the mysterious energy continued to swirl and pulse.

“Pyro?” Owen spoke up. “Could you take a few steps back for me?”

“Course!”

Without hesitation, Pyro withdrew his hand from the beacon and swiftly hopped down toward the small, rocky island where the Obelisk was resting. Once he was a safe distance away from the beacon, the wisps of red energy emanating from their palms began to coalesce into a more concentrated form at the center. Scott could feel his dark power actively desecrating the sacred beacon, a sensation both ominous and intense. Since Owen was managing to do exactly the same thing he was, it became painfully clear that he was not the only vampire lurking in Oakhurst. 

“Really?” Owen exhaled, meeting Scott’s gaze with a mixture of contempt and irritation. His brown eyes suddenly shifted to a piercing, brilliant red, exposing his true, supernatural nature. “Well, this complicates things.”

“Yeah,” Scott responded, clicking his tongue with a hint of amusement.

“What’s up…?” Pyro called out from his spot, waiting patiently.

“Nothing~!” Scott replied cheerfully, voice singing with playfulness.

“I just don’t like sharing, really,” Owen admitted, his eyes remaining locked on Scott.

“Yeah… Well, I was here first, so~” Scott flashed a mischievous grin.

“I think I was here first, actually,” Owen countered.

“I don’t know. I’ve been here a long time,” Scott mused.

“Ah~ 200 years,” Owen boasted.

“Ah~ That’s baby talk,” Scott teased.

Owen couldn’t help but sputter at that. “What- how can that be baby talk?!”

“I’ve actually been asleep for 600 years,” Scott revealed with a smirk.

“600…” Owen looked genuinely stunned, and Scott just chuckled, flashing his own red eyes and fangs.

At this point, Pyro was getting a little nervous about whatever was being talked about on top of that obelisk. He took a tentative step forward, even though his instincts screamed for him to do the opposite.

“Hey… What’s… What’s going on up there?”

Realization flashed across Owen’s face.

“Oh my Gosh, Goldsmythes! I knew it rang a bell!”

“Yeah…” Scott didn’t even try to hide his self-satisfied grin.

Owen groaned, rolling his head back before deftly dropping down from the obelisk. He landed like a gargoyle, letting his frustration drip from his voice.

“He’s been around here longer,” the lumberjack reluctantly admitted. “I suppose he takes claim.”

Scott gracefully stepped off the edge of the obelisk, landing with his back straight as he walked over to where Owen was perched. It was almost funny, seeing the younger vampire’s feral nature on display. He was practically a fledgling from how he was acting. And Pyro, sweet gullible Pyro, remained so blissfully ignorant, staring at the two vampires without even attempting to back away..

“Yeah, I get first dibs.”

“First dibs… on the beacon?” 

Pyro pointed back at the beacon with a trembling hand, one that Scott grabbed by the wrist, pulling him closer.

“First dibs on you, silly.”

Pyro tried to pull free, but Scott’s grip was like iron. He could feel the man’s pulse thudding beneath his skin, smell the sweat running down his back. It made the elder vampire’s mouth water, and it’s clear he wasn’t alone. Owen came up behind Pyro, wrapping an arm around his shoulder before using his other hand to pull his head back and to the side, exposing his neck.

“Can I… Can I just take a bit?” Scott was about to snap and say no outright, but one look at Owen’s wild, red eyes made it clear he was barely holding on by a thread. “I won’t be greedy, just a bit.”

“Fine,” Scott gave a dismissive wave, releasing Pyro’s wrist. “Just a bit. Oh, and that applies to the rest of the town, too. I’m not so selfish as to starve a fledgling.”

Owen’s eyes flashed at being called a fledgling, which was honestly quite cute. So many newly turned vampires try to be intimidating when it comes to food. Scott had turned enough people in his lifetime that he had seen it all, but didn’t expect to see it in a 200-year-old vampire. His story must be an interesting one.

While Scott contemplated his fellow vampire’s tale, Owen took full advantage of the invitation. His fangs came out, and he bit down on Pyro’s neck, draining the human for a good few seconds. It was loud and messy, which only showed Owen’s inexperience, and when he let go of his prey, Pyro had a massive, bloody bite mark on his neck. The human stumbled, clearly woozy as he clutched his neck, finally starting to panic.

“Ugh… I don’t… I don’t feel too…” Pyro coughed, looking up with wild, terrified eyes. “You just drained me.”

“I was feeding,” Owen countered, crossing his arms and leaning against the obelisk. “He’s all yours, Mr. Goldsmythe.”

Scott smirked, his eyes a solid red as he let his fangs show. “Indeed, he is.”

Survival instincts suddenly kicked in, and Pyro instinctively took off running at full speed. The marshy waters immediately slowed his progress, making each step heavier and more challenging to move forward, but he desperately pushed himself to reach the other side of the shore. Unfortunately for him, Scott's mighty leap quickly closed the distance, and before Pyro could react, the vampire's weight landed heavily on his back. The sudden surge of pressure caused him to lose his footing and tumble into the treacherous marshy waters. He let out a scream of panic as he was forcefully pulled back, his neck once again exposed.

“No, no! Vampire!” He felt fangs on his neck. “VAMPIRE!!”

Scott bit down hard, savoring the taste of human blood as he drained his victim of every last drop.

Chapter Text

Scott was kneeling before an iron chest concealed in one of the numerous secret rooms within his family's tomb. Although the castle had long since been destroyed and all its valuables lost to time, the manor lord had not existed for over a thousand years without maintaining a few hidden caches. These caches stored more than just valuables; they also held cherished keepsakes and a variety of outfits suited to any situation he might encounter. Having such supplies proved to be incredibly valuable now, especially considering his current predicament after turning Pyro.

Draining an entire human had boosted his strength, but it also caused a permanent change to his eyes. His normal blue was utterly gone, replaced by the piercing red of a vampire. Although only about two days had passed since everyone arrived in Oakhurst, he didn't want anyone to see his eyes and immediately think vampire. That's what brought him down to the tomb, digging through a chest of his old party clothes, looking for one specific item.

"This would go a lot faster if you would help me," Scott called out, not looking back at the young fledgling leaning against the opening of the chamber.

The person he was speaking with was Owen, who had chosen to accompany him back to his castle after they had dropped off Pyro at the town gate. The lumberjack appeared nearly amused by Scott's request, chuckling softly as he remained completely still.

"Yeah, not gonna happen." Owen lazily turned his head toward Scott, a bemused expression on his face. "I still can't believe you're a Goldsmythe. This place used to be yours."

"It still is mine, what do you mean?" Scott looked up, more than a little offended. "I mean, yeah, it's a bit of a dump now, but it's still mine. And I have every intention of rebuilding my castle. I need a few more fledglings to do my dirty work. Pyro was a start, but I'm going to need more."

"I suppose I could offer some assistance in that regard," Owen said, finally moving away from his place against the doorway. "It is kind of my fault it burnt down."

 Scott was momentarily confused before recalling the story Owen had shared on their first night in Oakhurst. Now, armed with more knowledge, he sensed there was more to that story than he had initially thought.

"Why is that? What's your story, Owen?" Scott paused his search, leaning against the iron chest to give the younger vampire his full attention. "Does it have anything to do with the good man you mentioned in your tale? The one the town killed that unleashed a monster?"

Owen's arms had remained crossed throughout this exchange, but at the mention of the good man, his nails clenched into the sleeves of his shirt, and his expression hardened into a grim line. Clearly, these were powerful emotions—emotions intensified by the vampiric blood coursing through his veins.

"Louis was more than a good man. He was the best of them. He was the first person to treat me like I mattered, like I wasn't some rotten thing to be cast aside." The lumberjack turned away, his voice low and quiet. "He's the one who turned me, offered me a life free of pain and suffering."

"Louis…" Scott mused over that name for a moment, realizing it was a familiar one. "I think I knew a Louis once. He was an odd one, preferring the blood of animals over humans. Honestly, the main reason I turned him was so I could have someone I trusted to keep the humans safe and fed."

"Well, he did a good job." Owen bared his teeth, showing his fangs. "And how did they repay that kindness? They framed him for dabbling in the occult, and then they burnt him at the stake."

"You cared a lot about him, didn't you?"

A single red tear traced its way down his cheek as Owen gave a slight nod. Scott acknowledged him with an equal nod before returning his focus to his search. He found it difficult to relate to the concept of loving one's sire. In truth, Scott didn't even remember who his sire was, having only seen him once in passing. 

That encounter took place in a tavern, where the young lord was in the midst of getting thoroughly wasted and reveling in the chaotic atmosphere. Out of nowhere, the man had approached him, offering a tempting proposition: to keep the party going for all eternity. Without hesitation, Scott had eagerly accepted. The idea was enticing—he was powerful, charismatic, and living life to its fullest. Why not extend that pleasure beyond a mortal lifespan? After all, who would want to grow old, with bones creaking under the weight of time or skin sagging into wrinkles and lines? No, thank you. Scott preferred the idea of an eternal life filled with elegance and beauty. So, he accepted the man's gift, and the next morning, the man vanished without a trace. Scott never saw him again and felt no desire to seek him out.

"Ah, here it is."

From the iron chest, Scott pulled out a beautiful skull-shaped masquerade mask. It was incredibly realistic and would cover the entire top half of his face. Everyone would be so focused on the mask that no one would look closer at his eyes. It was perfect. He slid it on, turning to face Owen. By now, the fledgling had wiped his tear away and was back to looking cold and indifferent.

"How do I look?"

 Seeing him, Owen smirked. "You're going to make Avid shit himself."

"Now that's just a bonus. I'm still more than a little salty about him accusing me of murder. I haven't killed anyone," he paused for a moment. "Yet."

"Got any more of those?" Owen asked, approaching the iron box. "I have a bit of an idea."

Scott grinned, which was only made scarier by the mask he wore. This was going to be fun.

Pyro was not having a good time. His neck ached, the world around him was overwhelming—so bright and loud—and he could hear the steady thumping of everyone's heartbeats. Even as he desperately tried to bury his head in his pillow to block out the noise, the sounds of the town persisted: people milling about, their movements loud and indistinct. He could hear Apo working diligently on her watchtower in the center of town, the clang of her tools echoing through the air. Nearby, he could hear Abolish working on a potato farm next to his house, the rhythmic sounds of a hoe piercing soil mixing with the faint rustling of leaves. And then there was the smell—thick and coppery—that seemed to seep from the veins of everyone around him, making his throat ache with a dull, persistent pain.

Unable to hide in bed any longer without raising suspicion, Pyro reluctantly stumbled out of his shared home. His steps were hurried and unsteady as he made a direct path toward the town gates. He knew he looked worse than usual—his appearance ragged and unkempt—despite having no reflection to confirm it. He could feel it in the hollowing of his face, the sunken cheeks that told of malnourishment and despair. His wild, unkempt eyes darted around anxiously, and his posture was no longer dignified but strained and frantic. The refined, noble image he once maintained seemed like a distant memory now. He feared that if he continued down this dark path, he might be reduced to some feral, uncontrollable creature. Most urgent of all, he knew he needed food—desperately, urgently—and he needed it now.

Walking through the dense woods surrounding Oakhurst, Pyro tried to appease his growing hunger by picking some fresh berries off a nearby bush. He remembered tasting their sweet flavor earlier—during his journey, they had been a small comfort. But now, tasting nothing but bitterness, they felt like ash on his tongue, and he couldn't help but spit them out. The act only intensified his hunger, and as he did, his vision blurred at the edges, turning red with the mounting bloodlust that threatened to overwhelm him. The hunger gnawed at him relentlessly, a primal instinct now ruling his senses as he pressed forward, desperate and unyielding.

"Young Pyro?"

The familiar, thick accent cut through the haze of bloodlust, though it didn't disappear completely. The former scholar blinked a few times, then turned his head toward where the voice had come from. There, he saw Renhardt in the middle of felling a few trees. He already had a healthy stack of wood nearby, and he almost looked like he was creating a small clearing for himself among the trees. Pyro didn't know much about architecture, but he recognized some stones set in a box shape that were clearly meant to serve as an outline.

"Renhardt," he called out, doing his best to try and sound casual. Unfortunately, he likely came across as more flighty and unstable than he intended.

"Ah, we be knownin' each other for a bit now. I see no need ta be keepin' up with all these formalities, doncha know. Ye can just be callin' be Ren. Tis what me friends be calling me."

"Ren. Okay, Ren." Pyro let his eyes glance around the clearing, half afraid somebody else would be nearby. He didn't know which would be scarier, a human seeing them or one of the vampires.

"Are ye well, lad?" Ren lowered his axe, eying the former scholar with concern. "Ye be lookin' a wee bit worse for wear. Did something happen?"

Images flashed through Pyro's mind—disjointed, fragmented, just out of reach. He recalled cold, dirty water sloshing around him; the crushing weight of Scott on his back; the savage teeth tearing into his throat. The vivid memory caused him to gasp involuntarily, his hand instinctively reaching to his neck, but he caught himself just in time. He knew he couldn't let anyone discover what he had truly become, not after everything.

"You could say that," he finally admitted, a faint, weary smile spreading across his face. "Rough night, mostly. Everything that happened with Shelby and..." A pair of red eyes and a sharp grin briefly flashed across his vision. "And Scott..."

"Aye," Ren nodded sympathetically. "'Tis a shame what happened that night, the accusations thrown about when naught was needed. I say, left a sour taste in me mouth, it did. I had nearly forgotten the sting of accusation, but that night brought back memories I had long hoped to let go of, doncha know."

"More than you might think…"

"Tis why I made the decision to leave Oakhurst."

Pyro's head shot up, turning to Ren with a stunned expression. "Wait, you're leaving Oakhurst? Like, to hit the road again? '

“Nay, nay!” Ren quickly held up a hand to pacify the startled man. "Beggin' yer pardon, I misspoke. I be simply building a new home for meself here in the woods. I shall still be part of Oakhurst, but will spend me nights in the peaceful solitude I have grown accustomed to upon me travels."

"Oh," Pyro breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. Had me worried there. Just be careful."

"Aye, and the same ta ye, young Pyro. And if ya ever be needin' a friendly ear, my door be always open for ye. That be a promise."

Pyro sensed a shift when Ren uttered those words. Then it suddenly became clear to him: according to legend, vampires are not allowed to enter any home unless they receive explicit permission—an invitation. And Ren had just extended a blanket invitation into his house, one he could not take back. The implications of this realization were staggering, especially considering Pyro's current state of starvation, which clouded his judgment and amplified the gravity of the moment.

"Thanks, Ren," he managed to let out, taking a few steps back. He could already feel the red creeping into the corners of his vision. "I better get going. Need to… find some food before the House Judging Contest this afternoon."

"Aye, be seein' ye soon, laddie."

With a hasty nod, Pyro took off before he did something he wasn't sure he'd regret.

With morning approaching, Cleo led a group into the forest. Shelby had reported finding another Beacon near the lake, and they wanted to consecrate it quickly. None of them knew what caused the red beacon that appeared the other night, but they instinctively avoided risking another one and were wary of such a thing. So, she, Apo, Mr. M, and Martyn all left at dawn, heading straight for the lake beacon. When they crossed the water, they each placed a hand on the white beacon to consecrate it, though Mr. M leaned on it instead, pulling out a notebook and pen from his cloak.

"All right," Mr. M said aloud as he opened the notebook. "So, we've found the beacon in town; Cleo, you, Drift, and Pearl found one in an obelisk. Then there was the one in the creepy castle you guys found, and now the lake one from Shelby. Am I missing any of them?"

"That's all the ones we found so far," Cleo answered, mentally double-checking before nodding. "Avid hypothesizes that there are seven of them, so hypothetically, we've got about three more to find." 

"Sorry, but are we really believing the crazy vampire fanatic?" Martyn asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I mean, this is the same guy who has been posting signs all over our houses and throwing garlic at us for the past two days. And need I remind you, he's the one who accused a man of murder and threatened him with a wooden stake."

"I think I agree with Martyn on this one," Apo said. "I don't trust Avid as far as I can throw him, and frankly, after what happened last night, I'm not exactly eager to spend any more time thinking about him." 

"As the doc said, even a broken clock is right twice a day," Cleo countered. "And you can't deny that consecrating these beacons has been beneficial to us. We've all felt healthier and stronger because of them, so there must be a reason behind it."

Apo grumbled under her breath, but couldn't argue with that. "Fine…"

Martyn suggested, "Do you think we should create a detailed map?" He paused thoughtfully before continuing. "We could mark all the locations and note exactly where they are. That way, we'll have a clear idea of their positions, especially in case one of them turns red again."

"Honestly, having a map of the area would be a good idea," Apo chimed in, a bit more chipper. "I'll see what I can do about getting one started. We could even add all the crypts, too."

"Oh, that reminds me," M chimed in, brightening. "Remember how Ren and I found out that all the crypts get new books come morning? We should check out the nearby crypts to see if we can find some new ones."

"We'll add it to the list," Cleo told him. "But we need to get back by this afternoon."

"Right, the contest," Martyn recalled, cracking a smile. "I bet ten silver Avid makes it about vampires somehow."

Everyone snorted at that, the sound lightening the mood just as the Lake Beacon finally turned, sending a powerful wave of holy energy sweeping across the land. In that instant, everyone present felt a surge of strength, making the victory all the more encouraging. With renewed determination, they pulled away from the beacon and turned their gaze toward the horizon, ready for what lay ahead.

"Alright," Cleo began. "I think we have time for one crypt before we should head back. Let's make it count."

With some slight cheers, the four descended the lake tower to find their beacon.

Avid and Drift wandered through the dense forest, leisurely strolling to pass the time before the afternoon's House Judging contest. Beyond simply killing time, they longed for some fresh air, especially since the atmosphere in town had become noticeably strained after the events of the previous night. Although Avid remained deeply suspicious that Scott might be a vampire, he was also painfully aware that he had overreacted last night. His behavior had been irrational and was likely to have alienated most of Oakhurst with his reckless stunt. He knew he needed to step back, mend fences, and earn back the trust he might have lost.

"Avid…" Drift's voice was hesitant, as if she were afraid to speak up.

"Before you say anything, I'm well aware that I fucked up," Avid interrupted, his voice low and tinged with regret. "You tried to stop me, but I was too irrational, and I couldn't even apologize properly when I was caught." 

Drift looked surprised at the admission, but he gave a reassuring squeeze to the vampire hunter's shoulder. "I'm glad you recognize that, and I do agree you went a little overboard. However, I was actually going to say something else."

 Avid turned toward his roommate, paying close attention to her as she fidgeted nervously, her hands trembling slightly as she clasped the hem of her Detective cloak. 

"Drift? Are you okay?" he asked gently, concern evident in his voice.

She looked up, trying to appear confident but betraying her nervousness. "I'm fine," she assured him, though her tone lacked conviction. "It's just... You know how Scott Owen and Pyro went out in the middle of the night last night?"

Avid nodded slowly. "Yeah, Scott went to cool off, and Owen and Pyro went after him. What about it?"

She hesitated for a moment, then rubbed the back of her head, her fingers nervously playing with her hair. "Well," she began cautiously, "they didn't come back last night. Well, Scott didn't. Owen only stayed long enough to drop Pyro off before disappearing, just like he often does. But here's the strange part."

Avid suddenly halted, his body tightening as a mix of nervousness and curiosity grew inside him. He stared at her intently. 

"Drift, what did you see?"

"Pyro looked... I don't really know, but he didn't seem right. He appeared kind of ill," Drift replied, his brow furrowing. "He wouldn't talk about what happened or why Owen just dropped him off. Instead, he went straight home. I'm a little worried that something might have happened to him while he was out."

Avid's eyes widened in shock at her words, the implications hitting him hard. "You think Scott might have hurt him?" he asked, voice trembling slightly.

"That's a possibility," Drift said thoughtfully. "I'm still not entirely convinced about the whole vampire thing, but I have to admit that I don't think Scott is fully stable. I don't trust him, and I'm starting to lose trust in Owen as well."

The weight of her words sank in, leaving Avid's mind racing as he put together the pieces of the puzzle that were finally falling into place.

"Now that you mention it," Avid said quietly, "I think Owen mentioned that he used to live here as a kid, but he left around 30 or 40 years ago. When you look at that man, tell me—do you really believe he's only 40 to 50 years old? There's no way. He looks like he's barely older than I am." 

"Regardless," Drift continued, "we need to be a bit more cautious when it comes to Owen and Scott. Keep a close watch on them, and make sure they don't do anything that could be dangerous or that might put others at risk." 

"We should also try to talk to Pyro. See if we can get him to open up about what happened. If Scott and Owen are vampires, he's probably aware of it. They may have fed on him, which could explain why he looked so unwell." 

"We can try," Drift said softly, turning to look up toward where the pathway ended. "For now, let's see if we can find a book inside this crypt—perhaps we can find something useful." 

"Useful what?" Owen's voice called out, echoing from somewhere nearby.

Avid barely held back a scream as he turned toward the crypt they were approaching. He grabbed Drift's hand, his grip tight—probably more than it should be—but it was the only way he knew to stay calm under the circumstances. Standing atop the crypt, perched like a cat or a gargoyle, was Owen. He had something tucked under his arm, but Avid kept his eyes locked on the man's face rather than whatever he was holding.

"Are you here looking for something?" Owen asked, sounding oddly nonchalant for the way he was staring the two down.

"Oh, just doing a crypt raid," Avid quickly explained, forcing a smile onto his face. "You know, before the contest?"

"Oh yeah, Mr. M is pretty excited about that," Owen replied, straightening up and almost strutting down the stone steps of the crypt. "He worked really hard on our house. I was more of a gatherer and manager than anything, but I still think our house turned out good."

"Oh, totally," Drift agreed, nodding a bit harder than normal. "I'm sure you guys will get a super high score."

"I'm sure we will. Anyway, if you're looking for the book here, I already found it." Owen reached under his arm, pulling out a shimmering book with golden letters on the cover. "Sadly, I already have this one. If you want it, you can have it."

"Really?" Drift let out, genuinely surprised. "Thanks, Owen!"

Owen smirked and tossed the book at her, which she fumbled with before catching it. Avid stepped closer, taking a look at the cover.

"Enlightened Eye…" he read.

"Yeah," Owen nodded. "It enhances a person's vision, letting them see better, farther, and even in the dark."

"Ooh, that means I won't need my monocle anymore!" Drift cheered. "Awesome!"

Drift gently opened the ancient, leather-bound book, and instantly she was enveloped in a blinding, radiant light. Both Avid and Owen instinctively raised their hands to shield their eyes from the intense flash, their faces bathed in its glow. Drift's gaze remained fixed on the book as an ominous whisper echoed through the air, signaling the activation of its mysterious magic. As the brilliance gradually faded, the book appeared to dissolve into countless shimmering particles of light, which floated effortlessly into the surrounding ether, vanishing from sight. When the dazzling display finally ceased, Drift blinked slowly, her vision clearing, and she carefully removed her monocle, adjusting to the now dimmer surroundings.

"Whoa… my eyes really are enlightened. I can see much clearer now!"

"Cheers," Owen said, patting her on the back. "Happy to help. See you back in town." 

And just as quickly as he appeared, the lumberjack was gone. Avid and Drift watched him go, unsure of what to make of what just happened.

"That was weird, right?" Avid asked.

"Oh, totally weird," Drift agreed. "But for now, we should head back. It's almost time for the contest."

Martyn was staring at the book his group had found in the crypt they had been exploring, unsure what to make of it. The book was titled "Holy Word," which was a little on the nose, considering who was believed to be replacing these books every morning. However, it was the subtitle that made Martyn pause, which read, "Speak thine holy syllable and hold steadfast all vampires within thine sight." He wasn't the most steadfast believer in the supernatural, but he couldn't deny that something was happening. Having a divine book practically confirming that there was something out there that bumped in the night put him on edge.

"Hey, M," he called out, watching the author emerging from the town crypt with a book of his own. "What do you make of this?"

"I don't know," M admitted, leaning over Martyn's shoulder to look at the book cover. "Cleo said that she thought Avid wrote it."

"Yeah, there's no way that guy wrote some strange holy books and has just been running around replacing them in different crypts." Martyn glanced at the book M had found. "What did you find?" 

"Oh, this one's called 'Shoulder Barge.' It apparently allows me to 'knock thine enemies prone with thy blessed strength.' Pretty sweet, huh?"

Martyn narrowed his eyes, feeling his suspicions intensify. The books they had found earlier dealt with locating more ores or enhancing crop growth. Now, they were discovering texts about freezing vampires or rendering enemies prone? This marked a significant shift, and Martyn couldn't shake the feeling that it was an ominous sign. Was... was Avid actually right? Are vampires truly present in Oakhurst?

Knowing he needed proof to confirm anything, Martyn opened the book, letting the light wash over him as The Whispers of the holy word filled his mind. He felt the book disintegrating in his hands; its knowledge fully absorbed by him as it disappeared into the ether. As the lights faded, Martyn blinked softly, banishing spots from his vision as he mulled over his new power.

"M, I need you to do me a favor." Martyn turned to the author, who was just finishing his own book. "Today, during the house judging contest, I'm going to use this holy word thing. I want you to help me keep an eye out for anyone who suddenly stops moving. Can you do that for me?"

"Oh, absolutely," M promised, giving an eager nod. "I can even shoulder-barge them if I need to. Make sure they're really frozen."

"I don't think we need to go that far." Martyn paused as he said that. "Not yet, at least. I don't even know if this will work, or how it works for that matter, so we need to be careful. Just see who doesn't move, make a note of them, and we'll work from there."

"You can count on me." M put a hand to his chest, straightening up proudly. "I'll make sure we know exactly who the vampires are."

~\~/~

Scott strolled confidently into Oakhurst, ensuring his mask was securely in place. He observed that the townspeople had already begun to gather in the town square, presumably for Avid's house judging contest. He could even see the man himself starting to gather everyone together, a wide grin spreading across his face as he did so. The manor lord approached from behind the vampire hunter, with a few onlookers noticing him. After exchanging surprised glances, they stayed silent, waiting for him to come closer. Scott caught sight of Shelby trying to stifle a giggle behind her hand as he positioned himself directly behind Avid.

"Alright, everyone!" Avid declared, utterly oblivious to the vampire standing behind him. "Are we all excited for this contest? I know I am!"

There were a few mild cheers from the crowd, but most of the attention was on Scott, who discreetly placed a finger to his lips to signal silence. After rallying the group and building anticipation, Avid turned around. Instantly, his eyes locked onto Scott, and upon noticing the skull mask, Avid let out an ear-piercing scream. He lost his balance, falling flat on his backside while continuing to scream uncontrollably. The spectators, who had been eagerly awaiting that exact moment, burst into hysterical laughter. Even the Doctor and Abolish couldn't help but crack smiles at the spectacle.

"Scott?!" Avid exclaimed, his heart beating so loud that Scott was sure the humans could hear it. "Scott, what the hell?! Where have you been? And where did you get that?!"

"What, this old thing?" Scott tapped the side of his mask with a grin. "I wore it to a masquerade ball a long time ago. I needed to teach you a lesson for your little accusation yesterday, so now you can expect to see this face lurking around every corner, peering in every window. Whenever you turn around, I'll be there, watching."

"Oh, that is too good," Martyn chuckled. "Wish I had one, that sounds hilarious."

Scott's face split into a broad grin as he quietly appreciated Owen's foresight earlier. With a swift motion, he unbuttoned his coat, reached inside, and retrieved several additional masks of a similar style. As he revealed them, he couldn't help but notice Avid's soul seemingly leaving his body, probably imagining the horrors he might have unleashed upon himself. Martyn was the first to reach out and take one of the masks, quickly followed by Mr. M and Shelby. Honestly, seeing his roommate wearing her mask with her glasses perched over it was unexpectedly adorable, and he found himself unable to resist a soft coo.

"Shelby, you look so cute."

"Aww, thank you," Shelby gushed, clearly blushing under the mask.

"You think that's cute?" Pearl seemed to be smirking, then she reached down for something at her feet. At first, Scott saw nothing, but then as she made a scooping motion, something began to manifest: an ashy, translucent kitten that let out an echoing meow as it curled up in Pearl's arms. "Meet Oscar. He's a ghost cat."

Everyone immediately swarmed Pearl and her new ghostly pet, though Scott had to blink in surprise at the sight of it. That cat had been in his family some time ago—one that had been particularly precious and was cremated after it reached its lifespan. In fact, those ashes had still been in his crypt when he woke up. 

Scott had no illusion that the sanctity of his family's tomb had been recognized or respected, especially after he saw all of the empty resting places and missing sarcophagi. Honestly, he was surprised that his coffin hadn't been stolen. Granted, it was quite literally carved into the ground. Despite everything, he believed there was nothing else worth taking. Yet, somehow, Pearl managed to discover the one remaining item of value that had been left out in the open.

Regardless, that was a problem to be dealt with another day. From what was observable, Oscar seemed quite content with the current situation. His resonant purrs clearly expressed his satisfaction. If Oscar liked Pearl, then it might be worth considering turning her into a vampire as well. He had always been a good judge of character.

"Okay, okay," Avid interjected, finally standing back up. "Honestly, I deserve all of this, and Pearl, that is a very cute and kind of creepy pet that you have acquired."

"Oscar's not creepy!" Pearl held her ethereal feline close to her chest, stroking its ashy head as it meowed. "He's a little cutie pie!"

"Yeah, sure, he's a little cutie pie." Avid turned away from Pearl and faced Scott again. He seemed to have trouble looking Scott in the eye, which worked out perfectly for the Manor Lord vampire. "Listen, Scott. I wanted to apologize for what happened last night. I was out of line, and I shouldn't have said what I said."

"You're not forgiven," Scott said, crossing his arms.

"Fair!" Avid held up his hands. "More than fair. Anyway! Shall we get started on this thing? M, Owen, how about you start us off?"

Mr. M was more than eager to show off the house he had been working on for the past few days, inviting everyone in to see his modestly furnished home and all the hard work he put into it. Scott couldn't help but notice how nice it was, although he still missed the grand opulence of his castle. He really needed to get some more fledglings to rebuild it. He enjoyed his time with Shelby, especially how she would playfully tease Avid while wearing her borrowed mask, but he didn't know how long he could last living in such a tiny hovel.

"All right, all right," Avid called out as everyone filed out of Mr. M's home. "So, for this competition, I had a unique rating criterion in mind. Rather than focusing on beauty or building techniques, I was thinking we could grade homes based on vampire safety."

Immediately, his declaration was met with a loud chorus of groans and annoyed head shakes. Scott also had to roll his eyes at that. This man just never gives up, and he's just digging his own grave at this point. It was almost sad, but also quite amusing. 

So, Mr. M, Owen, I give your house a 5 out of 5 for vampire safety. You've got a solid foundation, all your windows are barred, and you are perfectly safe from vampires.

Owen smirked at that last comment, his expression slightly teasing as he tried not to reveal his fangs. Scott noticed the subtle attempt, knowing that revealing the truth about who was a vampire to Avid would be an exhilarating moment—one that would be so much fun once they finally decided to stop playing pretend.

The next house they moved into was the one Avid and Drift shared, a place humorously and somewhat derisively called Merp Manor. Scott couldn't decide what offended him more: the audacity of calling this rundown shack a manor, or the blatant favoritism Avid showed toward his own house. Clearly, he needed to teach the fool a lesson.

Stepping back to the rear of the crowd, Scott quickly released a flurry of bats into the air, sending them scattering among the gathered people. Instantly, chaos erupted as everyone panicked, swatting and shouting to scare the bats away. Scott instinctively pulled Shelby close, as if to shield her from the swarm, wrapping his cloak securely around her to secure his innocence.

"What is this bat infestation?" he accused, turning to glare at Avid, who was humorously trying to swat at one of the bats with a stick. "We've been here a few days, and you already have animals living in your home?" 

"I don't know where these came from!" Avid shrieked, continuing to wave his stick at a rather unamused bat. "They're not from our house!" 

"The Vampire Hunter with a bat infestation in his attic," Martyn groused, throwing a rock at one of the bats and missing by a mile. "I don't think your house is very vampire-safe." 

"1 out of 5!" Mr. M cheered, taking a break from waving his notebook at one of the bats to start that particular chant. "1 out of 5! 1 out of 5!"

After about a minute or two of pure chaos, during which bats darted in all directions and flitted around wildly, the last of them finally took flight, hopefully heading to somewhere safer than Oakhurst. Everyone around was panting slightly from exertion, catching their breath after the frantic disturbance. At last, Scott released Shelby from his hold. She was smiling at him as if he had just saved her life, her eyes shining with relief and gratitude. Scott gently ruffled her hair, his smile softening as he watched her look so adorable with her excitement. Avid, meanwhile, was doing his best to remain composed. He dusted himself off, tossed his stick aside with a resigned sigh, and then cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of calm amidst the aftermath of the chaos.

"Okay, I don't know what that was, but you know what? We'll take the 1 out of 5. Let's move on."

The next house on the tour was the one owned by Dr. Legundo. Unfortunately, the doctor hadn't quite finished renovating his home yet. Most of the ceiling was still open to the air, and the windows lacked bars, leaving them unprotected. Scott had to admit, however, that the interior was quite impressive. He had laid down some cobblestone for the flooring and was already in the process of setting up counter space and storage for his supplies. Once completed, this house would make a rather nice clinic. 

"Sorry, Doc," Avid said, looking the house up and down. "But I don't think you could even call this a home right now. It's got no ceiling, and the windows are wide open. That's only a 2 out of 5 for vampire safety."

The doc didn't seem all that upset about his low score. His focus seemed to be on looking over everyone after the bat incident, making sure no one got scratched or hurt. Thankfully, everyone was okay. Meanwhile, the next house on the list belonged to Cleo and Pearl. Scott had to admit that theirs was a very attractive home, featuring large windows and a row of berry bushes planted beneath them. Of course, everyone around began looking inside and freely entering, much to the frustration of one of the house matriarchs.

"Hey!" Cleo shouted as she pushed her way through the crowd, trying to get into her house. "No one invited you in here! Leave!"

Scott, for obvious reasons, was not part of that crowd. Neither were Owen nor Pyro, also for obvious reasons. The elder vampire took this opportunity to take a closer look at his fledgling. He could recognize the shiftiness in Pyro's stance, the way he kept eyeing everyone but couldn't decide who he wanted to feast on. Clearly, his fledgling was not eating properly, and he would soon come to regret that. Once this was over, Scott probably needed to get himself something to eat before he ended up spilling the beans to everyone.

"Well, this is going downhill fast," Drift said, leaning against the wall of the former church, now a half-finished watchtower. "I was hoping this house judging contest would bring everyone together, but it feels like it's just tearing us apart even more." 

"Maybe if Avid hadn't turned this into another one of his vampire propaganda campaigns, it might have," Owen remarked. "Seriously, what kind of criteria is vampire safety? He just didn't want to admit that M and I have the best house in this entire town." 

"I'd have to disagree on that," Mr. M chimed in, the mask he had been wearing earlier now resting on the side of his head. "Our house is good, don't get me wrong, but I really like Cleo and Pearls. It feels big, cozy, and homey—"

"All right! Murder it is! Everybody run!"

This shout came from Cleo, and when all eyes turned to her, they saw the farmer wielding Pearl's sword, looking ready to cut someone's head off. Of course, everyone who had been in her house uninvited quickly scattered, eager to get away from the irate woman. Pearl was doing absolutely nothing to stop her; in fact, from the smirk on her face, there was a very good chance she had given Cleo that sword. It made Scott honestly grateful that he had been unable to join in that particular escapade. Thankfully, Cleo did not seem to be targeting the entire town, just the few people who had been dumb enough to enter her home—and Avid, who had been dumb enough to come up with this entire idea.

"You do not just storm into a person's house without being invited!" she shouted, waving her sword at Avid, who was cowering behind a tree. "Seriously, were you raised in a barn?!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! You're right, that wasn't polite, I really shouldn't have done that! Please don't kill me!" Cleo was still visibly fuming but lowered her sword. Avid slowly stepped out from behind the tree, clearing his throat. "All right, so unfortunately, because of the large windows, I'm going to have to give this house a 3 out of 5 for Vampire safety." 

"Excuse me?!" Cleo raised her sword once more. "Care to try that again?" 

Avid went pale, tugging on the linens around his throat. "Did I say 3? I meant 4-" Cleo raised the sword higher, "5! 5 out of 5! Their house gets a 5 out of 5!"

~\~/~

Things became somewhat chaotic after that incident. Avid decided to take a break from judging the contest to explore the town's crypt and found an Unnatural Haste book hidden in a chest. Recognizing its potential usefulness, he immediately consumed it, instinctively knowing that such speed could help him in the future. Then, the judging continued with the housing contest. The subsequent evaluation was of Scott and Shelby's house, which received a score of 3 out of 5, mainly because of their glass windows and the back door Scott had installed. (the silver was still underneath the front door, and he still needed a proper way to access his own home.)

Following this, Avid attempted to question Scott about the events of the previous night involving his outing with Pyro and Owen. Scott, displaying his usual calm and unflappable demeanor, easily deflected the questions. Seeing this as his opportunity, Martyn noticed that everyone was so preoccupied with Scott and Avid that they scarcely paid attention to him. Seizing the moment, he subtly slipped into the center of the group and quietly muttered a sacred word, beginning to enact his plans.

“Sanctuarium…”

The moment those words left his lips, an aura of light exploded from around his feet. It swept over the ground, covering several meters in front of him. Everyone was utterly shocked by what they saw, with stunned shouts filling the air as they tried to escape the light. Hoping to encourage movement—and to see if anyone didn't—Martyn urged everyone to try to get away, watching to see who moved and who didn't.

Surveying the crowd, Martyn noticed two things that made him hesitate. First, Shelby stayed exactly where she was, looking around but not rushing like everyone else. Second, Scott also remained in his spot, perched on the roof and gazing down at the fading particles of light still shimmering. He was too far to see clearly, but Martyn was sure he saw some of those light particles curling around Scott's ankles like ethereal manacles. Sadly, the light disappeared as quickly as it arrived, leaving everyone stunned.

"What was that?" Apo exclaimed, glancing around nervously. "Who did that?" 

"Avid, was that you?" Cleo accused, eyes narrowing. The vampire hunter was quick to deny, "Trust me, I'm just as confused as the rest of you!" He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Does someone have a new weird power they want to talk about?"

Martyn kept quiet, unsure of what to make of the results. Clearly, he had done something when he muttered the holy word, but he wasn't sure whether it had worked; he would need to test it a few more times before he could be entirely sure. At the very least, he confirmed that he could, in fact, do something. More than that, he had a few suspects.

"Someone?" Avid pressed, seeking answers. "Does anyone have anything they want to say?"

"I've got something to say," Owen piped up, crossing his arms. "What exactly is going on here? That felt really strange — like someone just dropped a holy bomb on us."

"Look, whatever happened, it's faded now," Pearl interjected. "For the moment, why don't we try to finish this contest, okay?"

There were murmurs of agreement as everyone attempted to move past what had occurred earlier. Martyn also chose to leave the matter behind, knowing he needed to avoid drawing any more attention to himself.

~\~/~

Thankfully, the rest of the house judging contest was uneventful. Ren's house was given a 4 out of 5, mainly because he had a back door. Ren explained his case, saying in his own way that his tavern should have a back door for deliveries and the occasional overzealous patron who couldn't hold their liquor. Sadly, the score stayed the same.

Martyn achieved the highest score, receiving 6 out of 5 for the sign he posted on his door. The sign read "No Visitors Welcome," clearly indicating that absolutely no one was allowed entry, especially vampires. Martyn accepted this verdict with enthusiasm, feeling quite proud of having somehow surpassed the usual scoring scale.

Pyro and Apo's house was next on the list, and it drew quite a few complaints about the state of their flooring, which was still predominantly mud and grass. Although there had been some attempts to install proper flooring, the house remained a mess—quite literally a pigsty. Truffle had his own fenced-off area tucked into the corner, and nearby, there was a hole filled with pigs. Everyone burst into laughter when Avid accidentally fell into the pig hole, and the laughter only grew when Apo teased the vampire hunter about training Truffle to sniff out vampires. They received a rating of 4 out of 5.

Finally, Abolish had his turn to be judged. His house was undoubtedly one of the finest structures, featuring a second story, a small cultivated field with potatoes and garlic, and windows that were perfectly barred to ensure security. He received a perfect score of 5 out of 5; however, the butler rolled his eyes, clearly displaying his impatience. It was evident to everyone that he had long since grown weary of this competition.

"All right, everyone, gather around," Avid called out, clearing his throat to capture everyone's attention as they formed a loose circle around him. "This has been quite an eventful competition, to say the least, but I believe we have a clear winner. With the highest score for Vampire safety, the prize goes to Martin." The group responded with polite applause as the announcement was made, and Martin offered a slight shrug before turning towards Avid.

"So, what did I win?" he asked, his curiosity evident.

The expression of sheer panic that flashed across the face of the vampire hunter was almost as amusing as the pig hole incident itself. His eyes darted frantically as he patted down his pockets, desperately searching for anything that could serve as a prize.

"Uh, what did you win? That's a very good question and one I definitely considered," Avid stammered, his brows furrowing slightly. Suddenly, he retrieved something from his pocket, and his face lit up with a bright smile.

"Your prize, Martin, is… garlic seeds!" he announced enthusiastically, holding out a handful of seeds as if they were precious gold. Of course, this earned more scoffs and eye rolls from the others, yet Martin graciously accepted the seeds.

"Honestly, you know what? I wouldn't mind growing some more of this stuff," he said, pocketing the garlic seeds with a thoughtful expression. He made a mental note to set up a small garden patch later, especially if there really were vampires lurking in town. Having some garlic on hand could be a valuable form of protection. "I humbly accept."

"Right," Owen said finally, letting out a sigh as he clapped his hands together in a somewhat dismissive gesture. "Well, that's one day of my life I'll never get back. If anyone needs me, I'll be trying to forget any of this ever happened. G'night." 

He gave a two-fingered salute, a quick farewell, then turned on his heel and strode off toward his house, his shoulders slightly slumped in resignation. Everyone else followed not long after, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and frustration, clearly eager to leave the day's events behind and forget it ever occurred.

Chapter Text

The morning after the house-judging contest, everyone seemed eager to get something productive done. They had spent a whole day at an event that many thought was a big waste of time, and half the town hadn't wanted to join in from the start. As a result, each person had their own ideas about what to do next. 

Cleo was already gathered with a small group of girls who called Oakhurst home. They were planning a girls' trip into the woods to explore, gather resources, and basically escape the chaos of the male population of Oakhurst. Pearl, in particular, hoped to find more crypts to explore, mainly because she owed Ren a spell book. He had shown her an Unnatural Haste spell book he found and asked her to read it since he couldn't read. Not knowing how spell books work, she accidentally absorbed the knowledge herself, leaving him without magic. She felt bad and wanted to fix things, which fit well with the others, who were more than eager to expand their own personal spell collections with any magical books they could find.

The men of Oakhurst were making similar plans, with several of them wanting to get supplies and others hoping to find more spell tomes or beacons of their own. There was also a pronounced and urgent need for more animals, as the current occupancy of the Oakhurst animal pens consisted of only a few pigs and a pair of sheep. Pyro found himself particularly drawn to that mission, his thirst almost overwhelming. 

While everyone was busy making plans about their next moves, Avid was approached by Ren. The older man appeared slightly nervous as he approached the vampire hunter, his gaze flickering with a shifty quality that betrayed the anxiety he was experiencing.

"Young Avid," the cursed man greeted. "Perhaps I could borrow ya ear for a wee moment?"

Avid nodded, not sure what this was about, but more than willing to accommodate someone who was willingly talking to him. Ren led him over to his home/tavern, inviting him in so they could speak in relative privacy. They sat at the rudimentary counter Ren had set up, perched on simple stools as the older man seemed to gather his thoughts.

"You know, I know I gave this place a 4 out of 5 for vampire safety, but this is a rather cozy place to be. Honestly, I'm looking forward to seeing it up and running."

"Aye," Ren nodded slightly. "Speaking of vampires, I find meself a wee bit… nay, not a wee bit, extremely disturbed by all this talk of vampires about the town these last few nights. What ye did ta Mr. Goldsmythe in regards to Young Shelby…" The older man shook his head. "I'd be lyin' if I said it didn't sour me opinion of ye."

Avid shrank into his stool at that, bracing himself for yet another lecture. He'd lost count of how many he'd received since coming here.

"But…" That made Avid perk, "when ya hear someone talkin' about somethin' scary, they're either talkin' nonsense and shenanigans, or there be some sort of truth to their words."

Avid felt a sudden surge of relief washing over him. It wasn't full belief, but there was a willingness to listen. He practically sagged on his stool, reaching out for rent and placing his hands on top of the older man's shoulders.

"Thank you…"

"Young Avid, what brings ye to Oakhurst? And why are ye talkin' about vampires all the time, doncha know?"

Avid hesitated briefly, unsure if he wanted to share the entire story. His neck ached slightly, serving as a subtle reminder of the part of the story he hadn't told anyone yet—not even Shelby. Still, if he wanted to earn Ren's trust, he needed to be honest and open about everything.

"Ren, somebody… important to me… was turned by something that came from here."

"Turned?" Ren repeated, his tone laced with shock.

"Turned." Avid's fists clenched around the fabric of his trousers. "She and I were a team. I was the guy in the lab, doing all the alchemy, science, and discovery. She was the field agent, the-the braver one. And one day, she came back to the lab, and she was... wrong. She had a bite on her hand, and after barely a minute, she... she changed. I knew that whatever bit her came from here, so that's why I'm here. I came to avenge her, to make sure that what happened to her, what happened to me, doesn't happen to anyone else."

"And… ye be sure it's vampires?"

"I'm almost positive," Avid answered, looking Ren dead in the eyes. "My gut is telling me that's what it is, and I learned long ago to trust my gut."

Ren was silent for a moment, turning toward the empty counter like he was looking for a drink that wasn't there.

"Well, that be a most disturbing tale indeed, Young Avid. Tell me, do ye know how to combat such a threat? Ye said so yerself ye were not a man of action, but a man of intellect."

Avid immediately took Ren's hand in his own, nodding enthusiastically.

"Yes, I know plenty of ways to fight vampires. First of all, garlic. There's a reason I've been making sure everyone has some. If you eat raw garlic, it will protect you from vampires for at least a little while. They can try to bite you, but they won't be able to turn you. Always keep some handy, and it will keep you safe."

Ren nodded in agreement, reaching for a small sack that was hanging from his hip. The way it crinkled when he picked it up made it clear it was full of garlic. It reassured Avid to know that someone was taking him seriously, even if he hadn't yet fully believed him.

"Secondly, silver. They can't touch it; it repels them and weakens them. Hanging silver over your door or placing it in front of it will keep them from entering your home. Oh, also, they cannot enter your home without an invitation, but having that silver would still be beneficial. Say, like if you accidentally invited a vampire in before you knew they were one—if you have that silver, you can keep them out and keep yourself safe."

"Aye, I be seein' the wisdom in that. Lucky for us, these lands be rich in silver, and we be already arming ourselves with it."

"Good! Good!" Avid was grinning now. "Armor, weapons, blocks everywhere. Ren, you have no idea how happy this makes me."

He was just about to hug the older man when he heard a knock at the door. He jumped, looking through the window to see Scott standing at the entrance. He was still wearing that stupid skull mask and was smirking as he looked through the window at the vampire hunter.

"There you are, Avid," the blue-haired noble called out. "We're about to go on a group expedition, and we wanted to invite you to join us. You too, Ren, if you'd like to come."

"Ah, an expedition sounds like a fine time, doncha know," Ren replied, much to Avid's horror. "I be needin' more supplies ta be finishin' me home, so I humbly accept your invitation, Mr. Goldsmythe."

"Uh… yeah!" Avid agreed, albeit reluctantly. "Yeah, an expedition sounds great! We'll be there soon!"

"Great!" Scott flashed a wide grin before dramatically turning on his heels with a flourish of his cape. "We'll be waiting."

One crucial ground rule had been established for the girls' trip organized by four of the five women from Oakhurst: Shelby was strictly forbidden from discussing Bigfoot. She agreed to this condition without hesitation, honestly just eager to enjoy quality time with people who truly wanted to be with her. So far, it has been proving to be an enjoyable experience. They had been exploring extensively throughout the forests of Oakhurst, even daring to venture deep into the mysterious Deadwood. Along their journey, they discovered several of the unusual crypts scattered across the landscape, each one containing a different, intriguing book.

One of the first things they did was take another look at the ruined castle and the massive tomb beneath it. Unfortunately, there were no signs of any magical tomes, which was quite disappointing. Now expecting it, the girls were at least able to approach the open sarcophagus without completely freaking out, and got a closer look. Unfortunately, this only revealed that the crypt was empty and whatever had been here was long gone—stuff they already knew. By that point, the uneasiness in the area had set in, and they quickly left.

 Their next stop was a crypt not far from the castle, where Shelby discovered an Unnatural Haste book, which she readily accepted. The enhanced speed granted by this book would ensure that, should she ever encounter any object or entity—though she did not specify what exactly—it would be easy for her to catch up to it. Alternatively, she would gain the agility needed to run away from wolves if they suddenly appeared and posed a threat. Pearl concurred with this assessment, noting that the ability to escape from wolves would be highly advantageous and provide a crucial survival advantage.

The next tomb held a book titled "Prayers of the Faithful." By offering a heartfelt prayer to the Holy Spirits, Cleo could gain a boost to her health, healing her injuries and making her slightly more resistant to harm. Testing this specific power proved a bit challenging, as she had to genuinely desire it and pray sincerely. It had been far too long since she had trusted in any divine force, but she did her best, and someone up there finally decided to throw her a bone. She could feel the extra health she received and admitted that it would ultimately be beneficial.

Before moving to the next crypt, the girls were surprised to find a tower hidden among the Dead trees. It resembled the tower at the lake, though it was in much rougher shape, and had a beacon at the top. Thankfully, there were no lakes or marshlands around it, so they didn't need to swim to reach it. They all climbed the tower, placing their hands on the beacon's surface as they began to consecrate it.

"Apo is really missing out," Shelby remarked, drumming lightly on the beacon as she spoke. "Actually, I don't think I ever had this much fun with anyone."

"Well, someone had to serve as the voice of reason among all the madness that is the male populace of Oakhurst," Cleo reminded her.

"Not all of them are insane," Pearl countered, giving her roommate a slight smirk. "The doctor seems pretty level-headed, and Abolish also seems to have a good head on his shoulders."

"What is Abolish's deal anyway?" Drift wondered, thinking back to her rare interactions with the butler. "I mean, I don't think he's ever really interacted with any of us. He's got his own house, keeps to himself, and didn't he like leave halfway through the house judging contest?"

"Drift, half the town left the house judging contest around the time they came to my and Pearl's house," Cleo reminded her. "That's not exactly suspicion-worthy."

"Besides, butlers are trained to be basically invisible," Shelby pointed out. "They show up when they're called, do what they're told, and other than that, they just disappear into the background to do whatever it is butlers do."

"He does seem to have it all put together," Cleo admitted, "Honestly, part of me wonders if there's more to his story than he's telling."

"Cleo," Drift let out, giving the redhead a sideways glance, "do you honestly think everyone here has been candid about why they came to Oakhurst? I would bet my detective's badge that at least half of us aren't telling the full truth."

Cleo couldn't argue with that one, especially considering she was sitting on one hell of a secret of her own, one she had absolutely no intention of sharing anytime soon. "I suppose you have a point there."

Silence fell over the group as they waited for the beacon to be fully consecrated. Thankfully, it seemed almost done, but it was still taking a while. The silence dragged on for a good moment, then Shelby popped up with a new question to get the conversation going again.

"What do you think that light was back in town?" she asked. "The one that happened during the contest? It felt bizarre."

"I think that was Martyn," Cleo answered, remembering the book that he had found when they were out hunting for crypts the day before. "I think it was called holy word? It said that if you said this holy word, you could freeze vampires in their tracks for some time. Honestly, Apo thought Avid was being his usual self, messing around with those books. Trying to continue his vampire propaganda."

It had been so tempting to take the book for herself, but Martyn had gotten to it first, and she couldn't just take it without revealing some things she wasn't ready to reveal yet. So, she had to play along with the narrative that vampires weren't real for a bit longer.

"That doesn't make any sense, though," Drift pointed out, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I mean, these books are ancient, probably older than any of us here. And Avid, he's my friend, but there's no way he could do anything this big. I mean, finding all these hidden crypts and placing these books? No way. It's just not possible."

"Yeah, plus there has to be a reason these books keep appearing," Shelby said, motioning to the vast Erie landscape around them. "Whether you call it a plague, vampires, or whatever else happened here, it was bad. Bad enough that something decided to help humanity by leaving these strange magic tomes behind."

"The red beacon." Pearl's expression softened as she remembered, her tone becoming solemn yet thoughtful. "All the other beacons we've found have been white, and they didn't take anywhere near as long to consecrate as that red one did. Right, Drift?"

"Right," Drift replied, her voice steady but contemplative. She hesitated slightly before continuing. "Something turned that beacon red, something dark. I'm not jumping on the vampire bandwagon just yet, but we can't ignore that something unusual is going on here."

A tense silence settled over the four girls as the beacon suddenly flared to a brilliant orange, flooding their surroundings with a radiant, holy energy. Yet, despite the comforting warmth of the light, all four of them couldn't shake the chilling sensation that lingered — as if something ominous was unfolding. They exchanged uneasy glances, aware that whatever was happening, they didn't like it one bit.

With the Oakhurst men, the situation was notably more chaotic and disorderly than among the girls. A sizable group of eight, consisting of Apo, Ren, Avid, Martyn, Scott, Owen, Mr M, and Legs, moved together. As expected with such a large gathering, their movements were far from stealthy; they tromped through the woods, making plenty of noise and disrupting the natural silence. Owen watched them all with a mixture of amusement and mild exasperation. It was fortunate they were out hunting for ancient magic tomes and elusive beacons rather than living prey. Otherwise, they might have found themselves in serious trouble. His only regret was that the group was too large to single out a worthy meal, as the snack he had taken from Pyro was already starting to fade, and he would need to find more food soon.

Thinking about the new fledgling made Owen chuckle as he recalled how poorly the man was coping. He took perverse pleasure in watching him squirm and nervously glance around, clearly terrified of saying or doing something wrong. Now the man knew what it felt like to be an outsider, an outcast—an experience that Owen found almost poetic. He couldn't wait to see others join this feeling of alienation; it was only a matter of who would be next.

After some mindless traveling, the group managed to find their way to one of the crypts deep in the forest. Everyone began to jump down eagerly, though Avid remained skeptical. The only crypt he had actually ventured into was the one in town, which had a staircase rather than a long drop. So, of course, Owen gave him a hard shove on the back, sending him falling into the crypt. He laughed as the would-be Vampire Hunter screamed as he fell, right into the shallow waters below. Scott, who remained up top with him for a brief moment, also shared a smile, glancing over at his fellow vampire. 

"You beat me by about two seconds," Scott said, finishing with a giggle. "Honestly, I can't remember the last time I had this much fun." 

"Me neither," Owen replied, smirking mischievously. "It's a shame there's such a big group, though. Starting to get thirsty again." 

"Me too. Hey, did anything happen in town with that strange light thing?" 

"Oh, that," Owen said, wincing as he recalled the feeling of the light cascading over the street. He had felt it try to reach out for him, to lock him in place, but he was able to shake it off—probably because he was still relatively weak. Scott, on the other hand, had a kill under his belt since his Awakening and was now a higher-level vampire, meaning the light likely affected him. "It felt holy in nature. Why? What did you feel?" 

"Like I couldn't move," Scott replied, his earlier mirth fading as he shuffled his feet. "It brought back some memories I didn't want to revisit. Whoever cast that spell, we need to ensure they can't do it again." 

"All in due time. Anyway, we should probably get down there before they start accusing us of being monsters." 

Owen gestured with his thumb toward the crypt, and Scott nodded in agreement. Both of them quickly jumped down, spotting the other six members of their group gathered around the chest. Apo had the magical tome in her hand, but from the fading light, she had likely already absorbed the knowledge from it. Another spell to add to the human's repertoire. Not exactly encouraging, but it wouldn't matter in the end. What did matter was what the humans were talking about as the two vampires approached.

"Listen, I know you guys are sick of me and my vampire talk, but am I the only one who was weirded out by all those bats that just appeared yesterday?" Avid scanned the gathered crowd. "Like, I know it's kind of old news at this point, but it kind of freaked me out."

"I thought they came from your attic," Legs spoke up, smirking a bit as he said it. "I'm sorry, but you're not going to be escaping those allegations anytime soon."

"They were from the outside!" Avid threw his arms in the air out of frustration, but then took a deep breath, put his hands over his face, and regained his composure. 

"Do you think somebody did it on purpose?" Mr. M questioned.

"I do, and I think it was Scott!" Scott rolled his eyes at that, a reaction Apo echoed. Interestingly enough, nearly everyone had seen them by this point, except for Avid, yet none of them were pointing them out. "Think about it! He's still wearing that silly skull mask to try and scare me, and honestly, I believe he's petty enough to unleash bats." 

"You're right; I am petty enough." 

Of course, Avid immediately shrieked and stumbled backward, much to the amusement of everyone gathered around. Scott simply crossed his arms and smirked beneath his mask. 

"That doesn't mean I would. Do I look like someone who would just gather a bunch of wild bats purely to annoy you?"

"Nah," Owen commented, eyes never leaving Avid. "You're not one to get your hands dirty. And I don't exactly see any servants around here to do your bidding."

"How long have you been standing there?!" Avid cried out, visibly shaking.

"This whole time," Legs answered, laughing as he said it. "Seriously, if they were vampires, they would have bitten you so many times by now."

"Perhaps if he were alone, Doctor," Owen teased, flashing Avid a toothy grin. "But no vampire would be foolish enough to attack in a crowd as big as this."

"Don't encourage him," Apo chastised. "Seriously, he's bad enough as is."

Everyone chuckled at Avid's expense, the vampire hunter sulking as everyone took their leave of the crypt.

~\~/~

The large group continued their adventures through the wilds of Oakhurst. Some idle conversation persisted, though most of it was Scott and Owen teasing Avid about his cowardice. To his credit, the vampire hunter took it as well as he could, trying not to let it bother him. Then, as they pressed on, they reached the grand path leading to the castle bridge. Everyone stopped and stared at the bridge, with only a few not recognizing it. Scott had to hold himself back from snarling at the idea of more humans invading his former home, and Owen just stared at the bridge with a distant look in his eyes. If one looked closely enough, one could almost see fire flickering in his irises.

"I remember this place," Legs spoke up. "There's a beacon just over that bridge, but unless something turned it red again, we should be in the clear."

"I think if something had turned it red, we would have felt it," Martyn said, eying the bridge nervously. "I mean, every time one of these beacons gets consecrated, we all feel that wave of power on the wind. I'm pretty sure it would be the same if the reverse happened and something made it unholy."

"Are you saying that because you don't want to go across the creepy, broken stone bridge?" Mr. M asked.

"Honestly, that's part of it, I will admit."

"If I be honest with ye," Ren interjected, eyeing the castle with apparent fear. "The hour grows late, and me old bones be tellin' me that this be a bad omen. Perhaps t'would be prudent to return to the safety of Oakhurst, doncha know? I be needin' ta return ta workin' on me cabin, lest I be caught in the night by the monsters that lurk upon these here lands."

"You know, honestly, I'm with Ren on this one." Avid slipped right next to Ren, giving the older man a pat on the back. "Plus, we need to stick with the buddy system, so I'll stay with Ren as my buddy, and we'll head back to town. Sound good to everyone?"

"I should probably get back myself," Apo agreed, nodding slightly. "My watchtower is still far from complete, and I also need to feed Truffle and check on Pyro. He hasn't been feeling well."

"Then I'll go back to." Mr. M went to stand next to Apo. "I think I've got enough to write about today, and I still need to get started on my manuscript. Oh, I have so many stories to tell."

The four continued their journey along the winding path, steadily making their way back toward Oakhurst. Meanwhile, only Owen, Scott, Legs, and Martyn remained committed to their mission, pushing forward without any inclination to return to town just yet. Eager to see what lay ahead, they decided to persevere, following the shoreline of the river as it stretched toward Deadwood.

"So, doctor," Owen began as he jumped from one of the stepping stones onto the ashy shores of the Deadwood, "What do you make of all this? All this magic and beacons and whatnot."

The Doctor steadied himself on the shore, adjusting his surgical apron before giving the lumberjack his attention.

"Honestly, I've never been a religious man." The Doctor's gaze was distant, his voice tinged with weariness. "I've never had much reason to believe in the word or the Holy Spirits. But, the most I can say is that there are things in this world that just haven't been explained yet."

"And all these books? The beacons? What do you make of them?"

"We know that magic exists," the doc replied. "Enchanting books are common, sold in your basic libraries. Honestly, it makes sense that some would grant humans powers. But, the number of books that we are finding here is suspect to me. As for the beacons, there have been many studies about ancient technology that would have been comparable to magic. There's a good chance that these beacons are part of that ancient technology."

They continued walking, following a rudimentary path deeper into the woods, and up to one of the crypts that they had been looking for.

"And what about these?" Owen gestures to the crypt with his thumb. "Unsettling tombs with ancient tomes? And you can't deny that there's something holy about these places."

"I can't speak for how the books came to be in these tombs, nor will I say definitively that they are holy in origin. All I will say is that there are some things that man was simply never meant to know."

"I thought you were a doctor," Scott said, walking past the two before gracefully dropping into the crypt.

"I am a doctor," Legs responded, his fists tightening slightly. "I'm a doctor who gives care, provides medicine, and helps people. I don't try to explain away the existence of ominous tombs or magical books. I just do everything in my power to keep people safe and help them live the best life they can."

Owen eyed the Doctor curiously, watching the man as he descended into the crypt himself. He had no love for doctors, not after a lifetime of being fed false promises by so many of them. And yet, somehow, Legs felt different. There was something about him that felt… It was hard to explain, but Owen felt drawn to him for some reason. It made him curious, made him want to learn more about the man.

"You coming?" Martyn called out, standing on the lip of the tomb.

Owen blinked, then gave a slight nod. "Yeah, I'm coming."

Martyn jumped down into the crypt, and Owen followed. For the first time since Louis died, he had a reason to keep going. This would be fun.

~\~/~

The crypt contained a spellbook titled "Banish Undead". Both Scott and Owen kept their expressions neutral when it was revealed, but neither could entirely hide their relief, as it turned out to work only on lesser undead, like the skeletons and zombies that roamed the lands at night. The Doctor ended up taking the book for himself, earning him some teasing from both Maryn and Owen for being a man of science who used magic. Legs didn't even dignify that with a response.

After a bit of travel, the group came across the ruined tower that had once been Owen's lumbermill. Returning to this place felt like a punch to the stomach for the lumberjack, but he kept his emotions to himself. Still, he took up the rear of the group as they ventured to the top of the tower, finding yet another beacon to consecrate. Seeing such a holy relic desecrating his former resting place made Owen want to scream, but he kept it to himself, merely clenching his fists beneath his cloak.

"Not exactly the sturdiest of perches," Martyn commented, testing the flooring around the beacon. "I don't think this can hold a lot of people."

"I'd say two at most," Owen answered, already making himself comfortable on the stone ledging of the tower. "Any more and the floor's likely to give out."

"Yeah, no thank you." Scott joined Owen on the ledge, somehow making it look dignified while Owen just perched. "This cloak is worth more than any of you peasants make in a year."

"Oi!" Martyn objected. "I'm no peasant!"

"Sure~."

"Martyn," Legs interjected, sounding tired and annoyed. "Come on. I need help to get this consecrated."

Rolling his eyes, Martyn joins the Doctor on the rickety floor of the ruin Tower roof. Together, the two humans place their hands on the beacon, filling it with orange light. It will take a while since it's just the two of them, and they'll need something to pass the time, so they start talking. Of course, the primary focus of their conversation is the strange happenings in Oakhurst, and the main instigator behind the more radical hypotheses about what's going on. 

"Can we talk about avid?" Owen asked, feigning nonchalance. "Honestly, he's starting to concern me, especially with all his vampire talk and what happened with Shelby the other day." 

"He's been worrying me too," Legs admitted, with a slight furrow in his brow. "Honestly, I'm a little worried about what might happen if he keeps indulging in his delusions." 

"I've wanted that man gone from the day he accused me of murder," Scott said, openly showing his disdain for the man. "The worst part is, he doesn't seem to learn his lesson. Even now, he's still accusing me of being some creature of the night, and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of him, and I want that man gone."

"Your little horror story probably didn't help him any," Martyn pointed out, using his free hand to gesture at the lumberjack. "Your little tale of Oakhurst had everyone on edge." He then turned his attention to Scott. "And that one continuing to scare the ever-living daylights out of him isn't helping much either."

"I'm wearing a skull mask. It's a harmless prank; I'm not accusing anyone of being a monster or pretending to suck someone's blood. No, I'm just wearing a scary mask. Most people stop being afraid of things like these as children."

"My point is," Martyn interjected before sighing, "Both Avid and Shelby have been going on and on about mythical creatures, be it Bigfoot, vampires, or werewolves, or whatever. And the way they talk, you'd think they'd have some sort of concrete evidence to support their existence, but they don't. All they have are theories, speculation, and 'oh, a friend of a friend said this' or 'there are theories that he does this.' And, I hate to say this, but I think a couple of more susceptible townspeople are getting influenced by their madness." 

"You're worried about a group psychosis," the Doctor hypothesized, the furrow in his brow suggesting he had similar thoughts. 

"I'm worried about it spreading, yeah. I'm concerned that people might believe this without any concrete proof, leading to another situation like what happened with Scott and Shelby. It could spiral out of control and cause real harm."

"And what do you want to do about it?" Owen asked, casually examining his nails. He needed to become stronger so they could develop claws. "Got any big plans in mind, Mr. Woodhurst?"

"I don't know yet," Martyn admitted, turning away contemplatively. "Something needs to be done before the town descends into madness."

"It could be what destroyed the town the first time," Scott interjected, eager to stir some discord. "People growing paranoid, jumping at shadows, accusing their neighbors of vampirism or witchcraft. That's happened many times throughout history. And the outcome is always the same—mass hysteria and death."

"Maybe that's the true curse of Oakhurst," Legs suggested, giving the idea some thought. "This landscape isn't exactly welcoming, and if you live here long enough, the slightest sign of dissent or hardship could lead to accusations of the worst kind."

"Whatever it is, we need to nip it in the bud," Martyn declared. "And I think I know exactly where to start with doing that."

As if to herald his declaration, the beacon turned a brilliant orange, filling the air with even more holy energy. Owen and Scott both had to hide grimaces from the feeling, especially now that six of the supposed seven beacons were activated in favor of humanity. To hide their discomfort, the two hopped off the ledge of the tower, turning back toward the ground.

"For now, we should get back to town," Owen insisted. "It's getting late, and I don't think any of us wants to be caught out here after the sun goes down."

Murmurs of ascent filled the air as they all started heading back to Oakhurst.