I ran barefoot through the trees.

Branches lashed at my arms, the wind howled through the canopy like a warning, but I didn’t stop.

The moon hung heavy above, swollen and low, casting silver light across a clearing I didn’t remember. The trees opened like jaws and—

He stood there.

A great black wolf, still as death.

Eyes glowing like coals beneath ice—solid red, no pupils. Watching. Knowing.

I tried to move. Couldn’t.

I wasn’t in control anymore.

The air thrummed with something ancient, dangerous, and impossibly familiar. My heart pounded against my ribs, screaming for me to run.

Then the wolf took a step forward—and changed.

Not into a man. Not fully.
It was worse than that.

The shape shifted, twisted, flickering between beast and shadow and… something with a mouth too full of teeth, and a voice too deep to be anything human.

“Lilith.”

My name dropped like a stone into the dream, and everything went silent.

“You burned her… and now you burn too.”

I screamed—
and woke up in a gasp.

My bedsheets were tangled around my legs. My neck was damp with sweat. I stared at the ceiling for a long time, trying to calm my breathing.

But even in the silence of my room, I swore I could still hear it.
His voice.
Whispering just under the edge of thought.

I dragged myself out of bed. My reflection in the mirror looked hollow. Shadowed eyes, pale skin, and the bruise of sleep deprivation settling beneath both.

And yet… I didn’t feel afraid.

I felt drawn. Like something had opened a door inside me, and now it would never fully close.

I had to go back.

I had to find that clearing again.

Even if it was a dream.
Even if it wasn’t.

I packed the journal in my backpack, pulled on a hoodie, and slipped out the back door before dawn broke.

The woods were waiting.

The woods had settled behind me, but something hadn’t followed the rules of distance.

All day, the feeling stalked me. Like I was a deer walking out into a clearing, exposed. Hunted.

It started with a flicker in my peripheral vision at the grocery store—just a man in black, I thought. But when I turned, there was no one.

Then, near the library, I caught sight of someone standing perfectly still across the street. Pale. Tall. Dressed in old-fashioned clothes. Watching me.

I blinked.

They were gone.

I told myself it was sleep deprivation. Stress. Trauma. After all, my father was still missing. My life had cracked in half, and my dreams were turning into horror movies.

But by evening, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.

There were eyes on me.
They were everywhere.

At the coffee shop window, reflected in the glass behind me.

In the alley beside the bookstore, a dark silhouette that never quite stepped into the light.

And every time I dared to look closer—

Nothing.
Empty air.
Gone.

I gripped the journal tighter under my arm as I hurried home, my steps quickening against the dusk. Every shadow seemed to shift. Every streetlamp flickered just a second too long.

When I finally stepped inside and locked the door, I leaned my forehead against the wood and exhaled like I’d just surfaced from deep water.

But even then, I knew I wasn’t alone.

From somewhere behind me, outside the range of sight, a whisper curled like smoke:

“Little flame…”

My blood turned to ice.

I spun around, heart hammering, every muscle coiled tight like a wire ready to snap.

But it wasn’t him.

No beast.
No eyes burning red.
No shadows breathing in the corners.

Just… an old woman crossing the street with a slow, limping gait. Her coat was far too thin for the night’s chill, her silver hair tucked neatly beneath a scarf. She carried a bag of groceries in one hand, her other arm trembling as she walked.

My breath caught in my throat.

She paused under the streetlamp and looked up—as if sensing me watching.

Our eyes met. Hers were cloudy, unreadable.

She gave me a small nod.

Then shuffled on.

My hands slowly uncurled from the fists they’d made.

What was I doing? Jumping at phantoms. Chasing wolves through my nightmares. Gripping a journal like it held the key to the universe.

I sagged back against the door and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Maybe I really was losing it.

Maybe I was the danger—not whatever was out there.

Still… I locked every bolt on the door before I turned away.

And I kept the journal by my bed, even as I tried to convince myself I wouldn’t read it again.

Even as I knew I would.

After the old woman disappeared into the fog, I closed the door and leaned against it, heart still racing. But the unease didn’t fade. It settled into my bones, demanding answers.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Valen — the name burned in my mind like a brand. Who was he? What did he want with my family? And why did my father’s journal warn me in frantic scrawls about him?

The next day, I buried myself in books and online forums, digging into vampire myths, legends, and any whispers of Valen.

Most stories were faded folklore — shadowy creatures with sharp fangs and bloodlust — but some whispered of a vampire king with dark eyes like burning coals, and a wolf that prowled beneath the moon.

Valen.

The name echoed in nearly every account, tied to ancient betrayals and power struggles in the vampire courts.

One article claimed he was a centuries-old full-blooded vampire, feared for his cruelty and unmatched strength. Another spoke of his ability to shift into a massive black wolf with glowing red eyes—just like the one I’d seen.

My fingers trembled as I scrolled through the pages, the line between myth and reality blurring. Could this monster be real? Could he be the one who took my father?

And what dark secrets did my mother hold that connected her to this vampire lord?

I felt like I was falling down a rabbit hole — and I didn’t know if I wanted to find out what was at the bottom.

That night, the air felt heavier, thick with a silence that pressed against my skin. I told myself to stay calm, to trust the locked doors and the shadows that seemed to watch but not move.

But then—

A sudden chill swept through the room.

I spun around, heart thudding, and before I could react, strong hands closed around my wrists. Panic surged, but the grip was unyielding, impossible to break.

A voice, low and cold, whispered near my ear, “You shouldn’t run from what hunts you, Lilith.”

I barely dared to breathe as he pulled me from the safety of my home.

And then I saw him.

Valen.

His eyes—dark brown with sparks of red—pierced through the night like embers glowing in a dying fire.

His presence was magnetic, terrifying, and impossibly real.

“No tricks,” he said, voice steady but edged with something unreadable. “I need you to come with me.”

Before I could protest, the world spun and everything blurred—

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t home anymore.

i lay on a bed, Valen sat at the edge, he look at me, His black, wavy mullet—touched with streaks of deep, midnight blue—falls around his sharp, noble features like a crown of shadows. His eyes, a dark rust-brown laced with the barest hint of red, His body is sculpted with the elegance of a predator—toned, silent, dangerous. Every motion is deliberate, smooth, coiled with the promise of violence or seduction. He looks like he stepped from a gothic painting.

"w-what do you want?" i asked voice shaking with fear i had try to hide but fail. he smile, a dangerously smile "make sure my prey can't run for me" he said.

"i'm not you prey" i wanted my voice to sound more sure, but it didn't. he chuckle leaning in "oh, but you are. i can hear you heartbeat seen you dreams and mostly i can smell you blood"

i could see his fangs, sharp and white. He reached out slowly, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, his touch both cold and electric.
“You’re mine now, Lilith,” he whispered, voice low and intoxicating. “And running... is no longer an option.”

I swallowed hard, caught between terror and something deeper—something I wasn’t ready to understand. His eyes flickered with hunger, he lean in, mouth closer to my neck.

Valen's breath ghosted over my skin, warm and intoxicating, and my heart hammered so loud I was sure he could hear it. His fangs grazed the delicate pulse at my neck, sharp and cold against my trembling flesh.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the heat of his breath, the scent of his darkness, the promise of pain and pleasure tangled together.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes burning brighter with a storm I couldn’t read.

"No," he murmured, almost to himself, his voice thick with something fierce and tangled. "Not yet."

He straightened, his gaze locking onto mine, intense and unyielding.

“You will learn to be patient, Lilith. There’s power in restraint—just as there is danger in surrender.”

The room seemed to darken around us, the air thick with unspoken threats and impossible promises.

And in that moment, I knew this was just the beginning.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady the wild pounding of my heart as Valen’s eyes bore into mine—dark, unreadable, and utterly commanding.

He stood, the shadows clinging to him like a cloak, his presence filling the room with an overwhelming intensity. His voice dropped to a low, almost hypnotic murmur.

“You don’t understand the world you’ve stepped into, Lilith. It’s not black and white. There are layers... rules. And I’m bound by them as much as I am bound to you.”

I struggled to find my voice, but all that came out was a whisper. “Bound to me?”

A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “Yes. You’re part of something far bigger than yourself now. And the sooner you accept that, the better.”

I wanted to scream, to fight, to run—yet every instinct told me I was already caught in a web I couldn’t escape.

Valen reached out again, this time his touch gentler, almost reverent as his fingers traced the line of my jaw.

“Rest now,” he said softly. “You’ll need your strength.”

As I lay back, my mind spun with questions, fear, and a strange, reluctant fascination.

In the darkness, the game had only just begun.