Alex jolted awake with a gasp, sweat soaking through the fabric of his shirt. His heart pounded like war drums in his chest. For a few seconds, he didn't know where he was. Shadows danced across the ceiling, stretching like claws. His breath came in ragged pulls.
It felt like he had spent the entire night fighting—not just dreaming, fighting. He could barely piece together the images: thrones made of bones, wings of fire, red-eyed demons kneeling before a crowned figure. The Monarch. The title rang in his head like a prophecy.
He sat up slowly, still groggy. Vampires had to die first before they turned. That was what the folklore always said. But this—this felt different. He was still alive. Wasn't he?
Alex placed a hand on his chest. His heartbeat was steady. He was breathing. But inside, something felt different. Not sick. Not weak. The opposite. He felt sharper, stronger. Heightened. As if the world had become louder and more detailed overnight.
"Yo, man! You slept way too long! It's almost 9:00!" Adam's voice echoed from the hallway, followed by a knock on the door.
Alex cleared his throat, trying to sound normal. "Yeah, yeah. I'm up."
He slowly slid out of bed. His limbs ached slightly, but not with fatigue. It was like his body was adjusting. His eyes caught a glimpse of the mirror on the wall, and for a second, he didn't recognize the face staring back at him. His skin looked... paler. Not sickly, just colder. More defined. His pupils were slightly dilated, and a strange shimmer reflected in the whites of his eyes.
He splashed cold water on his face and stepped into the shower, letting the heat soak into him as he tried to piece everything together.
What the hell is happening to me?
Downstairs, the smell of breakfast greeted him—something rich and savory, like spiced eggs and toasted bread. For a moment, it grounded him, tugging him back to normalcy. The clink of cutlery, the hum of a kettle, and the quiet laughter of Adam's mom gave the illusion of a regular weekend morning.
Adam sat at the dining table already halfway through his meal, sipping orange juice like a man who had no idea they'd broken into a haunted lab the night before.
"You took forever," Adam said, grinning. "I thought I'd have to call a priest."
Alex managed a weak smile and sat down. The dining area was small but cozy. Glass vases with dried flowers stood on the windowsill, and a shelf by the wall was crammed with family pictures and little trophies from Adam's childhood football tournaments. It was the kind of space that felt lived in—safe.
Mrs. Grayson—Adam's mom—beamed at Alex. "Morning, sweetheart. Hungry?"
"Starving," Alex replied, and to his surprise, it wasn't a lie.
She served him a generous portion of scrambled eggs, golden-brown toast, and fried plantains. The first bite hit his tongue like a revelation. He devoured the food, his senses overwhelmed by how vibrant everything tasted. He could swear he could smell every single spice used.
Adam raised an eyebrow. "Whoa, slow down, Dracula. You're going to bite the fork."
Alex chuckled, but the joke sat uncomfortably in his stomach. If only you knew...
"So," Adam said as Mrs. Grayson stepped away into the kitchen, "you feeling alright? You were twitching like crazy in your sleep."
"I had weird dreams," Alex said, avoiding eye contact. "Felt like I was... somewhere else."
"Somewhere else as in a dream party with blood goblets and vampire kings?"
Alex stared at him. "How did you—?"
"Relax," Adam laughed. "I'm just messing with you. But seriously, you've been acting different since last night. You sure you don't wanna stay today? It's Sunday. Football, movies, we could even check out that thing in the woods—what's it called again? The Chapel Ruins?"
Alex shook his head. "I need to go home. I told my mom I'd help her with something. And honestly... I need to see a doctor."
Adam's grin faded. "Wait, you serious?"
"Yeah. Just a check-up. Probably nothing. But I'm not... myself."
The two sat in silence for a moment before Adam sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Fine. I get it. But we're going back to that lab, right? You're not backing out on me now."
Alex smirked faintly. "Of course not. I just need some answers first. I feel like... like I'm changing."
Adam narrowed his eyes. "You're being kind of dramatic, dude."
"Maybe," Alex said, pushing his plate aside. "But you didn't see what I saw in my dreams."
After breakfast, Alex packed his bag and said goodbye to Adam's parents. Adam walked him to the front porch, stretching in the soft Sunday sun.
"You sure you're good?" Adam asked again.
"I will be," Alex said. "I'll text you later."
As Alex walked down the quiet street toward his house, the world felt... sharper. The colors of the trees, the texture of the pavement, the faint heartbeat of a pigeon perched above him—he noticed everything. It was like his senses had been turned up to a hundred.
And the thirst. Not hunger. Not for food. Something else. He couldn't name it, but it curled in his gut like smoke, like need. He shook it off.
His mother greeted him at the door, a warm smile lighting up her tired face. "There you are! I was starting to think you'd moved in with the Graysons."
"Sorry, Mum," Alex said, hugging her. "I just overslept."
She eyed him curiously. "You look pale. You alright?"
"Just tired. Can I see Dr. Keller this afternoon?"
His mum nodded slowly. "Of course. He's at the clinic all day. I'll call ahead."
Alex nodded and carried his bag up to his room. He stood by the window for a while, staring out across the town. Whitmoor looked normal. Peaceful. But Alex knew now that it wasn't.
Not with people like Mr. Sabastin walking the halls of his school. Not with underground labs full of blood-filled vials and cryptic symbols. And certainly not with whatever was now living inside him.
He lifted his shirt and checked the mirror again. His skin was flawless, oddly perfect. The scar he had from a childhood bike accident was gone. His eyes were brighter, the irises a little more silver than blue.
What have I become?
He didn't know how long he stood there, just staring.
Later that day, he sat in Dr. Keller's office, answering questions about sleep patterns and diet. The doctor was friendly, but concerned.
"You've had vivid dreams, fatigue, loss of appetite for normal food, heightened sensitivity—especially to light and sound?" Keller asked, scribbling into a notepad.
"Yeah," Alex said. "I know it sounds crazy. Maybe it's just stress."
Keller nodded slowly. "It could be. You're at that age where your body's changing, and stress from school or... grief can trigger strange symptoms."
Alex glanced down. His father's death still lingered like a shadow in his mind. But this wasn't just grief.
Keller scheduled some bloodwork. "Let's get some tests done, just to be sure."
As Alex left the clinic, he had the strangest feeling that someone was watching him. He turned around. Nothing. Just the breeze and the silence of early afternoon.
He hurried home.
That night, as he lay in bed, a voice whispered in the back of his head.
Drink and become a hero...
The glass. The blood. The transformation.
What if this wasn't just science? What if it was something older? Something forgotten?
The dreams came again. Clearer this time. A throne room of shadows. A crown dipped in blood. And before him—Sabastin, younger, sharper, eyes glowing red.
"You've only taken the first step, Alex," the voice said.
And then—
Alex woke, his teeth aching.
He touched his lips.
His canines were sharp. Sharper than they'd ever been.