New Year's Eve 2003-2004 in London was a vibrant celebration, with Big Ben echoing at midnight and fireworks exploding with color over the Thames. Daniel sat in one of his luxurious Knightsbridge apartments, with a panoramic view of the illuminated city. He sipped a rare red Burgundy as he watched the human celebration below. The contagious joy of the crowd, the hope of a new beginning—all of it was fascinating to him, a millennia-old observer of the nuances of humanity. His heightened senses captured every sound, every smell, every emotion in the street below. The buzz of toasts, the smell of burning gunpowder, and the warmth of humanity enveloped him in a rich and complex sensory tapestry.
It was then that he felt it. Not a smell, not a sound, but aresonance. An energy signature he had never encountered in his centuries of existence. It was faint, distant, but unmistakable. It was the signature of avampireDaniel, who for so long considered himself the only one of his kind, or at least the only one in its complexity and power, felt a shiver of surprise and, to his own bewilderment, a twinge of excitement. His mind, a living archive of millennia, searched through memories of legends and myths. He, who loved science fiction films, especially those about vampires and werewolves, and reveled in horror, felt a knot of curiosity. Could it be? That those films were more than mere fantasy? That the creators, or perhaps the very existence of these creatures, introduced them gradually to prepare humanity for the acceptance of these races?
The vampire in question—and Daniel quickly realized it was a female vampire by the subtlety of her signature—was moving swiftly through the city's back streets. Her speed was impressive for a human, but for Daniel, it was like watching a slug. He decided to follow her. With a thought, he teleported to a neighboring rooftop, then another, always remaining in the shadows, an indistinguishable figure against the night sky. His breathing, a function he could perfectly mimic to appear human, slowed to a near-imperceptible pitch. His footsteps were ethereal, barely touching surfaces. The vampire, oblivious to his pursuit, moved with fluid grace, her movements a silent choreography across the cityscape. She seemed unaware of his presence, which was not surprising. Daniel's power was vast and carefully contained. He could become as ethereal as the air itself if he so desired.
The chase lasted about twenty minutes, taking him out of central London and into the older neighborhoods, where cobblestone streets and terraced houses gave way to more secluded and imposing estates. The vampire, with her supernatural speed, burst through a wrought-iron gate and disappeared into a dense grove of trees. Daniel, floating silently over the high walls, followed her.
He landed lightly on a damp lawn, the night dew kissing the soles of his leather shoes. Before him, imposing and sinister in the moonlight, stood acastleNot a modern replica or a Gothic theater, but a real castle, with pointed turrets, arched windows, and gray stone walls covered in ivy. It looked like it had been ripped from a page in a Bram Stoker novel or an old horror film. Exactly how he had imagined a vampire lair. A shiver, not of fear, but of pure excitement, ran down his spine. This was real. Everything was real.
The vampire entered through a side door discreetly hidden by the foliage. Daniel decided it was time to reveal himself. He couldn't just peek. He needed answers. With a barely audible sigh, hereleased a fragment of his inner strength, a tiny fraction, but enough for its presence, which was previously null, to become a reverberating echo. It was as if ainvisible mountain had materializedinside the castle, an overwhelming pressure that filled every corridor, every room.
The next moment, he heard it. A series of thuds and muffled groans. He entered through the same door as the vampire. The castle's interior was dark, lit only by a few flickering torches on the walls and the pale glow of the moon through the dusty windows. The air was heavy, with the sweet smell of old blood and mold, mixed with a peculiar, ferrous aroma that Daniel now recognized as the essence of vampire vitality.
At least a dozen figures lay scattered across the stone floor, some writhing, others completely still. The vampire he followed was on her knees, her hands pressed to her head, as if trying to contain a searing pain. Her eyes, once focused and alert, were wide with terror and confusion. Daniel recognized her from the movies; it was Selene, but much younger, probably in her two hundredth year, but still striking. There were others there, some young, some with an aura of antiquity, but all equally affected by his presence.
With a conscious effort, Danielgathered his inner strength, as if pulling the reins of a wild steed. The pressure eased, but didn't disappear completely. It was still immense, but now bearable. The younger vampires, who had previously been motionless, began to move, struggling to get up, their wide red eyes fixed on him, filled with a mixture of fear and awe. Daniel watched their faces, their pale skin, their lips drawn back, revealing sharp fangs. They were like the movies, but with an intensity and visceral reality that no screen could capture.
The ancient vampires, those who exuded centuries of existence, were in an even more peculiar situation. They, who were not breathing, seemed to be gasping for air, as if the very air had been sucked from their ethereal lungs. Their bodies trembled uncontrollably, and one of them, a man with long, gray hair and deep red eyes, struggled to support himself against a stone wall, his nails digging into the moss that covered it. He coughed, a dry, guttural sound that seemed impossible for a vampire. Daniel thought:Oh, so they breathe when I want them to breathe. Interesting.He couldn't help but smile, a faint, amused smile that made some of the younger vampires flinch even further. It was a delicious irony, seeing these creatures of the night, so proud of their immortality and power, reduced to mere puppets by his mere presence.
He took a step forward, and the silence in the room deepened. His every movement, every flex of his muscular, yet not exaggerated, body conveyed an aura of unquestionable power. His white hair fell over his broad shoulders, and his blue-gray eyes, which had seen the Earth evolve from a world of dinosaurs to a modern metropolis, swept the room, fixing on the fallen vampires. There was a curiosity in them, but also an innate authority that made even the oldest feel small. The vampire he had followed, Selene, was still on her knees, but now she raised her head, her electric blue eyes fixed on him, a mixture of defiance and sheer incomprehension. She was magnificent, powerful, and yet, she seemed like a child before him.
Daniel decided it was time to talk. His voice, when he released it, was deep and resonant, but also calm and controlled. It wasn't a roar, but a whisper that seemed to envelop every being in the room. "Good evening," he said, his lips curving into a subtle smile. "Or should I say... good morning?" The joke went unnoticed by some, but Death, had he been there, would have burst out laughing. Those vampires, trapped in their nocturnal existence, had no idea what it was like to live under the sun, to feel the warmth of life in their veins. Daniel was living proof that reality, as they knew it, was but a small part of a much larger universe. And he was there to show them.