The time crystal in Leyselle's hands showed a major cycle remained before morning. This meant 20 cycles before the moon turned red.
Zelrec was supposedly asleep in the next room.
A while ago, she had used her domain sense to observe Zelrec—the subtle awareness that extended throughout the cottage like invisible fingers—she perceived the truth. He sat by the mirror, awake, waiting. He could have fallen asleep as he was not moving. She should retrieve him now. Take him outside. He would need to witness the moon's transformation directly, gaze upon it as the change occurred.
If her son awakened, everything would shift.
They'd need to move to the Crimson Spire for proper training—either directly under his father if Zeroth had woken from his cyclical sleep, or under his two vampire generals. Leyselle herself lacked the knowledge to raise a vampire. The fundamentals, yes, but the specifics of power development, the intricacies of their abilities, the dangers of bloodlust—all of that lay outside her expertise.
For the past year, Zelrec had caused her no trouble. He stayed silent. Drank blood. Existed with minimal needs. But awakening would change everything. The dormant vampire heritage would ignite, bringing needs and dangers she couldn't anticipate alone.
She would need guidance. Assistance.
The boy appeared too intelligent for a toddler. He'd asked her to teach him reading and writing barely a year after his birth—an absurd request she'd granted on a whim, expecting him to lose interest within days. Instead, he'd absorbed knowledge like a sponge. Even for an unawakened adult, his comprehension would be impressive. By human standards, he could be considered a genius.
But his father was no mere vampire.
Zeroth was a Vampire Lord. The Blood King himself. And that complicated everything.
However smart, cultured, and educated Zelrec might become, the Council of Union labeled all vampires demonic despite their sub-demonic classification. They would not allow Zelrec to exist. By Eldorian laws agreed upon two thousand years ago—laws Zeroth himself had helped establish—vampires and humans were forbidden from interbreeding.
The Blood King had broken his own law.
And made a child with her anyway.
Years later, when scholars discovered that vampire-human breeding was biologically impossible—their genetic structures too divergent to combine—it should have vindicated Zeroth. Should have proven the law unnecessary.
Instead, it made Zelrec's existence even more problematic.
An impossibility given flesh.
Zeroth still couldn't explain how it had happened. Or wouldn't. Extracting information from him was like drawing water from stone—every answer wrapped in cryptic phrases that confused more than clarified.
'How troublesome.'
Leyselle rose from her too-comfortable bed and slipped on her sandals. She moved to the drawer and retrieved a coat, draping it over her nightgown before heading to Zelrec's room.
When she opened the door, surprise stopped her mid-step.
Zelrec wasn't asleep.
His window stood open, curtains dancing gently in the night breeze. He sat on the sill, elbow propped against the frame, hand cupping his face. His attention remained fixed on the silver moon hanging in the dark sky, his expression serene.
Peaceful.
Ancient.
Leyselle froze in the doorway. Her son looked too mature for a one-year-old. The expression didn't belong to a child—didn't even match the twelve-year-old body he currently inhabited. It belonged to someone who had experienced life long enough to find wonder in simple beauty.
His head turned when he sensed her presence.
"Zel, come on."
Her voice emerged softer than intended.
"Let us go out now, lest we miss the sight. It is important for you. Or would you rather view it from there?"
Her smile shifted into a smirk.
"Or just let it go. I see you are already set up for the spectacle. That is surely a great spot. I'm going—you stay there."
She turned as if to leave.
"Stop it with your jokes, Mom. Of course I'm coming."
Zelrec closed the wooden window and pulled the curtain across it. He moved to the door, standing beside her expectantly, then walked past when she didn't immediately follow.
Leyselle remained at the threshold, watching her impossible child. Nine months old by human standards, yet embodying something far older. His growth still shocked her—she'd expected extraordinary, but received incomprehensible. Zelrec defied every category she tried to place him in.
Not normal. Not even the fiery prodigy she'd imagined from Zeroth's cryptic warnings. He was too relaxed, too detached—like someone watching a show rather than living it. A spectator observing his own existence.
He'd only cried once in his entire life.
When he started calling her "Ma" with that childlike voice, she'd nearly wept herself. Now he spoke like an adult—occasionally missing linguistic nuances but always carrying himself with unnatural maturity.
"Let us go now."
Zelrec's voice cut through her reverie. He stood at the hall door, waiting.
"Or is it that you wanted to take my wonderful spot? Baiting me to go outside so you can have it?"
He pointed at the ground, resolute.
"I'm not leaving without you."
The boy even had the audacity to tease his mother. Standing there with that adorable smile, those eyes that had been fiery crimson at birth but now matched her own blue—changed by his natural vampire ability to alter appearance.
What kind of vampire would he become after awakening?
Definitely not boring and stoic like the Blood King. Zeroth always spoiled the fun—too astute to get jokes, too serious to engage in playful banter. No, Zelrec wouldn't end up like him. At least her son had a sense of humor.
Her legs carried her forward, moving to join him at the door.
---
The moon in the horizon hung brilliant and magnificent. A second version reflected from the water surface.
It dominated the dark blue sky like a silver magnet whose sole purpose was captivation. Silver radiance enveloped the air, giving the night a majestic texture. Silence itself felt more present than absent—a melodic tune of nothing playing across the beach.
The quiet broke when rustling came from Ella's room.
Blankets thrown aside. Footsteps on wooden floor. The front door opened.
Ella emerged looking betrayed and sleepy—grudging but unable to resist witnessing the Blood Moon. She didn't complain, just joined them behind Zelrec without a word.
Zelrec's attention remained fixed on the captivating moon.
Any moment now.
---
The transformation didn't happen instantly.
The edges turned first—a red glowing halo forming around the silver surface. Slowly, gradually, the crimson crept inward from the periphery until the entire moon blazed scarlet.
The awakening was subtle but palpable.
The moon pulsed in rhythmic succession, exuding an ominous but powerful aura. Zelrec felt something inside him responding—pulsing, growing stronger. Something waking.
Blood.
His blood rushed through his veins with unprecedented vigor. His senses heightened to an entirely new level. Time slowed. Seconds became hours. Each breath stretched further from the next.
The energy in his body—accumulated from every drop of blood he'd consumed—began moving. Converging. All of it flowed to his chest and started swirling around a single point.
From the moon, something called to him.
Offering. Promising. Pulling.
The moon seemed to grow larger with each pulse, expanding until it filled his vision entirely. Until it swallowed him whole.
Reality folded.
The world shifted.
---
Zelrec stood somewhere entirely different.
Not on the beach. Not anywhere he recognized.
The ground stretched endlessly in all directions—flat, featureless, covered in red shimmering dust that emanated sinister energy. Beneath his feet, the crimson canvas pulsed with malevolent life.
Above, a white sky provided stark contrast.
The sky itself radiated with ethereal quality—pristine, pure, divine by its very existence. It carried a majestic quality that transcended beauty, entering the realm of the sacred.
And far away on the horizon, suspended between red earth and white heaven, hung a spherical mass of dark velvety energy.
It called to him.
The urge rose in his body like hunger magnified a thousand times. A deep, transcendent desire that overwhelmed his rational mind. The more he looked, the more the compulsion grew.
His feet moved without permission.
Like a zombie drawn to living flesh, Zelrec walked toward the darkness. With every step, the dark mass grew closer—or moved toward him as he approached it. His mind began to drown, subsumed by desire for whatever lay hidden at the heart of that velvety black sphere.
Power.
The darkness promised power. Offered everything—wealth, status, strength beyond measure. It whispered of returning to Earth, of becoming the mage he'd always dreamed of being. It swore he could protect his mother and Ella, ensure no harm ever befell them.
It offered everything.
Then his legs stopped.
For one second, rational thought reasserted itself. Survival instinct screamed warnings. Whatever he approached was dangerous—would consume him completely, leaving something foreign and terrible in his place.
But the desire returned stronger.
His body was no longer his own, taken by compulsion too powerful to resist. The promises grew louder: power beyond reach, the ability to do anything he pleased, protection for those he loved.
Everything.
But Zelrec had everything he wanted.
A family. Life in a magical world barely explored. The thrill of existence itself. Yes, he wanted to return to Earth and finish all those stories—wanted to experience ultimate power, wanted to become the most powerful being in existence.
But not at the cost of himself.
Not if the power threatened to destroy who he was. Not if it meant sacrificing his identity, his will, his very self to become something else entirely.
For all the power in the world, he would not surrender his autonomy.
His body was his alone.
No one and nothing could control it.
His feet stopped. The pull inside him vanished, replaced by his own will reasserting dominance.
I need to leave this place.
But how?
His heightened senses began dulling. Everything grew fuzzy, reality blurring at the edges. The white sky and red earth lost definition, bleeding together like wet paint.
Zelrec's consciousness shattered.
And he returned to nothing.