The morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains of Felix Vallier's room, casting long, golden streaks across the polished wood floor. Felix woke with the quiet chime of the grandfather clock in the hall signaling the start of another day. The familiar weight of his duties loomed over him like a shadow—today, like every day, would be another step in maintaining the success of the Vallier family legacy.
He stretched, his muscles aching from the long hours spent at the family business the day before. Felix, though young, had long since become the cornerstone of the Vallier empire, handling negotiations, making strategic decisions, and ensuring that the family's wealth continued to grow. It was a burden, but one he bore with quiet determination.
Felix dressed swiftly, pulling on a crisp shirt and jacket before heading down the grand staircase. The Vallier estate was a symbol of the family's success: tall windows that overlooked lush gardens, high ceilings adorned with chandeliers, and walls lined with portraits of ancestors who had paved the way for their fortune. Every inch of the mansion whispered of wealth, and Felix had grown accustomed to it, though he often wondered what his life might have been like if things had been different.
As he entered the dining room, the smell of fresh bread and coffee greeted him. His father, Étienne Vallier, was already seated at the head of the table, his sharp eyes scanning papers, the weight of the family business always on his shoulders. Étienne was a man of few words, but his presence commanded attention. He was the force that held the Vallier empire together.
Across the table sat his older brother, Lucien. Lucien had always been different from Felix—carefree, reckless, and often careless with his privileges. He was the natural-born son, and as far as anyone knew, he was meant to take over the family business one day. But Lucien seemed more interested in spending time with friends, attending lavish parties, and enjoying the benefits of his birthright. His relationship with Felix had always been strained. The two had never gotten along, with Lucien's jealousy of Felix's competence and the attention he received from their parents only growing over the years.
"Good morning, Felix," Amélie, his younger sister, greeted him with a warm smile. She was the light in their home—kind-hearted, nurturing, and always there for Felix. Her eyes sparkled with a quiet intelligence, though she never spoke out of turn. She poured him a cup of coffee and slid it across the table toward him.
"Good morning, Amélie," Felix replied, offering her a smile in return. Unlike Lucien, who constantly pushed Felix's patience, Amélie's presence always calmed him. She was the only one who never seemed to hold his role in the family against him.
Lucien, of course, had no such care for Felix's mood. He leaned back in his chair, his usual arrogant smirk plastered on his face. "Another busy day ahead for you, isn't it, Felix?" he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. "I'm sure Father will have a hundred tasks for you to handle."
Felix, ever composed, didn't rise to the bait. "Someone has to keep the family business running smoothly, Lucien," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I'll see to it that everything is handled."
Lucien scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "Of course you will. You always do. How lucky we are to have you managing things while I'm out enjoying life."
Felix's grip tightened on his cup, but he said nothing. He had long learned to ignore his brother's cruel words. Lucien had always been resentful of him, and though Felix wasn't sure why, he knew it stemmed from their father's attention—attention that Lucien desperately craved but could never seem to earn. It didn't help that Felix was always the responsible one, the one who took care of the business when their father couldn't, the one their parents trusted.
Amélie shot her brother a pointed look, her voice soft but firm. "Lucien, please. You know Felix works hard for this family."
Lucien made a dismissive gesture, his eyes rolling. "Fine. Let's talk about work then," he said, clearly eager to move the conversation away from his resentment. "How many more hours will Felix be spending in that musty old office of his today?"
Étienne, who had been quiet until now, glanced up from his papers. His voice was calm but had the authority of a man who controlled an empire. "Felix will be handling the meetings with the new partners today. They need to finalize the logistics for the factory expansion."
Lucien leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, I'm sure Father is so proud to have you managing everything. You always were the one who had the business sense, Felix. Almost like you were born for it."
Felix stiffened slightly, but before he could respond, Amélie spoke again. "Lucien, enough. You're being an idiot."
Lucien ignored her, his attention fixed on Felix. "Don't worry, Felix. I'm sure you'll do well. After all, Father will probably throw a lavish celebration when everything's settled—just like he always does for you." He smiled mockingly.
Felix's stomach churned, but he kept his composure. Lucien had always treated him like a rival, but Felix had never been able to understand why. He did everything for the family, and yet it was never enough for Lucien.
Étienne didn't engage in the petty squabbles. His focus remained on the matters at hand. "Felix, I expect you to keep a close eye on the contracts. We can't afford delays this time. Make sure everything is in order."
Felix nodded, his thoughts shifting to the work ahead. He had no time for his brother's childish behavior. The responsibility of managing the Vallier name was heavy, but it was a burden he bore with pride.
He glanced at his father, then at Amélie, and felt a flicker of unease—a sense that the weight of the family's legacy might one day be more than he could handle. But for now, there was no time for doubt. There was work to be done.
After breakfast, the tension at the table hung thick in the air. Felix didn't bother glancing at Lucien again. Instead, he rose from his seat and adjusted his jacket. His father, Étienne Vallier, remained silent as he stood up too, his movements calm but purposeful. With a gesture of his hand, he signaled for both of his sons to follow him.
"Both of you, come," Étienne commanded, his voice firm and steady, as always. Without waiting for a response, he walked toward the grand double doors that led to his study. Felix, of course, followed without hesitation. Lucien, on the other hand, pushed himself back from the table and followed with a slight reluctance, muttering something under his breath.
The study was a large room, lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes on trade, economics, and the family's legacy. A large oak desk sat in the center, papers neatly arranged across its surface. Behind it stood Étienne, a man whose presence commanded attention—his sharp eyes, weathered by years of business dealings, never missed a detail.
When the three of them were settled, Étienne gestured toward the chairs in front of the desk.
"Sit," he ordered.
Felix took his usual seat, the one closest to the desk. Lucien flopped into the chair opposite, his posture lazy and indifferent. Étienne watched them both for a moment, then turned his gaze to Felix.
"I have plans for both of you today," Étienne began, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. "Felix, you will oversee the delivery of the shipments from the warehouse. There are delicate contracts that need to be followed through, and I need someone with your attention to detail. I trust you to handle this without issue."
Felix nodded, his stomach tightening with the usual sense of duty. He had expected as much—he was the one who managed the logistics, the one who could be counted on to ensure the business ran smoothly. The work was often tiring, and he sometimes wished for a break, but this was the role he had grown into.
"I will take care of it, Father," Felix replied, his voice steady, despite the ever-present weight of expectation.
Étienne shifted his gaze to Lucien, who had slouched further into his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers. There was no mistaking the difference in how their father looked at them. Felix, with his sharp mind and reliability; Lucien, with his easy charm and complete lack of responsibility.
"And you, Lucien," Étienne continued, his voice more measured now, "will be in charge of the upcoming celebration for our new business partners. It's important that they feel valued and welcome. You know what's at stake, so don't let me down."
Lucien's eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned forward. "A party? Really, Father? That's all you have for me? I thought you'd finally let me handle something with a bit more substance."
Étienne's expression remained unchanged, though his voice hardened. "The party is vital, Lucien. A celebration that's not well organized can cause more harm than you realize. The partners need to leave with a favorable impression of the Vallier family, and I expect you to manage every detail. This is your responsibility, and it's an important one. Don't forget that."
Lucien's smirk faded, replaced with a hint of frustration, but he didn't argue. Instead, he nodded, though there was a defiance in his gaze. "Fine. A party it is. I'll make sure it's... unforgettable."
Felix felt a familiar pang of resentment as Lucien spoke. He knew Lucien didn't truly understand the weight of their father's expectations. While Felix was tasked with the meticulous, backbreaking work of ensuring the business itself functioned, Lucien's world was filled with extravagance—parties, social events, all of the things that came with their family's wealth. It was as if Lucien took everything for granted, never realizing that the empire they had was built on hours of hard work and effort.
Étienne's voice cut through Felix's thoughts. "Good. I expect both of you to handle these tasks without issue. We are at a crucial point in the company's growth. You each have your role to play in its success."
Felix nodded again, his mind already shifting to the tasks ahead of him. He didn't mind his duties—he had always known what was expected of him. It was Lucien's careless attitude that bothered him, though it was a frustration Felix had learned to suppress over the years.
"Anything else, Father?" Felix asked, his voice respectful yet tinged with a hint of curiosity. He knew there had to be more beneath the surface of the day's assignments. His father didn't just issue tasks without reason. There was always a bigger picture.
Étienne looked at him for a long moment, as though weighing something in his mind. Finally, he spoke.
"Not for now. But remember, Felix, this business is as much about reputation as it is about profit. Everything you do today will reflect on the Vallier name. The partners will be watching you, just as they always are. Don't disappoint."
Felix met his father's gaze, his resolve hardening. He had no intention of disappointing him—he never did. In fact, he sometimes wondered if there was anything he could do to gain his father's true approval. But that was a thought for another time. For now, he had a job to do.
Lucien stood up with a stretch, clearly eager to escape the weight of the conversation. "Well, I'm off then. I've got a party to plan." His tone was light, as though the task was nothing more than a mere inconvenience.
Felix remained seated, his father's final words still echoing in his mind. With a quiet nod, he rose from the chair, ready to face the day. But a feeling lingered in the back of his mind—a nagging sense that things were about to change, though he couldn't yet see how.
As night fell, the Vallier estate took on a quiet, almost eerie calm. The dim glow of lanterns cast long shadows over the sprawling grounds, and the noise from the celebration inside the estate seemed distant from the weight of the tasks Felix still had to carry out.
Felix, ever the diligent worker, had finished overseeing the final details of the business deliveries. The partners had been pleased with his work, as always, praising him for his meticulous attention to detail and his ability to keep the operations running smoothly. But the night was far from over. He knew his father expected him to attend the celebration later, though he was more focused on ensuring that everything was in order for the continued success of the business.
By the time Felix had wrapped up his work, the partners had already moved on to the grand event. But Felix didn't mind. He wasn't interested in the lavish celebrations that Lucien reveled in. What mattered to him was the family legacy, and he was willing to put in the hours necessary to ensure it continued.
He donned his coat, and stepped into the black Vallier carriage, the crest gleaming faintly under the moonlight. The driver, Henri, gave him a respectful nod before flicking the reins.
The horses began their steady trot along the darkened road that curved around the outskirts of Paris. Felix leaned back against the leather seat, letting out a breath. He didn't expect the night to be restful, but he certainly hadn't anticipated what came next.
It happened so fast.
A sudden screech rang through the air—the horses reared, whinnying in panic. Felix lurched forward in his seat, grabbing onto the side rail for balance.
"Henri?!" he called, alarmed.
The driver was trying to calm the animals, but they were already bolting. The carriage swayed violently, wheels lifting from the ground as the horses tore down the wrong path—off the road and toward the steep edge of a hill.
"Hold them, Henri!" Felix shouted.
But it was too late.
With a sickening crack, the carriage tumbled, wheels splintering as it careened down the slope. Felix felt his body jerk violently inside—then everything went black.
When Felix opened his eyes, the world was spinning. His head throbbed, and his arms stung with bruises and cuts. The night air was cold against his face, and as he slowly pushed himself upright, he realized he was no longer in the carriage.
He was lying in a cemetery.
Stone markers jutted from the earth like crooked teeth, and a heavy fog snaked through the air, muffling the world in a pale, ghostly stillness.
"Henri?" he called out weakly. But there was no answer—only silence and the sound of distant, slow chewing.
Then came the low growl. A deep, wet, snarling sound, barely human.
Felix turned toward it, and what he saw froze him in place.
Three figures crouched near the shattered remains of the carriage. The horses lay in a bloody heap, torn open. The figures leaned over them, feasting—ripping through hide and bone with inhuman ease. They looked almost human. Almost.
But their heads were bald and gleamed in the moonlight, their arms too long and jointed at wrong angles. Bones jutted from their forearms like jagged blades. Their fingers ended in claws. When Felix shouted—"Hey!"—they turned.
And he wished he had stayed silent.
Their eyes were red and gleaming, their jaws dislocated to reveal rows of serrated teeth. Blood dripped from their chins as they stared at him like wolves spotting prey. Their limbs creaked as they stood, towering and grotesque.
One of them let out a screech that pierced through the night. The others followed. And then—they charged.
Felix didn't even have time to scream before he turned to run.
Darkness swallowed everything.