The storm had passed, but its memory lingered in the black sea.
Nnamdi pulled his cloak tighter as he boarded the merchant ship bound for Africa. The port was crowded with sailors shouting orders, crates being hauled aboard, and the smell of salt and tar thick in the air. He kept his hood low, the pendant hidden beneath his shirt. None could know what he carried.
For days the journey was uneventful. The ocean stretched endlessly, stars wheeling above. Nnamdi spoke little, keeping to himself, haunted by memories of blood and storm. Yet unease hung over the crew. Men went missing. Whispers spread. A sailor would go below deck and never return.
By the seventh night, the ship felt cursed.
A woman's scream tore through the darkness. "My daughter! Where is my daughter?!" Her voice was frantic, piercing. She rushed below deck, lantern in hand.
Moments later, her scream turned to one of pure terror. It echoed up through the hull, freezing every man in place.
Then silence.
A crewman, trembling, volunteered to check. He descended into the dark. Minutes later, his own scream rang out. He burst back up the stairs, face pale, blood on his hands. "They're here!" he shouted. "Monsters!"
And then the monsters came.
Three vampires, pale and red-eyed, leapt onto the deck, dragging half-devoured bodies with them. The sailors cried out, some drawing blades, others running. The creatures tore into them with claws and teeth, the storm winds drowning their screams.
Nnamdi froze, heart pounding, terror rooting him in place. He had seen death before — but never like this. Blood sprayed across the boards, men fell shrieking, and he could not move.
One vampire's eyes found him. It grinned, leaping forward.
Something inside Nnamdi broke. He raised his arm, bracing for death — yet his hand shot out, seizing the vampire's throat mid-air. Power surged through him, fire in his veins, shadows whispering in his bones.
With a roar, he slammed the creature against the wall. Wood splintered. Grabbing a broken beam, he drove it through its chest. The vampire shrieked, body collapsing into ash.
The others hissed. "So… you carry his blood."
They rushed him together.
The deck became a battlefield of claws and steel. Nnamdi moved faster than he thought possible, his body driven by something both alien and his own. He shattered bones, split flesh, fighting with the fury of the newly damned. But pain found him too — one claw raked across his shoulder, white fire searing his flesh.
The largest vampire pinned him to the rail, fangs grazing his throat. Nnamdi struggled, vision swimming. His hand brushed the pendant. Isabella's face flickered in his mind.
Protect her.
With a roar, he wrenched free, seized a spike from the wreckage, and drove it through the monster's chest. Ash burst into the storm. Silence followed.
The few sailors who remained stared at him with terror and awe. He said nothing, only pulled his hood lower, hiding the truth of what he was becoming.
By dawn, the storm calmed. The dark outline of Africa rose on the horizon.
The Seventh Night was over.