England, 1840.
The wind howled through the cracks in the rotting wooden cabin, carrying snow inside. In the corner, huddled beneath filthy rags, two children shivered. Yellow fever was not just an illness — it was a fire that burned from the inside out, consuming flesh and hope alike.
Alice held Rose's hand. Her younger sister was already delirious, calling out for a mother the earth had claimed weeks earlier. Alice tried to stay strong, tried to keep her eyes open, but the darkness was winning.
Death sat at the foot of the bed, waiting.
Then the door opened.
Not to the wind.
Not to the snow.
To silence.
A woman stood in the doorway. She wore dark velvet and a heavy cloak. Her skin was pale as moonlight, and her ancient, sorrowful eyes swept across the room with devastating compassion.
Beth.
She did not walk — she drifted toward the children. She touched Rose's forehead, then Alice's. Her hands were cold, but the touch was the first comfort they had felt in months.
"Poor souls…" Beth whispered, her voice soft as a lullaby. "The world has been cruel to you."
Alice tried to speak, to ask for water, but her throat was dry as parchment.
Beth sat on the edge of the bed. She looked at the dying girls and made a decision — not out of mercy, but out of loneliness. In Alice's strength, even as she was dying while protecting her sister, Beth saw a reflection of herself.
"I have no cure for your illness," Beth said, stroking Alice's dirty face. "But I can give you a life where sickness will never touch you again. I can give you eternity. But the price… the price is the sunlight."
Alice did not fully understand, but she nodded. Anything to save Rose.
Beth leaned over Rose first. With a swift motion, she tore her own wrist open with a sharp nail. Dark, thick blood flowed. She pressed the wound to the girl's dry lips. Rose drank instinctively.
Then it was Alice's turn.
The taste was metallic, salty, electric. The moment Beth's blood touched Alice's tongue, the fever vanished. The pain disappeared.
Beth bit each girl's arm.
The world exploded into vibrant colors and sharpened sounds.
That night, the children died.
And the daughters of the night were born.
The years that followed blurred into lessons and shadows. Beth was not only a savior —she was a teacher. She taught Alice to hunt without unnecessary cruelty, to move through darkness, to read in five languages, and to play the piano. She taught Rose how to use her charm, how to fight with knives, and how to understand the human mind.
They became a strange, powerful family, hidden within the folds of the Victorian era.
But eternity is long, and birds must leave the nest.
Decades later, Beth gathered them in the garden of her mansion.
"You are strong now," Beth said, pride shining in her eyes. "The world is vast and dangerous, but you are more dangerous than it is. Go. Live. But never forget who you are."
That night, she departed for the East, leaving Alice and Rose alone to write their own story.
And now, centuries later, Alice needed to return to the only person who truly understood the origin of her blood.
The Present
The room was submerged in dim light. Alice packed clothes and weapons into a leather suitcase with mechanical movements. Every item she placed inside was another step away from Kara — another step away from the life she had tried to build.
The door opened silently.
Ruby entered.
The red-haired vampire leaned against the doorframe, watching Alice with deep sadness. She did not see a legendary warrior— she saw the broken woman she had loved decades before.
"So it's true," Ruby said. "You're going after her. You're going after Beth."
Alice did not stop packing.
"I have to. The Council took everything from me. I won't stop until they burn. And Beth… she knows where to find the power to make that happen."
Ruby walked to the bed and took Alice's hand, stopping her.
"Look at me, Alice."
Alice raised her face. Her eyes were red and swollen, the mask of cold control falling before someone who knew her soul.
"I'm sorry," Ruby whispered. "For Kara. For everything."
"She was going to propose to me, Ruby," Alice's voice broke. "She chose to die to become like me. And I failed her."
"You didn't fail," Ruby said, holding Alice's face with both hands. "Kara made a choice. The same choice I made in 1982, in that alley in California. Remember?"
Alice nodded, tears returning.
"I saved you… but I condemned you to this life."
"No," Ruby corrected firmly. "You gave me a life. Before you, I was just a victim running through the rain. You gave me strength. You gave me purpose. And for a while… you gave me love."
Ruby brushed Alice's cheek with her thumb. The closeness was comforting, familiar. Ruby still smelled the same — of spices and warmth.
"Kara saw the same thing in you, Alice. She didn't see a monster. She saw the woman who saved her. And she died loving you. That's not failure. That's the greatest triumph someone like us can ever have."
Alice looked at Ruby's lips.
In that unbearable moment of pain, the need for connection — for something that wasn't death — spoke louder.
Alice leaned forward.
The kiss happened.
It was intense. Desperate. Ruby's hands tangled in Alice's hair, pulling her closer. Alice grabbed Ruby's waist, searching for warmth, for something to forget — even for a single second — the cold body she had left in the cemetery.
There was history in that kiss.
There was longing.
Then Kara's image flooded Alice's mind. Her smile. Her taste.
Alice pulled back abruptly, breathing hard, releasing Ruby.
"I can't…" Alice whispered, horrified with herself. "Ruby, I'm sorry. I can't. She's still everywhere."
Ruby didn't look offended. She simply smiled— a sad, understanding smile — and adjusted Alice's hair.
"I know. It's okay, Alice. I just wanted you to remember that you're still alive. That you can still feel."
Ruby stepped away and picked up an envelope from the table.
"You need to go to England. But you can't go as Alice von Richter. The Council is watching commercial airports."
She handed the envelope to Alice.
"I have a contact. A private cargo jet leaving New Jersey in three hours. It'll drop you at a private airstrip north of London. No records. No questions."
Alice took the envelope, grateful.
"Ruby… thank you. For everything."
"Go," Ruby said. "Find your mother. Get your power. And when you come back… make Kara's death worth something. And my choice to stand by your side."
Hours later, the jet's turbines sliced through the night sky over the Atlantic.
Alice sat alone in the cabin, staring into the darkness outside. Her reflection in the window showed a changed woman.
She touched the pocket of her coat, where Kara's ring sketch was kept.
The pain was still there — sharp, constant.
But now, beside the pain, there was purpose.
London was waiting.
Beth was waiting.
And in the shadows of history, an ancient power was beginning to awaken, summoned by the hatred of a grieving lover.
Alice closed her eyes.
The hunt had begun.