Alex didn't sleep much after that.
He spent the early hours of the morning pacing his room, heart thudding, jaw clenched. The feeling was back—that uncomfortable hunger, not in his stomach, but somewhere deeper. Something was waking up inside him, scratching at the walls of his sanity, begging to be let out.
He stood in front of the mirror again. His eyes weren't just brighter—they shimmered, like molten silver under the light. His canines? Longer. Sharper. The faintest pressure on his gums revealed retractable points, not natural teeth.
He hissed under his breath and pulled back. "What the hell did I drink...?"
He sat on the edge of his bed and took out his notebook. It was where he always scribbled formulas, equations, and chemistry notes. But now, he turned to a blank page and wrote one word:
Mutation?
Below it, he began listing symptoms.
Heightened senses
Physical enhancement
Sensitivity to light
Nightmares/visions
Retractable fangs
Healing (scar gone)
Blood hunger?
He underlined the last one twice.
---
By noon, Alex couldn't take it anymore. He messaged Adam.
ALEX: Need to talk. Urgent.
ADAM: About last night? You're freaking me out, bro.
ALEX: Meet me at the woods near Whitmoor Bridge. 4PM.
ADAM: Sounds creepy. I'm in.
---
The woods were quiet when Alex got there. Cold wind blew between the trees, rustling the leaves like whispers. Alex paced nervously until Adam arrived, wearing a hoodie and his usual overconfident smirk.
"You look like crap," Adam said. "You sure you didn't just catch the flu?"
Alex didn't answer immediately. He waited until Adam was close enough, then pulled down the collar of his shirt and opened his mouth slightly to show the tips of the fangs.
Adam recoiled. "Holy sh—"
"I told you something's wrong," Alex said.
"Wrong?" Adam looked around, then whispered, "Dude, are you turning into a vampire?"
"I don't know! I didn't die. I didn't get bitten. I drank something in that lab. It had blood, chemicals... and that inscription. Drink and become a hero."
Adam sat on a tree stump and dragged his hands down his face. "This is insane. I mean, yeah, the lab was creepy as hell, but I thought maybe Mr. Sabastin was just a mad scientist, not a—what—vampire king? Blood wizard?"
"I've been dreaming of a throne, Adam. Of people kneeling to me. Of fire. I think... I think whatever I drank is rewriting my DNA."
"And that doesn't scare you?" Adam asked.
"It terrifies me," Alex said. "But it also... feels like I was meant for this."
Adam exhaled and nodded slowly. "Okay. So what's the plan? You gonna start drinking pig's blood? Hunt squirrels?"
"I need to know more," Alex said. "And that means going back into the lab."
Adam blinked. "Tonight?"
Alex nodded. "Tonight."
---
That evening, Alex told his mum he was sleeping at Adam's again. She smiled, ruffled his hair, and told him to be safe.
Safe. If only she knew.
By midnight, they were back outside Whitmoor College. The school grounds were still. The moon hung low, casting silver light over the old stone buildings. They climbed through the broken fence near the gym and used the back window near the science block. Alex moved quietly, but his movements felt different—like his muscles anticipated every step, every creak in the wood.
They reached Mr. Sabastin's office. The door was still locked, but Adam had come prepared with a bent wire hanger. After some fidgeting, the lock clicked open.
They slipped inside.
The lab was cold and darker than before. The holographic stand flickered to life again—still glowing blue with unknown data scrolling past. The place smelled faintly of iron and ash.
Alex moved past the shelves, running his fingers along the vials, jars, and strange notes.
"Look," Adam said, pointing at the far wall.
Alex turned.
The vault. The heavy steel door sat in the wall like the mouth of a monster. This time, it was slightly ajar.
Alex moved toward it instinctively, drawn to it.
Inside, the room was dimly lit by old gas lamps. Books lined the walls—ancient books. Symbols from dead languages carved into the stone. In the center of the room stood a pedestal, and on it, a journal.
Alex picked it up.
It was old. Leather-bound. It crackled as he opened it. The first page read:
"Blood Monarch Trials – Sabastin Dane, Year 20XX"
Adam stepped beside him. "Wait. Dane? Like... your last name?"
Alex froze.
"No," he whispered. "That can't be..."
He flipped through the pages. The writing inside described stages of transformation, formulas for enhanced blood, and names. So many names. Subjects. Failures.
But one name was circled several times: Alexander Dane.
"I think this was all meant for you," Adam said quietly. "You didn't just find that vial. He left it there. For you."
Alex's head spun. His heart pounded.
Suddenly, a voice echoed from behind.
"You were never meant to rush this."
They turned. Mr. Sabastin stood in the doorway, eyes glowing red, shadows clinging to him like smoke.
"But I suppose fate has its own clock."
Alex took a step back.
"Who... who are you?"
Sabastin smiled—sharp, cold. "I am your bloodline's architect. And you, Alexander, are the last of a dying royal line. You are not just a vampire... You are the heir to the Blood Monarch."