Boston, January 2, 2007
Far from the city, deep among towering trees and the heavy silence of the night, stood a large rustic house built in the old English style — ancient, made of dark wood and stone, with wide windows and a slanted roof that groaned softly whenever the wind stirred.
Only two people lived there: a mother and her son.
In a bedroom lit by nothing more than a small lamp beside the bed, Maria Belmont — a woman of rare beauty, with bright blue eyes and long brown hair that fell all the way to her waist — sat close to her child, holding in her hands a worn red book whose color had faded with time and whose cover was marked with small scratches, a golden ornamental crest with a cross at its center gleaming softly on the front.
The boy lay beneath the blankets, listening with his whole soul as Maria turned one of the yellowed pages and continued reading.
"And so, Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard entered the castle and challenged Dracula in an epic battle where each of them fought using their own powers — Alucard wielding his sword and calling upon his vampiric abilities, Sypha commanding the elements with devastating magic, and Trevor, our ancestor, carrying the legendary whip, the Vampire Killer, along with countless weapons forged by our clan."
The boy's eyes went wide, alight with pure wonder, and he lifted himself from the bed, completely fascinated.
"That's so cool! So that's the ancestor who inspired my name, Mom?"
Maria smiled, warm and soft.
"That's right. He was a brave warrior who fought against Dracula, and with the help of his friends, they finally managed to defeat him."
The boy thought for a moment before asking again.
"And then?"
"Well, Trevor married the mage Sypha, and together they helped rebuild our family… the Belmonts."
He tilted his head curiously.
"But what about Alucard? What happened to him?"
Maria closed the book slowly, taking a moment to think.
"Alucard withdrew from the world and entered a long rest, but whenever evil rises again, he returns to fight alongside us — the Belmonts."
A wide smile broke across the boy's face.
"That's awesome!"
Maria looked at her son with tenderness, and seeing that joy in his eyes always warmed something deep inside her chest before she shut the book fully and rose from the bed.
"Now it's time to sleep, young man."
He pouted.
"Aw, just one more story, please!"
A soft laugh escaped her as she answered.
"Not tonight. I'll tell you another one tomorrow. Now go to sleep."
He sighed, but in the end he gave in.
"Okay… but I'm holding you to that story tomorrow."
"Alright, alright, my little hero."
Maria leaned down and pressed a kiss to her son's forehead, then moved slowly toward the bedroom door, pausing just before stepping out to cast one last glance at the boy — already closing his eyes — and with a smile, she turned off the light as she left.
The house fell silent again, or so it seemed, until in the dead of night Trevor woke with a violent start, startled by a loud, heavy noise coming from downstairs — like furniture being hurled, something slamming against the walls.
Confused and still tangled in sleep, he slipped out of bed and opened the bedroom door inch by inch, trying not to make a sound as the dark hallway swallowed him.
Trevor crept toward the stairs, and with every step the noises sharpened into growls, low and brutal, and thuds that shuddered through the floor — it sounded like a fight.
When he reached the top of the stairs and looked down, his breath caught in his throat because his mother stood in the middle of the living room, a whip in her hands, facing two enormous creatures — tall, draped in dark fur, with elongated snouts and fangs like daggers, their red eyes blazing through the blackness.
Trevor's whisper came out strangled.
"Werewolves…"
At the sound of the word, one of the creatures slowly turned its head toward him until its glowing red eyes locked onto the boy's and a grin split its face, showing rows of sharp teeth.
"Well, well… look who decided to join us. The little Belmont."
The monster abandoned the fight without hesitation and began stalking straight toward Trevor, and the moment Maria saw it happen, her eyes went wide and she didn't think — she moved, the whip screaming through the air as she lashed it toward the advancing creature.
In that exact instant, the other werewolf lunged, its claws tearing across the left side of Maria's ribs.
"Mom!"
Trevor's scream ripped through the room and he froze, every muscle locked in terror, while Maria let out a sharp grunt of pain but didn't fall — even bleeding, even torn, she seized the werewolf that had struck her and swung the whip again, wrapping it around the beast's torso and hurling it with brutal force into the other monster so that both crashed to the ground.
Without wasting a heartbeat, Maria ran to her son, blood streaming down her ribs, and knelt beside him as if she couldn't even feel it.
"Son! Are you okay?"
Trevor was shaking.
"Mom… you're bleeding."
Her breathing came hard and uneven, but she still managed the ghost of a smile.
"I know, my son…"
She cradled his face in her hands, so gently, and spoke.
"Listen to me carefully. You have to be strong, alright? You have to be strong… my little hero."
Still in shock, Trevor nodded, slow and fragile.
"Now you need to run. Run as far away as you can. I'll deal with these puppies."
The boy nodded again, and Maria looked deep into her son's eyes as if pouring every ounce of love she had into that single gaze.
"Go, my son. And remember… Mommy loves you."
Trevor sucked in a trembling breath and ran — ran for the door, but just before leaving, he looked back one last time and saw his mother facing the two red-eyed beasts once again before he was gone.
Trevor ran as fast as his small legs could carry him, the icy wind of the early dawn cutting across his face as he fled down the dark, empty road, not knowing where he was going, just running — further and further, more and more exhausted, until finally he couldn't run anymore.
Panting, he stopped and turned to look behind him, and then he saw the whole house engulfed in flames, what he had once called home burning as a massive column of smoke rose into the pale morning sky, and he could barely clench his teeth, trying his best not to cry — it was his house, the only place he had ever called home.
A sharp pain split through Trevor's head, his vision blurred, the world tilting wildly as his legs gave way beneath him and he collapsed onto the freezing ground of that empty road, the last thing he saw before the darkness swallowed him being the distant glow of fire consuming everything he had ever known.
Then everything went black.