The village had not slept since the morning of the discovery.
Fear moved faster than rumor. Faster than reason.
Doors were barred earlier. Fires burned longer. Groups formed where once there had been laughter. Every snapped twig became a threat. Every shadow held teeth.
And yet life still demanded movement.
Trade. Food. Survival.
Which was how Adrian found himself standing beside the old trader's cart at dawn.
The man tightened the ropes securing the crates, muttering under his breath as usual. His daughter hovered nearby, talking as she always did — her voice bright, relentless, almost defiant against the creeping dread swallowing the village.
"You know," she said while handing Adrian a bundle of cloth, "Father says you work like five men, but I think he's exaggerating. Maybe three and a half."
Adrian gave a faint smile.
"You wound me."
She grinned proudly at her own joke and continued speaking without pause, launching into another long story about a merchant who once tried to sell salt that was secretly sand.
Adrian listened.
Half of him listened.
The other half listened to the forest.
Always the forest.
The trader approached, handing Adrian the reins of the lead horse.
"You have my thanks," the old man said quietly. "The roads have grown… unkind. Having you along gives me peace of mind."
Adrian nodded.
"I'll see you safely there."
The journey began under a pale morning sky.
Wheels creaked. Hooves thudded softly against the dirt road. The village slowly shrank behind them until it became nothing more than smoke rising above rooftops.
For a time, the road was peaceful.
Fields stretched endlessly. Birds sang. The sun warmed their backs.
It almost felt normal.
Almost.
The trader filled the hours with stories — old tales, half legends, half warnings.
Stories of travelers who vanished.
Of entire families found pale and lifeless.
Of nobles who ruled cities and never aged.
Adrian said little.
But he listened to every word.
By the time the next village came into view, the sun had begun its descent.
Their arrival was uneventful. Goods unloaded. Thanks exchanged. Coins pressed into hands.
Relief filled the trader's eyes.
"You've done more than enough," the old man said. "You'll always have a place with us."
His daughter waved enthusiastically as Adrian mounted the horse for the return journey.
"Don't disappear! Father still needs cheap labor!"
Adrian chuckled softly and turned toward the road home.
The sun dipped lower.
Shadows stretched longer.
And the forest grew louder.
The ride back was quiet.
Too quiet.
No birds. No insects. No distant animal calls.
Just wind.
And the faint smell of smoke.
Adrian slowed the horse.
His eyes narrowed.
The smell grew stronger.
Burned wood.
Burned flesh.
The horse began to whine nervously as the village came into view beyond the hill.
Adrian urged it forward.
Faster.
Faster.
Then he reached the crest.
And the world stopped.
The village was gone.
Smoke rose from blackened skeletons of homes. Roofs had collapsed into charred ruins. Wagons lay overturned. Ash drifted through the air like falling snow.
No movement.
No voices.
No life.
Adrian dismounted slowly.
Each step into the ruins felt unreal.
A nightmare wearing daylight.
Bodies lay scattered through the streets.
Men who once laughed with him. Women who brought him food. Children who waved when he worked.
All pale.
All drained.
All lifeless.
Adrian knelt beside one of the villagers.
His jaw tightened.
"They were watching…"
The realization settled like ice in his chest.
Waiting.
Planning.
Cleaning the nest.
He spent the rest of the day digging graves.
One by one.
Until the sun sank below the horizon.
Until the world turned dark again.
Three graves remained unfinished when night arrived.
Adrian stood among the freshly turned earth, hands covered in dirt and ash.
The wind shifted.
A scent reached him.
Familiar.
Cold.
Hungry.
A slow clap echoed from the darkness.
"Well done, little wolf."
The voice slithered from the trees.
"You've been busy."
Three figures stepped into the moonlight.
The one from the barn stood in the center, a cruel smile stretching across his face.
Taller now. Stronger. Fully healed.
"You hurt me last time," the vampire said softly. "I did not enjoy that."
Two others flanked him, their red eyes glowing like embers in the night.
"So tonight…" he continued, "we hunt properly."
Adrian stepped forward.
The moon rose behind him.
His eyes glowed red.
"Good," he said quietly.
"I was hoping you'd come back."
The wind howled through the graves.
And the night exploded into violence.