Hope started to build inside Luke's chest. Maybe his father could fight them all and win.
But then two other men went for his father, both of them with their swords raised.
His father raised his hand to stop one, the sword cutting through his forearm, a possibly fatal wound for anyone else but him.
But while he was fighting that one sword, his mouth opening in a scream, the other blade came for his neck.
Luke screamed too, a sound that shook the earth beneath his feet. The scream made the air warp and shimmer and, without even really trying, flames appeared, making a doorway.
He didn't even take a moment to wonder how he was able to do it.
He just went through the door and into the real world of color and sound, the stark red of blood running from his father's severed arm, the horror of his father's scream. A sound that Luke would never forget.
His father looked at Luke, eyes wide in pain and even wider in fear.
"Run!" he screamed at his son. "Go!"
His father would have screamed more.
But then the other sword came down on his neck.
Sliced his head clean off.
And Luke was left staring as his father's head rolled away through the pine-strewn dirt, eyes staring at nothing, face frozen in absolute terror.
It was then that Luke realized who the headless man was.
It had been his father, coming back to warn him.
There wasn't a lot of time for Luke to ponder that thought. He wanted to fall to the ground, crawl to his father's side, that headless figure he loved dearly, and hold on to him, to cry and beg and maybe a God somewhere, Odin, would hear him and bring his father back to life.
But Luke had that ingrained ability to survive hardwired within, and that comes through even when you're going through the unimaginable.
He had to live.
The men with the swords turned to Luke.
"There's the bloodsucker's boy!" one of the men yelled. "Kill him then kill the rest!"
Luke took one step back into the flaming door, into the Black Sunshine, and the door closed behind him. He wasn't sure if the men could see where he disappeared to, but it didn't matter.
He knew he had to follow his father's last wishes and run home through the secret world to warn the rest of his family.
So, Luke turned and ran through the black and white forest, retracing his steps through the woods, as fast as he could until he was sure he was flying.
He ran and he ran and he ran.
All the way home.
Through tears and grief and horror.
So many endless tears that would flood his world with pain.
For now Luke was a boy without a father, and he would remain that way.
Being a vampire meant that when you had to live with sorrow, you had to live with it for a very, very long time.
Luke would have to live with it forever.