Eric's heart raced at the teasing tone in Alaric's voice, a mix of apprehension and a strange pull toward the ancient creature. He nodded, the weight of Alaric's gaze heavy on him as he led the way, his steps shaky but determined.
As they ventured toward the village, Eric's dread grew. What once was a quaint, peaceful place filled with laughter and the scent of honey and freshly cooked food was now a haunting graveyard. The first thing he noticed was the smell—thick and cloying, a mixture of blood and decay that clung to the air. His stomach twisted as his eyes took in the carnage.
Bodies were strewn across the streets, their lifeless forms twisted in grotesque positions, many of them half-eaten, their limbs torn apart. The once bright, colorful houses were stained with dark splashes of crimson, windows shattered, doors broken off their hinges. It was a massacre.
Eric stumbled, his breath quickening as the horror around him settled into his bones. He had seen death before—had even caused it—but this... this was something else. His mind struggled to process the sheer brutality, the senseless destruction that had torn through the village like a plague. His heart pounded in his chest, the sickening realization sinking in: this was the world he now lived in.
Beside him, Alaric laughed, a dark, mocking sound that echoed through the desolation. "You're horrified now," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "But soon enough, you'll be just like them. Like me.If you stick around longer you will cause even greater carnage."
Eric flinched at the words, tearing his gaze away from the mangled bodies to look at Alaric. The vampire's eyes gleamed with an unsettling delight, as if the sight of death and destruction was nothing more than entertainment to him. His lips curved into a twisted smile.
"Don't look away," Alaric said, stepping closer, his voice a low murmur. "This is your future, Eric. You'll tear them apart just like I did. When the hunger takes you, you won't care who they are—man, woman, child. You'll feast on them without a second thought."
Eric shook his head, backing away as bile rose in his throat. "No... I won't. I'm not like you."
Alaric's laughter deepened, his eyes glinting with something dark and ancient. "Oh, but you already are."
Before Eric could protest, Alaric's hand shot out, gripping his wrist with startling strength. He yanked Eric closer, their faces inches apart, and without breaking eye contact, Alaric reached up with his free hand, his fingers brushing against the dried blood on Eric's shirt.
"You've already fed," Alaric whispered, his voice soft but insistent. "On me… and on others. Do you even remember it? The taste of their blood on your lips?"
Eric's breath hitched as the memories flooded back—brief flashes of the night, the hunger consuming him, the warm, coppery taste of blood, the uncontrollable urge to devour. He had tried to push it away, to pretend it wasn't real. But now, under Alaric's intense gaze, he couldn't deny it.
Alaric's pulled Eric's hand to brush over his pulse, and Eric's eyes widened, mesmerized by the sensation. His heart had stopped beating after Alaric had fed from him so he was entranced by the steady rhythm that seemed to pulse beneath Alaric's fingertips. The ancient vampire's touch was cold, yet it sent a strange warmth coursing through Eric's veins.
"Feel it," Alaric whispered, his eyes locking with Eric's. "The hunger is always there, just beneath the surface. You can't escape it and I won't allow you to escape it, now that I have taken a liking to you little vampire."
Eric's gaze fixed on Alaric's hand as it moved over his pulse, tracing the steady beat of his heart. He felt the hunger inside of him grow again.It was like he was falling into some dark, endless abyss, unable to pull himself back. The distant memory of ancient blood—Alaric's blood—burned in his mind, the taste of it, the power it had given him, lingering like a phantom on his lips.
"You're mine now, Eric," Alaric said, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "You've already succumbed to the hunger. There's no going back."
Eric's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his mind torn between the revulsion of what he was becoming and the intoxicating pull of Alaric's power. When he opened his eyes, Alaric's smile widened, satisfied, knowing.
"Follow me to your demise," Alaric said, releasing Eric's wrist but leaving the weight of his words hanging between them. "And I'll teach you how to embrace it."Alaric glimpsed at him."In return you teach me this new strange world."
Eric, shaken to his core, didn't respond. His mind a storm of conflicting emotions, as they stepped deeper into the village of death, leaving the remnants of the honey-sweet town behind.
Eric led Alaric down the only pristine cobblestone path he could have find ,that was in the deeper parts of the village.The large house before them was immaculate, its white exterior gleaming even in the moonlight.
The place stood completely different to the chaos and death he had witnessed earlier, its manicured lawn and grand columns exuding an aura of wealth and security. Eric's steps slowed as they approached the front door, his silence thick with tension.
Alaric followed, his predatory smirk never fading as he watched Eric's hesitance. The hunger gnawed at Eric, sharper than before, but he pressed on, reaching for the door handle. As his fingers curled around the polished brass, he was met with an invisible force, a barrier that repelled him. Eric staggered back, bewildered. He reached for the door again, but the same impenetrable wall pushed him away.
Alaric's deep chuckle broke the silence, dripping with smug amusement. "Ah, you need to be invited, little vampire," he purred, his voice laced with mockery. "Waltzing into someone's home unannounced? Terribly bad manners—especially for someone who was human not too long ago. You'd think you'd have learned a little etiquette by now."
Eric's jaw tightened, frustration written all over his face, his hunger and confusion clouding his judgment. Alaric, clearly reveling in his irritation, casually stepped forward, grinning like he was about to share the punchline of a joke only he understood.
"Allow me," he said with a smirk.
With a supernatural ease, Alaric grabbed the door handle, and with a slight twist, the wood groaned like it was giving up on life. Before Eric could process, Alaric ripped the entire door off its frame and flung it aside as if it were a mere inconvenience. The door crashed to the marble floor with a deafening *boom*, shattering the silence—and any illusion of politeness.
Alaric brushed off his hands theatrically, flashing Eric a wicked grin. "There, much better. Now that is how you enter a home—politely, of course."
Eric blinked, staring at the demolished door and then back at Alaric, his expression a mix of disbelief and growing irritation.
"You call 'that' polite?" Eric growled, still grappling with the absurdity of the situation. "You just ripped the damn door off!"
Alaric gave a casual shrug, as if the destruction was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "Well, at least I made an effort," he replied, his tone dripping with faux sincerity. " Trying to barge in here without so much as a 'hello'. Some of us still value tradition."
Eric's eyes narrowed, clearly irritated, but before he could snap back, Alaric turned on his heel and sauntered into the house, not even bothering to glance at the wreckage behind him. He gestured grandly toward the open entryway.
Inside, everything was pristine—the polished floors, elegant furniture, and expensive decor creating an air of untouched perfection.
Alaric paused just inside, his back still to Eric, who lingered outside, fuming. Without turning, Alaric spoke again, his voice light but taunting. "Oh, and by the way—manners dictate you greet the owner properly when you enter. Don't worry, I'll show you how it's done."
He turned slowly to face Eric, his grin widening with mock sweetness. "Watch closely."
Alaric raised his voice, loud and cheerful. "Helloooo! We're here! How rude of me to intrude!" He then lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, still smirking at Eric. "There, see? It's not that hard."
But before Eric could respond again, Alaric's head tilted, his smile deepening as he picked up the faintest sound—a sharp, muffled intake of breath. His eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction.
"Ah," Alaric said smoothly, his smirk spreading gleaming sinisterly. "Looks like someone 'is'home after all."
Alaric moved with terrifying speed, barely a blur as he grabbed a nearby table, lifting it effortlessly. With a casual flick of his wrist, he hurled it across the room. The table crashed into the far wall with a deafening smash, splintering into pieces and revealing the poor, terrified owner cowering behind it.
Alaric's smile spread, amused by the spectacle. "Oh, there you are," he quipped, eyes gleaming with delight.
In a heartbeat, he was on him, gripping the man by the throat and yanking him from his pathetic hiding spot. The man gasped, his breath coming in sharp, panicked gulps, eyes wide with horror.
Alaric leaned in, his tone dripping with playful mockery. "Hiding behind a table? Really? That's adorable." He tilted his head, his smirk widening. "If you're going to cower in fear, at least do it with some dignity, hmm?"
The man gasped, trembling as he struggled to speak. "Please... I-I have a wife... and two kids. Please, don't hurt me."
Alaric, still holding the owner by the throat, gave an exaggerated sigh. "A wife and kids, you say? How heartwarming," he chuckled darkly. With ease, he dangled the poor man in front of Eric like a toy. "Eric, look! A family man! Isn't that just precious?"
Eric, trying to maintain his composure, took a step forward. "Alaric, let him go," he said, attempting to sound stern, though the rising panic in his voice was evident. "He has a family."
Alaric beamed, clearly enjoying the scene. "Oh, listen to you, playing the hero," he teased, holding the struggling owner like a ragdoll. "Isn't he just adorable?" Alaric leaned in, still grinning, watching as Eric's attempt to be compassionate was quickly unraveling.
What neither of them realized—at least not at first—was the subtle shift in Eric's appearance. As he stepped closer, the veins around his eyes began to darken, red irises glowing against the blackened whites. His humanity was slipping, though Eric remained blissfully unaware.
The terrified owner glanced between the two of them, his wide eyes darting back and forth—from Alaric, who was smiling like he was having the time of his life, to Eric, whose face was twisting into something far more terrifying.
And then it happened. The owner started to cry. The sound echoing around the room. "Please!" he wailed, tears streaming down his face. "Please, I don't want to die!"
Alaric burst out laughing, genuinely amused. "Oh, come now! Look at him!" he said, shaking the man slightly as he dangled him. "He's practically *begging* to be a part of our fun! And Eric, my dear, you're looking a little... intense." Alaric waved his free hand toward Eric's face, winking. "Maybe dial it back a bit. You're going to scare him more than I am."
Eric blinked, confused, still trying to be serious. "What are you talking about?" he muttered, though the look of horror from the owner as he stared at Eric's transforming face told him all he needed to know.
"See?" Alaric quipped, dangling the owner a little closer to Eric. "You might want to take a peek in a mirror, darling. Or are you planning to scare this poor man to death? Because if so—" he leaned in with a grin, "—I *love* the initiative."
The owner let out another sob, looking helplessly between Alaric's amused expression and Eric's monstrous transformation. "Why is this happening to me?" the man whimpered, desperation lacing his voice as Alaric gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
"Bad luck, really," Alaric shrugged nonchalantly, a gleam of delight in his eyes.
Without a moment's hesitation, Alaric flung him through the open doorway and into the night. The man's body hit the ground hard, and as he scrambled to get up, Eric's gaze locked onto him with an intensity that sent a chill through the air.
The sight of the helpless man, heart pounding, blood rushing beneath his skin. His vision darkened, and he felt an insatiable hunger swell in his chest. The warmth of the man's fear, the pulse of life just out of reach—Eric's fangs elongated, sharp and glistening, an involuntary reaction to the temptation before him.
"Eric," Alaric's voice slithered through the haze of hunger, mocking yet somehow encouraging. "Let it go."
As Eric's last vestiges of control slipped away, he felt himself move without thought, drawn toward the man like a moth to a flame. The hunger roared inside him, drowning out reason. It wasn't just the desire to feed; it was a craving for the raw, unfiltered essence of life itself.
He lunged forward, his body acting on instinct, and the owner recoiled in horror, eyes wide as he realized the fate awaiting him.
Alaric stood back, his knowing smile widening. "See?" he murmured, a mix of fascination and amusement in his tone. "You're not so different after all."