I had been waiting for this day for what felt like an eternity. Every heartbeat, every breath, had led me to this moment. The day I would begin my transformation. The day I would finally be one step closer to Seraphina.
It wasn't just a desire for strength, for power—I told myself that this was the only way. The only way I could prove I was worthy, that I could stand beside her, not as the weak girl I had been, but as something stronger. Something more. A vampire.
But as I stood in the dim hallway, the weight of the decision began to settle over me like a suffocating fog. The cold stone walls of the training compound felt closer than ever, their chill seeping into my bones. My hands were trembling, though I told myself it was just from anticipation. My heart, though, was pounding too loudly in my ears to ignore the creeping fear that was clawing its way up my spine. I could hear the faint echo of footsteps in the distance, the soft, rhythmic thud of boots against stone, getting closer.
They were coming for me.
I stared down at my hands, flexing them, trying to imagine what they'd feel like after today. After I was no longer human. Would they be stronger, faster? Or would they be something unrecognizable? I swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. I couldn't afford to second-guess this now. Not after everything I'd sacrificed to get here. Not after all the hours I spent training, pushing my body to its limits, hoping to prove that I was ready.
Seraphina was the reason I was here. She had always been so strong, so sure of herself. If I could just… become like her, then maybe—just maybe—I could close the distance that had grown between us. I told myself she would be proud of me. That this would bring us closer. And that thought was enough to keep my legs steady beneath me.
"Eleri."
The voice snapped me from my thoughts, and I turned to see one of the instructors standing at the end of the hall, her dark eyes fixed on me. Her expression was unreadable, a mask of cold professionalism, but I could sense the gravity of the moment in the way she stood—rigid, almost statuesque.
"It's time," she said, her voice flat.
I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry. My legs felt heavier as I took a step forward, and then another. The hallway seemed longer than usual, stretching out endlessly before me as I followed the instructor toward the door at the far end. My heart hammered in my chest, each step echoing the rush of blood in my ears. I tried to control my breathing, to keep it steady, but the excitement and fear churned together in my stomach, creating a sickening knot of tension.
We reached the door, and the instructor opened it without a word. Inside, the room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of incense and something metallic—something that set my teeth on edge. The room was stark, a single stone table in the center, surrounded by cabinets filled with various medical instruments. There were no windows, no signs of life beyond the flickering candlelight that cast long, wavering shadows on the walls.
It was quieter than I expected, eerily so. A single chair was placed beside the table, and in the corner, a tray of syringes gleamed under the candlelight. My eyes lingered on them for a moment, my stomach twisting in anticipation. This was it. The venom that would change everything.
The instructor led me to the center of the room, her movements swift and efficient. She motioned for me to sit on the edge of the table, and I obeyed, my body feeling heavier with each second. As I lowered myself onto the cold stone surface, I couldn't help but shiver. The chill seeped through my clothes, making my skin prickle, but the real coldness came from within. From the quiet fear I refused to acknowledge. The uncertainty.
A second figure appeared from the shadows—a man dressed in a long white coat, his face hidden behind a surgical mask. He didn't speak, didn't look at me. He simply moved with the precision of someone who had done this a hundred times before. And maybe he had. How many others had sat on this table? How many had waited for the bite of the needle, the rush of the venom, and walked out of here transformed?
I forced myself to sit up straighter, gripping the edges of the table. I had waited for this moment, longed for it. And yet, as the man approached with the syringe, the reality of what was about to happen finally began to sink in.
"Are you ready?" the instructor asked, her voice low, almost mechanical.
I nodded, though my heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst from my chest. My mouth felt dry as sandpaper, and my hands clenched into fists in my lap, the knuckles white. I didn't trust myself to speak. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I'd betray the fear I was trying so hard to bury.
I wasn't ready. Not for the pain. Not for the unknown. But I had come too far to turn back now.
The man moved closer, holding the syringe up to the candlelight, checking the venom inside. It glimmered darkly, almost like liquid night. My stomach churned, and I forced myself to breathe through it, keeping my gaze fixed on the syringe as if it were some kind of lifeline. He approached my arm, pressing his cold fingers against my skin as he searched for the vein.
I closed my eyes.
I could feel the prick of the needle as it broke through my skin, but it was nothing compared to the cold flood that followed. The venom. It rushed through my veins like ice water, slow at first, and then faster, burning as it spread. My entire body tensed, every muscle coiling as the venom began to work its way through me. My head swam, dizziness washing over me in waves, and I gritted my teeth against the urge to cry out.
The man stepped back, and the instructor placed a hand on my shoulder, her grip firm.
"It will pass," she said, though her voice felt distant, as if it were coming from the other end of a tunnel.
I wanted to believe her. I wanted to think that this pain, this terror, was temporary. That soon I would emerge from this, stronger, faster, better. But for now, all I could feel was the venom seeping into every corner of my body, claiming me inch by inch.
The last thing I remembered before the pain hit was the weight of the silence around me, the oppressive darkness of the room, and the thought that no matter how much I wanted to be strong for Seraphina, nothing could prepare me for what was coming next.
I just didn't know how much I would have to endure to become the version of myself that she could love.