Prologue

It was the 10th century in the year 970 AD, in a tiny village of Waneta hidden deep in the heart of the Eastern Woodlands Life was tranquil and rhythm as predictable as the sun. The days were pleasant, filled with peace and the laughing of children. But that tranquility would soon evaporate and everywhere loomed with darkness when the inexorable shadow of death crept into the once serene community.

Families began to lose their loved ones to the icy grip of death as a deathly disease broke out indiscriminately claiming the lives of both young and elderly. The sickness spread like wildfire and nothing they did could contend its ferocity. Soon, Waneta was no longer a safe Haven.

The Slaughter family was among the most regarded in the village. Silas, the family patriarch was a legendary head hunter, a guy who commanded both fear and admiration. His wife, Grace, was noted for her knowledge and extraordinary ability to heal. Yet, even Grace's powers could not stop the creeping grip of disease that claimed their youngest, Luc. At barely sixteen, he was snatched from them, his body cold and still before the evening light fell beyond the hills.

"Not him," Grace moaned as she hugged Luc's lifeless corpse. Her voice quivered, carrying the weight of a mother's agony. "Not my boy."

Her tears poured freely, pouring into the dirt floor of their small home. Alvin, then just thirty but already burdened with the weight of safeguarding his siblings, crouched alongside her. Emily, their sister, wailed silently, while Elias stood at the doorway, his fists clenched and his face pale with despair.

The plague had taken many, but this? This was personal. It had taken the light of their home, their laughter, their Luc.

As the days evolved into nights of continuous sadness, Grace grew aloof. She spoke little, her eyes vacant and concentrated on what only she could see. Alvin would find her exploring the woods and reading over ancient, tattered volumes, her fingers writing symbols and spells he didn't comprehend.

"Mother, what are you doing?" he said one night, his voice suspicious.

She gazed up at him, her face obscured by the flickering candlelight. "I'm going to protect us, Alvin. I will not lose another child."

"But how?" he demanded. "Luc is gone—"

"Silence!" Grace's voice cracked like a dry and brittle plank. "You do not understand the power I hold. I am not merely a healer, but also a powerful witch. I vowed to my grandmother I would only use this magic in circumstances of life or death. That time has come."

Alvin's protests fell on deaf ears. Grace had made up her mind.

That night, under the light of a full moon, she gathered her children in their home. Silas, though doubtful, dared not oppose her decision. The air was thick with expectation, and fear loomed among the Slaughters the aroma of herbs and charred offerings filling the room.

"This ritual," Grace started, her voice firm but her hands quivering, "will bind us together. It will make us eternal. Death will no longer claim us."

Emily's eyes widened. "Immortal? But how?"

Grace's gaze darted to the knife in her fingers. "By death and rebirth."

Alvin stepped forward. "Mother, no. This is madness."

"Do you trust me?" she questioned, her eyes begging.

He hesitated but nodded. He had to trust her. What choice did he have?

The ritual was unlike anything they could have imagined. Grace sang in a foreign tongue which sounded unfamiliar, her words reverberating with an ethereal ring. One by one, she ended their lives, her hands steady as she pushed the knife deep into their flesh. It was not harshness but desperation that guided her.

The minutes between death and rebirth were a whirl of darkness and intense anguish. When Alvin awoke, he was no longer the same. His senses were heightened—every sound, every scent, every heartbeat around him was enhanced. His desire was overwhelming, a gnawing anguish that engulfed him.

Grace's ritual had altered them. They were no longer human. They were something else totally. Bloodthirsty beings. Vampires.

At first, the family battled to control their new instincts. The need for blood was intense, bringing them to the brink of lunacy. In their frenzy, they turned on what was left of Waneta. By the time they took control, the hamlet was almost empty.

The chief of the village, frightened by the bloothbath, expelled them. "You are no longer welcome here," he proclaimed. "You are monsters."

And so, they journeyed, searching for a place to call home. Eventually, they stumbled upon a little, lonely town situated in a valley. The village, known as Raventhorne, was unlike any they had seen. Its occupants were kind yet reserved, their eyes containing secrets the Slaughters could not comprehend.

The Slaughters made Raventhorne their new home for a few months, but Grace soon discovered their secrets.

The Raventhorne were not simply humans, they were half human and half wolf. She realized this was perilous for her family who also had their own secrets to conceal. She will not risk living there with her family and have them exposed and probably, killed as people will see them as monsters. And that will lead to their demise. And so she made the ultimate decision to leave with them.

"We can't stay here," Grace announced one night, her voice shaky but adamant. "We don't belong in this village. These people will turn against your kind as soon as they realize your true nature."

"But mother, we aren't safe anywhere. No one will accept us once they find out what we are", Alvin protested, disliking the idea of moving again. He wanted to stay

"He's right mother", Elias chipped in agreeing with Alvin. "We can't keep running"

"These people are dangerous.: Grace said trying not to raise her voice. "If we keep staying here, they will find out about your secrets and the whole world will soon know what you are." She said finally with a shaky voice.

Silas, their father, nodded in agreement. "We leave at dawn. We'll find a new spot to dwell, somewhere we can keep a low profile."

And so, the Slaughters packed what little they had and began their journey. But the journey was not to be finished as a family. Alvin and Elias, resolved to forge their own way, opted to remain behind.

Grace realizing that she could not convince them, decided to depart without them but informed them she could always send them a guide which would help them find their way to them so that they can reconnect once again as a family.

*******

At this time, Alvin had learned how to control his blood thirst. He suppressed his vampire nature and learned to live among the Raventhorne as one of them.

It was here that Alvin first spotted her. Rashida.

She was lovely, She was a vision, her fair complexion shimmering like porcelain under the sun, her hair a waterfall of golden waves that framed her lovely face. Rashida had a calm strength about her, a grace that made her stand apart.

 Alvin had fallen for her almost instantly, captivated by her generosity and the way her laugh could light up even the darkest corners of his heart. Her laughing was like music that cut through Alvin's pain. She was the daughter of the pack leader, a witch, and a werewolf, just like the rest of her tribe, but Alvin did not yet know what it meant. Her mother, a strict yet graceful woman, was a witch of immense power.

Alvin was captivated. He began to spend his days inventing excuses to be near her, his evenings obsessed by thoughts of her. Rashida, too, was captivated to him, her eyes staying on him longer than they should.

She would sing delightful melodies to him and her voice was powerful, nothing like he had heard before.

For a moment, Alvin felt something he hadn't in years: tranquility. He learned to manage his hunger, feeding only on animal blood and in secret. But Elias was not so restrained.

Elias, too, had changed. But unlike Alvin, Elias embraced his new nature. He fed freely, delighting in the bloodlust that came with their metamorphosis. At first, Alvin turned a blind eye, figuring his brother would eventually discover moderation. But the turning point came one terrible evening.

Alvin had been roaming through the woods near their abandoned settlement when he heard a strangled wail. His heart fell as he recognized the voice—it was one of the hunters who had gone hunting with Elias in the morning but was yet to return.

He followed the sound and came across a terrible scene. Elias was crouched over the hunter's lifeless body, blood splattered across his face. His eyes shone with an odd brightness, and his fangs glistened in the moonlight.

"Elias!" Alvin shouted, his voice filled with a mixture of shock and wrath. "What have you done?"

Elias turned, his face a mask of hostility. "He was weak. We're predators now, Alvin. This is who we are."

Before Alvin could react, a rustling sound resonated across the treetops. The hunters were coming. Elias shot Alvin a look of warning and withdrew into the darkness, leaving Alvin alone with the bloodied corpse.

Alvin knelt alongside the body, his senses overpowered by the fragrance of blood. He could feel it beckoning to him, stirring a hunger he had been working so hard to control. His eyesight blurred, his fangs elongated, and his body trembled as he resisted the impulse to feed.

It was in this vulnerable time that the hunters found him.

"There he is!" one of them shouted. "The beast that's been killing our people!"

"No!" Alvin tried to explain, but his blood-stained hands and flaming eyes betrayed him. The hunters seized him and carried him back to the settlement.

He killed one of our own!" one of the hunters accused. "He's a monster!"

"I didn't do it," Alvin begged, his voice raspy with desperation. "You have to believe me!"

But their thoughts were already made up. Rashida's mother, a powerful witch who was well regarded in the village, stepped forward.

"You have brought death to our home," she continued, her voice hard and unrelenting. "You and your kind are a curse upon this earth."

Rashida went forward, her voice shaking. "Mother, please. He's not a killer."

But her mother silenced her with a frown. "You have been blinded by your feelings, Rashida. This thing is dangerous."

Rashida's mother moved forward, her eyes burning with rage. "If you love him as you claim, then you will not object to what must be done."

She raised her hands, chanting in a voice that rocked the ground. The air grew thick, and Alvin felt his body convulse. Pain beyond anything he had ever known tore through him as his form transformed, his bones breaking and rebuilding.

When it was over, he was no longer just a vampire. He was something else—a hybrid, doomed to bore the mark of a werewolf.

"You will leave this place," Rashida's mother vowed. "You will forget her, and she will forget you. Only true love will break this curse, but it is a fate you will never know."

Rashida wailed as Alvin was banished, her cries echoing in his ears as he fled into the darkness.

From that day on, Alvin carried the weight of his curse and no memory of love, only memories of the curse that led to his hybrid nature, Half vampire, half werewolf. The years stretched into centuries, yet the sorrow remained. And though he tried to forget, the faint melody of Rashida's voice persisted, haunting him like a ghost.

Little did he know, fate had other intentions.