In the dead of night, the castle of Dracula echoed with the sound of restlessness. Drake, only six and a half years old, was motionless in the sarcophagus, his eyes struggling to open, his body wracked with pain. Something was wrong. The boy couldn't move, his joints felt like they were weighed down with tons. Every movement felt like he was being pierced by a thousand sharp needles. His father, Dracula, worried, immediately decided to call an old friend of many centuries.
Dracula knew that the answers he sought lay in the hands of an ancient vampire, someone with over 2,000 years of existence, someone who possessed the knowledge to unravel the mysteries of immortality. He summoned Drakill, a legendary vampire, to examine his son. Drakill, with his dark cloak and imposing presence, arrived shortly after midnight. His arrival was marked by a silent tension, for he knew something out of the ordinary was happening to young Drake.
Upon entering the castle's catacombs and approaching the sarcophagus, Drakill observed the boy carefully. He looked… different. The boy's face was unusual, with skin that was redder than normal. His arms, hands, and even his neck showed signs of active circulation
— something impossible for a pure vampire. It was as though Drake's veins were still pumping something, a fluid that shouldn't be there. Drakill stepped closer, examining more closely, and soon a look of concern appeared on his face.
— **Dracula, your son... he is no longer in accordance with our nature.** — Drakill said, his voice grave and hesitant.
— **What do you mean by that?** — Dracula asked, his anxiety growing in his chest.
— **He... he doesn't have blood in his veins.** — Drakill explained, with a hint of horror. — **But what runs through his body is something sweet, viscous... a sugary liquid, almost like juice. Something a vampire should never have in their body.**
Dracula looked at his son, worried but determined to find answers. Drakill, ever straightforward, suggested a drastic measure.
— **We need to bite him, Dracula. We need to try to suck his veins to understand better what is happening.** — he said.
Dracula, however, could not accept that another vampire touch his son in such a way.
— **If anyone is going to bite my son, it should be me.**
— his voice resounded, protective and threatening.
With a swift and precise movement, Dracula bent down and sank his fangs into Drake's neck. But, as soon as he touched his son's skin, Dracula jumped back, his face filled with astonishment. His eyes widened, and he wiped his mouth with his cloak, tasting something strange. No blood. What he had sucked was a sweet, viscous liquid, like a sugary essence, completely outside the usual vampire pattern.
— **What is this, Drakill?** — Dracula asked, his eyes fixed on the ancient vampire, waiting for an explanation.
Drakill sighed deeply, his face marked with worry.
— **It was what I feared.** — he said, with regret. — **Your son will never be a normal vampire again. He has become... a sugar sucker. Anything that is sweet, any sugary liquid, will be his source of nourishment. He no longer needs blood. He has become something new, something... different.**
Dracula looked at his son, still lying in his bed, motionless and vulnerable. The idea of his son becoming something so peculiar, so unusual, unsettled him.
— **What do you mean, Drakill? He... he will never need blood again?** — Dracula asked, his voice low and filled with uncertainty.
— **Yes, he will never drink blood again. Your son is now a "good" vampire, so to speak. He will not be a threat, he will not be a beast who needs to kill to survive. But... that also means he will no longer be what you expected of him. He will seek out anything sweet, which will make him a very different being from other vampires.**
Dracula stood in silence for a moment, processing Drakill's words. What would this mean for Drake's future? What would happen to him? Would he ever change back, or was this his new nature forever?
— **Is there any way to reverse this situation, Drakill?** — Dracula asked, already anticipating a negative answer.
Drakill shook his head slowly.
— **Not that I know of, Dracula. But perhaps you could seek more answers, travel the world, look for more information about this new condition. Until then, your son will be a normal boy. Time may bring a cure, or a greater explanation. But for now, nothing can be done.**
Dracula looked at his son, his gaze darkened by the weight of the decision. The night felt heavier than ever. He would have to face this new reality, not knowing what the future held for the boy who was now different. But despite everything, he was still his son. And Dracula would do anything to protect him.
Time passed, and Drake's peculiar nature began to manifest in unexpected ways. Though he was initially weak and disoriented, as the weeks went by, he began to adapt to his new condition. It was as if something instinctive inside him pushed him to seek out anything sweet. At first, it was small things: a piece of fruit, some honey, or even a glass of fresh fruit juice. But soon, Drake found himself drawn to something more substantial.
He would wander away from home during the night, slipping silently through dark, deserted streets. His steps led him to the orange groves near the castle, where the fruit hung heavy on the branches, their skins shining in the moonlight. Drake could smell an irresistible scent in the air, something sweet and delicious. He began to bite into the oranges with frantic intensity, sucking the juice as if it were the only thing that gave him strength.
Dracula, noticing his son's strange behavior, grew concerned. Every night, the boy disappeared earlier and returned later, with his lips stained with orange juice and his eyes shining with an unusual hunger. It didn't take long before Drake began to invade other places: sugar depots, local markets, even farm kitchens where sugar was stored. He became obsessed with anything that had a high sugar content, something that was laden with sweet flavor.
In the dead of night, he passed through fields of sugarcane, stealing the ripest stalks, sucking the sweet juice until nothing remained. The orange groves, once a place of serenity, were being ravaged by Drake's insatiable hunger. Farmers began to notice that something strange was happening to their crops. The trees were being stripped of their fruit, and there were no signs of normal creatures in the area. Only the marks of a being moving swiftly, consuming everything in its path.
Dracula, worried about the impact his son was having, decided to accompany him on one of these nocturnal hunts. He found him in the orange fields, kneeling on the ground, sucking the nectar from a broken orange. Drake's eyes were fixed on the fruit, as if nothing else in the world mattered.
— **Drake!** — Dracula called out, his voice deep and authoritative. — **What are you doing? What's happening to you?**
Drake slowly turned around, his mouth covered in juice. His eyes were glowing with a need that couldn't be satisfied. He no longer looked like the boy Dracula had known, but rather a creature hungry and desperate.
— **Father... I... I need this. I can't stop.** — Drake's voice was filled with anguish.
Dracula looked at his son, understanding the internal battle he was facing. Something had changed, and now it was only a matter of time before this transformation grew even bigger. The ancient vampire knew that although the boy had become something he never imagined, his journey had only just begun.
Dracula, not knowing what more to do, knew he had to find a solution. His son's life, now different, would depend on quick action. The last thing Dracula wanted was for his son to become an even greater threat, not for his power to seduce, but for his insatiable hunger for sweets.
As Drake wandered off for another night of devouring, Dracula made a silent promise: he would not allow his son to be lost to this new nature. Even if it meant traveling to the ends of the world in search of a cure or an explanation for the curse that now weighed on Drake.