Eternally Bound by Blood(Dark Bl)

A few hours had passed as both Eric and Alaric stood in the darkness of the basement. Alaric wasn't entirely sure why he remained; he could have left at any time, unlike Eric, who was bound to the place by the sun. Yet, something about the fledgling vampire's presence calmed his usually chaotic mind, providing a temporary reprieve from the psychotic storm always brewing inside him.

Eric continued rambling—complaints about how unfair the world was, how fate had cursed him, how much he despised his own existence—his voice grating against Alaric's thinning patience. Normally, Alaric had little tolerance for those who irritated him; few lived long enough to be an annoyance. Yet, something about Eric's anger—his barely contained fury—intrigued him. There was a rawness to it, something more than just words.

Alaric's eyes lingered on Eric's tense frame, watching his muscles coil with every bitter thought that left his lips. The man's rage simmered, unspoken but clear in every movement, and Alaric found himself oddly fascinated by it. It was different from his own chaos, more controlled, yet no less powerful.

As the minutes stretched on, a change stirred within Alaric. His eyes, which had been coldly observing Eric's pacing, began to darken. A deep hunger, one he had long suppressed, rose from the depths of his being. It was subtle at first, a faint pull, but soon it consumed him. His irises expanded, the whites of his eyes swallowed by an inky void, as if the darkness surrounding them had seeped into his soul.

Hidden in the deepest corner of Alaric's mind, the creature within stirred. Eric remained oblivious, unaware of the predatory gaze now fixed on him. His voice cracked as he continued, the rawness of his emotion spilling out, unfiltered.

_____

"I don't know how all this happened ,I thought getting married, settling down, building that dream life—white picket fence, a dog, kids running around the yard—would cure me. I convinced myself that's what I needed to be whole. But even then, there was a hole inside me, something I couldn't understand, a darkness that gnawed at me no matter how perfect the picture seemed from the outside. Every day I fought, tooth and nail, to stay sane, to keep going, as if I was searching for something... or someone.

"But nothing ever truly filled it. Not the job, not the love, not the so-called 'perfect life.' I thought it was just how things were—always a little broken, always missing something. Then I was turned, and I realized it wasn't that my life needed fixing—it was me. I was never going to fill that void, not with marriage, not with family, not with the life I tried so hard to build. It was never going to be enough because I would never be enough. I was broken long before I became a vampire."

Eric stopped, his fists clenched tightly. His voice wavered, raw with the weight of years spent fighting against himself. "And now... the hunger. The hunger never stops. It's like they took everything from me—everything I fought to hold on to—and gave me this instead, this endless craving. I kill because I have no choice. I have to. It's not my fault. They made me this way."

His eyes glowed a deep, bloody red, shadowed by the pain of his transformation. "I didn't want this. I thought I could be someone else, someone better. But now, I see... I was never meant to have that life. I was meant to be this. And the worst part? I don't know if I can hate it anymore."

Eric's voice faded, the admission hanging in the air. He was still unaware of Alaric's hunger, the dark craving that now simmered just beneath the surface, as if waiting for the right moment to strike.

Alaric's hunger surged, growing unbearable as Eric's words echoed through the basement. Every fiber of his being itched to act, to pounce, but he forced himself to stay in control. For a moment, his eyes remained fixed on the back of Eric's neck, the temptation to sink his fangs into the flesh almost overwhelming.

But Alaric was a master at hiding. He had perfected restraint, and now wasn't the time. His lips curled into a tight smile, the black void in his eyes receding just enough for him to regain his composure.

"I need to get some air," Alaric said suddenly, his voice low, almost soothing. It was so abrupt that it caused Eric to pause mid-sentence, confused by the change in the atmosphere.

"What?" Eric asked, turning to face him.

But as Eric turned, Alaric was already gone. All he felt was a sudden whoosh of air as if a gust had swept through the room. His eyes widened, scanning the dark corners of the basement. No sign of Alaric. The only sound was the faint creak of the basement door opening and then—

*SLAM!*

The door closed with such force it rattled the walls, echoing through the darkness. Eric stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the now empty space where Alaric had stood just moments before. The lingering chill in the air was the only trace left of him.

A strange unease settled over Eric as he tried to shake the feeling that Alaric's departure wasn't just about needing air. He was certain something darker had stirred in the basement, and for the first time since his turning, he felt truly vulnerable.

Alaric's nails dug into his skin as he tried to wrestle control over his body. He could feel his teeth still lengthening, every single one of them razor-sharp, pressing against his gums as if begging for release. His jaw ached with the pressure, and his muscles twitched as the primal hunger surged through him, desperate to consume, to tear something apart.

His breath came in shallow gasps as he fought it. He had been through this before—centuries of mastering his instincts, of taming the beast inside him. But tonight, with Eric's anger, his pain, and his raw vulnerability so close, it had stirred something in Alaric that he hadn't felt in ages. The temptation had almost won.

"No," he growled under his breath, gritting his teeth as he forced the hunger back down. Slowly, painfully, he felt his teeth retract, the sharp edges dulling and retreating into place. The urge remained, a burning need just beneath the surface, but he could control it. He had to.

His body still thrumming with the aftershocks of restraint, Alaric stepped out into the early morning air. He could feel the tension in his muscles begin to ease, though the hunger still lingered, gnawing at him from the inside.

Just as he started to relax, his keen senses picked up the sound of footsteps in the distance. At first faint, they grew louder, accompanied by the low hum of voices—people. His lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. His hunger flared again, but this time it felt different. This wasn't the desperation of losing control; this was excitement.

He could smell them now, their scent carrying on the breeze, tantalizing and warm. A shiver ran down his spine as the darkness in him rose once more, but this time he welcomed it. His smile widened, his eyes gleaming with something twisted as he savored the thrill. He didn't need to hunt, not now, but knowing that they were so close made the temptation impossible to ignore.

"Not yet," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the waking world. But even as he spoke the words, his body was already shifting, preparing for the hunt. His smile stretched wider, almost demonic, as he reveled in the game he knew would soon begin.

The hunger could wait. For now. But soon, it would demand to be fed.

Alaric's smile faded, replaced by an intense focus as his instincts took over. In a blur, he launched himself forward, his body moving faster than any human eye could track. The world around him became a blur of motion—trees, buildings, and empty streets flashing past as he closed the distance between himself and the source of the voices.

The rush of the chase sent a thrill through him, the wind whipping against his face as he sprinted with supernatural speed. His footsteps were silent, almost ghostly, and the ground seemed to disappear beneath him. He could hear them more clearly now—laughter, footsteps, the murmur of conversation.

Closer.

His lips curled into a grin as he leaped effortlessly over a low wall, landing without a sound on the other side. The voices were just ahead, oblivious to the predator that stalked them from the shadows. Alaric's senses sharpened, his heartbeat steady as he ran, his every movement fluid and controlled.

The hunger roared inside him, but he was in control now. The thrill of the hunt had overtaken him completely.

And then, just as the sounds grew louder, as he neared his prey—he stopped.

Silent. Waiting.

_________

The group of people that resembled hunters moved cautiously through the clearing, their weapons raised, eyes scanning the surrounding woods. The early morning light did little to chase away the eerie silence that hung over the village. All around them, the bodies of the villagers were piled high—men, women, children—all bearing the same terrifying wounds. Ragged bite marks covered their throats, arms, and legs, the flesh torn as if savaged by a wild beast. Blood soaked the ground beneath their feet, creating a gruesome trail that led deeper into the village.

There were at least a dozen hunters, all hardened by years of fighting creatures that most people only whispered about in the darkest hours of the night. Each one was armed to the teeth with crossbows, silver-edged blades, and holy relics meant to ward off the kind of evil that now prowled these lands. Their faces were grim, hardened by the knowledge that they weren't hunting just any creature this time—they were facing something far older and far more dangerous.

In the middle of the group, a woman dressed in a dark cloak knelt beside one of the bodies, her hand hovering just above the mangled wounds. Her eyes were closed, and a soft, almost inaudible hum escaped her lips as she felt the remnants of dark magic lingering in the air.

The witch, the last of her kind in this region, had warned them of the awakening—of the being whose seal had been broken. She had gone into hiding for years with her mother after creating the seal that bound him, hoping it would last forever. But now, it had broken. She had felt it in the earth, in the wind, in her very bones. And she had known immediately that something ancient had been released.

"They're all dead," one of the hunters, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his face, muttered as he surveyed the carnage. His voice was low, but it carried the weight of the horror they all felt. "Every single one."

"Not just dead," the witch said, her voice strained as she rose to her feet, eyes wide with fear. "Fed upon. He's awake." She glanced around, her heart pounding in her chest. "The seal has broken. The villagers never stood a chance."

Another hunter cursed under his breath, gripping his crossbow tighter. "We were too late."

The leader of the group, a tall, silver-haired man named Elias, stepped forward, his expression unreadable as he examined the bodies. His eyes, sharp and calculating, missed nothing. "No one was spared. Not even the children." His voice was cold, steady, but the weight of the situation was heavy on all of them.

The witch stepped closer to Elias, lowering her voice. "It's not just the villagers. This... this is only the beginning. The seal kept something far worse at bay for centuries. Now that he's free..." Her voice trailed off, but the meaning was clear.

"He's dangerous," Elias muttered, his voice tight with controlled rage.

The witch's face turned grim, and she shook her head. "Dangerous doesn't even begin to describe it. His powers are sealed, yes, but it's only a matter of time before he finds a way to break free entirely. And when that happens..." She trailed off, glancing at the piles of bodies around them. "What you see here is nothing compared to what he'll do when his full power is unleashed. He will tear this world apart."

One of the younger hunters, a man with dark eyes and trembling hands, spoke up, his voice filled with fear. "How do we stop something like that? A creature that's been sealed for so long... won't it be stronger than anything we've faced before?"

Elias didn't answer immediately. He glanced at the witch, who nodded solemnly. "We stop it like we stop anything else," he finally said, his voice low and determined. "We fight it. But we'll need more than silver this time." He gestured to the bodies. "And we have to move fast. He's already growing stronger."

The wind shifted around them, a faint rustling in the woods. The hunters froze, every weapon pointed in the direction of the sound. The tension in the air was palpable, and for a moment, no one breathed.

The witch's eyes widened, and she took a step back. "He's close."

Before anyone could react, a gust of wind swept through the clearing, unnaturally cold and fast, sending a shiver down every spine. It was as if the air itself had been cut by something far quicker than human speed. The hunters exchanged wary glances, knowing what that wind meant.

"Spread out," Elias ordered quietly. "He's watching."