2 - Sins of the Immortal

*TWO DAYS AGO*  

  

The woods of Centaurus Forest stretched out like a haunting maze of twisted trees and shadowy paths. Damien had roamed these woods countless times, always under the cover of night—the only time he felt any solace. But tonight, even the familiar darkness offered no comfort.  

His gaze flicked back over his shoulder every few moments, an instinctual reaction, though his undead heart lay still within his chest. Sometimes he wished he could feel its rhythmic beating once more. Tonight, however, he was grateful for his silence, for the stealth his condition provided.  

A single slip-up could mean death—this time, for real. The pack of wolves that hunted these woods would have him in seconds, or worse yet, another of his own kind might be lurking. Just a moment's distraction, and he could end up with a wooden stake piercing his chest. The thought sent a chill through him, colder than the forest's wind.  

Damien had never been one for regrets, but now they clawed at him, like the relentless hunger of a beast. The choices he'd made, the mistakes he'd allowed—it was too late to change any of it now. Joshua had tried to help, but he was clueless. Nate? He hadn’t stood a chance either. Against a pack of werewolves and the iron-clad laws of the vampire council, there was nothing anyone could do.  

Damien was living on borrowed time. Death was a certainty now, and all that remained was to mark the moment of his final fall. This time, there would be no return. No resurrection.  

Anger surged through him, like molten lava simmering beneath his cool exterior. Why was it always him? Why did fate always seem to deal him the worst hand? No matter how he framed the situation, no one would see it from his perspective. He would always be wrong. Always.  

So what was left? Nothing, except to waste away the last of his immortal days.  

As he trudged deeper into the forest, a faint glimmer caught his eye—a flicker of light, impossibly out of place in the thick gloom. His frustration mingled with curiosity, drawing him toward the glow.  

He stumbled upon a small clearing, where a lone tent stood, the fabric billowing gently in the breeze. Inside, voices murmured—a young couple, oblivious to the predator lurking just outside their makeshift shelter.  

And then something snapped. A bloodlust unlike any he'd ever felt before overwhelmed him. Fury surged through his veins. The council, the rules—they could all go to hell. He didn’t care anymore.  

With a sudden, violent motion, Damien tore through the fabric of the tent, his figure looming in the moonlight. The couple’s cries echoed through the forest as he toyed with them, dragging out their fear for his own twisted pleasure. Their frantic attempts to escape only fueled his desire. Their screams were like a melody in the night, a soundtrack to his cruelty.  

As their struggles weakened and their bodies went limp, he fed deeply, savoring the rush of blood—a grim reminder of his own impending doom.  

Hours later, Damien stood in the aftermath of his actions, the weight of his sins pressing heavily upon him. Yet, even as guilt gnawed at him, he knew that darkness was all he had left. He was a creature of the night, bound to his fate, and haunted by every choice he had ever made.  

"You shouldn't have been here," he growled, voice barely a whisper in the cold night air. "I'm sorry."  

He stared at the bodies before him, the regret momentarily overtaking him. "I am what I am," he murmured. "A creature of the night. And in the shadows, I’ll remain until they come for me."  

And then, with a weary sigh, he set about the grim task of disguising the scene as an animal attack. No matter how much he wanted to embrace the bloodlust completely, he wasn’t ready for the council to come for him. Not just yet.  

***  

*PRESENT DAY*  

Josh scanned the room, looking for the TV remote. The storm warning had been flashing on the screen for what seemed like an eternity, urging the townspeople to take shelter.  

"Got it!" he exclaimed, summoning the remote with a casual flick of his hand and switching the TV off. A stray cat purred at his feet, winding its way around his ankles. "You think Damien's still alive?" he asked, scratching the cat’s ears.  

Nate sighed, his eyes distant. "Maybe the council got to him already," he replied. "I don't see any clouds outside, though." He turned toward the window, pulling back the curtain to peer out. Then, his eyes widened in shock. "What the hell?"  

"What’s going on?" Josh asked, hurrying over. "Who’s that? Is Damien carrying someone?"  

Nate’s tone turned serious. "I hope whoever it is, is still alive. The last thing Damien needs is more blood on his hands."  

The two rushed to the front door, watching as Damien approached from the stone path, his arms cradling an unconscious woman. Her limp body hung like dead weight, but Nate could still sense the faint thrum of her heartbeat.  

"She's alive," Nate muttered, though suspicion flickered across his face.  

Damien stopped in front of them, his expression unreadable. A droplet of something dark and thick hit his cheek. Josh gasped as he realised what it was—blood. More drops splattered down, covering Damien’s face and shoulders.  

He looked up at the sky, horror dawning in his eyes.  

Thunder rolled across the heavens, and then the skies opened up.  

Blood rained down on the town of Orilon.