This story is officially registered with Copyrighted.io under registration code: xl2QyZGflF1Nh5sT.
All rights reserved © A.R. Khairollahi.
We all know the vampire race as savage and merciless creatures.
And that… is exactly what history wants us to believe.
After all—history is written by the victors, isn't it?
So truth, more often than not, is not what has been written.
Books, movies, and legends portray vampires as heartless monsters.
But the truth wears a different face.
Before the first humans ever set foot on this earth—
Before a colossal ship descended from the skies and annihilated ninety percent of all life on the planet…
Vampires were already here.
They were not just civilized—they lived for centuries, far longer than any human lifespan.
A race born from night, shrouded in mystery, carved into forgotten memory.
Then came mankind—bringing with them greed and chaos.
At first, they lived in hiding, trembling in the shadows, afraid to even approach a vampire.
But time passed. Generations changed.
Humans began to forget.
They forgot where they came from,
Forgot that their ancestors had once landed on this earth in a ship from another world.
Their minds had been cleansed to help them adapt,
To make them believe that this planet belonged to them.
And that was where the first true encounter with the vampires began.
Humans saw a superior race—and they were afraid.
And humans always destroy what they fear.
Or worse… they conquer it.
So they started a war.
With deceit.
With manipulation.
With lies.
And when the vampires finally responded, humanity screamed:
"See?! They started it!"
And so, an eternal war began—between the children of light and the heirs of night.
This war morphed through generations:
Sometimes fought for resources,
Sometimes in the name of revenge,
And sometimes… simply out of habit.
Among both races, there were those who fought for peace.
But their voices drowned in the storm of blood and hatred.
They were silenced—either by their enemies… or by their own kind.
Millennia passed.
And humans, as always, learned from their defeats.
They discovered the vampires' weaknesses:
Silver… and the sacred.
What was once myth became weapon.
And humans carried it with pride—
Silver daggers, crosses, specialized bullets.
Earth was no longer safe.
Not even for the children of darkness.
With silver-made mass destruction weapons and powdered silver,
Humanity finally inflicted devastating damage upon the vampires.
Immortality no longer protected them.
They were hunted and killed—like animals.
Even their children weren't spared.
Their fangs… sold for high prices to traders and collectors.
The vampire population plummeted.
And the Draculas—their ruling lineage—were alarmed.
To survive, they turned to the contamination of humans.
It was then that the first hybrids were born.
But even this couldn't stop their extinction.
Even the Draculas—
The strongest, purest among them—
Were fading.
And soon, only one Dracula remained.
Where there had once been over a hundred…
Now, there was just one.
He had no family left.
No home.
Nothing to protect.
He wandered—alone, endless, and in the dark.
Searching for a place untouched by mankind.
Somewhere beyond reach.
His journey was one of pain… and unmatched resilience.
Again and again, humans discovered his identity and hunted him.
But he escaped—
Sometimes through superhuman speed,
Sometimes with cunning and shadow.
Though his body surpassed any human's,
Their will, their fear, and their quick decisions…
Were deadly.
After twenty years of running,
He found it—
A haven.
A dark, deep cave hidden in the mountains,
Concealed by tangled bushes and tall trees.
Invisible to man.
He leapt in.
And began again.
In the silence of the cave, surrounded by ghosts of the past.
Grief etched into stone.
But this story…
Is not about the last Dracula.
Nor about the cave buried in fog.
Nor about the hunters who wore vampire fangs as trophies.
Our story begins…
Five hundred years later.
Our story begins five hundred years after that age of darkness.
In a quiet little town, just thirty kilometers away from the sleeping mountains where shadows once ruled.
It was a cold winter morning when a teenage boy left his house for school—unaware that it would be the last time he ever felt the warmth of home.
His father, mother, and younger brother stayed behind… defenseless against a fate too cruel to imagine.
A gas leak.
A spark.
Then—an explosion.
An eruption so violent, it leveled their villa to dust and shattered windows blocks away.
The sound echoed across the town.
Firefighters, paramedics, and worried neighbors rushed to the scene.
The boy was on his way back from school when it happened.
Rain fell gently, like a whisper from the clouds.
He walked, oblivious, with childlike joy—
A birthday gift for his little brother tucked in his coat pocket.
But as he drew nearer, the sirens grew louder.
The crowd thicker.
The tension heavier.
At the end of the street, he froze.
It was as if time itself had stopped.
Where his home once stood…
Only ash remained.
Charred metal. Broken beams. Blood-stained ground.
Smoke rose into the gray sky.
The air smelled of burnt dreams.
He didn't want to believe it.
Couldn't.
Tears welled in his eyes.
His legs gave out.
He collapsed to his knees before the wreckage that used to be called "home."
There was no sound—
Only the wind.
And the quiet sobbing of memories that would never return.
Then a man in firefighter gear stepped toward him.
Dust-covered face.
Eyes heavy with something deeper than words—
A silent understanding of pain, of death… and of being alone.
He sat beside the boy, laid a steady hand on his shoulder, and with a voice soft yet unwavering, said:
"I know the weight you're carrying, son.
But this is not the end.
You may have lost everything today—
But you still have the chance to rise.
So rise...
And let this ruin be the beginning of a man whose fate is written in ashes—
But will rise in fire."
Days passed.
The boy, wrapped in sorrow, tried to make peace with the unthinkable.
There was no home left.
Nothing.
The only thing that remained from the life he once had
Was a small amount of money—
Savings left behind by his parents.
Even that disappeared quickly—
Spent entirely on the funeral.
Yes, he paid for it all.
Alone.
You might wonder:
Why didn't anyone come to help him?
Where were the relatives?
Why didn't even one of them offer him shelter?
Why… was he left alone?
At that age?
The answer is bitter—
But real.
In a world where the only one who stays with you is your own shadow…
How can you expect anyone else to stay?
In an age where blood ties are just legal entries in a birth certificate—
And not something that lives in the heart.
The boy had no siblings.
No sister to hold his hand.
No brother to stand beside him.
No family came forward—
Because years ago, his father had severed all ties over family disputes and moved far away.
And now, in the present—
Amidst the cold hues of a fading sunset—
The boy stood alone at the gravesite of his family.
Surrounded by a crowd of indifferent faces.
He had spent the last of his savings to hold a proper funeral.
And yet, all he could hear were whispers from the so-called "relatives":
"Did they give you lunch yet?"
"Is there going to be lunch at all?"
"Who's in charge of lunch?"
And the boy…
He heard it all.
Silently.
His heart burned—slowly, painfully.
When the ceremony ended, the guests ate and scattered—each back to their own warm homes.
But the boy…
Had no home to return to.
No invitation.
No roof.
No job.
He was only seventeen.
Not yet of legal age.
Not protected.
Not wanted.
Employers looked at him with cold eyes.
And so, the boy was forced to spend his nights beneath a frozen sky,
And his days wandering through alleys and parks.
Food?
Leftovers from restaurant dumpsters—
The remains of someone else's feast became his share of the world.
A year passed.
A year of hunger, humiliation, pain.
But not pain on the skin—
No…
Pain that scarred the soul.
A year so heavy…
It barely counted as living.
And just when it seemed all hope had died,
When he sat shivering against a wall with nothing in his belly but air,
A strange man appeared...
It was one night.
The boy had returned to the alley behind the restaurant,
Rummaging through the trash for scraps,
When he felt eyes watching him.
He turned toward the shadows.
And saw a figure.
Standing just beyond the reach of the moonlight.
His heart began to race.
But then—he exhaled.
And whispered to himself:
"What does it matter anymore?
I have nothing left to lose.
Maybe death is better than this."
In a shaky voice, trying to sound brave, he called out:
"Who are you?
What do you want?
If you're here to rob me—don't bother. I have nothing."
The figure stepped into the dim light.
He was tall.
Elderly.
His face calm.
Kind, even.
He held a wooden cane.
Carved into its handle was the symbol of a golden Simorgh—
A mythical creature not easily forgotten.
With slow, uneven steps, the old man approached.
When he reached the boy, he gave a faint smile and said:
"My son… You may not know me—
But I know you.
Not just you—
I know everyone.
I see everything…
Yet no one sees me.
I am always here—
And never truly anywhere."
The boy stared at him, half in fear, half in disbelief.
His voice, louder this time:
"Alright, what do you want?
You just gonna waste my time?
Get out of my way.
Let me get back to it."
The old man took a deep breath, and said:
"I know someone who can help you.
Someone who seeks people like you—
Those who have nothing left to lose.
Those who carry a darkness deep inside…
A grudge against this cruel world."
The boy, slightly intrigued now, asked in a softer voice:
"Who is this person you speak of?
Why should I even listen to you?
Maybe you're telling the truth...
Tell me more.
Maybe—just maybe—this is how I escape this cursed life.
Maybe death isn't so bad after all."
The old man nodded slowly and continued:
"Very well, my son. I'll keep it short.
First—you must leave this city.
Head thirty kilometers south until you reach the forest park.
There, you'll find a tree—
Taller and darker than all others.
Behind the bushes surrounding it, you'll find a hatch, a gate to the underground.
Enter it.
Follow the cave to its depths.
Once you reach the bottom…
You'll understand everything."
With those final words, the old man vanished—
Instantly.
As if he had never been there at all.
The boy, stunned, whispered to himself:
"Maybe… there's really something to this."
He spent the night in restless peace.
And by morning, full of questions, he set out.
He had no money for transport—
So he walked.
He walked the entire day.
By nightfall, he reached the edge of the forest.
Only the pale light of the moon guided his path.
He began searching for the massive, eerie tree.
After a few minutes, he found it.
An ancient, towering thing—
Its branches swallowed by darkness.
Thick bushes—over two meters tall—encircled it, hiding the ground beneath.
The boy searched carefully.
When he stepped behind the tree, his foot slipped—
And suddenly, he fell.
He plunged for minutes—
Until his body landed on a jagged stone slab.
The sharp tip pierced his chest—
And in that instant…
His life ended.
Around the slab lay rotted corpses and bones—
Victims who had fallen before.
In the heart of the cave, something awoke.
The sound of the boy's fall reached Count Dracula.
He moved quickly toward the lifeless body.
As he approached, he felt it—
A deep, dark energy radiating from the boy.
Sorrow… pain…
The kind that leaves permanent roots in the soul.
Dracula had been searching for someone like this—
Someone who could further his plan.
Someone whose pain ran deep enough to shape destiny.
Unlike the others who had died here…
This one felt different.
And so, for the first time in centuries—
Dracula made a decision.
He would save him.
Just moments after the boy's final breath,
Count Dracula gave him life anew.
He slit the palm of his hand with a claw-like nail,
Squeezed until the blood ran freely—
Then let it drip, slowly, into the boy's mouth.
Each drop—
A seed of transformation.
The boy's cells had to be overwritten.
His blood replaced.
His very DNA rewritten by that of the vampire king.
The process would take hours.
But if the boy awoke impaled, it would shatter his mind.
So Dracula gently lifted him off the stone and laid him beside it.
Then sat in the darkness—
Waiting.
Eventually, the gaping wound in the boy's chest began to heal.
And soon, it vanished—
As if it had never existed.
His eyes opened.
He gasped,
As if taking his first breath in a new body.
He looked down—
No blood. No wound.
Yet the memory of the stone's tip lingered in his mind.
Still disoriented, he stood up.
Then… he saw him.
Count Dracula.
Pale as marble.
Tall as a shadow.
Ethereal.
The boy felt fear—
But remembered the old man's words.
This was the one who could help him.
He pushed the fear aside.
Stepped forward.
"What are you?" he asked.
"You don't look human.
Someone sent me here—said you could help."
Dracula responded in a calm, powerful voice:
"Human?
No. I am not.
This is the first time in centuries that a human has spoken to me.
Perhaps it's because I never give them the chance—
I usually kill them on sight.
But you…
You don't need to fear.
If I meant to kill you,
I would not have brought you back."
The boy thought for a moment, then asked, his voice steadier:
"So I wasn't wrong.
That stone pierced my chest.
I died.
And you brought me back.
Thank you… I guess.
But you still haven't told me—what are you?"
Count Dracula responded with a sly, almost playful smile—
As if he had been waiting centuries for someone to ask that question:
"I am Count Dracula.
True son of the Devil.
Heir to the Kingdom of Hell.
Well… former heir.
Somewhere along the way, I must have taken a wrong turn.
But now I have hope.
Hope to reclaim my destiny—
And make my father proud."
The boy sighed.
"Well… at least you had a father.
Mine's gone.
All of them are.
I haven't had hope in a long time.
I just… drift.
So why do you think I'm your ticket to a brighter future?
I'm no one special."
Dracula's voice grew calm and firm:
"You're wrong.
You don't need to be special or extraordinary to build a legacy.
You just need to keep going.
And now that I've brought you back with my blood,
You're one of us.
A vampire reborn.
The blood of the Devil flows through your veins.
And I have plans—
Plans you can help bring to life."
The boy, still uncertain, whispered:
"Strange.
But I still don't get it.
Why… me?"
Dracula gazed deeply into his eyes:
"When you fell,
I felt your grief—
So raw, so deep.
You had nothing left to lose.
And above all…
You carry a bitterness toward humanity.
That… intrigued me."
The boy fell silent.
Then said:
"Maybe…
Maybe life isn't as fair as people pretend it is.
Doesn't matter.
As long as I have a purpose—
A way to get back at the world—
That's enough.
So…
What do I do now?
What powers do I have, now that I'm one of you?
I mean, I've seen the movies."
Dracula smirked:
"Interesting how quickly you've accepted this.
As a vampire, you now possess many gifts.
The movies?
They got some of it right.
You already know some things—
That's good.
But let me tell you…
Your core powers include immortality, incredible speed, hypnosis,
And much more."
The boy's eyes widened.
"So…
Does this mean I have to drink human blood to survive?"
Dracula paused, then said:
"No.
That's just a rumor—spread to vilify us.
Human blood makes us stronger, yes.
But we don't need it to live.
A vampire can go centuries without drinking it."
The boy blinked.
"Huh.
I really had it all wrong, didn't I?
Alright then—
What do you want me to do?"
Dracula stepped closer, his voice serious:
"I want to rebuild our race.
To rise again.
To take back the Earth.
To prove myself to the Devil.
Will you walk this long and dangerous road with me?"
The boy gave a bitter smile.
"Heh…
I've got nothing to lose.
I'm a loser.
I'm ready for anything."
Dracula looked into the distance and said:
"Good.
Then let me tell you everything—
How the war between vampires and humans began,
So you'll understand what you've stepped into.
After that…
Your training begins."
The boy glanced around.
In the thick silence of the cave, his eyes wandered over the stone walls.
They were carved with strange patterns and arcane symbols—
Geometric designs and mythical beasts that seemed to whisper from the depths of time.
Each mark pulsed faintly—
As if something in the darkness was speaking through them.
Then… his eyes locked onto a particular symbol:
A circle, wrapped around a sword.
He turned to Count Dracula, his voice edged with awe and fear:
"What are these symbols?
What's written here?"
Dracula's gaze lingered on the carvings.
Calm, deep… almost reverent.
"These are relics of a forgotten kingdom—
Sordland.
The Land of the Sword."
The boy blinked.
"Sordland? What kind of place was that?"
Dracula studied the wall, then answered:
"According to ancient prophecy,
Sordland was wiped out nearly fifty thousand years ago—
Destroyed by a force greater than all known magic.
A force so powerful,
It became the reason for the kingdom's extinction.
Humans… monsters…
They all feared it."
The boy tilted his head, still puzzled:
"So what's so important about this lost kingdom?
Why are you so sure it matters?"
Dracula's tone grew darker:
"Many of Sordland's secrets remain buried in these sigils.
Its powers were designed not just to rule people—
But to rewrite history itself.
These symbols…
They are echoes of that legacy."
The boy stared again at the wall.
He could feel it—
A history etched in stone.
Not just of the dead…
But of the living, too.
Perhaps…
This forgotten kingdom wasn't just a myth.
Maybe… it was part of his story now.
Then, Count Dracula shared everything—
His rise, his fall,
And how he ended up in this hidden cavern.
The boy, now fully aware of the truths buried beneath legend,
Understood Dracula's motives—
Why the destruction of mankind mattered to him.
And he…
Decided to fight for it.
To find meaning in the madness.
To change his own fate.
Dracula began training him.
Months of grueling practice followed.
The boy mastered his powers—
Speed, strength, mental manipulation, and more.
When the time came, Dracula revealed the true plan.
It began five centuries ago—
Rumors had reached Dracula's ears during his exile.
A hidden place…
Where a few last vampires survived.
He hadn't pursued it.
Not then.
But now—
He needed them.
He needed loyal blood.
The location?
Antarctica.
One of the few places forbidden to mankind.
Likely… because vampires still lived there.
The boy was tasked with finding them—
And bringing them back.
He left the cave.
Made his way to the nearest city.
Entered the first clothing store he found.
People recoiled.
The stench of the wild clung to him.
But he didn't care.
He picked the most expensive outfit and walked to the counter.
The cashier stared, unsure how this strange boy planned to pay.
He didn't have to.
With a glance—
The boy hypnotized him.
The payment was made.
From the cashier's own card.
Then he left,
And made his way to the city's most luxurious hotel.
Again—
He hypnotized a wealthy guest.
A room was booked.
In someone else's name.
After a long shower and fresh clothes,
He finally rested.
The next morning,
He booked a ride to the airport.
Bought a ticket to the closest airport near Antarctica.
The flight took sixteen hours.
From there,
He boarded a five-seat plane to a private research facility.
And from there,
He needed to move alone.
He hypnotized the guards.
Rented a snow-jet.
And began his search for the largest glacier in sight.
He found it easily—
A towering ice mountain visible from miles away.
After an hour,
He reached it.
A massive hole gaped at its base.
As he approached the entrance,
Voices echoed from within.
"Stop right there!"
someone shouted.
He froze.
Another voice followed:
"Who are you, stranger?
Why are you here?"
The boy stepped forward, calm:
"I'm one of you.
A vampire.
You have nothing to fear."
The figure snarled:
"Oh, I know you're a vampire.
If you weren't,
My bite would already be on your neck.
You still haven't answered—
Why are you here?"
The boy replied:
"I was sent…
By Count Dracula.
Perhaps you've heard of him."
Silence fell.
Gasps.
Murmurs.
Eyes widened.
No one had expected that name.
No one thought Dracula still existed.
One vampire, trembling, stepped closer—
His voice filled with disbelief:
"Did you say Count Dracula?
Are you sure?
No one has seen a Dracula since… the Great Extinction.
The boy stared with unblinking eyes—
Eyes that held the weight of history.
His voice, cold and certain, echoed through the hollow ice:
"Yes.
It was Count Dracula who sent me.
He turned me—
With his own hands."
The words struck like thunder.
Silence fell.
None doubted anymore.
This was no ordinary event.
To be turned by the last of the Draculas—
It meant something far greater than just transformation.
It was a legacy reborn.
One by one, the vampires in the chamber approached him.
Their demeanor changed.
Respect filled the air.
He was no longer just a vampire—
He was the herald of a forgotten legend.
Then the boy spoke—
His voice loud and sure, like a leader born of flame:
"I didn't come here to talk about my past.
When I first met Count Dracula,
I was a broken human—
Crushed by life.
But he pulled me from the darkness,
Gave me power.
But more importantly…
He gave me purpose.
History repeats itself for those who forget it.
And this time—
It is humanity that shall face extinction."
A voice rose from the crowd:
"If that's true,
Then why didn't Dracula come himself?
Why send a human?"
The boy stood tall—
Steady as stone in a storm.
"I understand your doubts.
But Dracula has lived in isolation for centuries—
Waiting for the world to remember him.
He is old now,
No longer the force he once was.
He cannot travel as he did.
So tell me—
Why should he risk himself…
For those who have forgotten to respect his name?"
The questioner bowed his head in shame.
And silence returned.
Then the boy raised his voice again:
"But now…
The choice is yours.
Who will stand with me?
Who will fight for those forgotten by history?
Who will make mankind pay for every injustice—
To us,
And to every creature they've hunted and betrayed?"
The crowd stirred.
And then—
One by one—
They shouted:
"We're with you!"
But another voice questioned:
"Even united,
We are too few…"
The boy's eyes blazed.
He turned, like a general before his army.
His voice thundered:
"You're right.
We are few—
For now.
But we can infect them.
Bring them into our ranks.
We have plans—
Plans that will tip the world in our favor.
Humans no longer believe we exist.
To them, we're myths.
Legends.
And by the time they realize the truth…
It will be too late."
Their eyes lit with fire.
Even the eldest among them looked reborn.
A new dawn had arrived.
The boy selected ten of the youngest vampires.
A handpicked elite—
For the missions ahead.
He knew:
To destroy humanity,
They must strike its vital points.
Ports.
Military strongholds.
One infiltrated the ports—
Turning workers.
Another reached military leaders—
Turning generals.
Others sought elite soldiers—
To build a vampire army.
The boy watched as his plan took shape.
And in his mind,
He heard Dracula's final words:
"When the Earth drinks deeply of human blood,
And vampires are reborn from it—
I shall return.
You are my herald.
Do not fail me."
One year later…
The world stood silent.
Dead silent.
In the shadows,
The boy had infected the most strategic humans on Earth.
Silently.
No one knew.
Mankind still believed they ruled.
That their systems were secure.
They had no idea.
By then—
The boy had seized every major port,
Every military outpost,
Every key center of power.
He had become commander of a nightmare.
A hybrid army.
Merciless.
Loyal.
And finally…
The moment had come.
The boy gave the order.
The assault began.
In a single hour—
The ports of Earth collapsed.
Global trade—frozen.
Inside military bases,
Silent coups erupted.
Vampires stormed armories.
Took control.
Without mercy.
It was no longer war—
It was slaughter.
Humans either turned…
Or died.
The next day,
The world was in shock.
Nothing remained.
Humanity…
Was gone.
All that remained—
Was blood.
And ash.
The boy stood victorious.
But he did not forget—
This triumph was built on a year of relentless planning.
And now…
The age of man was over.
The era of night had begun.
The human race had fallen.
Across every corner of the Earth, vampires reigned.
The boy had commanded—
"Not even a child shall live."
The oceans ran red.
Civilization was gone.
Only the damned remained.
And now—
It was time.
Count Dracula emerged from his cave.
The world, reborn in blood, stood before him.
The boy rushed forward.
"They're gone.
Every last human.
Wiped out.
Earth belongs to the children of darkness now."
Dracula smiled—
A wicked, blazing smile.
But his eyes held something deeper.
"You've done well.
But tell me…
Are you certain none survived?"
The boy nodded, firm.
"Yes, Count.
Not one remains.
The Earth is ours."
Dracula's gaze sharpened.
"Remember this—
In war,
If even one survives…
They can return from the dark.
To seek vengeance.
And if one of us remains—
It is as if all of us remain.
Burn that into your soul."
The boy, moved by the gravity of his words, answered:
"Don't worry.
There are no survivors."
Dracula exhaled.
Satisfied.
"Then I have proven my worth to Hell.
The time has come.
Let my father come to me—
Let me ascend to the throne of fire."
The boy began restructuring the new world.
A singular empire—
With Dracula at its helm.
He gave jobs, homes, structure.
He gave meaning to a world built on ruin.
A great citadel rose from the ashes.
A place fit for the Devil himself.
When it was ready—
Dracula summoned his army.
And then…
The sky darkened.
Black clouds spiraled like a furious dragon.
A tornado ripped down from the heavens.
From within—
He emerged.
The Devil.
Silence fell.
Even Dracula bowed.
Only the boy stood frozen—
Seeing the Prince of Darkness for the first time.
Dracula spoke:
"My Lord.
Welcome.
Earth is ours again.
If you desire, my army shall swear loyalty.
I have fulfilled your will.
Now crown me as King of Hell."
The Devil growled—
Disgusted.
"I am Lucifer.
King of Hell.
For eons, I ruled the flames alone.
No one does it better than me.
You were exiled to the shadows,
And you accepted them—
But you never became them."
Dracula smirked, pain flickering in his eyes:
"You fell into darkness.
I was born in it.
Made by it.
I never knew light.
And even when you cast me down…
I survived.
So yes,
I earned this throne."
The Devil's fury erupted.
He grabbed Dracula by the throat.
Lifted him like a rag doll.
No one could move.
Not even the boy.
With a brutal force—
Lucifer slammed him into the ground.
And then—
He laughed.
"You?
You couldn't even survive me.
Dream of a throne all you want.
But it will never be yours—
Not until I am gone.
And even then…
Maybe."
And with that—
The Devil vanished.
Dracula, broken, turned to the boy.
"We must plan to attack Hell.
Only war will make him yield.
He knows no peace."
But the boy…
He was done.
He smirked bitterly.
"You couldn't even defend yourself.
How will you conquer Hell?
Take your kingdom of dirt.
And pray you don't lose that too."
Dracula's fury boiled.
He struck the boy.
A deafening slap.
The world turned black.
He awoke—
In a hospital bed.
A doctor stood nearby.
"Give the next bed a sedative."
Pain lanced through his side.
The boy whispered:
"Doctor…
What am I doing here?
Why does my side hurt?
Was Dracula's slap that strong?"
The doctor paused.
Smiled bitterly.
"Dracula?
You kept mumbling his name in your coma.
Truth is,
You were attacked behind a restaurant.
They took your kidney.
Left you for dead.
A restaurant owner found you.
You've been on dialysis for three months."
The boy realized—
It was all a dream.
A hallucination.
A world forged in agony and delusion.
Now he lay there—
Empty.
Alone.
With one kidney…
And no future.
Eyes dim,
Voice cold:
"Doctor…
There's nothing left for me.
Nothing.
I don't want to run.
I don't want hope.
I want peace.
A quiet, painless end."
The doctor—
Heart heavy—
Lowered his head.
Then walked away.
But those words…
"There's nothing left for me…"
They stayed.
That night.
The doctor returned.
He held a syringe.
Silent.
Shaking.
He injected the serum into the boy's IV.
He never stirred.
His last breath slipped away—
Like a whisper in the dark.
And in death…
He found peace.
For the first time.
No war.
No pain.
No fangs.
No gods.
Only stillness.