Shroud of Nosferatu

The sky fell but the heavens did not weep.

When I lifted my chin, blood spattered my armor warm against my skin. Shattered pieces of dragon—enemy and friend—darkened the sky, blotting out the sun. Among them were fragments of my comrades. My friends. My ward.

Time stood still as I knelt in the center of it all, the crimson rain shifting, defying gravity, rising upward. The blurred figures of the witches wavered in the distance, their chants mocking us. They were spread in perfect formation, encircling the battlefield like silent sentinels. Runes carved into the ground shuddered and sealed shut, streaks of silver light locking us inside the array. It was complete.

The Wendeworm surrounded us, snapping their jaws, wings thundering as they hovered, waiting to finish the last of us.

Nerezza—the woman I had loved, once—clung to me, her fingers digging into my side. A thousand apologies spilled from her lips, but I couldn’t hear them. The air was thick with the gnashing of teeth, the final cries of my Grootslang.

My generals still fought, though their battalions had exhausted themselves long ago. They fought not for victory, but for each other. Too stubborn to accept defeat. Too proud to let weakness slip into their minds, for weakness was contagious, and we could not afford it.

“You have betrayed me,” I murmured, my voice hollow. I watched the fighting as though I were reading the final page of a story I already knew.

“Don’t you know how I loved you?” Nerezza’s voice cracked. “I could not have loved you more! But you…” She couldn’t finish. Instead, she pressed her face into my robes, straining the fabric as she trembled against me.

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. Finally, I looked at her. “You’ve killed us.”

Her apologies turned to whispers, desperate prayers to gods that had long abandoned us.

The air thickened, damp with something unnatural. A change was coming. I pulled away from her, the fabric of my robes slipping from her grasp, and let the transformation take me.

My form stretched and burned as I shifted, scales unfolding along my skin, my wings unfurling with a crack like thunder. My talons clenched the earth, claws sinking into the blood-drenched soil. My vision sharpened, locking onto the golden beast above the array.

That beast was the King of the Wendeworm, my enemy, ready to take my head.

“Helios,” I rumbled, my voice carrying across the battlefield. “A millennium of war between us. Let it end today.”

He rose to meet me in the sky, massive and radiant, his scales like molten gold. Unlike our bat-like wings, his were feathered, vast and steady, as if he had been sculpted from the very sun itself. Strands of his mane, soft as starlight, rippled with each beat of his wings. He was lithe where I was heavy, elegant where I was raw power.

I roared, calling my generals and my kin. This was our last stand.

Helios and I circled, fire blazing in our throats, wings carving through the air in a dance as old as time itself. He struck first, unleashing a torrent of lightning that cracked against my scales, searing pain through my ribs. I answered with fire, a maelstrom of black and red, filling the sky with smoke and fury.

Claws met claws. Fangs clashed.

Then, the world shattered.

A sound unlike any I had ever known pierced the battlefield. A melody, haunting and beautiful, seeping into my bones, into my mind. The sky rippled. The ground trembled. The very fabric of reality twisted, and a rift tore open above us.

I fought it. I fought against the pull of the sound, but it was insidious, burrowing into my consciousness, wrapping around my thoughts like a serpent. My limbs grew heavy. My wings faltered. The battle blurred around me. Helios, too, slowed, his golden eyes dulling as the music wrapped around us both.

My body betrayed me, dragging me down into an abyss I could not see. Darkness yawned open beneath me, and I fell, my roar swallowed by the void.

The last thing I saw was Helios, his great wings folding, his light dimming.

And then, there was nothing.

Delete

HUNDREDS OF YEARS LATER

The wind howls against my back as I cling to the cliff face, shoving me closer to its death grip. Every breath scrapes my throat. Cold bites through my gloves. Sharp edges dig into my fingers until my muscles burn.

But the fear of failing this mission burns hotter than the fear of falling.

Still… if I fall, no one will ever know who I was. No body to recover. No records.

So, if you’re hearing this—my real name is Carol. Nobody knows that. No database. No ID match.

I’ve always gone by Rubi—the nickname Beth gave me before she died.

“You’re the most resilient. Like a rock. You’ll be a ruby someday.”

It’s almost funny now. I don’t feel like a ruby.

I’m clinging to a goddamn mountain.

How’d I end up here? Bad planning. Worse career choices. And Hotsuma.

No, that’s his actual name—Hotsuma. Yeah, he’s hot, but right now, he’s just a voice in my ear.

His research dragged us to these northern mountains hunting what might be the original vampire of the region. And my poor decision-making agreed to every step that got us here.

Honestly, it wasn’t until we were bumping along mountain roads in a Humvee that it really hit me—what the hell am I doing? I gripped every handle in reach while Hotsuma laughed, especially when my foot stomped down on an imaginary brake. Almost hyperventilated. I still don’t know why I said yes.

Maybe it’s habit. A life spent saying yes to things because no one ever cared if I lived or died. Not until I met Hotsuma and Beth.

Now, here I am—dangling off a cliff—part of this… odd, symbiotic, painfully platonic partnership. We travel, hunt artifacts, chase bounties. It’s freedom. Good money, when we live long enough to enjoy it.

I freeze, pinned by fear, questioning every choice that led me here.

Stupidly, I look down.

Mist swirls far below, thin as a veil. Past that? Just empty sky.

My breath catches. I’m high enough for clouds to form below me.

Panic hits—my foot slips, pebbles skitter down, swallowed by the void.

For a breathless second, I’m dangling—my full weight tearing at my arms.

I think about what people would find if I fall.

I think about Hotsuma—what we’ll find if I don’t.

But it’s not the fall that should terrify me. It’s what’s waiting at the top. If Hotsuma’s right, the original vampire’s lair is up there.

That’s what should scare me. And it will—once I stop imagining the splat at the bottom.

No. I have to remember why I’m here. Why we came.

Focus.

I step carefully, balancing on a narrow rock for leverage before shifting to a larger, smoother one. Once both feet are anchored, I press my forehead against the cool stone and flatten myself against it, taking a shaky breath.

I have to keep going. For humanity. For the reward. And—well, for the money. Endymion—the rarest, strongest material—fetches more than gold. We trade it like our lives depend on it… because they do.

I’ve faced worse. Warlocks. Vampires. At least they’re predictable. Nature’s the real monster.

It’s hard to believe this is what the world’s become. One day, the curtain dropped, and every nightmare we ever feared was real. Vampires, warlocks, ghosts, were-anythings… they all crawled out from the dark. We stopped fighting each other and started fighting them.

Then someone discovered Endymion. Impenetrable. Deadly. Spirits can’t pass through it, and no claw or fang can break it. It’s our only chance.

This mission will earn us enough to finish the stronghold—our last shot at home. The thought almost makes me smile.

*“You’re not focusing.”*

The voice in my ear startles me. Calm. Controlled. Hotsuma.

“You scared me!” I hiss. “I almost fell! And you wait until now to talk?”

*“I could count the seconds until you drifted off again. Like clockwork.”*

I snort, picturing him adjusting his glasses with that smug smile. Pale blond hair, sharp Asian features, strong jaw—annoyingly perfect.

“Hmm. Don’t distract me.” I grunt, hauling myself up another boulder.

*“What were you thinking about?”*

“Remember that were-swan?” I puff. “So pretty… until he wasn’t.”

*“You tried. I succeeded,” he corrects smoothly. “He’s real pretty now—mounted on Runihara’s wall.”*

“Don’t remind me.” A shudder crawls down my spine. “I’m trying not to think about her.”

*“Talk to me, what do you see.”*

“Almost there.” I grit my teeth and lurch upward, scraping through the last crevice until, finally, my hands find solid ground. I scramble onto the blessed earth, breathing hard.

Lying flat, staring up at the sky, it hits me. That wasn’t the hard part. Now comes not getting eaten.

The air is thin up here, the sky choked by mist. Only a few scraggly plants break the barren stretch of stone.

“This place looks dead,” I mutter. “No trade, no life. Been abandoned forever.”

*“Since before the fall of humans.”*

“Back when wooden wagons were a thing? Yikes. That is your department.”

I shake my head, boots sinking into dirt as I approach the cave. Its mouth yawns open, jagged rocks framing a void of pure black. No wind, no sound—just the heavy scent of damp decay.

“Hotsuma… I’m going in blind. Can’t see a thing. Light doesn’t touch it.”

*“It’s called the Diamond Cave,” he replies, voice precise. “There’s a well just inside. Don’t step too far—feel with your foot. There are carved steps along the wall. That’s your way down.”*

I exhale slowly. Red flags everywhere. But that’s the job. The more danger, the higher the payout.

“This is a terrible idea,” I mutter.

A sudden gust howls around me, urging me forward. I glance at the sun—maybe four hours ‘til dark. No matter what, I’m out of this cave before then. Shroud or no shroud.

He was right, as usual. The stone steps led me to the center where the wind felt stagnant, and a deafening silence echoed off the walls—almost calming. That is, until Hotsumas’ voice broke it.

*“Make some light, I want to know if there are paintings of the Grootslang!”*

I grumbled and activated my hat. A sharp light cut through the darkness, illuminating the space in a soft glow.

*“Based on the carbon dating of the mummified hand, there should be cave paintings. The natives used to interact with the Grootslang to mine rare materials. The Grootslang were the only ones who could protect Nosferatu’s resting place.”*

“Didn’t know you were a history buff,” I shrugged, scanning the walls. “Thought you were just good at research when there’s money in it.”

Silence. Hotsuma wasn’t much for jokes, not even mine.

The darkness remained heavy, even with my light. “So, a painting?” I asked.

*“Yes,” he said, stretching the word as if I should know better.*

I continued my search. “What we agreed on if I prove you wrong?”

*“Later,” he muttered, clearly distracted.*

“I see tapestries,” I said, halting to admire one. The colors were vibrant, surprising for their age. “These aren’t cave paintings. Aren’t tapestries medieval, European?”

*“Show me,” he urged, excitement creeping into his voice.*

With a few clicks, I sent pictures. *“These tapestries depict Grootslang,” he explained. “They’re extinct, but they seem to be burrowing, sleeping on mountains, and attacking humans.”*

“Could be big,” I said. “But look at how close this all is to the fall. Vampires got stronger when the dragons disappeared.”

*“Exactly. This is why we took the job. It could give us clues on how to tip the scales in favor of humans.”*

“It’s a nice surprise?”

*“Not good,” he said after a pause. “This is too close to our time.”*

“You sound uneasy.”

““I’m coming up there. Wait for me.”*

“Ok, fifty bucks says you can’t get up here as fast as I did.”

I walked deeper into the corridor, passing odd objects and layers of dirt. The air grew musty, not like the cave at all.

“I’m probably passing valuable stuff, but I want to see what’s at the end. What else should be here? I think I saw a gold lamp.”

No answer. “Hotsuma?” I stopped in my tracks.

Still nothing.

The objects piled up around me—furniture, trinkets, things I couldn’t even recognize. I used them for balance as I made my way forward. My light caught on gems, silver, and gold, casting tiny rainbows across the walls.

“Last time I saw precious metals like this was when Cranky Hank used a gem-encrusted to comb the lice of his pet rompo.”

Then I found it—a heavy, grainy door at the end of the hall, scuffed and adorned with designs. It looked almost too big to open, but when a breath of air moved it, I stepped inside without thinking.

I don’t remember what I saw before I blacked out. Only the faint sound of jewelry clinking in the stillness.

RUBI

“I’m almost to the top,” I said, looking up. Using a crevasse in between two boulders, smashed together over time, I lurch myself the final aching few inches to the top. Finally, arriving at the top, I placed my palms on the ground above me and was able to wiggle the rest of myself up.

As my field of vision rose, I pull myself onto stable, wonderful, earth. “I’m so happy to be on something solid,” I breath heavily into the mic.

Laying for a moment in exhaustion staring at the sky, the realization slowly sunk in.

That wasn’t the actual hard part. Now I try not to get eaten.

I was, thankfully, on my feet now. The air is dangerously thin here, but after what felt like enough time, I adjusted my breathing and continued. This place honestly is barren; there were few plants and far as the eye could see there was mist covering my view of the sky except for other mountain peaks like this one.

“It looks inhospitable. Like, it wo