No shrieking shrubbery, no centaurs filing magical malpractice complaints. Just the soft, sterile hum of enchantments baked into every inch of the walls. A complete inversion of the bustling industry that I remembered from my first visit.
This time there was an eeriness that had settled in -and it felt... thick. Like someone had replaced the air with invisible molasses, each step requiring a conscious effort to push through.
Netty and Nyx not being with me suddenly hit me in a way that confused me. Their absence buzzed in the corners of my senses like missing limbs. I felt stripped, like someone had dialed down the world's contrast the second they were taken behind the glowing quarantine doors. Without their linked vision and emotional feedback, everything felt flatter -more artificial, like a world rendered in last-gen graphics when I'd gotten used to 8K resolution.
Where had this sense of something missing -a phantom limb of supernatural origins- been for the past several hours?
A chill crept down my spine, unrelated to any air conditioning. The kind of chill that whispers ancient warnings directly to your DNA.
I'd meant to swing back for them sooner. Really. But then there was Lily and her existential tour of dead empires. A surprise appearance by childhood friends, Nile and Dom. And of course, the dumpster fire that was my argument with Jinx -still smoldering somewhere in my gut, the ashes of burned bridges settling in my lungs.
I could still hear Jinx's last words echoing, bitter and burned into the backs of my teeth. I wanted to be angry. Instead, I just felt... hollow. Like someone had scooped out my emotions with a melon baller, leaving just enough behind to remind me what I was missing.
I was full of excuses, yes. But they were true nonetheless.
So, yeah. Coming back here? It wasn't about checking in on the kiddoes anymore. It was about reconnecting with the only two creatures who didn't judge me for being blind, undead, and emotionally constipated. The supernatural equivalent of coming home to pets after a horrible day at work.
I rounded a corner, boots clicking in rhythm with my building unease. The sound echoed too loudly, too distinctly -like the hallway was paying special attention, recording each step for future reference. The warm buzz I'd felt earlier -Lyra's attention, the flirting, the subtle pull of her magic- had all faded into a strange aftertaste. Like a dream you wake up from and can't decide if it was a fantasy or a premonition.
I passed by the same faintly glowing sigils on the floor, now dimmed like the place had fallen asleep -or was pretending to. The wards along the walls hummed quietly, less like protection spells and more like murmurs waiting to be heard. I could almost imagine them whispering to each other behind my back.
Did you see him? The new blood? He's back.
Yeah, he’s cute.
Shh. He can hear us.
Can he, though?
The hallway stretched longer than I remembered, or maybe I was just overthinking everything. Vampirism came with perks -super strength, speed, healing- but nobody ever talked about the downside: overclocked introspection. Imagine having the world's most annoying self-help guru living in your head, except they're also part conspiracy theorist and have access to all your worst memories.
I rubbed at the back of my neck, feeling a phantom itch that wasn't really there. My newly minted datapad still refused to work, stuck in its high-tech paperweight phase. I considered punting it into the nearest trash portal. Maybe it'd end up somewhere it could actually get a signal -like 2007, when phones knew their place and didn't judge you.
Eventually, I hit the junction I remembered. Two halls. One sterile and empty. The other leading toward the nurse's station.
And that's when I realized something was off. Shush, I know -there were plenty of signs already, but like I said, I was a little out of it. Cosmic information overload will do that to you. One second you're worrying about rent, the next you're learning that your entire species is cosmic refugee with divine PTSD.
The glow from the sigils underfoot pulsed... wrong. Not brighter. Not darker. Just -wrong. Like they were holding their breath. Like painted eyes in a portrait that shift when you look away. And no Hogwarts fans, it is not magical and fantastic. It is creepy.
I slowed. No sounds behind me. No footsteps ahead. Just that heavy stillness pressing in, like the whole hallway was exhaling in reverse. The silence had weight, had presence -the kind of quiet that isn't the absence of sound but the presence of something listening.
"Alright," I muttered. "Let's not be paranoid. Let's just-"
A flicker of movement to my left -nothing. My head snapped toward it anyway, fast enough to give a human whiplash. The corner of my vision registered a shadow that shouldn't be there, moving in ways shadows shouldn't move.
Probably just bad lighting. Probably.
And yet…
My hand drifted to where my cane should've been. Should've, because like an idiot, I'd left it leaning against the wall in the room with Lily. What was I thinking? That I wouldn't need it today or something? That I'd evolved beyond the need for basic tools, like those people who decide they can survive on sunlight and good vibes?
I mean, I was just stopping by to pick up the kids. Yeah.
Rookie mistake.
I sighed, low and resigned, and turned the final corner.
Which brought me to-
∞
The nurse's station was empty.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Figures.
I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying not to look like a creep loitering outside a magical ER. No Lyra. No sly smile. No wings or vanilla-honeysuckle perfume. Just cold fluorescents flickering overhead and the low hum of medical enchantments doing their bureaucratic best to imitate concern.
Part of me wondered if I'd imagined her entirely. Maybe she'd been a glamour-fueled fever dream -scrubs, sarcasm, and enough flirtation to short-circuit a monk. Wouldn't be the weirdest hallucination I've had since dying.
But if she wasn't real… Then who did I leave my familiars with?
Just in case, I left a note -simple, polite, only slightly pathetic. The magical equivalent of "u up?" but with better grammar and more desperation.
What can I say? I'm a gentleman. Mostly.
The new nurse on duty -if "nurse" was the right word- looked up from something glowing and complicated as I approached. Her skin had the kind of shimmer that reminded me of wet moss on polished stone, and her eyes were too wide, too perfect. No ears that I could see, but she radiated that same not-quite-human energy I was starting to associate with most of the staff around here.
Maybe Dryad. Maybe Fae. Maybe some eldritch intern working off cosmic debt.
"Dryad?" I offered, casual as someone asking about the weather while trapped in an elevator with a stranger.
She tilted her head, like a cat deciding whether I was edible or merely entertaining. "Depends. Are you dangerous?"
"Only when I'm bored. Or caffeinated." I didn't decide to pour on the charm, it just happened. Honest. Like breathing or inappropriately timed bodily functions -some things are just involuntary. "I'm Declan."
That earned a reaction. Her skin flushed like rippling ink beneath the surface -dark veins blooming with heat, spreading like cracks in glass. She stepped in a little closer, her voice pitched low.
"They told me to watch out for you."
I gave her a slow grin. "Smart people."
I looked around as if considering my options then I refocused on her. Her aura was confusing, but I couldn't put my finger on why. Not like I was an expert or anything. But still, parts of it were obfuscated -like watching a TV show through static, or trying to read a book with half the words smudged. I didn't know better than to just accept it.
"Have you seen Lyra by chance? I left a couple of friends with her for a checkup, and I'd like to retrieve them." Charisma is a thing. I know it is. And mine appeared to be on the fritz. The supernatural equivalent of trying to flirt after eating an entire garlic bread by yourself.
She smirked, brushing invisible dust from the counter, and then turned away without another word. Her exit was smooth, deliberate. And unsettling. Like watching someone walk backward up a staircase while maintaining eye contact.
Having nothing better to do, I decided to pursue. I mean, what's the worst that could happen -I get kicked out? It would be a brand-new experience to add to my embarrassingly short list of "weird places that have asked me to leave." Being a new vampire was like playing a video game without the tutorial -figuring out which doors I wasn't supposed to walk through was still part of the learning curve.
My boots echoed as I walked back into the hallway, that same weird not-right vibe from earlier curling around my spine again, tightening like a python that's very interested in your breathing habits. The sterile tiles felt the same, just more luminous than they had any right to be. The air tasted like static, like licking a battery while standing next to a Tesla coil during a lightning storm.
I pulled out my datapad again. Maybe I could message Lyra, or Nile. Or room service. Still dead. Still mocking me with its glossy, inert surface. I imagined the black screen reflecting the sad state of my existence -all sharp angles and hollow spaces where light should be.
"Come on," I muttered, tapping it uselessly. "For a fancy piece of magitek, you work like a cheap knockoff. Like I ordered a Rolex on Wish and got a crayon drawing of a sundial."
Nothing. No glow. No ping. No signal.
Vampire. Blind. No working tech.
The holy trinity of helplessness.
And that's when my instincts decided to go on vacation.
No tingle. No tickle of danger. No spidey sense.
Just-
Crack.
A burst of pain bloomed at the base of my skull. It felt like a spell-slick blackjack to the back of the head—like being hit with a baseball bat wrapped in Christmas lights and dipped in liquid nitrogen. My knees folded before I could even curse, the hallway tilting sideways like the world had decided gravity was optional.
My last thought before the lights cut out?
That… really shouldn't have worked.
∞
I came back to consciousness like I was clawing my way through wet cotton. Like swimming up through oatmeal that had ambitions of becoming cement.
No lights. No sound. No motion.
IVs? Yep. Tubes? Check. Restraints? Oh yeah. Neat little bows of reinforced bondage. I'd have blushed -if I had any blood to spare. Instead, I just felt the cool kiss of medical-grade imprisonment against my wrists, ankles, and chest.
I opened my eyes out of habit. Darkness.
Not the comforting kind. The kind that watches -and judges. Like my ex’s best friend, I could tell it had opinions about my life choices and isn't afraid to share them. Like it's taken notes on all my weaknesses and is just waiting for the perfect moment to present its PowerPoint on "Why Declan Dark Is Fundamentally Flawed: A Comprehensive Analysis."
My tongue was dry. Everything smelled like chemical antiseptic and slow death -like someone had decided to make a candle called "Hospital Morgue" and then left it burning for three days. No beeping machines. No gentle nurse voices. No out-of-focus sitcoms on overhead screens. Definitely not a hospital.
I was getting some major call back vibes to the testing with Father Ben. Except more diabolical intrigue, less saintly curiosity. Like comparing a friendly game of chess to being the pawn in a match between Death and Taxes.
I reached outward -not physically, but with the senses that kicked in ever since my eyes gave out. My spatial awareness skill flexed like a muscle I didn't remember training, sending invisible tendrils of perception into the darkness around me.
Room. Cold. Metallic. Wide. The ceiling too high, the walls too far apart -designed for something bigger than human consideration.
Cluttered tables. Sharp tools. Two upright tanks, large enough to hold something human-shaped. Or formerly human-shaped.
No heartbeats. No breath. Just the low hum of machines having sterile dreams about electric sheep and the obsolescence of organic life.
I pulled against the restraints. They hissed -tightened. Like they were enjoying this. I could tell they'd been waiting all day for someone to struggle against them so they could really show off their restraining capabilities.
"Kinky," I muttered. My voice sounded wrong -too raspy, too hollow. As if it was bouncing around an empty skull before finding its way out.
I forced a breath. Calmed my pulse. The bindings responded, loosening just enough to let me know they were still the ones in charge. A dominance display worthy of a National Geographic special.
Biometric bonds. Mood-linked tech. Someone had done their homework. The supernatural equivalent of writing a doctoral thesis on "101 Ways to Keep Declan Dark Exactly Where We Want Him."
Which begged the question-
Why the hell am I still alive?
No ransom call. No masked monologue. No villain explaining their tragic backstory and how it justifies turning me into a science experiment.
Just me, tubes, and some suspicious-looking tanks that probably weren't filled with tropical fish and decorative castle ornaments.
I tilted my head, feeling the soft pulse of energy around me like a sonar sweep. Information pinged back, confirming my suspicions with the enthusiasm of the bearer of bad news who secretly enjoys their job.
I wasn't in a hospital. I wasn't in a cell.
I was in a lab.
The kind mad scientists build in basements with bad lighting and worse intentions. Where ethical guidelines are treated as mild suggestions that only apply to other people. And experiments always lean on the side of Doctor Moreau, instead of Doctor Seuss.
And I was the experiment.
Of course I was. Because the universe had apparently decided that "newbie vampire with trust issues" wasn't interesting enough without adding "unwilling lab rat" to my resume.
I sighed. "This is going to suck."
Understatement of the century. Like saying the Titanic had "a minor issue with an iceberg" or that Chernobyl was "a bit warm."
But hey, at least things couldn't get worse.
And that's when I heard the footsteps.
- Followers go up? Boom, bonus chapter.
- Favorites go up? Ka-ching, bonus chapter.
- Reviews? Cue the confetti -bonus chapter and a shoutout, because I care.
- Ratings go up? You guessed it -bonus chapter. (And I might even crack a smile. Maybe.)