Chapter 2: The Attack

Aria had been fast asleep.

A faint, dreamy smile curled the edge of her lips as she rolled onto her side, her arms wrapped tightly around her pillow like a child clinging to warmth. Her chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm. Her lashes flickered gently, her features soft and serene, the tangled waves of her red hair fanned across the pillow like molten threads of flame.

Across the narrow room, on a second bed, her elder brother Eiran slept like a stone. His low snoring came in slow, even hums—strangely gentle for someone of his size. It echoed faintly through the still air, not nearly loud enough to pull Aria from her blissful dream.

She stirred just a little, adjusting her position without waking. But then—

A deafening bang shattered the silence.

The entire house seemed to tremble slightly under the weight of it. The wooden walls groaned. The floors vibrated. The sudden force of the sound cracked through the quiet like lightning tearing through a clear sky.

Aria’s body jolted upright as though struck. Her eyes flew open, wide with shock, her breath caught halfway between a gasp and a scream. Her chest rose rapidly, her heart already slamming against her ribs as she tried to make sense of what was going on.

Across the room, Eiran remained still on the bed for a moment longer, dead to the world. But then the door burst open, slamming so hard against the wall that it nearly jumped off its hinges.

Their father stormed in.

Tharen’s footsteps were thunderous, each one vibrating through the wooden floor. His jaw was clenched, his eyes wild with something dark—fear, maybe, or fury, or both. Thick leather armor was strapped over his grey tunic, the buckles shining under the dim candlelight. The sight was so foreign, so out of place, it sent a jolt of cold panic racing down Aria’s spine.

’Father never wears that!’

"EIRAN!" Tharen bellowed, his voice booming like a war horn. The panic in his tone and face twisted something in Aria’s gut, turned her insides to ice as she heard him hurriedly wake Eiren, her brother up.

"Father... Father, what’s wrong?" Aria stammered. Her voice came out thin and shaky. She pushed herself to her feet, wiping the sleep from her eyes with trembling hands, her limbs clumsy as she stumbled over the side of her bed.

Eiran was stirring now, his brow furrowed as the echoes of their father’s voice finally pulled him into the waking world. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, blinked in confusion as he sat up.

"Father, is something—" Aria began again, trying to tie the loose sash around her woolen gown. Her fingers fumbled with the knot. The room felt colder now. Every movement, every second, stretched longer than it should.

And then she froze.

Her gaze snapped toward the third bed at the far side of the room.

It was empty.

Not a wrinkle in the blanket. No imprint of a body. The pillow lay untouched.

"Liora isn’t here!" she cried out, her voice rising with fear. Her hands flew to her mouth as her eyes widened. ’Neither is mother!’ Aira thought looking around and not seeing any sign of them.

"Father! What’s happening?" Eiran demanded. He was awake now, fully. He pulled on his leather armor with frantic hands, lacing it over his brown tunic, his boots already half-fastened. His red hair hung in messy strands across his forehead, but there was no time to fix it.

Tharen didn’t stop moving. He strode across the room to the wardrobe and yanked the doors open with a furious snap. Clothes flew out in a storm—shirts, belts, cloaks all flung to the ground with no care. His eyes searched wildly, his hands tearing through everything with desperation.

"Selira, Your mother took her! The-they should be safe!" he barked. His voice cracked under the weight of his own fear. His hands moved faster, his breathing growing ragged.

"Safe? Where?" Aria gasped.

"Gone? Why?" Eiran echoed, his voice sharp and growing confusion.

Then—CRACK.

Tharen slammed his fist straight through the back of the wardrobe. Wood splintered and split. Blood immediately bloomed across his knuckles, sharp slivers biting into his skin. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t pause.

The blow revealed a secret compartment hidden behind the panel.

Rows of silver weapons glinted inside, their metal darkened with age and purpose. Silver-tipped arrows, delicate glass vials that glowed faintly in the dim light, tightly sealed scrolls bound with iron twines,

Aria’s breath hitched. Her throat was dry.

She opened her mouth to ask the question burning inside her, but her father beat her to it, speaking first.

"I have been extremely careful..." Tharen muttered, voice tight, words nearly strangled by urgency. His face was drawn, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion and something deeper—regret, maybe.

"...extremely!" he repeated with more force, yanking two small rings from the stash and shoving them into Aria and Eiran’s hands. His fingers were shaking now.

"Family rings. Put them on!" he instructed.

Without a second wasted, he turned back and began yanking out items and stuffing them into an old leather satchel. His movements were feverish, frantic.

"We’re leaving! We have to! They’re coming!" he shouted. His voice cracked on the last word. His hands kept working, yanking free scrolls and daggers, selecting only the most important things.

There was too much. Far too much.

Most of it would have to be left behind.

"We are?" Aria whispered, disbelief and fear clawing at her throat.

"Who is coming?" Eiran demanded, louder now, eyes wide with dread.

Tharen looked up at him briefly, his mouth grim.

"I have taught you everything I know! The rest... the rest is in the books in that bag!" he said, tossing a heavy, stuffed satchel toward Eiran.

Eiran caught it, but Aria didn’t move.

She just stared at her father, her arms limp by her sides. She had never seen him like this. Sweat soaked through his tunic. It ran in thick trails down his neck. His hands moved fast, but not steady. His jaw was tight—grinding against fear.

"Father, you mentioned that our family is a family of hunters, but we’ve never done anything wrong!" she cried, voice cracking under the weight of everything she couldn’t say. Her eyes darted toward the door—toward the space where her mother should be, where Liora should be.

"Why would anyone—"

But she didn’t get to finish.

The sound of hooves erupted outside.

Dozens of them.

Pounding the ground like drums of war. The neighing of horses was sharp and shrill, their riders fast approaching. The noise filled the air, swallowing everything.

Aria turned toward her father.

His face had gone pale.

"They—they are here!" he rasped, barely able to get the words out.

"The Vampires are here!"