Prologue.

Breathe.

Breathe, a small voice at the back of her head whispers.

(It’s a familiar voice, one that makes her freeze, makes her lose all focus, for just a short moment.)

Take a deep breath. Try to breathe.

Her eyes fly open, then, and she does take a deep breath, then, the sound ragged to her ears as she tries to steady herself. constricts and she really can’t breathe right then.

“Just give up.” A voice murmurs in her left ear, warm breath caressing her earlobe in an unsettling sort of way. She shivers, a chill running down her spine and she’s never felt so damn alive. At that moment, everything comes back to her. The sound of the crowd, the low-toned cheering morphing into something deafening, ear-splitting, the soft hisses and faint boos, rush back to her so fast, her head starts to spin at the intensity of it all. Though, she thinks the dizzy, nausea may also be on account of the fact that there’s a hand wrapped around .

She opens her eyes and finds herself staring at blood red eyes, pupils nothing more than tiny pinpricks set upon a deep dark red background. Then the man grins, all languid and wide, fangs pressing into his bottom lip.

She stares at the man—vampire—and thinks this is how she’s going to die, at the mercy of some ugly vampire in the middle of some dinky underground hideaway. She grimaces because, first of all, vampires aren’t supposed to be ugly, but, thanks to her luck, she gets to spend her last breaths staring up at an ugly vampire and, second of all, she’s broke and she can’t afford to die.

The vampire just tilts his head and his smile grows wider, grip tightening around , and her mind goes into overdrive at the pain, the loss of oxygen. She claws at his fingers, soundlessly, and the crowd screams with more passion than they ever do whenever she beats the out of someone, which is rather messed up of them. The less she can breathe, the more alive she feels though, and she revels in it, in the intensity of it all, in the rather sobering fact that she’s minutes, seconds, away from dying. Her fingers fall away from the vampire’s hands, her eyes practically bulging out of her head as she tries to find her gloves without being able to move her body. The vampire’s too focused on choking the life out of her to notice her fingers curling around her spiked gloves. The room is too crowded, too loud, for the vampire to hear her sigh of relief as she quickly straps the glove on with one hand and curls her fingers into a fist. She may not be strong, not compared to these monsters, but she trusts in her weapons, her instincts, and her wits. Besides, all she needs to do is knock the lights out of her opponent to win.

(That’s all she needs.)

So she winds up her fist and knocks her steel spiked knuckles into the left side of the vampire’s face, watching as the vampire’s expression morphs from smug satisfaction to surprise to anger to barely masked pain. It’s almost comical to watch, the way his mouth falls open, the way his head seems to move back first, before his body tumbles after him, the surprise of the hit just enough to get him to loosen his grip on her. She rolls onto her side before crawling out of the way, breathing heavily as she picks up her other glove before she stumbles, spinning on her heels to face the vampire as she tries to get her bearings, ignoring the dizziness. He’s squatting, clutching his face, and she watches the way his tanned skin sizzles in the terrible dim light, vampire blood, an unusual dark red-almost-black color, dripping from separate, evenly spaced holes dotting the left side of his face.

She grins, still rubbing at her sore neck, and the crowd boos at her.

He grips his face, “You put ing lavender on that?” He screams the question, his voice booming, bouncing off the low, dinky ceiling.

She thinks it’s incredible how loud he is, how quiet the crowd has become, teeming with a sort of anticipation, a careful moment of hesitancy that makes the hair at the back of her neck stand on end and her spine tingle.

She just shrugs and he snarls at her, all fangs and red glowing eyes, teeming with rage, “That’s against the damn rules.”

“I never said I put anything on the gloves.” She responds, “Maybe I just punch hard.”

The sound that leaves his mouth is low, guttural, and she suppresses the shudder that runs up her spine, ignores the goosebumps the vampire’s look gives her. “You .” He growls out before he shoots forward, so fast that her human eyes barely catch the movement, a feat that she’s managed to accomplish only because she’s had a ridiculous amount of practice at this.

(She’s practiced so much that she can catch the flicker of movement, the small ripple in the air in front of her, just in time, and so she swings, knowing that the vampire won’t expect it from her and that can and will be her advantage.)

She swings her fist, jabbing into the air right in front of her, and gasps when she hits something solid, blinking rapidly when her wrist buckles under the solid build for just a moment before she braces herself, gritting her teeth as she digs her fist further into the solid figure in front of her, looking up.

The vampire stares down at her, mouth falling open as black blood drips down the corner of his mouth. The sight of his protruding fangs is terrifying enough to make her heart beat wildly in her chest as she stares on, unable to look away. She’s still human, though, she’s still afraid, terrified. And he’s still a creature of prey. He can sense her fear and it’s a feast to his senses. He twitches, jerks forward, and she panics, twisting her wrist and there’s a soft clink as the spikes in her glove lengthen and the vampire grunts, choking on his own blood, black blood that dribbles out his lips and splatters onto her bare arms, hitting her cheek when he coughs out profanity in a language she doesn’t understand.

It’s quiet between them, the ugly vampire gasping for breath he doesn’t even need while she breathes heavily, raggedly, her fingers clenched and her jaw tight. The crowd around them is hushed, buzzing in its silence.

Then a whistle is blown and she retracts her glove’s spikes, stumbling away quickly as the vampire buckles over, falling to his knees. He looks up at her, blood red eyes swirling angrily in the dim light as he grits his teeth but she ignores it, glancing back at the mediator (a man with long hair, pointed ears, and a permanent scowl), who looks incredibly disappointed as he reaches for her hand and lifts it in the air. His hand feels like a field of snow in hers and she tries not to flinch at the coldness emanating from his hands even as he announces her as the winner yet again (he sounds clearly peeved when he announces that last word, another burst of cold air settling over her). There are cheers among the people booing her, more than she ever really expected, and she grins. She can’t help it.

~.~.~.~.~

She fiddles with the hem of her black shirt and the room is quiet after she stops speaking, eerily so, despite the sounds of cars honking beyond the open balcony door. Her eyes meet yours and you can see the hesitation in her eyes, the moment where she’s thinking of running away, disappearing into the night never to return again. Your heartbeat grows unsteady, frantic, because you’ve waited years for this opportunity, decades even, and this is your big break and you need her to stay. You need it. Your career, your livelihood, your peace of mind, your morals all create little voices in your head, screaming for you to stop her from fleeing, to say something instead of allowing your only lead to the place this world once was to slip out of your hands before you’ve even managed to get a coherent account out of her.

But you can’t say a word and she stares at you, gaze intense, careful. Then she whispers, “Why?”

The word echoes in the room, bouncing off the walls, her voice so low it makes a shiver run up and down your spine.

You blink, “Huh?” You murmur, startled at the sudden question.

“Why do you want to record this?”

“I’ve already told you. I think it’s time the world acknowledged what had happened instead of ignoring—”

“Cut the bull.” She cuts you off, voice sharp and you swear you see her dark brown eyes redden for a moment, flashing in the fading summer sun pouring through the open balcony doors. You glance at the doors and you’re glad, God you’re so glad, that those doors are open, that there’s a way for people to hear you if— “I’ve spent a long, long time around all kinds of people. Centuries, to be exact. Sometimes they weren’t even people.” She cuts off your thoughts, eyes piercing, so intense it feels like she’s gazing into your soul. She leans forward, her dark hair falling over her shoulder, the afternoon sun casting eerie shadows along her tanned face. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this for the greater good. No one is that selfless.”

Her eyes grow distant then, like she’s suddenly transported centuries back in time and you have no idea what she’s seeing, what she’s remembering, but you want to know.

And judging from her expression, honesty is the best way to get her to stay.

You glance at the open balcony doors one last time before you speak, your voice soft, uncharacteristically timid to your own ears, “Your kind. The other creatures that used to roam this world…they’re all myths now.”

“Because we erased the evidence.” She murmurs, leaning back against the couch as she crosses her legs, “We agreed upon a blank slate.”

“Yes, but.” You pause, you hesitate, and her eyes never leave yours, unblinking, “But, no one believes it anymore. The history books were rewritten and. And I want to shake these people by the shoulders and scream at them to listen, to believe. But everyone just laughs.”

“You want to be right.” She raises a perfectly arched brow, smiling slightly. “You want to prove them wrong.”

You nod, cheeks heating up because it’s embarrassing when she puts it like that. It’s vindictive, petty, because you want to laugh in the faces of everyone who laughed at you. The money you’ll probably get won’t be too bad either.

She snorts unattractively, though she still manages to make it look attractive, and she grins, so widely that her white teeth show. You can see the slight sharpness to them and you suppress the shiver running up your spine. “You want money and fame, too, huh?”

You look away, reddening. “That’d be nice, too.”

“Very selfish, indeed.” She nods, almost approvingly, and you think of the story she just told, the fights she supposedly partook in more than once. There’s a moment of understanding and you think maybe, maybe, you’ve managed to get her to stay, to tell her story.

It’s quiet again and this time she looks at you in contemplation, tapping a manicured finger against the tip of her chin.

“There is a reason why we never bothered to keep all this in the record books, you do understand that right? There is a reason why we wanted the world to forget.” She murmurs, tilting her head to the side.

“Why?” You repeat her question back at her, in hopes that she’ll keep talking, that she’ll forge on into her story.

She smiles, her red lips stretching thin. “Perhaps it’s better to describe it to you and let you figure it out yourself rather than give you empty threats?” She phrases it like a question and she seems amused when you nod quickly, eagerly. You watch as she sits back, her eyes drifting up towards the ceiling. A small smile plays on her lips, a fond little thing filled with nostalgia, “Well, if you must know, it’s a long story. It’ll take days to tell you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You shake your head, determined.

She sighs, tapping her fingers against the arm of the chair, her eyes distant, “Well, it all started because of a boy.”

You smile, determined to lighten the atmosphere as you settle into your own chair, “Isn’t that how they all start?”

She smiles, a sad, tired smile, and nods, piquing your curiosity even more than before.

a/n: I know this is short but it's just the prologue I'll definitely have longer chapters once we get started dw!

leave any preliminary thoughts (or yelling because I really should focus on the rte or salt skin smh) down below and let's DO this. also pray that exo doesn't kill me with this comeback dear god I'm trash for dark concepts and aesthetic concepts ahhhhhh they all are so beautiful

i love u all so much let's survive thru these teasers for the next 6 days

xoxo