Veils Of Eternity

​The first thing Cassius felt was the silence. ​It wasn't the peaceful silence of a forest at night or the hushed anticipation of a theater before the curtains rose. This was a heavy, suffocating vacuum. It pressed against his eardrums with the weight of centuries. ​He tried to draw a breath, but his lungs felt like dried parchment, stiff and unyielding. Panic, sharp and cold, flared in his chest—a sensation he hadn't felt since the night the world turned dark. He forced his eyes open. ​The darkness was absolute, but to his eyes, it was merely a deep, grainy grey. He was lying in a stone box. The air was stagnant, smelling of ancient stone, damp earth, and the faint, metallic tang of his own dormant blood. He reached up, his fingers scraping against the underside of a heavy lid. His skin looked like translucent marble in the gloom, stretched thin over knuckles that felt brittle. ​He pushed. ​The lid didn't budge. He pushed again, a low growl vibrating in his throat. This time, he felt the friction of stone on stone. A hairline fracture of light—thin, sharp, and agonizing—sliced through the dark. It hit his eyes like a physical blow, and he recoiled, his heart (a cold, still thing) giving a single, violent thud against his ribs. ​Hunger. ​It came not as a stomach ache, but as a roar. It was a predatory howl that drowned out his thoughts. Every nerve ending in his body screamed for life, for warmth, for the thick, iron-rich nectar that he had been denied for... how long? ​He couldn't remember. The last memory was a blur of fire, the scent of burning lavender, and the agonizing scream of a woman whose name was etched into his soul, though his mind couldn't quite grasp it yet. ​With a burst of strength born of desperation, he heaved the lid aside. It crashed to the floor of the crypt, the sound echoing like a cannon blast. ​Cassius dragged himself out, falling onto the cold, dirt-packed floor. He was in a basement, but not one he recognized. The walls were made of rough-hewn stone, but strange, colorful serpents of rubber and metal—wires, though he didn't know the word—ran along the ceiling. ​He stood unsteadily, his legs shaking. He was dressed in the tatters of a high-collared tunic, the fine velvet now nothing more than greyish rags. He looked at his hands. They were claws. He needed to hide. He needed to feed. ​Above him, he heard a rhythmic thumping. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. A heartbeat. ​It was fast, frantic, and close. He followed the sound, his movements becoming more fluid as his instinct took the reigns. He found a wooden door at the top of a short flight of stairs. It wasn't locked. He nudged it open and stepped into a world that made his head spin. ​The room was filled with objects that glowed without candles. A giant black glass rectangle sat on a table, reflecting his haggard face. The air was filled with a low hum, a vibration that irritated his sensitive ears. ​"Is someone there?" ​The voice belonged to a man. A young man, smelling of sweat and something sweet, like artificial fruit. He walked into the room holding a small, glowing brick in his hand. He stopped dead when he saw Cassius. ​"Who the hell are you? Is this a joke?" the man stammered, raising the glowing brick. ​Cassius didn't speak. He couldn't. His fangs slid down, a sharp ache in his gums, and his eyes bled from their natural hue into a dark, swirling crimson. The veins beneath his eyes pulsed, turning black and jagged. ​The man turned to run, but Cassius was faster. He was a blur of shadow. He slammed the man against the wall, his hand catching the man’s throat. The heat radiating from the human’s pulse was intoxicating. It was the sun, the stars, and the very essence of existence. ​Cassius didn't hesitate. He buried his face in the man’s neck and tore. ​The blood was divine. It flooded his senses, rushing down his throat and sparking life into his dead limbs. He felt his skin fill out, his strength returning in a terrifying surge. He drank until the man’s heartbeat fluttered like a dying bird, then stopped. He didn't want to kill—not yet. He pushed the unconscious man aside and looked out the window. ​His breath caught. ​Giant towers of glass and steel pierced the sky, glowing with a thousand artificial lights. Metal carriages roared through the streets below without horses, their eyes shining like twin suns. The sky itself wasn't black; it was a bruised purple, choked by the glow of a city that never slept. ​He backed away from the window, his chest heaving. This wasn't his world. The architecture of his home, the spires of the fortress, the smell of the marketplace—it was all gone. ​He looked at a small paper resting on a table nearby. It had a series of numbers on it, and a word he recognized: May. ​Beneath it, in bold, stark ink, was the year. ​2024. ​Cassius felt the floor tilt. 2024? He began to count back, his mind racing through the fog of his long sleep. The day he was entombed... the day he lost her... it couldn't be. ​He staggered toward the door, his mind screaming. He had to know. He had to find out if anything of his life remained, or if he was truly a ghost walking in a world of glass. ​As he reached the street, the sensory transition was too much. The screech of brakes, the shouting of people, the flashing signs—it was a cacophony of madness. He ran, his feet barely touching the pavement, heading for the shadows of an alleyway. ​But his newfound strength was brittle. His body, so long dormant, began to rebel against the sudden influx of blood and the shock of the new era. His vision blurred. The towering buildings seemed to lean in, threatening to crush him. ​He collapsed near a dumpster, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He needed help, but in this world of machines and light, who would help a monster? ​As his eyes started to close, he heard a new sound. It wasn't the roar of a car or the hum of electricity. It was the soft, rhythmic click of heels on pavement, approaching with purpose. ​And then, a voice. Soft, worried, and undeniably human. ​"Hey? Are you okay? Can you hear me?" ​Cassius tried to baring his fangs, to growl, to scare the interloper away, but he was too weak. All he could do was watch as a shadow fell over him.