The Vampire King’s Chosen Blood

Night comes early in my village. Not because the sun is lazy, but because the trees are tall and thick, and once the light starts to fade, darkness moves fast, like it has somewhere important to be. I was returning from the stream when I felt it. That strange feeling. Like someone was watching me. I stopped walking. The clay pot on my head suddenly felt heavier than it should. The forest went quiet. No crickets. No birds. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Amara, I whispered to myself. You are imagining things. That was what Mama always said. Fear feeds on imagination. Still, my heart was beating too fast. I adjusted the wrapper around my waist and took another step. Then another. That was when I saw him. He stood by the iroko tree, tall and still, like he had grown there. His skin was dark like polished wood, his eyes glowing faintly red, not bright, but deep like embers hiding under ash. I dropped the pot. Water spilled everywhere, but I didn’t care. I wanted to run, but my legs refused to move. You are not supposed to see me, he said. His voice was calm. Too calm. Deep and smooth, with an accent I could not place, yet it felt old… ancient. W-who are you? I asked, my voice shaking. He stepped closer. The air around him felt cold, yet my skin burned. “Do not be afraid, Amara of Aru, he said. My breath caught. I had not told him my name. How do you know me? I whispered. His lips curved, not into a smile, but something darker. Because your blood called to us. Before I could scream, shadows rose from the ground. Hands cold, strong wrapped around my arms. The last thing I saw was the red glow in his eyes as he spoke again. The king has chosen you. And then the forest disappeared.