BLOOD OR LOVE

A COLLISION WITH DARKNESS

The night was thick with darkness, so deep it felt almost alive. It wasn’t just absence of light—it felt like the night itself was part of their crimes. Somewhere within that endless black, violent winds howled through the trees of a distant jungle, carrying eerie sounds that made the land feel cursed.

Deep in the deserted lands of Egypt, another sacrifice was being prepared.

In the center of a ritual circle stood a man named Daruma Blackwood, his sword raised above a trembling figure. The captive had learned the truth too soon—the truth about vampires, about secrets buried for centuries, and about the Blackwood bloodline that refused to die.

Daruma could no longer tolerate such knowledge spreading. For centuries, this had been their way.

To his right stood his son, Ryan Blackwood.

Ryan was striking—pale skin, sharp, flawless features that made people stare without realizing. A small mole marked one of his cheeks, giving his cold expression an even sharper edge. Standing at around 6’3”, he carried himself with a detached, almost indifferent aura. Those who knew him understood one thing: Ryan Blackwood did not easily feel anything.

Or so it seemed.

Daruma began whispering ancient words under his breath, chanting over the prisoner. Then, without hesitation, he pressed the blade above the man’s head.

The prisoner finally tried to speak.

But the moment was cut short.

With a single, merciless motion, Daruma ended it. The silence that followed was heavier than the act itself.

“Death,” Daruma said coldly.

Slowly, he turned his head toward Ryan.

Ryan didn’t react the way a normal son might. He only stared, his gaze fixed, unreadable. Yet something darker flickered in his eyes—something that had nothing to do with humanity.

Because Ryan was not human.

He was a vampire.

And the sight of blood… awakened something within him.

Without a word, he lowered himself, almost instinctively, and fed from the fallen body like a predator answering its nature. There was no hesitation—only hunger, raw and uncontrollable.

That was the beginning.

The beginning of a series of endless, unexplained killings.

Because the Blackwoods had returned.

(Emily’s Point of View)

Morning arrived at exactly 6 a.m., but in my house, peace never came with it.

Silence was a myth here.

The loud sound of a vacuum cleaner echoed through the hallways, and I instantly knew—Lina had started her daily chaos again.

I groaned, pressing a pillow over my head.

This was my life.

Lina wasn’t just our maid. She was practically family to my parents. Years ago, she had saved my mother during a burglary attempt, and ever since then, she had become irreplaceable in their eyes. For them, she was more precious than blood.

For me? She was just… extremely loud.

I finally opened my eyes to the sound of the vacuum roaring outside my room. The sunlight spilled through the curtains, hitting the walls painted in shades of cherry and black. My gaze drifted to the opposite side of the room where my dance trophies stood neatly arranged.

Beside them hung an antique wall clock my father had brought from Egypt. Beautiful, old, and slightly mysterious.

7:00 AM.

“Wait… 7?” I sat up quickly. “I’m late again.”

“Emily!” I muttered to myself as I rushed out of bed, grabbed clothes, and changed in seconds. A quick glance in the mirror showed ginger curly hair, green eyes, and tan skin staring back at me. Dad always said I looked like my mother. Mom… well, she was far more beautiful than I could ever imagine.

Downstairs, the usual chaos continued.

My father sat at the dining table, buried in a newspaper. He was a police officer—though never high-ranking no matter how much he tried. And my mother… she used to be a journalist. Now she stayed home, but the passion never really left her. Sometimes she still recorded things at home like she was chasing a story.

“Hey honey, you’re late again,” she said.

“I know, Mom,” I muttered, already grabbing my bag without eating.

And just like that, I ran out.

My friend Meera was already waiting near the van. We quickly got in and headed toward university.

I had only been there for a month, yet I was already known for being late. Mostly because of my dance practice at night—I could never stop myself.

Lost in thoughts, I walked hurriedly toward my arts class.

And then—

BAM.

I collided with something solid.

I staggered back, holding my head. “Ouch…”

I looked up.

And my words stopped.

A tall boy stood in front of me. I had never seen him in university before. His presence felt… different. Grey eyes. A calm, unreadable expression. A mole near his cheek.

For a moment, I just stared at him, completely frozen.

Why am I staring at him like this?

He didn’t even look at me.

He simply walked past me.

But my heart…

It was beating too fast.

Too loudly.

I turned slowly, watching his back disappear down the hallway.

Who was he?

What was he?

And the most terrifying question of all—

Why did I feel like I had just met someone who would change everything?