VAMPIRE'S FAIRY

THE LONG STORM

It had been a month since the storm began, and with each passing day, it only grew more violent.

“The weather remains increasingly dangerous. Everyone is advised to stay indoors and avoid going outside unless absolutely necessary. Remember—safety first.”

The radio announcement echoed through the halls, its warning as familiar as the constant roar of thunder outside. The storm was unlike anything scientists had ever seen. It had arrived without warning, sudden and fierce, like lightning splitting an empty sky. No one was permitted outdoors. Only authorized delivery services were allowed to travel, bringing necessities to households under strict regulations.

Because I had been born with a weak immune system and was diagnosed with asthma at the age of five, my family insisted I remain in my room. They kept the temperature warm to protect my health. My brothers and my twin spent most of their days keeping me company, and all my meals were brought upstairs. Time blurred together so completely that I barely realized an entire month had passed.

My mind was restless, crowded with questions that left me with pounding headaches whenever I tried to make sense of them. Even the world's greatest scientists had no explanation for the storm. Desperate for answers, I buried myself in books about nature, weather, and history. That was when I stumbled upon an old article online.

It was about pure-blood vampires—more specifically, a legendary pure-blood prince whose name had been lost to time.

According to the article, the day he was born was marked by a week-long storm eerily similar to the one we were experiencing. It had grown stronger with each passing day, only to vanish the moment he entered the world. It ended as suddenly as it had begun. The vampires believed him to be a gift from the gods, and his birth led to his father being crowned king.

The article went on to claim that every three centuries, the same unnatural storm would return, each time heralding the rebirth—or awakening—of the prince, whose power would be ten times greater than before.

After reading that, a wild thought struck me: what if the prince was still alive?

But if that were true, why had this storm lasted longer than the article described?

I wanted to tell someone, yet I knew my family would dismiss it immediately. As if summoned by my thoughts, one of my brothers walked into my room just as I was closing the article.

“Come here, Ayaan. You need to see this.”

I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward me, handing him my phone.

“What’s this, Ayl?” he asked, clearly confused.

“Just read.”

He scanned the article in silence. When he finished, he looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

“Do you really think this prince could still be alive?”

His tone made it obvious that he didn't believe a word of it. Still, hearing him ask the question gave me a flicker of hope.

I sighed and sat down. There was no point trying to explain. Even I wasn't entirely sure why I believed it.

Ayaan sat beside me and nudged my shoulder gently.

“Come on, Ayl. This could easily be something someone made up for attention. Think about it—how could anyone know details from centuries ago?”

He had a point. A very logical point. But some stubborn part of me still clung to the story.

“Forget it,” he said, ruffling my hair. “It’s probably just climate change. Nothing new these days.”

I let out another sigh before glancing up at him.

“Why are you here, anyway?”

“Well, Mom and Dad sent me to get you. Dinner’s ready.”

That surprised me. Since the storm began, I hadn't had dinner with the entire family once. For a moment, I wondered if there was some special occasion.

I nodded and stood. “Go ahead. I’ll be down in five minutes.”

Ayaan left, and I quickly changed into a pair of leggings and my favorite fluffy coat before heading downstairs.

Everyone was already seated at the dining table when I arrived. As it turned out, there was no special occasion at all. My parents simply wanted me to join them for dinner.

And somehow, that made it even more special.

Later that night, I sat by my bedroom window, staring out at the storm-darkened sky. The wind howled against the house, rattling the glass. Soft music played from my laptop as I let my thoughts wander back to the article.

Ayaan’s words kept replaying in my mind, battling against the strange sense of certainty I couldn't shake.

Then, suddenly, the wind stopped.

I paused my music and looked up.

Silence.

Curious, I opened the window. Warm, fresh air drifted inside, carrying the delicate scent of flowers. It was a mixture of fragrances—sweet, earthy, and strangely enchanting.

Before my eyes, the heavy clouds parted. Moonlight spilled across the world, silver and pure. Stars glittered like scattered diamonds, and the sky became impossibly clear, as if the storm had never existed at all.

Then something moved.

A dark figure streaked across the face of the moon so quickly I almost missed it.

A few seconds later, it passed again.

My breath caught.

It was the enormous bird I had seen the month before—but this time, it looked even larger. Its wings stretched wide across the sky, majestic and powerful.

I scrambled for my phone and quickly recorded it.

Finally, I had proof. Something real to show Ariel. Maybe she had been right all along. Maybe it really was some kind of giant eagle.

That night, I fell asleep with a smile on my face, the image of those vast wings still etched into my mind. For the first time in weeks, I slept peacefully.