TAMING THE HEARTLESS VAMPIRE

Prologue

VALE

The city looked small from the summit of the monolith. From this height, the sprawling metropolis below resembled a network of glowing veins—arteries of light pulsing with the frantic, shallow heartbeat of millions. The streets were choked with cars crawling like metallic beetles, while people hurried along the pavements without purpose. They moved in a daze, entirely unaware that something far older, far colder than their fragile civilization was perched above them, dissecting their very souls.

Humans.

Fragile.

Temporary.

Forgettable.

Malakas ang ihip ng hangin sa rooftop. The gale screamed against the concrete edges, but it did not move me. The cold wind brushed against my heavy coat, making the dark fabric ripple behind me like a shadow given physical form. To any human looking up, I would be nothing more than a trick of the light, a gargoyle carved from the midnight sky.

Beside me stood Damien. He was a silhouette of stillness—silent, patient, and utterly loyal. Dalawang siglo na siyang nasa tabi ko. Two hundred years of unquestioned devotion in a world where betrayal was the only true currency. In our Kindred, such loyalty wasn't just rare; it was a miracle of blood and iron.

Below us, the city continued breathing like a restless, diseased organism. But my eyes were no longer scanning the horizon. They were locked onto a single point of failure.

A woman.

She was walking slowly along the crowded sidewalk of the main artery. Every step she took looked like a monumental effort, as if the very air around her had turned into lead. Para bang mabigat ang mundong dala niya sa kanyang balikat—a weight that no human frame was built to carry for long.

The crowd was a mindless tide. People bumped into her, their shoulders jarring her thin frame. Some cursed under their breath as they swerved to avoid her; others simply looked through her, treating her as if she were already a ghost.

She did not flinch. She did not apologize. She barely reacted at all.

Her aura was a dull, flickering grey. Mahina. Halos wala nang buhay. It was the color of ash before the wind scatters it.

"Perfect," I whispered. My golden eyes narrowed, the vertical pupils adjusting to the heat signatures below. I studied the way she held herself—or rather, the way she was letting go.

“Is she the one?” I asked. My voice remained calm, detached, carrying the resonance of a cello played in an empty hall.

Damien stepped closer to the precipice, his coat snapping in the wind as he followed my gaze. “Yes, Milord,” he replied, his voice a gravelly contrast to mine. “I already examined her background. I have tracked her for three nights.”

Saglit siyang tumigil bago nagsalita ulit. He adjusted his leather gloves, his eyes never leaving the target. “She has cancer. Late stage. According to the hospital records I intercepted, she will only live for months.”

A quiet, jagged scoff escaped my lips. “Pathetic. To be eaten from the inside by one’s own cells. A truly human way to exit.”

Sa ibaba, patuloy lang sa paglalakad ang babae. She was a glitch in the system, a slow-moving tragedy in a fast-moving world. Mid-twenties. Perhaps twenty-five. Maganda sana siya kung hindi nakasulat sa mukha niya ang pagod ng buhay. Life had carved deep lines of exhaustion into her features that no amount of youth could hide.

Dark brown hair framed her pale, gaunt face. Her eyes looked sharp—intelligent, perhaps—but they were profoundly tired. May lalim ang tingin niya, a depth that suggested she had seen the bottom of the abyss and found it empty. It was clear she hadn't slept in days, maybe weeks.

She wore simple clothes: a worn jacket and jeans that hung loosely on her thinning frame. Nothing luxurious. Nothing that suggested she had anything left to lose. Pero kahit simple ang damit niya, halata ang maayos na hubog ng kanyang katawan—a vessel of potential, currently rotting from the inside out.

“She is the perfect thrall for you, Master,” Damien urged, sensing my hesitation. “You have waited for this opportunity for a long time. The alignment of her blood type and her proximity to death... it is what the ritual requires.”

I rubbed my chin, watching her stop at a red light. She didn't look at the cars; she looked at the asphalt. “Do you think she’s enough?” I asked, more to myself than to him.

Natigilan si Damien. He turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Why, Master?” he asked carefully. “Do you want me to find someone else? There are many who are dying in this city. The hospitals are overflowing with the desperate.”

I didn't answer immediately. Below us, the woman was bumped by a man in a sharp suit, a businessman in a hurry to get nowhere. The impact nearly knocked her off her feet. She stumbled, her hand grazing a cold streetlamp to steady herself.

But she didn't get angry. She didn't shout. She didn't even look at the man who had nearly trampled her. She simply righted herself and continued, her gaze fixed on a point far beyond the horizon.

Parang wala na siyang pakialam sa mundong ginagalawan niya. She had already detached her soul from her body. She was a vessel waiting to be filled—or shattered.

Interesting.

“Hmm,” I murmured, a predatory curiosity sparking in my chest. “Let’s just test this woman. Let’s see if her will survives the breaking of her body.”

Damien frowned, his posture stiffening. “Your father already gave you a warning, Master,” he reminded me, his voice dropping an octave. “The Lord expects results, not experiments. The High Council is watching your every move.”

“Yes. I am well aware of the Lord’s impatience.” Lumayo ako ng kaunti sa gilid ng rooftop, the gravel crunching under my boots. “I will not show up at the solstice without a thrall. Otherwise, he will refuse my request to form my own troupe. He will keep me under his thumb for another century.”

Natahimik si Damien sandali. He looked at the woman, then back at me. He had been with me through the wars, through the purges, and through the long, starving winters of our history. “Master… the Nightborn Clan is already the most powerful in the triad,” he said, his confusion finally bleeding through. “Why do you want your own troupe? Why go through the trouble of creating a new lineage?”

The wind seemed to die down between us, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence. In my mind, a name flickered like a dying candle, burning with a cold, blue flame.

Elara.

Dalawang daang taon na ang lumipas. Two hundred years of blood and dust. But the memory of her death remained as vivid as a fresh wound. I could still smell the copper of her blood on the white marble; I could still feel the phantom heat of her skin as it turned to ash in my arms.

Someone killed her. Someone within our own circles. Someone powerful enough to hide their scent for centuries, weaving themselves into the fabric of our politics.

“I need my own alliance,” I replied, my voice turning into shards of ice. “My own followers who owe nothing to the Lord. My own eyes in the dark.”

But deep inside, beyond the political maneuvering and the thirst for status, there was only one truth. I didn't want a troupe. I wanted a weapon. I would find the ones responsible for her death. I would peel back the layers of this city and the world beneath it until I found the coward who took her from me.

And when I do… I will make sure they regret ever existing. I will teach them that there are fates far worse than the true death.

Sa ibaba, napansin kong nagbago ng direksyon ang babae. She had reached the end of the commercial district. Instead of heading toward the residential blocks or the subway, she turned toward a service road—a quieter, darker path that led toward the industrial outskirts.

I watched her silhouette move under the flickering orange glow of the sodium lamps until I saw her destination.

The bridge.

The bridge spanned the black throat of the river, a rusted iron giant that connected the living city to the abandoned docks.

“She’s going to jump,” Damien said quietly, his voice devoid of pity. It was a mere observation of fact.

Of course she was. The despair radiating from her was almost suffocating now, even from this distance. It was a thick, cloying scent—like lilies left to rot in a vase. Humans often came to bridges when they wanted their suffering to end, thinking that the water would wash away the pain that the world had inflicted on them. They believed in the mercy of the fall.

They were wrong. There is no mercy in the dark.

“Well then,” I said softly, a dark smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Let’s see how desperate she really is. Let's see if she's willing to trade her soul for a second chance at a nightmare.”

Without another word, I moved.

I didn't use the stairs. I didn't use the fire escape. Tumalon ako mula sa rooftop. I felt the rush of gravity for a split second before I pushed off the air itself. The city blurred around me—a kaleidoscope of steel, glass, and neon—as I landed silently on the roof of the next building.

Then another.

Then another.

Napakabilis ng galaw ko na parang hangin lang na dumaan sa pagitan ng mga gusali. I was a shadow flickering across the moon, a predator closing the gap. My boots barely made a sound on the gravel and tin. Within seconds, I reached the height of a warehouse overlooking the center of the bridge.

I crouched at the rusted edge and looked down.

Nasa gitna na ng tulay ang babae. She was standing perfectly still now. The river below was a churning abyss of ink. Malalim. Tahimik. To her, it probably looked like peace. Para itong isang higanteng bibig na naghihintay ng susunod na kaluluwang malulunod—a hungry god waiting for its sacrifice.

She was crying now. The sound was thin and ragged, breaking against the roar of the wind. Her shoulders trembled violently as she covered her face with her hands. Even from the top of the building, I could hear her gasping for air, her sobs echoing the emptiness of her life.

But I felt nothing. No pity, no empathy, no urge to comfort.

Tatlong daang taon na akong nabubuhay. I had seen kingdoms rise and fall; I had watched cities burn to the ground and be rebuilt over the bones of the dead. And in those three centuries, my heart had long turned into stone. The human parts of me had been cauterized by time and blood.

Ang tanging emosyon na natira sa akin ay galit. It was a cold, relentless, unending fire that kept me moving through the decades.

Then, she moved.

She climbed onto the railing with shaking limbs. Her hands gripped the cold iron, her knuckles white. Her body swayed slightly with the wind, a leaf caught in a storm. She looked down at the water one last time, searching for something—perhaps a sign, perhaps just the courage to let go.

She took a final, shuddering breath. The air in her lungs was the last thing she truly owned.

Then she jumped.

Her body fell through the darkness like a fragile shadow, gravity finally claiming what the world had rejected. She didn't scream. She just fell.

I smiled. It wasn't a kind smile. It was the smile of a man who had found a new toy in the wreckage of a life. It was filled with quiet, predatory amusement.

“Welcome to my world,” I whispered, the words lost to the wind. “My thrall.”

Then, I leaned forward and jumped after her, cutting through the night like a blade.