After school, Rowan headed toward his apartment. The walk usually took fifteen minutes, but today it felt longer. He kept checking the time on his phone.
One hour until sunset.
Eldermoor always felt like a city caught between centuries. The school, the banks, even the library carried a medieval weight. Dark stone walls, tall arches, iron gates that creaked even when the wind was weak. The school itself looked less like a place meant for students and more like a brooding castle that had reluctantly accepted children.
The residential district was different. Cleaner streets, brighter lights, modern buildings lined up neatly like they belonged to a completely different city. Rowan's apartment block stood right in the middle of it all, an awkward contrast to the rest of Eldermoor's gloom.
He stepped inside, dropped his bag near the sofa, and sat down for a moment. The silence pressed in. By sunset, they'd find out whether the underground floor was just a dusty rumor or something far older.
Footsteps echoed softly in the hallway. Rowan didn't need to look up.
His aunt, Maren, opened the door with her usual warm smile. "Glad to see you back from school," she said. "There's a festival near the Lake of Gravenford this evening. Will you be coming?"
The Lake wasn't just another attraction. It was the place in Gravenford, the one everyone in Eldermoor knew by name.
"Yeah… sure," Rowan said, softer than he meant to. "You're the only one who treats me like their own kid, anyway."
Maren paused. Her smile shifted slightly, touched by something deeper than surprise.
Rowan's childhood had been shaped by moments like this. Ever since the car accident that supposedly took his parents when he was still a baby, Maren had stepped in. She wasn't even a blood relative, just his mother's step-sister, yet she had taken him in without hesitation. She never made him feel like a burden, even when life clearly hadn't planned this role for her.
She turned to leave, and Rowan immediately made the worst possible decision.
"By the way, I'll be going to school again… in like an hour."
Instant regret.
Maren stopped. "Why again? With whom?"
There was no way he could say I'm going vampire hunting with a guy I met today.
"Extra lectures," Rowan said. "With my new friend. Alistair."
Maren studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Don't change out of your uniform, then. If you're going back, go properly dressed."
"Yeah… thanks," Rowan muttered.
***
Alista waited near the school gate, standing a little away from the light. He looked like any other student who'd stayed back too late. School uniform. Sleeves slightly rolled up. Hair uncombed, like he hadn't bothered fixing it after classes.
Rowan approached, and Alistair's gaze flicked to the uniform. Eldermoor's school uniform was anything but normal. Long coat, sharp lines, dark fabric that made every step feel theatrical. On Rowan, it looked almost natural, like he belonged to something older than the school itself.
"Why are you in uniform?" Alistair asked. "I mean, yeah, it looks cool, but it's not exactly casual."
"My aunt thinks I'm going back for lectures," Rowan said. "I didn't mention the vampire part."
"That explains the cosplay," Alistair shrugged. "You ready for vampire hunting?"
Rowan wouldn't have come if he truly believed vampires were fake. Seeing one in real life felt very different from those blurry 'caught on camera' videos online.
"Let's go," Rowan said, unable to hide the excitement.
They hugged the wall as they moved, peeking out cautiously. The guard sat nearby, legs crossed, scrolling through his old phone like he was guarding the gates of heaven instead of a school.
"How do we get past him?" Rowan whispered.
Alistair rubbed his face. "We use the most reliable strategy known to mankind."
Rowan frowned. "Which is—"
"Acting stupid."
Before Rowan could protest, Alistair staggered forward, coughing violently. The guard jolted upright.
"Sir— bathroom— now—" Alistair wheezed.
"At this hour?" the guard snapped. "What's wrong with you kids?"
"You want me to throw up right here?" Alistair yelled.
The guard panicked and pointed toward the opposite building. While his attention was diverted, Rowan slipped behind him, grabbed the key ring from the wall hook, and moved fast.
A minute later, Alistair appeared near the storage block, looking far too proud of himself.
"That worked?" Rowan whispered.
"Never underestimate strategic stupidity," Alistair said, unlocking the rusted metal door.
The moment it closed behind them, the air changed.
It felt heavier. Still. Like the place had been sealed off for years.
The corridor stretched ahead, lined with white tiles swallowed by darkness. Their flashlights flickered over abandoned desks, broken plastic toys, and dusty boards from forgotten school exhibitions.
Rowan kicked a stray bottle. The sound echoed far longer than it should have.
"This place feels wrong," he muttered.
"Perfect," Alistair replied quietly.
They walked deeper. The corridor narrowed. The temperature dropped.
At the far end, something hung from the ceiling.
A shape.
Long. Human-shaped. Too still.
Upside down, arms limp, hair brushing the floor.
Rowan froze. "Tell me that's a mannequin."
The shape twitched.
Just slightly.
They raised their flashlights, hands shaking.
The thing opened its eyes.