Fragments from the Ancient Diary of Scholar Artheon, Year 1193 of the Bloodlight Calendar.
> "I write this by moonlight,
for daylight no longer trusts me."
_____
ENTRY I — THE FOUNDLING
> Day 12—Month of Ash
A child was left at the village gate.
No mother. No birth-cry. No footprints in snow.
The villagers said it was a blessing.
I felt… watched.
The child did not cry.
Newborns cry.
This one stared at me with eyes too calm, too old.
---
ENTRY II — THE MIRACLE CHILD
> Day 34
She grows too fast.
Not in body, but in mind.
She speaks before she should.
Walks before she should.
And when I ask where she learned things, she only says:
"I remember."
But she has no memories to remember.
---
ENTRY III — THE FIRST SIGN
> Day 60
She does not bleed.
A small cut on her hand closed before my eyes.
Skin sealed like water returning to calm.
The villagers think she is chosen.
I know better.
I have seen ancient scrolls.
I have read forbidden words.
Children like her are not born.
They are placed.
---
ENTRY IV — THE SHADOW AT HER WINDOW
> Day 99
Every night at the same hour, she stands by the window.
Looking.
Waiting.
Tonight I followed her gaze.
A figure stood beneath the oak.
Not moving.
Not breathing.
Watching her.
She whispered,
"He found me again."
---
ENTRY V — MEMORY SHIFT
> Day 103
I tried to recall the day she arrived.
For the first time…
I could not.
My mind shows a door,
then nothing.
I searched the village records—
there is no entry of her arrival.
It is as if she appeared in my life
by rewriting the pages of my mind.
---
ENTRY VI — THE TRUTH OF THE CHILDREN
> Day 120 — Final Entry
Ancient tablets warned:
"When vampires desire a partner,
they create a world around that human.
Even a child."
A child raised by humans…
may not be human at all.
They are placed in families to blend,
to learn,
to wait for the one whose blood calls to them.
Today, she asked me:
"Why do you write about me, Artheon?
You will forget this by morning."
And I already feel the ink fading in my memories.
---
THE DIARY ENDS HERE
Artheon's final page is smeared.
Half-burned.
As if someone tried to destroy it.
At the bottom, one sentence remains:
> "If you raise a child who never seems to age…
you raised something else."