I paced back and forth, unable to decide where to go. My mind churned with the countless beating hearts I felt through the pulse sense as I scanned the city. There were so many now, so many creatures spilling up from the pits, things both familiar and alien. Vampires made up the majority of the refugees, but other beings lingered in the shadows, their identities veiled. The vampires were easy to recognize, their blood concentration sharp within the echo of my pulse. I felt several clustered at Martin’s bar.
The sun had set again, casting the city into darkness. I needed to see these creatures for myself, commit them to memory. Maybe Myoordrakien would show me some long-buried memory of a predecessor encountering, or fighting, these things. Slowly, I made my way toward Martin’s bar, winding through the streets.
Alex wouldn’t be there. I had already checked her apartment, but she was gone. When I scanned the city for her with my pulse, I found her at the Chase house, close to Autumn. I monitored them briefly, long enough to sense them leaving together. Then I stopped. Alex was likely trying to help Autumn, maybe teach her something.
The last time I saw Alex, she was wrecked; broken by what she’d done, what she’d created. She carried a weight I couldn’t fully understand, her experiences forged into a hardened view of the world. To her, we were monsters, nothing more. I tried to show her that there was more in us, that we could have more than the chaos we often chose. But after watching her struggle with Autumn's conversion, and seeing Kayla succeed where I failed with Autumn, I started to think that maybe I wasn’t the one to help Alex either.
Still, something had changed in me, something that gave me a strange sense of detachment. As much as I wanted to help everyone, this distance brought me a kind of peace. A grim truth blanketed my world now: death was inevitable. It didn’t matter how strong we were or how many battles we won… death would claim us all.
John’s words from long ago echoed in my mind more often these days. We all live and die in different strides. He was right. Whether human or monster, death was a constant. The thought was sobering but also freeing. It reminded me that one day, everyone I cared for would be gone, turned to dust while I remained, a creature of Primeval flesh bound to death’s blade. Until I finally passed on this curse and joined them.
But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t protect them. I would kill anyone who came close to harming Alex, Autumn, the Chase family, or my own. That was a promise. Yet, the endless spiral of "what-ifs" that used to consume me had started to fall away. Old fears turned to dust… leading to new things that should have happened so long ago.
The inevitability of what was coming loomed closer every day… the event I dreamed of… and dreaded. My time in this city was ending. It was time to return home… to Dallas.
The moment I fully accepted what was happening, I felt the surge of monsters flooding the city. There were so many of them, but I didn’t feel responsible for their presence. It wasn’t my duty to cleanse the world of every creature. I could… track each one down with my pulse sense, rip them apart, and leave their remains as a warning to the supernatural world. But that didn’t feel like my purpose.
The pits were gone, no longer a repository for masses of creatures and Primeval power. Those beings were forced into the open now, into their vulnerabilities, into the waiting jaws of hunters who prowled the surface.
I remembered Carter and Autumn telling me that hunting had slowed over the years. My arrival in the city had upset its balance, driving creatures to scatter. Some subconsciously sensed my presence and fled; others ran the moment I came near. Their only refuge had been the pits… the hollow corpse of the Primeval of Hunger. But that place was dead and sealed forever.
Now, with nowhere left to hide, these creatures were exposed. The sun would restrict the vampires, and the hunters, bolstered by Martin, would descend on them. Even the Talbots would likely rejoin the fight, their long-dormant bloodlust reignited as hunting surged once again.
I didn’t need to kill them all, but I still wanted to. So, I headed to Martin’s bar to see a new crowd for myself.
The parking lot buzzed with energy. Through the bar’s walls, I felt the potent vitality within, starkly different from the muted hum of St. Louis’s human side. It almost shook the building, a thrum of life too chaotic to sort out with my senses. I didn’t bother trying to single out Martin. I just walked in.
My Primeval body ached, the stored mass yearning to be released. The Death blade lingered just outside physical reality, coiled and ready to be drawn. I grabbed the cold metal handle of one of the double doors and stepped inside, letting it slam shut behind me.
For a moment, I half-expected a classic Western scene… the room going silent, everyone turning to size me up. But the noise didn’t falter. Voices murmured, music played, and the atmosphere carried on as if I hadn’t entered.
I scanned the room with my regular eyes, taking in the crowd packed tightly within Martin’s bar. Sixty, maybe seventy people filled the space, each clutching drinks laced with flecks of pale yellow dust. A substance I recognized instantly, though its potency varied depending on the drinker. Everyone’s weaknesses and tolerances differed between races, from what I gathered.
At first glance, they could have passed as ordinary humans. But as I looked closer, their true natures began to surface, subtle tells betraying their disguises.
The vampires were the easiest to spot. Their movements were too fluid, too controlled, like predators pacing within the confines of a trap. Their skin was unnaturally smooth, pale hues from hiding dep om the pits or some other dark hole. A few leaned against walls, their eyes constantly scanning, pupils dilating as they marked every heartbeat in the room. They didn’t drink much… just enough to blend in. Their true thirst wasn’t for whiskey or beer.
Near the bar, a cluster of werewolves sat together, their presence marked by a subtle, feral tension. Even in human form, they carried the musky scent of the wild, but the moldy smell of deep earth. Their bodies were larger than average, muscles taut beneath their clothes, their shoulders hunched as if they were always ready to pounce. One of them tapped his fingers against the table, claws faintly extending before retracting. Another chuckled, her laugh low and guttural, exposing teeth just a shade too sharp. They had features exposed… primed for use. These were not like the ones I knew that contained the beast. These were like the pack from France… and Darry. These were of no relation to the Talbots… but tied to the elders, or Hunger in some way. I guess when I thought about it, as vampires hungered for blood, so werewolves hungered for flesh. There was something there… a binding to the same Primeval maybe?
Among the crowd were shapeshifters, their tissues flickering ever so slightly when the light caught them at the wrong angle and the music beat loud. They wore faces too perfect, too symmetrical, their voices pitched just right to avoid suspicion. I spotted one in the far corner, his reflection in a nearby mirror showing a completely different face… a mistake he quickly noticed, adjusting his form with a barely perceptible ripple. I saw the yellowish oily substance from before, when they changed, pooling in the corners of their eyes. They couldn’t hide everything… not from me.
But it wasn’t just them. Other, less familiar creatures mingled among them. A hulking man near the jukebox exuded a faint, sulfurous heat, his crimson eyes briefly glinting under the neon glow… a terror from below, no doubt suppressing his full form. A slender woman at the bar emanated an aura that felt like static electricity, her movements graceful but disjointed, like a puppet on invisible strings. She jerked in and out of people as she made her way through the crowd from the bar, never spilling a drop of her drink.
Toward the center of the room, a trio of figures sat in near-perfect stillness, their eyes unblinking, skin waxy under the dim lighting. Their mouths moved in whispered conversation, but no breath escaped their lips.
Myoordrakien’s voice filled my mind like a grumbling bullhorn, “Revenants!”
Images surged into my mind, sharp and vivid, yet not my own. Myoordrakien stirred within me, dragging forth a memory so ancient it felt like it belonged to a world carved from stone.
I saw a predecessor… male, broad-shouldered, and clad in crude furs. His form was hulking and primitive. His blackened claws flexed with instinctive readiness, his monstrous visage rippling with restrained power. He stood amidst a circle of jagged stones under a blood-red sky, the air heavy with decay and something far more insidious.
Before him, a man robed in tattered animal skins of dark gray and black loomed over a grave, his face gaunt and hollow-eyed. He didn’t sense the predecessor's presence. I knew, without understanding, that this man was a necromancer. His presence radiated an eerie calm, hands outstretched over the disturbed earth. Ancient words, guttural and jagged, spilled from his mouth, the air thickening as he chanted.
The grave shuddered. Slowly, an arm… waxy, pallid, and bloated punched through the loose soil. The figure that followed was a grotesque mockery of life. Its limbs jerked unnaturally, snapping into positions that should have been impossible, its body rising like a marionette pulled by invisible strings. Its flesh gleamed with a sickly sheen, patches of decay clinging to it, and its head lolled to the side as though the neck had forgotten its purpose.
The predecessor remained frozen, his coal-black eyes narrowing. Through his gaze, I felt his revulsion, his restrained fury, and the cold certainty of what he was witnessing. The corpse’s hollow sockets glowed faintly, a deep green light flickering like a dying flame, and I realized that its movements, erratic as they seemed, were no accident. They were guided by the necromancer, his outstretched hand pulsing with an unseen force.
Myoordrakien filled me with the knowledge: that the Primeval force at play was the Unseen… the embodiment of outside manipulation, control, and corruption. Its power coursed through the necromancer’s veins and into the corpse, binding the reanimated figure to his will. The predecessor snarled, his monstrous form tensing as he prepared to strike. To reap the life he’s been sent for.
The memory fractured there, dissolving into shadow. I blinked, disoriented, back in Martin’s bar.
The revenants near the center of the room suddenly seemed sharper in my vision, their waxy skin and jerky movements mirroring what I had just witnessed. Yet something was wrong. Their electric blue eyes glowed fiercely, starkly different from Peter Grimwood’s eerie green, when he had been under the Primeval’s influence.
My thoughts churned. The Unseen was dead… I knew that. Its death had rippled through the supernatural world, a seismic event that should have erased its influence from the living and the dead alike. So how could these revenants exist? How could any kind of necromancer exist?
The blue glow was a clue, but I couldn’t place it. Another Primeval? Something else entirely? The thought gnawed at me as I watched their lifeless movements, the way their heads twitched toward sounds with a mechanical precision, their unblinking eyes scanning the room with cold detachment. Whatever had animated these creatures, it wasn’t the power of the Unseen. Someone else had them watching… gathering information maybe. It was something new. Something different. And it was here.
Revenants… it was weird. They had a coldness that radiated from them that even the vampires seemed to avoid.
The entire bar thrummed with unnatural energy, a volatile mix of creatures forced into uneasy proximity. Their disguises were paper-thin, their real natures bleeding through in small, telling ways. This wasn’t just a bar anymore… it was a powder keg of suppressed power and ancient rivalries, all simmering beneath a veneer of civility, and the faintest adherence to Martin’s rules.
I took it all in, letting my pulse sense hum faintly in the background. Each creature, each vibration, marked its presence in a way that no illusion or disguise could hide from me. They might have thought they blended in, but I saw them all. As I moved deeper into the bar, the faint ache of the Primeval flesh within me stirred, eager to remind them who the real predator in the room was. Who the Monster truly was!
I spotted a pair of college-age guys sitting at a table, both clearly out of their depth. One of them caught my attention… a face I recognized. He was the same guy who had flirted with Alex one night when she and I shared my usual booth. Back then, he’d been confident, cocky even, but now his hands gripped his beer so tightly his knuckles were white, terror radiating off him. His friend mirrored his unease, both of them looking like they’d bolt if they thought they could make it out alive.
They must’ve come when the place opened, right at sunset, before the vampires arrived. I didn’t need to guess why… they were here for Alex, drawn by the memory of her curving figure and the allure of her barely-there outfits. Typical.
A smile tugged at my lips. If Alex were here, I’d have made a joke… but she was busy elsewhere. The thought would have to wait for another time.
My attention shifted to the bar, and there was Martin, his weary eyes betraying the burden of running this place. His youthful face couldn’t hide the fatigue, the way he seemed trapped in a job he didn’t want, especially on nights like this, packed with predators and criminals. And, of course, me.
I moved through the crowd like a shadow, keeping my power locked deep inside, suppressing the monstrous aura that would’ve cleared the room in an instant. Still, my instincts hummed, ready to unleash chaos or pull the blade resting just beyond reality if needed.
“Martin,” I called over the commotion, my voice cutting through the low rumble of conversation and music.
His head lifted, eyes scanning for yet another faceless customer, but when they locked onto me, his body tensed. Surprise flickered across his face; he hadn’t sensed me until I was right in front of him.
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“Sam... you’re here,” he said, trying to gather himself. “Are Alex and Autumn with you?”
I shook my head. “No, they’re together, but I’m not sure what they’re up to.”
Martin looked concerned for a moment, then pushed it aside. “I just assumed... never mind. What brings you here, if not Alex?”
I gestured to the crowd. “This new population.”
Martin’s gaze swept over the room, his expression tightening. “Yeah, it’s different these days. Reminds me of years ago, well before your time in the city. It wasn’t this heavy, but similar.”
“Will they disperse eventually?” I asked.
“Maybe. I hope so. But this is just a small group… there’s plenty more out there, still hiding and hunting the streets at night, preying on anyone unlucky enough to get caught outside.”
“What now?” I asked. “Now that the pits are gone, the elders are either dead or scattered, and the illusion of their control is fading. What happens to all of this?”
Martin hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Some elders are dead, yes. But not all of them. The ones left know the illusion still needs to hold. Secrecy is always the best way to keep my world and the human world apart. Most of these… people” he struggled to say the word, “They know it too. Everyone’s playing their part, but... I don’t know how long that will last. When creatures gather in numbers this large, it’s never a good sign.” He trailed off, his eyes meeting mine. “Something always comes when things get this bad. Something to wipe them out...”
“You think that’s me?” I asked, the thought oddly distant, not fitting with what I thought I would do unless Death himself had ordered it.
Martin shook his head, his voice grave. “I don’t know. Maybe you. Maybe something else with similar interests. There’s a lot of power in this world, Sam. A lot more than even you’ve seen.”
We moved to the far end of the bar, the noise of the crowd muffled slightly. Martin leaned in, lowering his voice. “Whatever it is, it’s coming. You can feel it, can’t you?”
I could. And the thought settled in my gut like a weight, heavy and cold.
I leaned against the wall, letting my gaze drift toward the two terrified college kids. “What are you going to do about them?” I asked, nodding in their direction. “Those two look like they’re about to be somebody’s midnight snack.”
Martin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ve got my eye on them. But honestly? It’s exhausting. Guys like them show up every night… kids thinking they’re invincible, drawn in by things they don’t understand.”
“Looking for Alex?” I cut in with a smirk.
“Exactly,” he muttered, his tone heavy with frustration.
I surveyed the room again, the original idea that brought me here adjusting slightly. It was subtle at first, but the weight of it began to settle over me. I turned back to Martin, studying the lines of weariness on his face. “What would you do if you didn’t have this place? Ever thought about leaving?”
He paused, filling a glass and sprinkling that familiar yellow dust across the surface before sliding it to a waiting patron. Returning, he met my gaze with a sigh that seemed to drag out years of buried thoughts. “I started this place a long time ago,” he began. “Hoped to find others like me… others who didn’t want to rely on their baser instincts, who wanted something more.” He shook his head slowly. “You know how many I’ve found?”
I shook my head. “How many?”
“One.” He let the word hang there. “Just Alex. She’s the only one who ever fit what I was hoping to find here. When she started working with me, we kept looking, but... it’s like when you change your mindset, this world doesn’t let you last long. You die or disappear… or come work here… I guess. So, I stayed. Figured the place could serve another purpose. Help the Chases gather intel, and hunt what needed killing. Never really thought about what’s next.”
I leaned forward slightly. “What if this place burned down tonight? What would you do tomorrow?”
His brows shot up as he regarded me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. “I don’t have good insurance,” he said dryly. “This place is in a stolen identity, a name I took ages ago. Bureaucracy isn’t exactly my strong suit, and I'm not looking to deal with real-world issues like filing a claim.”
“But if it was gone,” I pressed, “what would you do?”
Martin looked up at the ceiling, exhaling deeply. “I guess... I’d probably still do what I’m doing. But without this place tying me down.” He paused, the thought taking shape in his mind. “Don’t get me wrong… it’s a good hub for information. But with the pits gone and all the things that crawled out of them roaming topside now, this place has become more trouble than it’s worth.”
He glanced at the crowd, his expression darkening. “If I wasn’t here keeping the rules in place, this would just turn into a slaughterhouse. Humans wouldn’t survive the first night. The balance would collapse, and it’d become a feeding ground.”
His voice dropped, laced with frustration. “But honestly? If I could, I’d leave it all behind. Work closer with the Chases, and hunt the monsters that need killing without dealing with this mess. But I can’t. Not without condemning every human here to a bloodbath. They’d drop off the face of the earth every single night.”
I let the silence hang between us, the weight of his words lingering in the air. A part of me wondered if the destruction of this place was inevitable… and if, when the time came, I’d be the one to set it ablaze. I smiled.
I nodded, Martin’s words confirming what I already sensed. He was easy to read now, whether it was the influence of Myoordrakien or the clarity that came with understanding death itself. Whatever the case, I knew what had to be done.
“All these people in here... do you think any of them are worth saving?” I asked, my tone quiet but heavy.
Martin scoffed, a bitter sound. “These people...” He shook his head, leaving the sentence unfinished.
I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. My gaze dropped to the floor as a dull numbness spread through me, my grip on my physical form tenuous as I pulled more of Myoordrakien’s essence from the other place. The monstrous presence surged within me, and I could feel the shift.
“Go,” I said, my voice low and unwavering. “Get those two humans and leave.”
“What?” Martin’s disbelief cracked through the air, his eyes wide with shock.
I lifted my head, black eyes locking onto his. My voice twisted, layered with the Primeval’s guttural undertones. “Don’t talk… GO.”
The weight of my command hit him like a physical force, and he froze for a second too long. Then, realization set in. His gaze darted around the room, panic flaring as he grasped the implication of my words. Finally, his feet moved.
Martin crossed the room briskly, heading for the college boys. He spoke sharply to them, his voice just loud enough to carry over the noise of the bar. They hesitated but obeyed, their fear driving them to follow as Martin ushered them toward the exit. Somehow, the rest of the room didn’t seem to notice, all except the three waxy-skinned revenants. Their electric-blue eyes tracked the movement, unblinking.
Once Martin and the boys slipped out, I stepped to the front doors. Without a word, I grabbed a piece of jagged metal… a broken table leg left forgotten in the chaos. With deliberate force, I twisted it through the door handles, barring the entrance with a metallic groan.
The sound echoed, cutting through the dull roar of conversation like a blade. Every creature in the room froze. A tense, unnatural silence fell, as if the entire bar was holding its breath. Heads turned toward me in unison, eyes narrowing, bodies poised for either fight or flight. It was the scene straight out of an old western I’d hoped for, only far more dangerous.
I stood at the center of their attention, my black eyes burning with cold fury. The revenants’ icy stares met mine, their hollow expressions unreadable, yet I felt their recognition. They knew what I was.
I stared them down, unyielding. All they would see when they looked at me was the death they had somehow cheated. And I was here to collect.
The silence shattered with a low, guttural growl rumbling from deep within my chest. It wasn’t entirely my own… it carried the primal weight of Myoordrakien, a sound that belonged to something far older and far crueler than any being in this room. I let it linger, a warning and a promise.
The revenants moved first, lunging forward in a grotesque, jerking motion. Their bodies were like marionettes pulled by invisible strings, their waxy skin stretching unnaturally with every step. I didn’t wait for them to close the distance.
The space between dimensions tore open at my command, and from the void, I drew the Death Blade. Its jagged, reflective form glinted with an unnatural, sickly light, its edges humming with a dreadful energy that radiated pure annihilation. My monstrous claws wrapped around the hilt, the blade feeling like an extension of my own wrath.
In a half-transitional state, my body swelled and shifted. Black claws elongated, my muscles bulging as my skin rippled with inky veins. Shadows clung to me like a living armor, swirling with ominous intent. I felt the power coursing through me, and with it, the single-minded hunger… for destruction.
I swung the blade in a wide arc, and the first revenant crumbled as a wave of death cascaded from the weapon. Its body shriveled mid-air, reduced to nothing but a desiccated corpse that broke apart before it even hit the ground.
The second revenant reached me, claws raking toward my throat. I moved faster than it could comprehend, ducking low and driving the blade upward through its midsection. The energy from the blade surged, consuming it from the inside out. It let out a high-pitched, hollow scream before its head slumped forward, lifeless.
The creatures in the bar erupted into chaos. Vampires, shifters, and other monstrous patrons surged toward me in a desperate wave. I met them head-on, roaring with the full fury of Myoordrakien. I grew bigger… taller… more monstrous; and with me… the blade grew. I moved with thunderous collisions, every muscle and movement too strong for this world.
The Death Blade arced again, a black flash of obliteration cleaving through flesh and bone as though they were made of air. A shifter lunged at me, its body grotesquely morphing mid-leap into a bony, spike-covered monstrosity. I caught it by the throat, my claws sinking deep into its flesh with a wet, squelching sound. With a single, brutal motion, I slammed it into the floor so hard the boards splintered, its body erupting into a shower of shattered bone and viscera. The mass it had stored within spilled outward in a grisly torrent, coating everything within reach.
I barely noticed the mess before another joined the fray. My blade swung horizontally, catching the next attacker, a feral vampire, just beneath the ribcage. The weapon’s dark energy coursed through its body, and it let out a strangled wail as its torso separated from its legs. Flesh and organs spilled onto the floor as its upper half crumpled in a heap, steam rising from where the Death Blade’s essence consumed it from within.
A shifter-turned-abomination rushed me from the left, wielding elongated, serrated claws. I ducked beneath its swipe, driving my free hand into its chest and ripping out its still-beating heart. My hand impacted his chest with a deafening squelch as I busted through his sternum and chest cavity. Blood sprayed in thick, hot streams, coating my arm as the creature crumpled, lifeless. I hurled the heart into another monster’s face, using the distraction to close the distance and cleave them in half vertically, splitting them into two uneven pieces that collapsed with wet, meaty thuds. That was just for fun.
The room erupted into chaos as more creatures surged toward me. I swung the blade in wide arcs, its dark energy radiating with every strike. A wave of destruction rippled outward, catching several monsters mid-step. They dropped on the spot, their bodies crumbling into piles as their screams died in their throats.
Another vampire came at me from the side, its fangs bared and eyes wild with desperation. I twisted, driving the Death Blade deep into its chest. The second the weapon pierced its heart, it let out a tortured gasp. Its flesh began to peel away in steaming, rotted chunks, sloughing off its bones until nothing but a charred skeleton remained.
Blood filled the air, painting it in a thick, metallic haze. The once-pristine walls of the bar were now slick with gore, viscera clinging to every surface. Tables were overturned, chairs smashed into splinters, and shattered glass littered the floor, crunching beneath my monstrous claws as I advanced.
A hulking shifter… a towering beast of muscle and sinew charged at me, roaring as it swung a massive fist. I sidestepped its attack, carving a deep gash along its side with the Death Blade. The gash widened as the weapon’s power tore through its flesh, splitting the creature in half with a sickening squelch. Its entrails spilled out in steaming ropes, pooling at my feet as I turned to face the next wave.
A desperate vampire attempted to flee, its movements frantic as it bolted toward the back door. Without hesitation, I hurled the Death Blade. It spun through the air, embedding itself with a sickening crunch between the creature’s shoulder blades. The vampire shrieked, its body convulsing as the blade’s energy consumed it from the inside out, leaving nothing but a blackened smear on the wall.
I called the blade back to me, it faded from its place in the world and then reappeared in my hand only moments later, grasping it mid-air as I turned to face the remaining attackers. They hesitated now, their movements faltering as they realized the futility of their efforts. Their fear was palpable, a heady, intoxicating scent that only fueled the Primeval rage surging within me.
I lunged at them, claws and blade working in tandem. Limbs were torn from sockets, heads ripped from bodies, and torsos cleaved in two. I shredded flesh and shattered bone with feral precision, the air thick with the cacophony of screams and the wet, visceral sound of bodies being torn apart.
When the last creature fell, I stood alone amidst the carnage. The bar was unrecognizable. Blood dripped from every horizontal surface… tables, chairs, walls, even the ceiling. Puddles of crimson pooled beneath the broken remains of the creatures, viscera clinging to every surface.
The Death Blade dissolved back into the void, leaving me in the aftermath of my unrestrained wrath. The darkness of my monstrous form began to recede, though their whispers lingered, a constant reminder of the destruction I had wrought.
I turned my blackened eyes toward the silent, gore-soaked room. All was still. Nothing stirred. Every creature that had dared to stand against me was gone, their lifeless remains scattered like forgotten refuse.
The Primeval’s hunger was sated, for now. I was alone, surrounded by the proof of my dominance. The room was silent, save for the echoes of death and the quiet, dripping blood.
I crouched on the rooftop of the building across from Martin’s bar, my claws still slick with blood that wasn’t mine. The air reeked of death, heavy and overpowering, and the silence below felt alien… wrong. This place had always been alive, buzzing with low murmurs and the occasional growl of something that didn’t belong. Now it was a mausoleum, its only inhabitants the shredded remains of creatures that had overstepped their place in this world.
I didn’t feel guilty. That emotion had long since burned out of me, replaced by something colder, sharper. Instead, I felt the weight of inevitability pressing down as I sat and waited. I knew what was coming.
The first pale dawn began to creep across the horizon, timid but unstoppable. The light touched the shattered windows, sliding across the floor of the bar, and I watched with a predator’s patience. It began innocuously enough… a faint spark as the sunlight kissed one of the vampire corpses. Then the body ignited, flames consuming it with an almost feral hunger.
The fire raced through the room, leaping from one lifeless monster to the next. Flesh and bone caught on fire in seconds, burning so fast it was like the bodies were soaked in oil. Sparks shot up in furious bursts, searing the air. A low roar built within the bar as the fire fed on the blood-soaked wood and pooling gore, turning the place into an inferno.
I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My gaze stayed locked on the scene, my breathing steady but shallow. My rage still not fully sedated after so much carnage.
The flames were merciless. They tore through everything, tables, chairs, the liquor stock behind the bar… all of it turned to ash in minutes. The blood smeared across the floor burned in glowing rivulets, trailing fire through the room like veins of molten metal. The heat poured from the building, blistering even from where I sat.
The roof groaned under the strain, buckling inward as the flames consumed the beams holding it aloft. It collapsed with a deafening crash, sending up a wave of embers and ash. The walls followed, falling one by one like dominoes in the early morning hours.
I felt a pang then, something raw and unnamable twisting in my chest. Not regret, exactly. Not sorrow. Just the grim realization that this place… Martin’s place, was no more. The hub for monsters, the den of whispered secrets and unspoken rules, was gone.
Martin’s bar had been a relic of the old world, one I had come to know intimately during my time here. It wasn’t just a building; it was a symbol of what creatures like us clung to, an attempt to carve out a place in a world that didn’t want us. A place for things like Alex, Martin, and me… now, it was nothing but cinders.
The sun climbed higher, painting the skyline in streaks of orange and gold. The light caught the smoldering ruins, illuminating the blackened skeleton of the building. Ash drifted lazily in the air, settling over the nearby streets like a funeral shroud.
I stood, finally tearing my gaze from the destruction. My claws flexed instinctively, the remnants of Myoordrakien’s power still thrumming in my veins, demanding release.
This was necessary. That’s what I told myself as I turned and walked away, the echo of the smoldering flames still roaring behind me. The bar was gone, the old ways with it. St. Louis felt smaller now, emptier, but that emptiness didn’t bother me. So many monsters died with it… and I was pleased about that.
It wasn’t my world to mourn. Not anymore. I was just a step out of this world… the living, and the supernatural. I was Primeval. It was something I needed to realize before I went home... back to Dallas.