There's a legend about a peculiar group, a secret and elusive coven that predates most of the other fabled mysteries of the supernatural world. They have seen dynasties rise and fall, conquered empires. They've been the hero in many tales, but the villain in most.

This tribe of undead creatures is my entire life, my religion, my end-all be-all. They are the only community I have ever known, my family. The only ones who can ever accept me for who I am, or so I've always been told.

The Obsidian Coven believed heavily in synergy —the way an effort of combined assorted, highly functional pieces of the group could come together to create something majestic and incomparable to the individual powers. They believed in it so much that there was a synergistic event, high power ritual known as the Obsidian Rift that they undertook. This tear into pure darkness, pure nothingness created so much unfiltered power where it wasn't expected to exist. It was so impressive that it made us an unrivalled force within the world beyond the naked eye.

Because of this millennium old ritual, we hadn't needed to feed as much as the average vampire and could still retain our full power. Our metabolism was altered completely. Of course with great power comes great consequences, thus we were feared in the supernatural world and we were quickly seen as a threat, a danger to everyone else. Not only humans are afraid of what they do not understand.

For a couple of centuries our ancestors tried to control the magical realm, to keep it from falling into perpetual chaos by forcing an understanding, but after a while of trying, they realized that we were the common factor in all the mayhem. We ourselves could not control our power, stop ourselves from hurting the world. As long as we existed, the witches of the East, dragons of the South and many other creatures would never stop hunting us.

So we slowly disappeared. As the world evolved and changed into something unfamiliar to the magic realm, we fell into the background as the witches took over and gradually, they believed all our secrets to power had been lost. By the turn of the twenty-first century we were a complete anomaly, a folktale that warlocks told to scare their children.

We had finally achieved what we had failed to back then. Our interests, though gravely misunderstood had always been in self sufficiency, community. We were perfectly camouflaged by the modern world. Our existence had been too jarring in the previous one because of our failure to abide to this ultimate sense of community we had finally achieved.

Our community was tight-knit. When it came to all things magical, we had rules that were followed religiously by every member or else it would all crumble. The elders had ways of making sure that everyone did their part in maintaining this life we had created for ourselves.

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When I was seven, when my baby teeth had just fallen out and the new ones were in, there was an incident that changed my life forever. After it happened, I was separated from all my friends, from all the childhood experiences I was supposed to have. I was robbed of a normal vampire life.

I made a mistake and had to watch everyone I knew go off to school overseas at the Academy while I stayed behind and pretended to be human. I broke one of the most important rules of the coven, went rabid and bit one of my own. The adults did not forgive, even a child.

My parents' rank was revoked, while I spent an entire year under elder custody and supervision before I went back to my family. The punishment was not lifted even when I recovered. My parents were still a social pariah and I was forced into homeschooling and having limited social interactions.

Now I had finished high school and graduated, the others were finally coming back from the Academy for summer.

I was thrilled to see my once best friend, Kyle, but I was also terrified because he was the one at the receiving end of the mauling all those years back. My parents and his had been good friends before the incident, but afterwards, the rift was pretty clear. Our fathers had even been actively hostile towards each other after the incident, almost landing themselves in irreparable trouble.

Although I had been kept away from him all those years, I still felt an attachment to him. Even after what I had done, he was still one of the only true friends I had ever known. With the animosity between our parents, I knew seeing each other would be next to impossible. That was if he even remembered me after 10 years in Marseille, or wanted to see me in his proximity ever again.

I'd kept all our childhood memories dear to my heart. They had helped me not fall further apart during the year with the elders and the time that followed when I felt the most terrible. They kept me from the rage and anger that had been knocking at my door, all the shame I felt and how unfair I felt I was treated. Even until now, I felt that I was still being punished for a crime that was accidental and long forgotten.

After they arrived, I was really anxious. Maybe even more than the parents who were being home with their kids for the first time in a long while. I still felt like I was some sort of outcast, that I wasn't deserving of reuniting with my peers.

That night I went to visit a little creek where we used to play as kids. I hadn't been there in a while. After everyone I knew left it felt really strange and pointless to be there. It was one memory I didn't want to hold on to, but now I was back here. It still felt strange, but tonight the nostalgia was hitting me in waves. 

Half of the trees had been cleared out by now, so the crescent moon shone directly at me, it's weak glow feeling really weird and tingly on my skin. Now you could see the built up area on the far side, the separation between our community and the rest of the city. It was as if two unrelated images were being slowly merged together.

The night air was so peaceful, I had blocked out almost all the noise and only savored the slow moving water and the shimmer of the moon against my dark skin. That was all I needed, yet somehow, something seemed to slip through, a nostalgic scent and nervous footsteps.

'Y-youre here,' I said hesitantly.