THE LAST BLOOD LINE

THE LAST BLOODLINE

CHAPTER ONE: THE NIGHT EVERYTHING CHANGED

The first explosion shook the entire street at 11:47 p.m.

Ray barely looked up.

"Drake, tell me you didn't burn the food again."

From the kitchen came a brief silence.

"...Define burn."

Ray closed his eyes.

"You're unbelievable."

"I'm talented. There's a difference."

Ray shook his head and returned his attention to the cracked window beside him. Far below, the city glittered beneath the night sky. Cars moved through crowded streets, neon advertisements flashed across towering buildings, and people hurried home without knowing that anything was wrong.

It was an ordinary night.

At least, it was supposed to be.

Ray was twenty years old, stubborn, sharp-eyed, and far too accustomed to solving problems that weren't his fault. His younger brother, Drake, was seventeen and seemed to attract trouble with the same ease that other people attracted friends.

They had survived three years on their own.

Three years of unpaid bills, temporary jobs, cheap meals, and promises that tomorrow would be better.

Their parents had disappeared when Ray was seventeen.

No bodies. No explanation. No goodbye.

Just an empty house and a single sentence written on a piece of paper their father had left behind.

"Whatever happens, never trust anyone who asks about your blood."

Ray had memorized those words.

He had never shown them to Drake.

"Ray!"

Drake's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"If you're planning to eat tonight, you might want to get in here before this thing becomes a weapon."

Ray turned away from the window.

"You're cooking. How did you manage to—"

The lights went out.

Both brothers fell silent.

Outside, the city's noise faded.

One second, traffic roared beneath their apartment. The next, the entire street seemed to hold its breath.

Ray slowly approached the window.

Every building across the street had gone dark.

Every single one.

Then he saw it.

A figure stood on the rooftop opposite their apartment.

Tall. Motionless. Dressed entirely in black.

Even from several floors below, Ray could feel that something was wrong.

The figure lifted its head.

And looked directly at him.

Ray stepped away from the window.

"Drake."

"Yeah?"

"Get away from the windows."

Drake appeared in the doorway, holding a frying pan.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

For once, Drake didn't argue.

A metallic sound echoed through the apartment corridor.

CLANG.

Someone was opening the stairwell door.

Ray's heart began to pound.

Their apartment was on the ninth floor. There was only one staircase, and the elevator had stopped working hours ago.

Whoever was coming up knew exactly where they lived.

Ray grabbed the heavy flashlight from the table.

"Bedroom. Now."

Drake's expression changed.

"You think it's those guys from last week?"

"I don't know."

"Then why are you acting like we're about to die?"

Ray stared at the apartment door.

Because he recognized the footsteps.

Not from memory.

From a nightmare he had experienced almost every night since his parents vanished.

Slow, measured footsteps.

Always seven steps.

Then silence.

Then seven more.

Ray's fingers tightened around the flashlight.

The footsteps stopped outside their apartment.

Three knocks followed.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

A calm voice came from the other side.

"Ray. Drake. We need to talk."

Drake looked at his brother.

"Okay, that's officially creepy."

Ray didn't answer.

The voice continued.

"Your father has been dead for three years. But what he left behind is finally waking up."

Ray felt the blood drain from his face.

Nobody outside their family knew their father was missing.

Nobody.

"Who are you?" Ray demanded.

A pause.

Then the stranger spoke again.

"Someone who has spent eighteen years trying to keep you alive."

The door handle began to turn.

Ray backed away.

"Drake, run."

But before either brother could move, something struck the door from the other side.

The entire frame shuddered.

Once.

Twice.

On the third impact, the lock shattered.

The door flew open.

A man in a long black coat stood in the doorway. His face was pale, his eyes strangely colourless. Behind him, the corridor lights flickered.

He looked at Ray.

Then at Drake.

And smiled.

"Finally," he whispered. "The last bloodline."

Ray raised the flashlight like a weapon.

"Get out."

The stranger's smile disappeared.

"You have no idea what you are, do you?"

He lifted one hand.

Every piece of glass in the apartment exploded simultaneously.

Drake shouted.

Ray threw himself toward his brother, shielding him as fragments scattered across the room.

Then everything stopped.

The glass hung motionless in the air.

Hundreds of tiny fragments floated around them, each one reflecting the same impossible image.

Ray.

But not the Ray standing beside his brother.

This other Ray had glowing blue eyes.

And behind him stood a shadow shaped like something that had never been human.

The stranger took a step backward.

For the first time, he looked afraid.

"No," he whispered.

Ray stared at his reflection in the floating glass.

Blue light spread across his fingers.

"What... is this?"

The stranger's voice trembled.

"Impossible. Your power was supposed to have disappeared with your father."

Ray looked up.

The stranger was already reaching into his coat.

"Drake," Ray whispered. "Get behind me."

But Drake wasn't looking at the stranger.

He was staring at his own hands.

A thin red light glowed beneath his skin.

And somewhere deep inside the building, something answered.

A deafening roar shook the apartment.

The stranger dropped to his knees.

Then he bowed his head.

Not to Ray.

Not to Drake.

To the darkness gathering behind them.

"Oh, no," he whispered. "Both of them?"

The shadow behind Ray opened its eyes.

And spoke a single word.

"AWAKEN."

END OF CHAPTER ONE.