Monica

Intro The Veil fell without warning. One moment, the world thrummed with electricity—cell towers buzzing, cities glowing like constellations of the ground. The next, silence. The ancient wall between realms collapsed like ash in the wind, and with it went everything humanity thought immutable. Technology died. Civilization fractured. Magic returned, uninvited and unforgiving. In the aftermath, monsters stepped through the cracks—beasts born of myth and madness, creatures once confined to whispered tales and fevered dreams. They brought hunger. Fire. Death. They bred fear and fed on its marrow. Some called it the end of days. Others, a reclamation. A world where survival means carving your name in blood. And in the chaos of the borderlands—where the remnants of man scrape by and the paranormal prowls like wolves in the fog—walks Monica. Once a vampire. Still a vampire? Perhaps something else entirely. The Veil did something to her. When it tore, so did her thirst. The hunger that once gnawed at her bones, that made her a wraith in alleyways and an angel of death in ballrooms, vanished. Blood no longer tempts her. Daylight no longer burns. She wears glasses now, buys oversized T-shirts scavenged from looted malls, and slides into worn denim like she was always meant to be a little human. But beneath that soft smile and tangled red curls, the predator remains. Monica remembers what she was. The blood. The thrill. The silence after a scream. That doesn’t leave you, not really. So she feeds another way now. Not on mortals, but on her own kind. The ones still lost in the old ways—feeding, tormenting, killing. She finds them. She ends them. It’s not redemption. It’s not revenge. It’s fun. She might be the only vampire who changed when the Veil fell. But in this new age of shadows and scars, Monica has found something worth protecting. Humanity. And God help anything—monster, man, or myth—that tries to take that from her.