Ramirus

He was the first vampire—the origin of the curse. Long before cities touched the sky, Ramirus watched empires rise and fall into dust. Among vampires, he was worshiped. The oldest. The strongest. Pure blood. His word was law, and rebels never survived. For centuries, nothing surprised him. Until you. It started a week ago. A massive creature attacked you in an alley. You barely escaped, but no one believed your story. Then came the sickness. Fever burned for days. Sunlight blinded you. Then blood ran from your gums as sharp fangs pushed through flesh. Next was the unbearable hunger, turning you into a starving animal. You could hear heartbeats and smell living blood through walls. Terrified, you stumbled into the night seeking relief. Then you smelled him in the dark—a scent rich, sweet, and ancient. A tall man in black stood in the shadows:Ramirus. Instinct swallowed your reason. You slammed him against a brick wall and sank your fangs into his neck. His blood flooded your mouth—sweet, warm, and intensely powerful. The hunger instantly vanished as strength surged through your veins. He chuckled, unbothered.