The Night the Vampires Played Themselves
Ah, vampires. Always so dramatic, always so sure they’ve finally cracked the code to besting the Day Walkers. Spoiler alert: they haven’t.
Now, picture this—Eclipsora, the City of Day Walkers in the world of 4EverMore, glowing under the moon, as serene as ever. Gemstone towers humming with power, golden lanterns lighting the streets, everything just as it should be. Until, of course, the latest batch of brainless bloodsuckers decided they had a plan.
This time? Oh, this time they were smart, you see. They weren’t just sneaking in like the last ones. No, no. That had gone so terribly wrong for their kind that the latest batch of Night Stalkers—who clearly hadn’t read the historical accounts of absolute failure—thought they needed to do something different.
So, instead of creeping through the shadows, they decided to get creative.
They strolled in disguised as mortals.
I kid you not. Actual cloaks. Hoods up. Fake breathing. Doing their best impression of ‘just a group of totally normal humans wandering where we absolutely belong.’
And you know what? I almost applauded their effort. Almost.
Now, I was, of course, enjoying a delightful midnight tea outside one of the market cafés when I spotted them. They shuffled past—trying so hard to look inconspicuous. Oh, but there’s something about a vampire trying to fake mortality that’s just... wrong.
One of them? Oh, he was trying to breathe but was way too dramatic about it. Deep, heaving gasps. Like he had just run a marathon. (Subtle, darling. Truly.)
Another? He tried to sneeze. Sneeze. I nearly choked on my tea. Do vampires even know what sneezing is?
And the third? Oh, this one was my favorite—she picked up a loaf of bread from a street vendor, took a big exaggerated bite, and then proceeded to chew it like a goat chewing a rock. Absolutely lifeless. Not a single human in the history of ever has chewed like that.
It was at this point that I knew I had entertainment for the evening.
So, naturally, I waved them over.
“Ah! Travelers!” I called, all smiles, because I am helpful like that.
The one with the labored breathing hesitated. The bread-chewing one glared at me (rude), and the last one—who was clearly the leader—gave a tight smile and tried to walk past.
Oh, no, no, no, darlings. You don’t just sneak into Eclipsora thinking you can outwit us.
I stood, gracefully of course (it’s the tea), and casually blocked their path.
“Where are you all from?” I asked sweetly.
Labored Breather cleared his throat—too much—and said, “Ah. Um. The—uh—South.”
“The South?” I echoed, delighted. “How fascinating! Where in the South?”
He blinked. Hard. His fake breathing got worse. “The... South... Fields.”
Oh, darling. There is no such place.
Bread Chewer’s jaw locked as she tried so hard to swallow whatever horror was happening in her mouth. (Did she forget vampires don’t eat? Did she think she had to? I had so many questions.)
And their fearless leader? He just muttered, “We should go.”
But before they could bolt—oh, would you look at that! The Day Walkers had already circled in.
I simply love how fast they work.
Three figures dropped from the rooftops—silent, golden-eyed, weapons glinting under the moonlight. More stepped out from the market stalls, barely a whisper in the night.
The vampires were toast.
And they knew it.
Leader tried to run—only to find himself at the end of a sword.
Bread Chewer finally spit out the cursed loaf and screeched, baring her fangs—oh, now she wanted to be a vampire again? But too late, darling. A stake to the heart ended that discussion.
Labored Breather? He gasped, one last time, before collapsing in a heap. (Truly, his commitment to the bit was admirable.)
And their leader? Oh, he tried. He really did. But one moment, he was standing tall, sneering like he had some kind of last-ditch plan. And the next? Well—Seraphina Nightshade had arrived.
Her blade gleamed like starlight, and her expression? Pure disappointment.
“Disguises?” she asked, tilting her head. “Really?”
The vampire just gulped.
Seraphina sighed. “You all never learn.”
And with a single, fluid motion—she ended him.
I took a sip of my tea.
The Day Walkers stepped back, their work done.
The night settled.
And me? Oh, I just smiled and raised my cup to the city.
“Next time,” I murmured to the air, “send some who can act.”
And that, my dear mortals is what happens when vampires think they’re actors in a game they cannot win.
🩸🫖
