"How did you do that?" I ask, staring in disbelief at the mystical creatures.

"It takes centuries to master the art of illusion. Few vampires have achieved this level of power. Even fewer," Mort says, making a flary gesture with his hand, "have learned how to bend reality itself." Like a magician, he lifts one hand off the other to reveal a shiny red apple.

His horse sniffs it and whinnies appreciatively before sinking his teeth in.

"I cannot train you to develop these skills now," Mort says, grabbing his bridle, "but remember what I have shown you."

"This is frickin' sick!" Jeremy rubs the snout of the second horse. It is slightly smaller than the others and white in color except for a few black speckles on its hindquarters. "Can I ride this one?"

"Certainly."

Jeremy climbs onto its saddle, and Abe blows the truck's horn at us. Mags hangs her head out of the passenger window, calling, "See y'all there!"

While they drive off, Solara's giggles pull our attention back to the horses.

"Hadrian!" Mort scolds his stallion for nuzzling her chest. "Have you no manners?'

"Such a flirt," she says, scratching Hadrian's head. "I wonder where he learned it from."

Mort tries to maintain his gentlemanly act, but the corners of his lips curve into a smirk. "I haven't the slightest idea."

"Oh, sure." Solara shakes her head at him. "Well, shall we?"

Mort nods and offers her a hand. "M'lady." Once he helps her mount up, he takes a seat at the back of the saddle. "Would you like to take the reins?"

"I'd love to."

Ready to run, Hadrian snorts and taps his hoof on the ground impatiently.

"Hyaa!" Jeremy snaps his reins, and the filly takes off at full gallop.

Feeling challenged, Hadrian stands up on his back legs and huffs. Mort holds his hat in place, saying, "Patience, my friend! You'll have your chance!" He looks back at the third horse and whistles for it to come forward. "Nadia is a little shy, but she is a loyal companion."

The mare clops over and nudges me gently with her head. Admiring her beauty, I slide my hand along the white stripe running vertically over her face. "She's amazing, but I've never ridden a horse before. I don't know how to handle her."

Still holding his hat, Mort struggles to speak while Hadrian trots around restlessly. "Nadia will know how to handle you. All you need to do is hold on!" he shouts as the black stallion bolts forward.

"Go easy on me." I'm not used to maneuvering with this armor on, but it is designed well enough to allow my limbs to bend as I climb onto the saddle. Once I'm properly balanced, I pick up the reins, saying, "Ready when you are."

Nadia breaks into a gallop, and we close half of the gap between us and Hadrian. The proud stallion doesn't stay in second place for long; he pushes himself until he overtakes the filly and trails behind the truck. Unbothered by her showy friends, Nadia continues to pound the earth below at a steady pace.

Penumbra is miles away, but taking our current speed into account, I estimate that we will reach town in a little over an hour. The long ride gives me time to process all of the recent revelations that have ripped a hole through my reality.

Yesterday, I was just a gas station clerk. Today, I'm an immortal--the grandson of Dracula himself.

...

About halfway through our journey, Mort calls to me. "Drake, how are you doing back there?"

"I'm doing fine!"

"Good, good! Now, Nadia, why don't you show him what you can really do?"

For the first time, she neighs--as if charging up for something big. I expect her to kick into turbo drive, but I am unprepared for two bat wings to pop out of her shoulders and flap open. My stomach flutters as the wind carries us into the air. We glide back down only briefly before she flies up again.

By the third bound, she catches up to Hadrian who huffs in frustration. She responds with a whinny and shakes her mane.

Playful banter, I suppose?

Knowing that he is outmatched, Hadrian allows Nadia to take the lead. She continues to flap her wings, giving us a powerful boost each time. When Mags' Mini-Mart finally comes into view, I pull the reins back and take a moment to survey the scene ahead of us.

A black helicopter with blinding spotlights zooms overhead, and Nadia shields me with her wing until the vehicle lands in the middle of the road. Andrea emerges from the cockpit wearing military-grade combat gear and a machine gun. As she strides towards us, Nadia's wings fold back against her sides.

"Stand down!" Andrea orders the soldiers beginning to line up nearby. She glances at the others gathered around me and looks relieved to see us. "Drake," she greets, her voice cutting through the commotion like a knife. Her gaze flickers briefly to my armor, then back to my face. "What's the status?" she asks, quickly shifting into tactical mode.

"We know that the Repkonians are planning a major assault. They're not here just to pillage—this is about conquest. They are looking to take the entire planet and enslave humanity. They're not going to stop at Penumbra."

Andrea's jaw tightens as she processes the weight of my words. "And how many of them are we up against?"

"Most likely, more than I can count. And their leader, Prince Kryllios, won't stop until they've either succeeded or been destroyed. If we fail, we'll lose everything."

She absorbs this, and for a moment, the hard edges of her expression soften. I see just the briefest flash of fear before it's replaced with determination.

"Not if I can help it," she says, stepping back as the soldiers start unloading gear from Abe's truck. "You can count on us. I'll debrief the generals, get them ready for what's coming. We'll need to coordinate with every available military unit."

"Make it quick," I warn. "They're probably coming sooner than we hope."

She gives me a sharp nod, then glances back toward the makeshift military command center, where troops are already hustling to organize an evacuation.

I kick Nadia forward, her hooves pounding the road as Mort and the others catch up. The chaos looms closer with people scurrying all over the place. My heart skips at the sight of familiar faces in the crowd—people I've known my whole life. They're terrified. I don't blame them.

As we enter town, the sounds of soldiers shouting orders and the thrum of military vehicles fills the air. It's a far cry from the sleepy little town of Penumbra that I remember. Trucks are already loaded with civilians, heading for safety. And that's when I see her—Wilma.

She stands a few yards away, hands on her hips, staring down a soldier who looks like he's ready to drag her into one of the transport vehicles by force. Her face is set in a stubborn scowl, one that I know well. She's always been headstrong, always willing to fight for what she believes in.

The soldier moves towards her again, but I don't wait for him to make another move. With a sharp tug of the reins, I guide Nadia directly between them, blocking his path. The soldier stops short, eyes widening in surprise at my armor. I barely register the weight of it now, my focus entirely on Wilma.

"Wilma!" I call, my voice louder than I intend. Her gaze snaps up to me, a look of surprise, and then—joy. Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of me, the armor, the change that's come over me in the short time we've been apart.

"What the hell is going on?" Her voice is high with tension. "I didn't hear a peep from you all night. Then, my dad called me and said to come home--immediately. He told me that we were dealing with a Code Red, that he was getting our doomsday bunker ready..." She pauses as tears fill her eyes. "Is this the end of the world, Drake?" 

"No," I answer, dismounting in one fluid motion and walking toward her. The soldier steps back, clearly intimidated by the presence of someone who doesn't seem fully human. But I barely notice him, my eyes locked on Wilma. "I won't let anything happen to you or to this planet. I promise, this isn't the end--it's a new beginning."

"Drake..." She looks me over again, her eyes lingering on the armor, the sword at my side. "I don't understand. What happened to you?"

The question hangs in the air between us, and for a moment, I don't know how to answer. The truth feels like it could break everything we've ever had. If I tell her about my bloodline, about what I am, she might turn away. But I know I can't hide it.

"I'm not who I was, Wilma," I say softly, removing my helmet. "I'm... different now."

"What does that mean?" she asks, stress building in her voice.

"It's hard to explain--but one thing hasn't changed; I still love you more than life itself. That's why I have to stay and fight. And you need to go. It's not safe here. I know this is hard to believe, but any minute now, our town is going to be invaded."

"By what?"

I take a deep breath and say, "Aliens."

Her gaze flickers to the panic around us, then back to me, unreadable. Finally, she sighs, frustration and fear radiating from her. "I'm not leaving you here to die, Drake. If you're in this, then so am I. Whatever happens, I'm not going anywhere." Her gaze shifts down to the armor covering my chest and arms. She trails a hand over the intricate, dark designs woven into the metal, her brow furrowing in curiosity. "Where did you get this?" she asks, her voice tinged with awe. "I've never seen anything like it."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

She raises an eyebrow, a half-smile quirking at the corner of her mouth. "Drake, we're about to face an alien invasion. At this point, I'm ready to believe just about anything."

I hesitate, the truth on the tip of my tongue, feeling surreal even to me. But finally, I say it.

"It was an heirloom. Left behind by my grandfather..."

She looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to finish.

"Dracula."