France - 1788 

Clocksworth

"What are you?" I gasped, my gaze fixed on the brutal scene before me. My heart pounded furiously in my chest, but my boots felt glued to the floor—even though my brain screamed at me to run.

On the floor, a man sat slumped over. He looked sick, deranged even. His eyes were wide, and blood dripped from his chin, pooling on the wooden floor beneath him. My wife's blood. The sight was so horrifying that my body ceased to function. I didn't even notice when someone stepped up behind me. It wasn't until a cold hand landed on my shoulder that my body jolted back to life.

 "We are your future," a smooth voice whispered into my ear, devoid of warmth or breath. 

 My legs began to tremble, my entire body shaking as my eyes fell to the twisted figure on the floor. Her light blue dress was stained a deep, violent red, and her long brown hair lay tangled and splayed out on the floor. A crushing hopelessness washed over me, mixed with a strange, fleeting relief that I couldn't see her face. My wife, my beautiful, wonderful wife, was dead. Murdered by this monster—and here I was, frozen, doing nothing. 

 My eyes darted desperately around the room. My home. I searched for any sign of my daughter, but there wasn't a trace of her golden curls. Panic started to claw at my chest. Julie, my little girl, where are you? 

The monster before me began to rise. I caught a glimpse of long, sharp fangs in his mouth, but other than that, he looked like an ordinary man. The thought gave me courage. I summoned what little strength I had left and took a step forward. My fists clenched tightly, and I lunged at him without a second thought for my own safety. A scream erupted from deep within me—a battle cry fueled by the searing pain of losing my family. 

 But I didn't make it to the murderer. He was swept away in a blur, thrown against the wall with such force that I collapsed to the floor. Pulse hammering, I caught a glimpse of another figure materializing before my eyes—as if stepping out of thin air. Dread climbed up my spine as I watched him grab the murderer by the throat and lift him off the ground, his blood-splattered shoes dangling in the air. 

 "How many times must I remind you, you idiot? We - are - not - barbarians!" the newcomer hissed, his icy voice cutting through the room like a blade, his mouth just inches from the other man's ear. "You know the rules—we do not kill children."

My heart shattered as his words sank in. I collapsed onto the floor, my legs unable to support me, and silent tears streamed uncontrollably down my cheeks. I barely noticed the man who had stood behind me take another step closer. His hand found my shoulder once again.

"Don't worry, my friend. Prince Anthony will deal with him." 

 It was little comfort. Whoever this prince was, I felt an odd sense of gratitude toward him. He had finished something I hadn't been able to. I wanted to thank him, but the words stuck in my throat, and as the prince approached, an unnatural calm washed over me. The world darkened around me, and I sank into a nightmare filled with guilt, rage, and despair. My body was paralyzed, yet somehow, I could still think—and all I could think was that this was my fault. I should have saved them. Deep down, I knew I never stood a chance. I was nothing more than a weak craftsman, no fighter. Even if I'd come home earlier, my chances of saving them would have been slim. 

 "Take him home, Lumiere," a dark voice commanded. "He can replace the fool here. A newborn will serve me better." 

 Two hands pulled me to my feet, and in a dazed state, teetering on the edge of dizziness and despair, I had no choice but to let him drag me away. Away from my home, my family. 

 "Are you going to kill me?" I whispered. 

 "Maybe. Maybe not. You have two choices. You can die and never wake again—or die and be reborn as one of us." The prince leaned forward, his piercing eyes still locked onto mine. His words lingered in the air like a heavy veil, and I struggled to grasp their meaning. Reborn as one of us. What did that mean? Was it a life shrouded in darkness, like theirs? Or was it something else—something I couldn't yet comprehend? 

  I couldn't breathe, my gaze flickering between Lumiere and the Prince. The former stood silently by, his aristocratic posture giving the impression that he was well-accustomed to this sort of macabre negotiation. But there was something more in his eyes—a hint of melancholy, or perhaps resignation.

The Prince, on the other hand, terrified me the most. He exuded a coldness and control unlike anything I had ever encountered. His aura of power was almost tangible, and despite my inner struggle, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was entirely at his mercy. 

 "What do you mean?" I heard myself whisper, barely aware that the words had escaped my lips. The Prince leaned back in the carriage, his cold smile fading slightly but never disappearing entirely. 

"You have two choices. You can die here and now, and your days on this earth will be over. Or you can accept my gift and live on—stronger than you have ever been." He paused, his gaze piercing through me. "But it comes at a price. You will be mine." 

 My thoughts swirled. Images of my wife and daughter flashed through my mind—their smiles, their laughter. Everything I had lost. If I accepted his offer, who would I become? A monster, just like them? "What... what are you, really?" My voice trembled despite my efforts to steady it. 

Lumiere was the one to answer this time, his tone soft and almost sorrowful. "We are immortals, bound to the night and to hunger. 

We survive by drinking the blood of life." "Vampires," the Prince added without hesitation. "Monsters, if that's what you'd want to call us. But monsters with power. And you can become one of us, if you are willing to pay the price." 

 I felt frozen in time. Should I choose death and be reunited with my family in the grave? Or should I cling to life, even if it meant becoming one of the dark creatures standing before me? 

***

I woke up among pillows and feather-filled covers, a luxury I had never experienced before, but I couldn't bring myself to enjoy it. My body ached, and my mind was a swirling mess. My wife and child were gone, and with a growing emptiness in my heart, I had accepted Prince Anthony's offer.

I had died with them that night. They lived on in heaven, while I was reborn in hell.

I stared at my reflection. The man looking back at me was not the Theodor I had once been but someone new—stronger, more resolute, and enveloped in an unsettling, cold beauty. My cheeks were smooth and pale, my eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. They held the same feline quality I had seen in Anthony's.

I was no longer a simple watchmaker from Paris. I was something else. Something dangerous. The room I was in was fit for a prince, but I barely noticed my surroundings; my focus was entirely on my body. Everything felt different; every part of me ached. My body pulsed and screamed for its creator—and as if he could hear it, the prince entered my bedroom, his face devoid of emotion.

Without a word, he removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his dark gray shirt to reveal his bare wrist. "Your body needs blood," he said matter-of-factly and punctured his own skin. Without further explanation, he offered me his arm. I stared blankly at the single drop of ruby-red liquid resting on his pale skin. "Drink as much as you need."

I lifted my gaze to see a calm smile on his otherwise stern face. As I continued to hesitate, he raised his hand to my face and stroked my cheek—the drop just inches from my lips. I kept staring into his eyes, unsure and afraid of what would happen if I took this step. Sensing my fear, the prince dipped a fingertip into the blood and gently smeared it over my lower lip. The scent caused my entire body to react so strongly that I inhaled sharply, and once the taste reached inside my mouth, there was no turning back. My hands grasped his wrist, my fangs extended in my mouth, and when I could no longer resist the craving, I let my teeth sink into his flesh. I drank deeply, relishing the sensation as the warm liquid flowed down my throat, dripped from my chin, and landed on my nightshirt. For a moment, I felt as though I was about to completely lose myself, disappearing into the powerful, intoxicating sensation of control and power. But then the memory of my wife and daughter returned, as painful as ever, and a wave of nausea washed over me. How could I allow myself to enjoy this new body when they were gone? How could I accept this new life when their blood still stained my hands?

The prince chuckled softly as he wiped my face, muttering something about me being a messy child. I couldn't focus on his words or his touch. All my senses were numbed by the power coursing through me—the power of a true vampire prince and a higher consciousness. I could feel my body responding to the final stage of the transformation. My muscles ached from sudden growth, my nails lengthened, my eyes saw more clearly in the room's darkness, and my hearing became disturbingly sharp. But the most noticeable change was the dampening of my emotions, as though someone had placed a lid over a roaring fire and extinguished it. I released my master's arm, a growing fear within me. I worried I had taken too much, but when I lifted my gaze to meet his, a proud smile played on his lips.

"You are beautiful," he said softly, seemingly impressed by what he saw. I couldn't understand why for the life of me. He leaned forward and stroked my cheek once more. "And soon, you will be stronger than ever."

"I already feel strong," I whispered, letting my hands explore my growing muscles.

"There are different kinds of strength, my friend," he said with a smile, tapping a finger against my temple. "I mean the strength of your mind."

I continued to stare into his eyes. The differences between vampires and humans were barely noticeable, but if you looked closely, you could see that his eyes resembled those of a cat, with corneas reflecting even the faintest light. I assumed his night vision was flawless. He was flawless in my eyes—strong and powerful, yet beautiful and gentle.

"I am your creation. How could I be anything but beautiful?" I gasped, feeling a blush spread across my face.

The older vampire chuckled softly and leaned in to kiss my cheek. "You will soon realize that the relationship between a vampire and their creator is a deep, lifelong bond, very different from any other relationship you've ever had." He paused and looked at me with admiration. "Some would even call it love."

In my dazed state, his presence was intoxicating, and the longer he stayed by my side, the more affected I became. "Does that apply to everyone?"

"No. There are reasons why some vampires serve me longer than others. A good example is that pathetic creature you encountered yesterday," he replied with venom in his voice. "He could never have become as beautiful as you." The prince began fastening his shirt sleeve and handed me his long black jacket, signaling for me to assist him. I stood immediately, eager to be helpful, and was struck by his size. His height made him even more intimidating. "Take a bath, put on the clothes I've chosen for you, and join us in the dining hall, Clocksworth. We shall dine as a family tonight and celebrate the birth of yet another majestic creature."

In an instant, I was alone with my thoughts and feelings again, but his absence helped clear my mind. I sank back onto my bed. What would it mean to be a family member to a vampire prince? Would I live a life of luxury, or would I be forced to kill like the monster that had taken my old family? The monster I hated with all my heart. My old family—the thought made me nauseous, and goosebumps spread across my body. It seemed Anthony had already begun brainwashing me.

A faint knock at the door pulled me from my dark thoughts, and a pair of young girls entered, carrying buckets of warm water to fill a bathtub in the adjoining bathroom. How long had it been since I'd had a warm bath? After taking over my father's place in his old watchmaking shop, I knew I would never become a rich man, but we had managed well. The Parisians knew our reputation, and when they needed a new pocket watch or wanted to repair an old one, they came to us, to Clocksworth's. But then the commoners began to starve. They sold all their watches, and soon I was out of work. I had never been interested in politics, but I had heard the rumors, whispers of revolution in the streets. The people were tired of being cold and hungry. Once again, I pushed away old, painful memories and slid into the warm water with a contented sigh. I might be in hell, but this felt like heaven, I thought, forcing away the guilt that was creeping in. And by the time the water had grown cold, Anthony's blood had done its work. I felt determined, strong, and confident, and old feelings like remorse, guilt, and fear washed off me like dirt. When I rose from the bath, dried my skin with the soft white towel, and looked at myself in the mirror, I knew what he meant. I had died and been reborn, and I truly was beautiful. 

A/N - If you're not new here you'll notice that this chapter is new. We're going back in time for a bit :)