The first thing Therese felt was cold.
It wasn't the cold of winter or the coolness of night—it was something deeper, something eternal, like the absence of warmth. Her limbs felt stiff, her body unyielding, as though it had been frozen in time. But time itself had passed, and in that cold, she could feel a strange hum within her, a whisper of life where there should have been none.
She couldn't remember who she was. There were no faces, no names, no familiar voices to cling to. There was only a vague, distant image of a life—hers?—full of pain and betrayal. The taste of blood on her lips, the sensation of a sharp, searing betrayal, and then... nothing. The endless void that followed had swallowed her whole.
And now, here she was. In a strange, dark place.
Her eyes fluttered open.
The light that filtered in was pale and artificial, harsh against the darkness that enveloped her. A sterile room, walls lined with bookshelves, beakers filled with strange liquids, and metallic instruments she didn't recognize. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, a scent that clung to her senses.
She inhaled, the sharp scent flooding her lungs, and for the first time, she felt the hunger. It wasn't the hunger of a mere mortal, not for food, but for something deeper. She felt it gnawing at her insides, primal, insistent.
Her gaze snapped to the figure standing in front of her. A man, tall, disheveled, wearing a lab coat that looked like it had seen better days. His face was pale, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and confusion. He stared at her as though she were some kind of miracle, or perhaps a curse.
She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a raspy whisper. "Who... who are you?"
The man's face twitched, and then he cleared his throat, as though struggling to find words. "I'm... Dr. Elias Brandt. I... I found you."
"Found me?" Therese echoed, sitting up slowly. Her hands reached instinctively to push the remnants of a tattered, cold sheet off her body. She could feel the unfamiliar weight of her own skin, as though it had been stretched too tight, too foreign. Her fingers brushed the smooth, almost porcelain texture of her skin. It wasn't the skin she remembered.
"Where am I?" she demanded, voice gaining strength as her confusion turned to urgency. "What happened to me? What is this place?"
Elias took a cautious step forward, his eyes never leaving her, like he was afraid she might shatter if he got too close. "You were... preserved," he said, his voice hesitant, as though he was unsure of how to explain what had happened. "I—found you... in a tomb. A centuries-old tomb, deep beneath the city. I... I thought you were an ancient relic. You... you shouldn't be alive. But when I examined you..."
Therese's mind reeled as she tried to process the words. Tomb? Centuries-old? Alive? She looked down at her hands, her fingers trembling slightly as they gripped the edge of the cold stone table she had been lying on.
Her breath hitched. There was something wrong—something deeply wrong—about the way she felt, the way the world felt. The hunger that pulsed inside her was undeniable, a dark and gnawing thirst that wasn't just physical.
"What do you mean, 'shouldn't be alive'?" Therese asked, her voice edged with disbelief. "What happened to me?"
Elias hesitated, then stepped back toward his desk, where a series of papers were scattered. He picked up one of them, then glanced back at her. "You... were dead. Your body didn't decay. No signs of rot. No decomposition. I thought... I thought it was some kind of preservation process, some ancient secret. But..." His eyes flicked to her again, filled with wonder, fear, and something else she couldn't quite place. "But you're not just preserved. You're... something else."
The truth began to stir within her, the remnants of her lost memories clawing their way back, but they were fragmented, broken pieces. She remembered the feeling of betrayal, the darkness that had swallowed her in her final moments, but not the faces of those who had wronged her. And now, here she was, in this strange new world—alive, yet not alive.
She felt her pulse racing in her throat, a rhythmic thumping that was too fast, too erratic. Her breath quickened, and her vision blurred as something sharp and foreign coiled in her chest.
"What are you... what did you do to me?" Therese demanded, her voice trembling now as she stood, her body unsteady, like she hadn't used it in centuries.
"I didn't mean to," Elias replied, his voice shaking. "I didn't know. I thought— I thought you were an artifact. But you're... alive. And... different."
Therese took a step toward him, her gaze hardening. She could feel the strange energy building inside her, her senses heightened to an overwhelming degree. She could hear his heartbeat, his breath, the faint rustle of his clothing. She could smell the metallic tang of his blood. And the hunger inside her rose again, fierce and demanding.
"No," she whispered, her voice full of realization. "You've made me... a monster."
Elias took another step back, his eyes wide with shock. "I— I didn't mean to..."
But it was too late. Therese felt it—a burning desire coursing through her veins, a primal need she could no longer control. The world spun as she stumbled, catching herself on the edge of the table, her fangs glinting as her vision sharpened. She could hear the beating of Elias's heart more clearly now, faster, stronger.
"I didn't ask for this," she snarled, her voice growing more dangerous. "I didn't ask for this life. I didn't ask to be... whatever this is."
The hunger roared within her, but so did the memories. The anger. The desire for justice. And in that moment, Therese realized that her new existence was more than a curse—it was a second chance. A chance to make those who wronged her pay.