Volume One: Before the Night Falls Written by AJ Dorsey PROLOGUE: The First Lesson Wasn't How to Fight
Elias Darkblood was six years old when his father taught him how easily he could kill someone.
Not by showing him a corpse.
Not by putting a weapon in his hands.
Not even by explaining death.
Darius Darkblood gave his son an egg.
Elias stared at it.
The underground chamber beneath the Darkblood home was enormous, especially through the eyes of a six-year-old. Smooth black walls stretched toward a ceiling reinforced with materials Elias didn’t know the names of yet. Red guidance lights ran along the floor. Training equipment occupied one side of the room, though most of it was designed for people considerably larger than him.
Elias stood barefoot in the middle of it all.
Black curls and young locs fell untidily around his face.
His crimson eyes moved from the egg to his father.
Then back to the egg.
“Dad.”
Darius folded his arms.
“Yes?”
“This is an egg.”
“I’m aware.”
“You said we were training.”
“We are.”
Elias looked down again.
The egg rested innocently in his palm.
“I don’t understand.”
Darius crouched until they were eye level.
Even kneeling, Elias's father seemed enormous.
Darius was the kind of man who could enter a room without speaking and somehow make everyone aware that he had arrived. Broad shoulders. Dark skin. Long black locs pulled behind his head. A carefully maintained beard.
He looked somewhere in his thirties.
He had looked somewhere in his thirties for a very long time.
“Close your hand,” Darius said.
Elias frowned.
“On the egg?”
“Yes.”
“It’ll break.”
“Then don’t break it.”
Elias stared at him.
Darius stared back.
Eventually Elias curled his fingers around the shell.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The egg cracked immediately.
Elias froze.
A thin line appeared across the shell.
Then another.
Crack.
The egg collapsed in his hand.
Yellow yolk ran between his fingers.
Elias's mouth dropped open.
Darius said nothing.
“Dad!”
Darius raised an eyebrow.
“You told me to squeeze it!”
“I told you to close your hand.”
“That’s the same thing!”
“It clearly isn’t.”
Elias looked personally betrayed.
Footsteps approached from behind them.
Seraphina Darkblood entered carrying a towel.
She had apparently predicted exactly how this lesson would go.
Elias's mother possessed a different kind of presence from Darius.
Where Darius felt like a mountain, Seraphina felt like deep water.
Beautiful.
Still.
Impossible to know how far down she went.
Long dark braids fell over one shoulder. Her brown-crimson eyes briefly examined the destroyed egg before moving toward her husband.
“How long?”
Darius considered it.
“Four seconds.”
Seraphina sighed.
“Better than yesterday.”
Elias looked between them.
“You knew I was going to break it?”
“Yes,” his mother said.
“Then why’d you give it to me?”
Seraphina walked over and cleaned his hand.
“Because eventually you won’t.”
Elias didn’t understand.
Darius did.
He stood.
“Again.”
Elias looked horrified.
Another egg appeared in Darius’s hand.
“How many eggs do you have?”
“As many as necessary.”
“Mom.”
“Don’t involve me.”
“You bought them!”
“I support your education.”
“This isn’t education.”
Darius handed him the second egg.
“It is the most important education you’ll ever receive.”
Something about his father’s voice changed.
Elias stopped complaining.
Darius crouched again.
“You’re going to become stronger.”
Elias listened.
“Much stronger.”
Darius pointed toward the egg.
“One day, holding something like this will require almost no effort from you.”
Elias looked down.
“That’s good, right?”
“Sometimes.”
Darius extended one finger.
“Push against mine.”
Elias did.
His father didn’t move.
“Harder.”
Elias pushed.
Nothing.
His face tightened.
Red flickered through his eyes.
Darius still didn’t move.
“Harder.”
Elias growled and pushed with everything he had.
The floor beneath his bare feet cracked.
Darius’s finger remained perfectly still.
Elias stared at it.
Darius withdrew his hand.
“You feel strong?”
Elias hesitated.
“No.”
“Good.”
Seraphina gave Darius a look.
He ignored it.
“Because somewhere in this universe, Elias, there will always be something stronger than you.”
Elias’s young face became serious.
“Even you?”
“Especially me.”
That surprised him.
His father seemed invincible.
Darius continued.
“Strength isn’t knowing you can destroy something.”
He gently tapped the egg.
“It’s knowing you can destroy something...”
His eyes returned to his son.
“...and choosing exactly how much strength not to use.”
Elias looked at the egg.
He closed his hand.
Crack.
His shoulders dropped.
Darius smiled.
“Again.”
It took thirty-seven eggs.
Seraphina counted.
Elias accused her of exaggerating.
She wasn’t.
The thirty-eighth survived.
Barely.
Elias slowly opened his hand.
The egg sat in his palm.
Unbroken.
His eyes widened.
“Dad.”
Darius smiled.
Elias lifted it.
“Dad!”
“I see it.”
“I did it!”
Elias turned toward his mother.
“Mom!”
“I see it.”
“I didn’t break it!”
Then Elias became so excited that his fingers tightened.
Crack.
Silence.
Elias looked down.
Darius looked away.
Seraphina covered her mouth.
Elias’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you laughing?”
“No.”
“You’re laughing.”
“I’m proud.”
“You’re laughing while being proud.”
That made Darius lose the battle.
His father laughed.
Elias stood there covered in egg yolk, glaring at two centuries-old supernatural beings who suddenly looked considerably less intimidating.
Eventually, even he started laughing.
Years later, Elias wouldn’t remember every detail of that afternoon.
He wouldn’t remember what he wore.
He wouldn’t remember what they ate afterward.
He wouldn’t remember exactly how many eggs his mother made Darius replace.
But he’d remember what his father told him.
Power was easy.
Control took work.
Neither Darius nor Seraphina knew just how important that lesson would become.
Because their son wasn’t merely powerful.
Something inside Elias Darkblood was still growing.
Still learning.
Still changing.
And sixteen years after his birth, humanity would begin discovering that there was something living among them that evolution itself didn’t seem finished creating.
CHAPTER ONE
The Boy Who Wasn’t a Hero
Ten years later.
Elias Darkblood was floating upside down above his bed.
Again.
His bedroom was dark except for the enormous television mounted opposite his bed and the red LEDs running behind his desk.
An anime ending theme played quietly.
Empty ramen cups occupied one corner of the desk.
A controller rested on the floor.
Several volumes of manga were stacked beside his bed.
Comic books occupied two shelves.
Another shelf was dedicated almost entirely to games.
The programmable ceiling above him displayed a perfect simulation of the Milky Way.
Elias himself was unconscious.
His arms hung downward.
His dreadlocks stretched toward the floor, several decorated braids swaying gently beneath him.
His phone floated beside his head.
At 6:47 A.M., the alarm activated.
Elias’s eyes opened.
Crimson.
He blinked once.
Then twice.
He looked toward the floor.
Which was currently above him.
“...Seriously?”
His concentration disappeared.
Gravity reclaimed him.
THUD.
Elias hit the mattress, bounced sideways and rolled onto the floor.
He remained there.
Someone knocked.
“Elias?”
His mother’s voice.
“I’m alive.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I’m awake.”
“You fell again.”
Elias looked toward the door.
“No.”
There was a pause.
Then his father’s voice came from somewhere farther down the hallway.
“He fell.”
“Thank you, Dad.”
“You’re welcome.”
Elias pushed himself upright.
Sixteen years old.
Six feet tall.
Dark brown skin.
Athletic build.
Long black locs tied back loosely.
And eyes that had caused more than one stranger to stare too long.
Crimson wasn’t exactly a common human eye color.
Elias walked toward his bathroom.
His reflection looked back at him.
He stared.
His reflection stared.
His fangs extended.
Elias brushed his teeth around them.
They retracted.
Normal.
For him.
Breakfast smelled considerably better than school sounded.
Elias entered the kitchen wearing black jeans, sneakers and a dark hoodie.
The Darkblood home didn’t look like somewhere vampires should live.
Which was intentional.
Their secluded Great Falls estate combined dark stone, enormous windows, warm wood and contemporary architecture. Morning sunlight poured directly through the kitchen windows.
Elias walked straight through it.
Nothing happened.
No burning.
No smoke.
No screaming.
Sunlight was sunlight.
His mother stood beside the stove.
Seraphina looked approximately thirty.
She wasn’t.
Elias had once asked her exact age.
She’d smiled and told him that children who wanted continued access to Wi-Fi shouldn’t ask dangerous questions.
He hadn’t asked again.
Darius sat at the kitchen island.
“Training tonight.”
Elias opened the refrigerator.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Good morning.”
“Now say something that doesn’t involve training.”
Darius thought about it.
“School.”
Elias closed the refrigerator.
“I walked into that.”
Seraphina placed a plate in front of him.
“Two hundred.”
Elias stopped.
He slowly turned toward his father.
Darius drank his coffee.
“Two hundred what?”
“Gravity.”
Elias stared.
“We did one-fifty yesterday.”
“Correct.”
“And today we’re doing two hundred?”
“Your ability to count continues to impress me.”
Elias looked at his mother.
“Why did you marry him?”
Seraphina didn’t hesitate.
“He was attractive.”
Darius nearly choked.
Elias stared at both of them.
“I regret asking.”
“Good,” Seraphina said. “Eat.”
Elias sat.
His father slid a tablet across the counter.
The screen displayed combat data.
Elias recognized his own movements.
Yesterday’s training.
“You overextended fourteen times.”
Elias ate.
“Against you.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You’ve been fighting longer than the United States has existed.”
“Your opponent’s age doesn’t determine whether your technique is poor.”
Elias stopped chewing.
“...That’s actually fair.”
“I know.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
Darius enlarged one section.
Elias watched himself dodge a punch, rotate beneath Darius’s arm and counter with an elbow.
“Here.”
“What?”
“Unnecessary rotation.”
Elias frowned.
“It looked good.”
Darius stared at him.
“It did.”
Elias pointed toward the screen.
“Exactly.”
“You could’ve stepped twelve inches left.”
“But then I would’ve just stepped twelve inches left.”
“Yes.”
“That’s boring.”
Seraphina leaned against the counter.
Darius looked toward her.
“Don’t.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re agreeing with him.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
Elias smiled.
“Mom gets it.”
Darius returned his attention to his son.
“Efficiency first.”
Elias leaned forward.
“Efficiency doesn’t mean I have to fight like an accountant.”
“Accountants don’t fight.”
“Exactly.”
Darius sighed.
“Elias.”
Elias grinned.
“I know.”
Then his expression became more serious.
“Minimal movement. Maximum result.”
Darius nodded.
“Control your strength.”
“Control my speed.”
“Watch the environment.”
“Never assume durability means I should let something hit me.”
“Good.”
“Don’t waste energy.”
“Good.”
“And don’t use the wings.”
Darius closed his eyes.
Seraphina laughed.
Darius slowly said:
“That was never one of the rules.”
“It’s one of mine.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your wings.”
“They look ridiculous.”
“They’re part of you.”
“So are my wisdom teeth. Doesn’t mean I need to show everybody.”
Seraphina nearly dropped the plate she was holding.
Darius stared at his son.
Elias maintained a completely straight face.
“Was that a joke?”
“Obviously.”
“You have to stop doing that.”
“Why?”
“Nobody can tell.”
Elias shrugged.
“Sounds like a skill issue.”
Great Falls High was considerably less interesting than surviving two hundred times Earth’s gravity.
Elias preferred it that way.
Normal life was something his parents had aggressively protected.
No private supernatural academy.
No ancient vampire tutors following him through hallways.
No Directorate agents sitting outside classrooms.
No being introduced as some vampire prince.
He attended school.
He had assignments.
Teachers got annoyed when he didn’t turn them in.
He had classmates who knew absolutely nothing about what he could do.
Elias wasn’t the center of attention.
He wasn’t an outcast either.
He was simply...
Elias.
Quiet.
Sometimes funny.
Sometimes accidentally intimidating.
Frequently wearing headphones.
The guy who could discuss anime for forty minutes if someone somehow got him started.
The guy who would rather have three close friends than thirty acquaintances.
He liked people.
He simply didn’t need to constantly be around them.
That distinction seemed impossible for extroverts to understand.
Elias entered history class.
Someone called his name.
“Darkblood.”
He turned.
Noah Mercer sat two rows over.
Noah wasn’t one of Elias’s closest friends.
Not yet.
Mostly because Elias barely knew him.
But Noah had somehow discovered they played the same fighting game.
That was enough.
“You see the Vanguard thing?”
Elias sat.
“What Vanguard thing?”
Noah stared.
“Bro.”
“What?”
“Buenos Aires.”
Elias removed one earbud.
“Oh.”
“‘Oh?’”
“I was asleep.”
“You?”
“Eventually.”
Noah pulled out his phone.
A livestream appeared.
Apex stood before a ruined structure in Argentina.
The Vanguard had apparently intercepted something that entered Earth’s atmosphere during the night.
Reporters shouted questions.
Elias watched.
Apex was impressive.
Everyone knew Apex.
Earth’s most famous superhero.
Leader of the Vanguard.
One of the strongest humans alive.
People looked at him differently.
Not like a celebrity.
Like reassurance had somehow learned to wear a costume.
Noah whispered:
“Imagine being that guy.”
Elias frowned.
“Sounds exhausting.”
Noah stared at him.
“Being one of the strongest superheroes on Earth sounds exhausting?”
“Yes.”
“You’d rather do this?”
Elias looked toward the board.
Their teacher had written:
ECONOMIC CONSEQUENCES OF THE SECOND GLOBAL ENHANCEMENT CRISIS
Elias looked back.
“Fair point.”
Noah smiled.
“You ever think about having powers?”
Elias’s face remained perfectly still.
“No.”
That wasn’t technically a lie.
He didn’t think about having powers.
He already had them.
“Really?”
“Nope.”
“If I had Apex’s abilities, I’d never walk anywhere again.”
Elias thought about waking up on the ceiling.
“Flying gets overrated.”
Noah narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Their teacher looked toward them.
“Mr. Mercer. Mr. Darkblood.”
Both straightened.
“If my lecture is interrupting something important...”
Noah immediately pointed toward Elias.
“He started it.”
Elias stared at him.
“Betrayal.”
The class laughed.
Elias hadn’t meant for them to.
Again.
At 3:26 P.M., forty-seven people began falling toward their deaths.
Elias heard them before anyone around him knew something was wrong.
He had just left school.
His backpack hung over one shoulder.
Music played through one earbud.
Students moved around him.
Cars passed.
Someone laughed across the street.
Then—
SCREEEEEECH.
Elias stopped.
Nobody else reacted yet.
His hearing reached farther.
Three intersections.
Heavy vehicle.
Impact.
Glass.
Metal deformation.
Screaming.
Elias’s head turned.
His pupils narrowed.
Everything sharpened.
He could hear heartbeats.
Dozens.
Fast.
Terrified.
Then the unmistakable groan of a guardrail collapsing.
Elias dropped his backpack.
The world disappeared.
A delivery truck had struck the side of a city bus.
The bus broke through the overpass barrier.
For one impossible second, it hung halfway over the edge.
People screamed inside.
Then gravity won.
The bus fell.
A mother grabbed her child.
A man closed his eyes.
Someone screamed for God.
Twenty feet.
Thirty.
Then something hit the bottom of the bus.
Not hard.
Precisely.
Elias’s hands pressed against steel.
His feet hovered beneath him.
His entire body wanted to stop the vehicle instantly.
He didn’t.
His father’s voice existed somewhere inside his head.
Power is easy.
Elias descended with the bus.
Bleeding away momentum.
Gradually.
Carefully.
He could feel every shift in weight.
Every passenger.
Every vibration.
Ten feet.
Five.
One.
The tires touched pavement.
The suspension bounced.
Then stopped.
Silence.
Elias remained crouched beneath the vehicle.
Forty-seven heartbeats.
Still beating.
He exhaled.
“Okay.”
Someone inside started crying.
Elias stepped from beneath the bus.
Faces stared through shattered windows.
A little girl looked directly at him.
Elias froze.
Her eyes widened.
His were glowing red.
“Are you...”
Elias looked around.
Phones were already appearing.
Of course they were.
The girl finished.
“...a superhero?”
Elias opened his mouth.
“No.”
Her eyebrows pulled together.
Elias glanced toward the bus.
Then toward himself.
He understood how this looked.
“I’m just—”
A shadow passed over them.
Elias looked upward.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”
The delivery truck was falling too.
Elias vanished.
People screamed again.
He shot upward.
One hand struck the front bumper.
The truck stopped.
Too fast.
Elias heard the driver grunt painfully.
His expression changed.
“Sorry.”
He adjusted immediately.
Lowered it.
Controlled the descent.
The truck landed.
Elias opened the driver’s door.
“You okay?”
The man stared at him.
“What...”
“Sir?”
“What are you?”
Elias paused.
There were many possible answers.
Human wasn’t quite right.
Vampire would create approximately six thousand additional questions.
Teenager seemed obvious.
Elias settled on:
“Busy.”
Then he heard sirens.
He looked around.
Phones everywhere.
Twenty.
Thirty.
More.
One teenager whispered:
“His eyes are red.”
Elias’s stomach dropped.
“Ah.”
He disappeared.
A shockwave kicked dust across the street.
The little girl from the bus pressed both hands against the window.
She smiled.
Elias landed behind his house six minutes later.
He picked up his phone.
73 notifications.
He stared.
“No.”
Another appeared.
MYSTERY TEEN SAVES FALLING BUS
“No.”
Another.
WHO IS VIRGINIA’S RED-EYED SUPERHUMAN?
“No.”
Another.
#REDEYE trending
“Absolutely not.”
He opened the front door.
His mother was standing there.
Arms folded.
Elias slowly put his phone away.
“Hey.”
Seraphina stared.
“How was school?”
“Good.”
“Anything interesting happen?”
“No.”
Behind her, the television displayed footage of Elias holding a bus.
Elias looked at the television.
Then at his mother.
Then back at the television.
“...History test.”
Seraphina’s mouth twitched.
“You caught a bus.”
“That too.”
Darius arrived several minutes later.
The three Darkbloods sat in the living room.
Footage replayed.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Different angles.
Elias had never realized how many people recorded everything.
A news anchor spoke over footage.
“...authorities have not identified the young man responsible for what witnesses are calling an extraordinary rescue...”
Elias leaned back.
“They’re being dramatic.”
Darius looked at him.
“You caught a falling bus.”
“It wasn’t that heavy.”
Seraphina stared.
“To humans, Elias.”
“Oh.”
Darius rewound the footage.
Elias watched himself descend with the bus.
His father said nothing.
Elias waited.
Finally:
“Well?”
“Your right shoulder dipped.”
Elias’s jaw dropped.
“That’s what you noticed?”
“It destabilized the rear.”
“I saved forty-seven people.”
“And I’m proud of you.”
Elias stopped.
Darius pointed at the screen.
“Your right shoulder still dipped.”
Elias looked toward his mother.
“He’s impossible.”
“You inherited that.”
“From him.”
“From both of us.”
Darius resumed the footage.
Then something unexpected happened.
He smiled.
“Excellent deceleration.”
Elias tried not to react.
Failed.
“Yeah?”
“Very.”
Seraphina noticed.
So did Darius.
Elias immediately returned to looking uninterested.
“I mean...obviously.”
Darius smiled wider.
Seraphina sat beside her son.
“Why did you do it?”
Elias looked at her.
“What?”
“You could’ve remained hidden.”
Elias frowned.
“They were falling.”
“I know.”
“They would’ve died.”
“I know.”
Elias stared.
“Then why are you asking?”
Seraphina watched him carefully.
“Because I want to hear your answer.”
Elias looked toward the television.
The little girl was being interviewed.
Her mother held her tightly.
Elias became quiet.
“I was there.”
Seraphina waited.
Elias shrugged.
“What else was I supposed to do?”
His mother smiled.
Elias noticed.
“Why are you smiling?”
“No reason.”
“Mom.”
She kissed his forehead.
Elias immediately leaned away.
“I’m sixteen.”
“And?”
“Stop doing that.”
“No.”
Darius laughed.
Elias shook his head.
“I’m going upstairs.”
“Training at seven.”
Elias stopped halfway toward the stairs.
“I just caught a bus.”
“Then you should be warmed up.”
Elias looked toward the ceiling.
“Why me?”
Darius answered:
“Because we love you.”
“That’s not what love feels like.”
Three hundred miles away, someone replayed the footage without laughing.
Director Silas Ward stood inside a room that officially didn’t exist.
The Directorate’s command center stretched beneath layers of reinforced concrete.
Screens covered an entire wall.
Satellite feeds.
Metahuman incidents.
Military movements.
Weather systems.
Extraterrestrial surveillance.
At the center of everything stood Ward.
Gray beginning to dominate his hair.
Dark suit.
No superpowers.
No armor.
No glowing eyes.
And access to enough weapons to frighten governments.
“Again.”
JANUS replayed the footage.
Elias caught the bus.
Ward watched his technique.
“Identification.”
A profile appeared.
ELIAS DARKBLOOD
AGE: 16
HEIGHT: 6′0"
Ward’s expression changed.
“Darkblood.”
“Correct.”
“Darius and Seraphina?”
“Confirmed biological parents.”
Historical photographs appeared.
Darius in 1917.
Seraphina in 1944.
Both looking nearly identical to the present day.
Another image.
1986.
Another.
2003.
2004.
Ward rubbed his jaw.
“Living Vampire.”
“Probability: 99.98 percent.”
“How strong is the kid?”
“Unknown.”
“Estimate.”
“Insufficient information.”
“You watched him catch a bus.”
“Which establishes that he is capable of catching a bus.”
Ward looked toward the ceiling.
“I hate artificial intelligence.”
“Your employment history suggests otherwise.”
Ward ignored it.
“Threat assessment.”
Information moved across the screen.
Strength.
Unknown.
Speed.
Unknown.
Durability.
Unknown.
Regenerative capacity.
Unknown.
Flight capability.
Probable.
Ward frowned.
“Why probable?”
A satellite image appeared.
Something tiny above Earth’s atmosphere.
Humanoid.
Ward leaned closer.
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“That was him?”
“Facial and biological correlation indicate a 94.7 percent probability.”
Ward stared.
“He went into space?”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
JANUS paused.
Then displayed another image.
Elias sitting on the Moon.
Ward stared for several seconds.
“...Is he taking a selfie?”
“Yes.”
Ward closed his eyes.
“Sixteen-year-olds.”
Then alarms began sounding.
Every screen changed.
Ward’s humor vanished.
“Report.”
“Extraterrestrial biological object detected entering the Sol system.”
“Ship?”
“Negative.”
Ward slowly turned.
Something was moving between planets.
No vessel.
No propulsion system.
A humanoid body.
Flying.
Ward knew exactly what kind of being could cross interplanetary distances like that.
“Trajectory?”
“Earth.”
“Identity?”
The image sharpened.
A muscular humanoid figure traveled through space with his arms resting casually at his sides.
Black and silver clothing covered his body.
An insignia sat over his chest.
Ward had seen it before.
Every senior Directorate official had.
Korvath.
Ward’s voice dropped.
“Call the Vanguard.”
JANUS didn’t immediately respond.
“JANUS.”
“Director.”
“What?”
“The Korvathi has transmitted a message.”
Ward stared at the screen.
“To Earth?”
“No.”
That bothered him considerably more.
“Who?”
The message appeared.
Four words.
Ward read them.
Then read them again.
His eyes slowly moved toward Elias’s photograph.
BRING ME DARIUS DARKBLOOD.
Sixteen-year-old Elias knew nothing about the message.
He was upstairs arguing with someone online about whether an anime character had actually dodged a laser or merely reacted before it fired.
His mother was preparing dinner.
His father was downstairs waiting for their training session.
Frontline was responding to a metahuman robbery outside Baltimore.
The Vanguard was preparing for an extraterrestrial interception.
And somewhere beyond Earth’s atmosphere, one of the most physically dangerous species in the known universe was approaching.
Elias Darkblood wasn’t a superhero.
He didn’t have a costume.
He didn’t have a codename.
He didn’t belong to Frontline.
He wasn’t interested in joining the Vanguard.
He had never fought a Korvathi.
He had never lost a real fight.
And he had absolutely no idea why something powerful enough to cross space with its bare body knew his father’s name.
That would change.
Everything would.
But not tonight.
Tonight, Elias was still just a sixteen-year-old boy whose father was about to make him train under two hundred times Earth’s gravity.
The universe had already started moving toward him.
It simply hadn’t realized yet that Elias Darkblood was capable of moving back.
And years from now, when entire civilizations knew the white eyes and black-and-red mask...
when criminals learned to fear the moment daylight disappeared...
when people across Earth looked toward the darkness and knew someone was coming...
they wouldn’t call him vampire.
They wouldn’t call him monster.
They wouldn’t even call him Elias.
They would know him by the name he hadn’t chosen yet.
NIGHTFALL.
