"What do you mean? I saw him die with my own two eyes," Adam said.
"Lore died centuries ago," the other person replied. "There are only stories about him now. He's not alive—not anymore."
They hesitated before continuing.
**"A long time ago, before we existed, Lore was human. Back then, he had no name—at least, none that survived the years. He loved stories. Every night, his parents told him tales before bed, and every morning, he'd wake up and tell them elaborate dreams. It was innocent at first, but as he grew, so did his imagination. He saw things that weren't there. Daydreamed too much. At first, people laughed it off, but eventually, they stopped laughing. He became the strange one in the village, the one everyone whispered about. Then they started treating him like a madman.
"The bullying got worse. Until, one night, he couldn't take it anymore. His mother found him bleeding out.
"In her desperation, she called out to something ancient. A spirit with no name. It frightened her, but fear didn't stop her from making a deal.
'What do you want?' the spirit asked.
'I want my son to be believed,' she said.
"The spirit agreed—but with a price. It would collect the souls of those her son killed. She didn't understand what that meant, but she agreed.
"Lore came back. They kept his suicide attempt a secret. But then, months later, the rumors began. A black wolf roaming the forest at night.
"One night, she woke to find Lore's bed empty. She searched the village until she saw him emerging from the trees, drenched in blood. She didn't ask questions. She just took him home, stripped off his clothes, and burned them.
"His father woke up and asked what was going on.
'Go back to sleep,' she told him. 'Everything's fine.'"
His father did as he was told, never asking questions.
Months passed. One evening, travelers arrived at their shore. They did not come empty-handed. They brought goods, stories, and whispers of distant horrors.
One tale, in particular, spread through the village like wildfire—a story of a man cursed with an unquenchable thirst for blood. A creature that lurked in the dark. They called it a vampire.
That night, something changed in Lore.
He became the very thing they spoke of.
Seventeen people died before the sun rose. Drained. Empty. Their bodies left scattered across the village.
This time, Lore kept his secret from his mother.
She only discovered the truth when, one morning, he stepped into the sunlight—
and his skin began to burn.
"This next part is unclear," Sern said. "Some say a woman hid him in her home. Others say he compelled her by looking into her eyes."
Regardless, unlike the other girl, Lore did not drain this woman dry. Instead, he gave her his blood. They spent the night together.
At dawn, Lore slipped away and returned home.
By morning, the village was in an uproar. The story spread: the vampire had attacked two girls—but one survived.
Trapped by the sunlight, Lore's mother saw her chance. She locked him in, refusing to let more blood spill.
That night, Lore compelled his father to release him.
In town, he overheard that the girl he drank from was alive. That meant the person he had killed was the woman he'd spent the night with.
Determined to understand what had happened, Lore went to her house. But his mother saw him moving through the crowd.
The streets were filled with people chanting, demanding justice for their dead.
Inside the woman's house, the scent of blood lingered, faint but unmistakable. Someone had cleaned it up, but he could still smell it.
As he searched the room, the door creaked open.
He tensed, ready to flee—until he smelled his own blood on the man entering.
"You killed her," Lore said the moment he saw him.
The man's face darkened. "Who are—" Then realization struck. "Oh… you're the one she was cheating on me with."
He stepped toward Lore and swung a fist. Lore caught it effortlessly, shook his head, and twisted the man's wrist.
Snap.
The man screamed in pain—before Lore sank his fangs into his neck.
As the body hit the floor, the door opened again.
His mother stood there.
"Mom? What are you doing here?" Lore asked.
Her voice was steady. "This is all my fault. It's okay. It will be over soon."
She stepped forward and embraced him.
Then she drove a knife into his throat.
Lore roared in pain. Instinct took over—before he could stop himself, he bit her.
"No! I'm sorry!" Lore gasped as she collapsed in his arms. He eased her onto the floor, shaking, guilt flooding him.
The knife slid from his neck, and the wound sealed instantly.
He ran.
Back home, he packed a few things and slipped onto a departing ship.
Onboard, someone approached him.
"I'm Alana. Nice to meet you."
Lore turned, startled. It was the woman the crowd had been protesting for.
"You're alive," he said. "Why didn't you tell the people what happened?"
Alana smiled faintly. "It was the only way to leave my marriage. And besides… I'm far from alive."
Days later, back in the village…
Lore's mother was laid to rest in their home.
Then the spirit came.
His father saw it.
For the first time, he saw the entity that had brought Lore back.
He fell to his knees. "Please, don't take her," he begged.
The spirit told him about the deal.
His father's hands trembled. Then his expression hardened.
"Then let's make another one," he said. "Take me instead."
The spirit agreed.
As it turned to leave, his father spoke again.
"One more thing. Give me strength—so I can avenge my wife."
The spirit hesitated. Then it nodded.
"On one condition," it said. "I take the souls of anyone you kill."
His father clenched his fists. "Deal."