Episode 2: The Breaking Point
> [Narration – grim tone]
At St. Raven's Academy, mercy was weakness.
And for Damon Cross, the orphan boy no one wanted, weakness was a brand he could never wash off.
> [Narration]
The next morning after the drill, Damon stood at the edge of the training ground again, arms full of wooden practice stakes. The noble-born trainees practiced advanced maneuvers, their boots crunching the sand, silver blades flashing.
> [Student 1 – mocking]
"Hey, Orphan. You missed a spot yesterday. My blade wasn't polished enough."
> [Damon – tight voice]
"You're welcome for even having it ready at all."
> [Narration]
The trainee — a broad-shouldered boy named Renn Halveth, heir to a family of elite hunters — froze. Then he smirked slowly.
> [Renn – dangerous tone]
"What did you just say?"
> [Narration]
All around them, trainees stopped and turned, eager for entertainment. Damon's heart thudded. He'd swallowed insults for years. But today, something in him snapped.
> [Damon – louder]
"I said you're welcome! You think polishing your weapons makes me less than you? Without people like me, you wouldn't even have a blade to wave around!"
> [Narration]
A hush fell. Renn's smile widened into something cruel.
> [Renn – low]
"You really think you're one of us?"
> [Narration]
Before Damon could move, Renn's hand clamped around his collar and yanked him forward. The crowd of trainees formed a circle, hungry for blood.
> [Narration]
The first punch cracked across Damon's jaw. Pain flared white-hot. He staggered but didn't fall. The second blow drove into his ribs, stealing his breath.
> [Damon – gasping]
"S-stop—"
> [Renn – snarling]
"You're nothing, Cross! You're a rat living off scraps of our glory!"
> [Narration]
Another kick. Another punch. Damon fell to his knees, blood dripping from his lip. Around him, some trainees laughed, others looked away. No one stopped it. Not even the instructors.
> [Narration – Damon's inner thoughts, bitter]
Hunters. Protectors of humanity. That's what they call themselves. But to me, they're just another pack of predators.
> [Narration]
Renn finally shoved Damon into the dirt and spat beside him.
> [Renn – dismissive]
"Clean yourself up, rat."
> [Narration]
As the circle dispersed, Damon stayed on the ground, trembling, tasting blood. Something in him cracked — not bone, but hope.
> [Damon – inner voice, dark]
Humans. Hunters. Vampires. All the same. They all look at me like I'm nothing. Maybe I am nothing…
> [Narration]
That night, long after the dormitory lights went out, Damon packed a threadbare cloak and slipped through the side gate of the academy. No one noticed him leave.
> [Narration – soft, cold]
The air outside the walls was colder, sharper. The city of Blackridge loomed in the distance, its alleys full of rumors and monsters. Damon walked until his legs shook, his ribs aching from every breath.
> [Narration]
At last, he stumbled into a crumbling quarter of the city — an abandoned district where buildings leaned like dying men and windows stared like empty eyes.
> [Damon – whispering to himself]
"I'll… I'll never go back."
> [Narration]
He found a ruined chapel with a half-collapsed roof and slipped inside. Dust and moonlight drifted through the cracks. Broken pews lined the hall like skeletons of a forgotten congregation.
> [Narration]
Damon curled up on a bench, pressing a hand to his ribs. He could feel the strange thrum under his skin again, that restless second heartbeat. Stronger now. Like something waiting.
"Doesn't matter. Let it kill me… I'm done…"
> [Narration]
His eyes fluttered shut. The city outside went silent. The chapel's shadows deepened.
> [ faint rustle above, almost like wings]
>[ Narration]
In the rafters high above, something shifted. A figure crouched in the darkness, unseen. Two crimson eyes blinked open, glowing like coals in the night.
Watching. Waiting.
Damon Cross had run from St. Raven's Academy, but he hadn't escaped fate. Fate had found him first.