Everything started the day I began cleaning out the old family house.
It had been sitting there for years—ever since my grandfather died.
No one has lived in it since.
My dad never sold it, never mentioned it much.
He just let it sit, collecting dust and bad insulation.
But after I got into the fancy university he wanted me to, he handed me the deed to the place. A reward, I guess. It was awkward; I'd never even met the old man, and suddenly I'd own his house.
My father didn't seem very fond of it, though. "Sell it to pay your tuition," he said. "You can rent a place near campus and get a car. Just don't expect more money."
The outside looked decent, surprisingly. Whoever handled the lawn and kept up the paint job over the years deserved a medal. The inside, though, was a completely different story.
The place hadn't been cleaned in years, and today was the day it officially became mine. So I did what anyone would do: I rolled up my sleeves and started from the bottom. Literally—the basement.
The air down there was thick, cold, and heavy with the smell of mold and forgotten things. I pulled my dust mask on, the plastic pressing against my glasses, and aimed my phone's pathetic flashlight into the gloom.
The basement was packed floor-to-ceiling with decades of junk—rotting furniture, strange, almost otherworldly junk that looked more like props for a medieval movie set, and a ceiling draped with massive, spider-web-woven blankets.
It wasn't easy, though. As a scrawny, glasses-wearing eighteen-year-old—the one who skipped gym class and never joined a club—my arms were already screaming. But I kept hauling, driven by the fantasy of finding a treasure chest full of coins—or at least a few priceless antiques.
I had wants and needs, many of them involving money. I wanted a car, I dreamed of having a girlfriend, and I really wanted to live life to its fullest now that I was about to enter university.
I had spent all my high school years studying, every day worrying about grades. I was tired of it all. I'd never had what I wanted, but I was going to make sure I did from now on.
So, the first step was cleaning this house, getting it in order, and seeing what I could do to make enough money to enjoy a good university life.
My father didn't care about all this stuff anyway. He basically told me to sell the house to pay for my tuition and university expenses, left me with two thousand bucks to settle the start, and expected me to cover the rest by working.
I shoved a final, warped chest aside, sending a plume of dust into the flashlight beam. "Whatever, old man," I muttered into my mask, the sound scratchy and muffled. "You'll see I'll make far more by keeping this place."
That was my thought as I started rummaging through the clutter, dust mask on, my phone's flashlight cutting through the darkness. I began shifting the smaller boxes, which sent dust bunnies flying everywhere. Good thing I was ready for it. I already had a pan and a feather duster nearby to start cleaning the place.
"Damn it, dad… could've at least paid the electricity bill before leaving this place to me." The ceiling was covered in cobwebs, some still housing live spiders, and here I was without a proper light. I ignored them though, swatting the webs away as I continued scanning for anything of value. Old paintings... Maybe? Old candle stands, a broken mirror, and so much random junk.
"Will this even sell…" I checked over everything, but nothing caught my interest. Honestly, I was close to giving up; moving all of this would take days with my strength.
Then I saw it.
A small bookshelf, oddly covered in a cloth, was tucked away in the far corner of the room. I moved closer and noticed something strange: a faint pulse of light trying to push through the fabric, which had long since begun to tear from age.
"Weird… now what the hell is that light?" I muttered. "Don't tell me there are loose live wires down here. I thought this place didn't even have electricity…"
As I reached out, I felt an odd resistance the closer I got.
The cloth wasn't just draped over the shelf; it felt stuck, almost glued in place. And wrapped around it was a thin old silver chain, dull, but clearly unusual.
"What the hell is all this?"
I pulled harder, determined to get the cloth and chain off, until both suddenly gave out at the exact same time. They crumbled in my hands, disintegrating into dust as if they had aged a hundred years in a heartbeat.
It was strange, but the glow wasn't coming from any wires. It was coming from some old books.
The shelf I was looking at had three rows of them, each one with a thick spine marked by strange, unreadable letters. Each book looked ancient and worn, bound in faded leather, yet each one glowed faintly with a soft, radiant, but unnatural light.
"Jackpot," I said under my breath. "I'm sure someone would pay good money for these old-ass books… I hope so, at least."
I was blinded by greed at that moment.
My emotions were basically in turmoil.
All my aches and irritation vanished, replaced by the thrilling prospect of instant wealth. I still needed tuition money, and more than anything, I needed money to live a comfortable life.
Those were the only thoughts circling in my head, momentarily overriding the strange, pulsing energy I felt from the books.
I inwardly laughed at my father's advice. Sell this house? A property this size, with its own barn and yard, was worth far more than five times my tuition.
This was a massive upgrade from the cramped apartment I grew up in, and I'd never be able to afford land like this again. I figured I could sell all the junk at a garage sale, auction off this strange glowing bookshelf online, and take whatever was left to a pawn shop.
I wasn't going to just buy a car; I was going to buy freedom.
Almost drooling at the thought of how much money I could make, I started inspecting the books more closely.
At first glance, they just looked like extremely old fantasy novels. But the strange glow was undeniable; each volume radiated a different color. The pure strangeness of it all finally pulled me away from thoughts of money.
I couldn't hold back my curiosity. I reached for one... but it wouldn't budge.
"Damn, am I really that weak? Can't even lift a book? What sick joke is this…" Frowning, I tried the next one. "Okay, how about the next one…"
I pulled the second book and began trying to make sense of the strange characters etched on the spine. It was unsettling; the letters seemed to rearrange themselves, swimming before my eyes until the title suddenly became legible. It read Succubus, etched in a combination of gold and pink-glowing script.
"What the hell is this even about?"
I tried to open it, but it would not budge. I was starting to get sort of scared. I must be dreaming. Getting a house like this was just too good to be true, and all this magic and light? It had to be part of some elaborate prank. My father probably set me up. There had to be cameras hidden around here.
I scanned the shelves again as I put the book back and looked around the room, hoping someone would jump out and say… "Got you!"
None of it made sense.
As my hand shifted to another book, it suddenly began to glow this time in a deep, pulsing red hue.
I recoiled instinctively.
Something felt... off. It glowed a darker shade of crimson, and the effect was immediate. My throat went dry, painfully parched, as though I hadn't had a drop of water in years.
The title read Vampire.
I placed my hand over another book, and this one stirred a different emotion within me. It glowed in a lighter shade of red and differently from the first; my heart started racing. My stomach twisted as I began to feel a strange emptiness, like I hadn't eaten in days, and worst of all, I felt an endless lust.
"What the hell!"
A sudden wave of dizziness hit me. My body flushed with warmth, almost like... like I was in love for the first time. A shiver ran down my spine.
Something responded below me as my body began to shift in strange ways. The book I was touching slowly opened, its pages fluttering wildly as the red light began to twist around and engulf me.
I let it go immediately and glanced down, startled. My hair felt like it was growing rapidly, and my hands trembled as I watched my nails turn sharp within seconds. My shirt tore open as muscles began to form, and something sprouted from my back. I cried out in pain as my body was being reforged into something new.
Then my pants confirmed it, my "son" was suddenly being strangled by the tight fabric for some reason.
As soon as the light died down, I thought I had landed butt-first on the floor.
But I was wrong.
I began falling, as if a black hole had opened beneath me and sucked me into an endless, screaming void. I kept tumbling through the darkness, unsure when it would end. Then, out of nowhere, a voice—deep and booming—shouted at me.
[Use your damn wings, damn it!]
I was still falling until I finally noticed them: two black, clumsy appendages that had sprouted from just below my shoulder blades. They began to flap instinctively as I frantically tried to steady myself in midair.
[Good, you got it on the first try, kid. Now relax. We just need to start you off here. I guess I should first welcome you…] The voice paused for effect, then continued with a satisfied chuckle as if he had been waiting years to do this.
[Dorian Amore, you have been given a part of my power and are now a fledgling incubus.]