Softness—that was the first sensation to register as consciousness trickled back. God, he wished he hadn't drunk so much last night, but the celebration for his promotion had demanded it. All the late nights, the cancelled plans with friends, and the grind had finally been rewarded. A senior position at the firm meant a substantial pay increase, flexible hours, and the ability to finally live without counting every single dollar.
Pushing down the throbbing in his head, Caine slowly sat up. His eyes peeled open, the world returning to clarity at a crawling speed.
"Fuck. Tequila is not my friend," he mumbled, a yawn cracking his jaw. "Note to self: say no to the thirteenth shot. That's the blackout number."
With a heavy sigh, Caine blinked rapidly as his vision adjusted to the sunlight filtering through the window. The faint scent of pine and rain-soaked earth drifted in—a pleasant bonus he was thankful for, until his brain caught up with his nose.
Wait. Nature?
Snapping his head to the side, Caine gasped as he peered through the opened window.
'Where the hell am I?'
This wasn't his apartment in New York. It wasn't even close to the city. The complete absence of traffic noise and the lack of pedestrians rushing below keyed him into that horrifying detail immediately. Scrambling out of the sheets, he rushed to the open window and paused, confusion deepening into alarm.
"This can't be anywhere near New York. Did I go home with someone?"
Stepping back from the window, Caine turned to inspect the bedroom. It was impressive; a large, plush bed dominated the right side of the room, sitting atop thick carpet that felt expensive beneath his toes. A sturdy desk and chair occupied the opposite wall, accompanied by a decent-sized bookcase, and he noted with a frown that the artwork on the walls was tasteful—suspiciously fitting his exact personal preferences.
Tentative steps carried him across the large bedroom before he exited through the only door aside from the closet and en-suite. Stepping into the hallway, Caine strained his ears for any sound of life. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—the house was dead silent.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing slightly.
The lack of a response dimmed his hopes, but he continued exploring the luxurious, albeit simply designed, home. There were two additional bedrooms lacking furniture and another standalone bathroom on the second floor. Making his way down the stairs, Caine paid extra attention to his surroundings, though it was for naught; he finally accepted that the house was devoid of any other soul.
"Weird," he whispered. "Maybe they went out to get food or coffee?"
The living room was designed for obvious comfort: a large couch sat in the center facing a stone fireplace, with a television mounted above the mantle. An open-concept kitchen sat behind the living area, boasting appliances so new their stainless steel shine suggested they had just been installed.
Drifting toward the oak dining table, Caine noticed a neatly folded piece of paper with his name written on it in elegant, flowing handwriting.
"Okay, this is getting really odd. Maybe they're letting me know I should leave before they come back?"
Pulling out a chair, he sat down and tentatively unfolded the letter.
(Hello Caine,
I'm sure you've got more than a few questions, so allow me to explain the situation you find yourself in.
You died. Which is unfortunate for you, but it's part of life. I'm sure it will take time to adjust, but you'll eventually move on from the thought of dying so young. Now, while your death was tragic, it allowed me to have some fun, which led to us meeting.
You might be wondering where your memories of our interaction are; they'll return after you finish this letter. This delay is intended to soften the blow once you realize how much your 'new' life has changed.
To keep it short: you were offered the chance to gamble on your new life, and you decided there was nothing to lose. Fortunately, you won big. And I mean... truly big.
Your first spin was on becoming a new species, as you had tired of the mundane and tiresome work of being human. Congratulations, you're now a Vampire! Yes—consuming blood, supernatural abilities, the whole deal.
The second spin was for a specific boon, and once again, luck favored the bold. Instead of becoming the stereotypical vampire seen in your stories, your boon grants you evolution to the peak of your species. Essentially, you are the alpha, the apex of every variation of vampire in the multiverse. Neat, right?
Now, the third and final spin was what I coined 'The Ultimate Gamble,' in which you could earn anything from god-like blessings to having your soul torn asunder for eternity. You spun again, even though it was optional.
Honestly, I'm impressed by your confidence, and it seemed fate was too. Your ultimate reward is the ability to travel to other worlds. While you are unable to do so at this current moment, eventually you will be free to traverse the multiverse—provided you are strong enough.
Anyway, this letter has been long enough. Enjoy your new life. I've sent you somewhere that will help you acclimate to the changes your body, mind, and soul are about to undergo.
Have a happy and fulfilling life.
Your friend, ROB.
PS - I may have added some extra bonuses for my own sake. You'll thank me later!)
Caine sat in utter silence. He questioned his sanity, yet somehow, he felt the truth of the words resonating in his chest. It wasn't just blind belief; something deep within his mind—or perhaps his soul—was confirming that everything had irrevocably changed.
At that thought, the pain began.
He keeled over, crashing to the floor as a guttural cry tore from his throat. His body convulsed, seizing violently. The agony started in his heart and flashed outward, as if every single nerve, tendon, muscle, and cell were being liquefied by molten steel. His mind went blank, his vision swimming as he watched the skin on his arms stretch, crack, and split, blood flowing out in dangerous quantities.
From there, he felt his very structure break down, only to be reformed in an infinite loop of destruction and creation. Eventually, the sensory overload became too great, and he slumped onto the floorboards in a mess of blood and pulsing flesh, his consciousness fading into the black.
Twelve hours. It took a combined twelve hours of biological reconstruction before Caine's consciousness returned.
His eyes snapped open. He shot up from the floor, landing gracefully meters away as he gasped at the phantom remnants of agony. He finally understood the letter. The memories he'd been unable to recall played out in vivid high-definition while he had been unconscious.
The opulence of the hall he had woken up in after dying. The memories of drunkenly stumbling back to his apartment. The mugging he'd stupidly tried to interrupt, and the gunshot to the stomach that followed.
He remembered ROB being kind to him, consoling him about the death, and then the wishes. He remembered the thrill of the gamble, the excitement for a new opportunity—though that excitement had admittedly dimmed due to the torture he'd just endured.
"God," Caine rasped, straightening his spine. His bones cracked in satisfaction as he stood to his full height—a height that felt foreign, yet welcome. "He said it'd be a 'little' painful. I'd hate to feel what he considers 'very' painful."
Shaking off the lingering aches, Caine left the dining room and headed for the bathroom. He needed to see if there were any physical changes aside from the height increase.
Pushing the door open, Caine paused, staring in awe at the reflection in the mirror.
Gone was the skinny, overworked corporate ladder-climber. In his place stood a powerful man. Thick muscles coated his frame, accentuating rounded shoulders and a narrow waist. His thighs were thick with power, complimenting his arms. The shirt he'd worn loosely before was now clinging desperately to his upper body, outlining visible abs, while the seams of his pants were strained to their limit.
His hair remained black, but the quality and length had shifted. The pin-straight style was gone, replaced by obsidian, medium-length locks that fell in a perfectly tousled wave.
It was the face staring back that truly confused him. There were remnants of his original features, but only in minuscule details. A strong jawline, fuller lips, a carefully crafted nose, and heavy brows created a visage of lethal beauty. But it was his eyes that stood out the most—a deep amber color, closer to molten gold than anything human.
"Damn," Caine breathed. "I guess they were right about vampires being made into perfection to lull people into a false sense of safety."
Running a hand over his face, Caine smiled, noting his teeth were pearly white and his canines were significantly more elongated than he remembered.
Slowly peeling off his ruined clothes, Caine stepped into the shower, desperate to wash off the filth of his evolution. He found that controlling his newfound strength was intuitive, though he remained cautious about gripping anything too tightly.
As he lathered up, feeling the warm water rinse the dried blood from his skin, a sense of relaxation finally seeped into his bones.
'This is insane. Not only did I die, but I've been reborn as some type of apex vampire in a new world. But what do I do now? I could pass for anywhere between seventeen and twenty. Do I have an ID? A job? Am I going to school? God, do I even have money?'
Sighing in frustration, Caine tried to ignore the gnawing worry in his gut. He'd already worked himself to the bone once before; if he had to do it again in a new life, he might actually lose his mind.
Shaking away the anxiety, he turned off the water and toweled himself dry, taking a moment to glance appreciatively at the... enhancements between his legs.
'Well, at least that's a pleasant bonus.'
Stepping out of the bathroom, Caine walked quickly back to the bedroom where he'd first woken. If there were answers, they would be there.
He made a beeline for the desk. Opening the top drawer, a smile broke across his face as he found exactly what he was looking for: a shiny black leather wallet, a Blackberry mobile phone, and a stack of documents.
Flipping open the wallet, he found a driver's license featuring his new face.
"Okay. Caine Aurelius, seventeen years old. That's a relief—old enough to drive and live on my own." He scanned the address. "6 Crescent Drive, Forks, Washington."
He paused, the address triggering a faint itch in the back of his mind. Why did that sound so familiar? He shook his head, dismissing the thought for the moment, and turned his attention to the documents.
Paging through them, Caine came to the obvious conclusion that the house was his. It appeared the being who granted him this life had taken the task seriously and ensured he was completely prepared.
Flipping a page to his latest bank statement, Caine's eyes widened.
"Well... I could easily pay for utilities, a couple of cars, and college tuition, and still live lavishly for the rest of my life."
The tension in his shoulders evaporated. Money truly made life easier.
After reading through the more official paperwork, Caine realized his existence in this world was ironclad. There was a standard emancipation decree, supposedly granted due to the inheritance his 'estranged' father had left in passing. There was no mother listed; she had apparently passed on in his youth.
Though he wasn't sure if these people had ever actually existed in this reality, Caine was grateful for the lack of familial ties. It granted him absolute freedom—a necessity for the journey of exploring his new powers.
The final document was a confirmation of his enrollment for the upcoming year at the local high school.
'That's a bummer,' he thought, before reconsidering. 'Well, high school might be tedious, but maybe I can finally enjoy my youth instead of worrying about rent.'
Nodding to himself, Caine placed the documents back in the drawer and pocketed his wallet and phone.
"I guess I should check out the town."