The village smelled like smoke long before the fires started.
Mayson Winchester stood at the edge of the muddy path, his boots half-sunken in the damp earth. The wind pushed strands of his dark hair across his eyes as he stared toward the cluster of wooden houses below the hill.
He was twelve years old.
And he was smiling.
The people in the village hadn't seen him yet. They were too busy with their evening routines—lighting lanterns, closing shutters, calling their children inside before night fell.
The normal sounds of life drifted up toward the hill.
Laughter.
A barking dog.
Someone hammering wood.
Mayson tilted his head slightly, listening.
His senses picked apart every noise with frightening clarity.
Heartbeats.
Dozens of them.
Slow, steady, unaware.
The sound made his grin widen.
Behind him, a tall vampire leaned against a tree with his arms crossed. His expression was tense, watching the boy carefully.
"You don't have to do this," the man said.
Mayson didn't look back.
"You said they were hunters," he replied.
"They are."
"So what's the problem?"
The older vampire sighed quietly.
"They're still human."
Mayson shrugged.
"They kill our kind."
"Yes."
"So we kill them first."
His tone was casual. Matter-of-fact. Like he was explaining something simple.
The older vampire ran a hand through his hair, clearly uneasy.
"You're twelve."
"And?"
"You shouldn't enjoy this."
That finally made Mayson turn around.
His bright eyes locked onto the man.
"I don't enjoy it," he said.
The lie came easily.
Then his grin returned.
"I just think it's funny how they never see it coming."
The older vampire didn't laugh.
If anything, his expression darkened.
"You need control," he said quietly.
"I have control."
"Not like this."
Mayson rolled his eyes.
"They're hunters."
"They have families."
"They shouldn't hunt vampires then."
The boy turned away again, staring down at the village.
Lanterns flickered between the houses now.
The sky was turning darker.
Night was coming.
Perfect.
He inhaled slowly.
The scent of blood drifted faintly on the wind from a butcher's shop near the center of the village.
His pupils shrank slightly.
"You're thinking about it again," the older vampire muttered.
Mayson didn't answer.
His body leaned forward slightly.
Like a predator about to sprint.
"Mayson."
Still no response.
"Mayson."
The boy vanished.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he launched forward down the hill.
The older vampire swore.
"Damn it!"
By the time he reached the village, the first scream had already started.
A man collapsed beside the well, clutching his throat as blood poured between his fingers.
Mayson stood behind him, wiping his mouth casually.
Another hunter rushed forward with a wooden stake.
The boy tilted his head.
Fast.
Too fast.
He stepped sideways before the weapon even reached him.
The hunter's eyes widened.
Mayson grabbed his arm.
Snap.
Bone broke instantly.
The scream barely left the man's mouth before Mayson slammed him into the ground.
Three more hunters appeared from a nearby house.
One fired a crossbow.
The bolt flew straight toward the boy's chest.
Mayson caught it mid-air.
He looked down at it curiously.
Then tossed it aside.
"You're slow," he said.
The first fire started minutes later.
A lantern fell.
Wood cracked and sparked.
Soon flames climbed along the rooftops.
Villagers ran through the streets screaming.
Hunters tried to organize.
None of it worked.
Mayson moved through them like a storm.
Too fast.
Too strong.
Too young to feel anything about what he was doing.
By the time the older vampire finally reached the center of the village, the streets were quiet again.
Bodies lay scattered everywhere.
Firelight flickered across the destruction.
And in the middle of it all, Mayson sat casually on the edge of the well.
Swinging his legs.
Covered in blood.
The older vampire stared at him.
"How many?"
Mayson thought about it.
Then shrugged.
"Lost count."
The man rubbed his face slowly.
"You wiped out an entire village."
"They were hunters."
"They had children."
"They'll grow up to hunt us too."
The vampire exhaled heavily.
"You're twelve."
"And?"
"You shouldn't be able to do this."
Mayson tilted his head.
"Why not?"
The older vampire looked around at the destruction.
Then back at the boy.
"You're becoming a ripper."
Mayson frowned slightly.
"What's that?"
"A vampire who loses control when they taste blood."
The boy looked down at the red stains on his hands.
Then shrugged.
"I didn't lose control."
The man stared at him.
"That's the problem."
Four years later.
The Winchester estate sat deep within the forests of the vampire world.
Stone walls towered over the surrounding trees.
The house itself was massive—ancient architecture mixed with modern luxury.
Inside, the halls were quiet.
Mayson walked down one of the long corridors with his hands in his pockets.
He was sixteen now.
Taller.
Stronger.
Still smiling the same way.
Two vampires passed him in the hallway.
They immediately moved aside.
Not because he asked.
Because they didn't want to be near him.
Mayson noticed.
He always noticed.
It didn't bother him.
If anything, he found it amusing.
When he reached the end of the corridor, two large doors waited.
His father stood outside them.
Tall.
Imposing.
Calm.
"Finally," his father said.
Mayson shrugged.
"You told me to come."
"And you took your time."
"I was reading."
His father studied him for a moment.
"You finished the book already."
"Of course."
"You started it this morning."
Mayson grinned.
"It was good."
His father pushed the doors open.
"Come inside."
The room beyond was large and quiet.
His mother stood near the window.
She turned when they entered.
"Mayson."
"Hi, Mom."
She walked closer, studying his face.
"You look bored."
"I am."
His father closed the doors.
"We need to talk."
Mayson dropped into one of the chairs.
"Sounds serious."
"It is."
His mother sat across from him.
"You remember the village incident when you were younger."
Mayson shrugged.
"Which one?"
His parents exchanged a look.
"That one," his father said slowly.
"The hunters."
"Oh."
Mayson leaned back.
"That was a long time ago."
"Yes."
"And since then," his father continued, "you've caused… several more incidents."
"People exaggerate."
"Hundreds of deaths is not exaggeration."
Mayson smiled slightly.
"They were hunters."
"Not all of them."
Silence filled the room for a moment.
Then his mother spoke quietly.
"Hunters have begun targeting vampires across several territories."
Mayson's smile faded slightly.
"Because of me?"
His father nodded once.
"Partly."
"Huh."
The boy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"So what's the plan?"
His father studied him carefully.
"You're leaving."
Mayson blinked.
"Leaving?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
His mother answered.
"Broken Falls."
Mayson frowned.
"Never heard of it."
"It's a human town."
That got his attention.
"A human town?"
"Yes."
He leaned back again.
"You're sending me to live with humans?"
"For a while."
"Why?"
His father stepped closer.
"Because hunters are searching for you."
"And?"
"And if they find you here, they'll bring war to every vampire territory."
Mayson tilted his head.
"So hiding me protects everyone."
"In a way."
He thought about that.
Then smirked.
"That's funny."
"What is?"
"You're basically saying I'm too dangerous to stay home."
His mother sighed softly.
"That isn't what we're saying."
"But it is."
His father didn't deny it.
"Broken Falls will be safer for now."
"Why there?"
His mother answered.
"It's a town with… history."
"What kind of history?"
"Supernatural history."
Mayson's curiosity sparked slightly.
"Go on."
"Long ago," she continued, "the first vampires walked that land."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Originals?"
"Yes."
"Interesting."
His father folded his arms.
"You'll attend school there."
Mayson blinked again.
"School?"
"Yes."
"With humans?"
"Yes."
"That sounds awful."
His mother smiled faintly.
"You might enjoy it."
"Doubt it."
"You'll have a house near the high school."
"Alone?"
"For now."
Mayson stared at them both.
Then laughed quietly.
"So let me get this straight."
Neither parent interrupted.
"You're sending me to a human town… to live alone… and go to school."
"Yes.
He stood up slowly.
"And you think that's going to make things better?"
His father met his gaze calmly.
"It will keep you alive."
Silence lingered.
Then Mayson shrugged.
"Well."
His grin slowly returned.
"This should be interesting."