It was darker than midnight. Not a single star was in motion, and there was no sign of the moon. The path in the small English town was marked by large stones. Lights that were rusted and dented were lined up on their sides. Yellow light that briefly flickers before disappearing completely. Nobody paid any attention to this strange event.

The town is far too small to have anyone wandering its streets at such a late hour, and everyone is far too busy at home to be concerned. The few people awake were elderly men who were dozing off while watching television in their boxers. Crying infants unexpectedly passed out in the arms of their appreciative parents.

From one dilapidated home to the next, slowly. Everyone fell asleep; the lone person who was eating midnight snacks didn't even yawn. Nightgown and all, they fell to the ground. If they did awaken, whispers would start, and their eyes would swell. Two people were riding high on a single broom outside in the pitch black, hidden from any curious eyes. A woman was clutching a small bundle, while a lean man riding in front appeared ragged and beat.

Eric Blood went by the name, and he was well-known in the best sense. A vampire hero who defended the witches and the sirens of Ireland. His bravery did not end up saving him. Around his shoulders, Eric's robe was in tatters, and his cut and bruised hands trembled as they gripped the broom handle. His large, dark eyes were filled with the light of a caring man and were typically calm.

Now, as their decisions became more focused, his will began to grit his teeth. His bottom lip began to bleed when his fangs bit into it. The blood was welcome to him. He was reminded by the taste of copper to live not for those who were leaning against him but for the one they had left behind. He lowered the broom while gripping it tightly until his hands turned white.

Though most people were unaware of it, it was not a big secret that a vampire could fly a broom. He acquired some skills that other vampires could not because he was bound to his wife, a pure-blood witch. He had many blessings, but he also had a curse—a curse from ancient evils that wouldn't go to hell. Old evils drove him away from Ireland, his country, and theirs.

Sweeping over roofs, he saw the torn shingles on the poor outskirts of town. Ignoring the pain in his chest, he flew on, past the shops, and chewed up the pave roads. Turning at the first dirt path, he took them up a small hill. The worn and degraded manor. A grimace tore what handsome looks he had right off his face. Even though he didn't have a heartbeat, his heart was still in pain.

“We are here, Terra.” He spoke without moving his lips, speaking directly into his wife's head. Not daring to say anything that could alert their pursuers. Even in their minds, his voice carried his rolling Irish brogue. Something he would never lose, despite being so far from home. 

"It's terrible, Eric; why do we have to leave him?" Terra responded similarly, her accent sounding more like a song than a roll. In comparison to him, she seemed to be in better shape. Her brown eyes were shagged by the bags, which also made her peach skin white, sickly, and pale.

 Her robe and long curly hair were wild and clinging to dirt. A small woman who stumbled when she tried to look her husband in the eyes. Being able to hold their child was a miracle. She waddled in red while holding a small bundle in her arms. In spite of all the noise, their child was sound asleep in his mother's arms. Despite everything, having faith in his parents

“They won't look for him here, they say.” Through their connection, Eric sent waves of consolation. He lowered his family to the ground as the broom came to a stop. Having a break in the filthy building's yard.

“Veronica is gone!” Speaking of their third, Terra broke down in tears as she spoke. She rocked the infant more for her comfort than his. “I don't want to lose him too," she said.

"I apologize." Eric's voice broke from the pain—a soul-searing pain. The link and balancing factor between them was Veronica. Witches and vampires alike could not bear the loss. He gathered Terra and his son into his arms and rocked them both gently. Allowing her to cry.

Even though he was unable to cry, the vampire often pondered whether doing so might help him cope with his suffering. He held his wife until her sobs turned to tears. Eric believed himself to be invulnerable.

His gaze lingered on the old, dilapidated manor. Once-proud towers were sagging to one side, singles were spread out on the roof in rambles, and patches were scattered all over the place. The home's exterior walls were made of bricks that cracked and fell, scattering dust. It looked like someone had tried to paint them gray at one time or another.

Only for it to start peeling off and ruining the appearance of the house. Not a single person would doubt you if you claimed that this location was haunted. The first owner, if nothing else, turned in his grave. The wooden weather sign that was placed above the plain wood door and tilted slightly made the situation worse. The word "Cloverleigh Orphanage" is written in ugly, bold type. Here, where there were kids around, was where the Blood family was dropping off their son.

Even maintaining the building is beyond their abilities. His wife trembled, as did her brown eyes, which were red-glazed with tears. He gave her a gentle hand wipe as he raised her chin to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“I know. I sent a thrall to look over this location for us.” Somberly, Eric informed her. Although the location was better than his hometown, he was aware that the truth would not make things any better. So now he is aware of our location? Terra rocked her infant while trembling, showing no signs of concealing her fear.

“No. I murdered him," stated Eric. It was a trivial matter to him. Death came to the weak; it was the vampire's way. Terra's eyes pinched. She could never do it herself, but she couldn't stop the sigh of relief that the news of the thrall's death brought her.

“Mm.” In response, a smile spread across the faces of both parents. Both parents came to a stop, a smile spreading across their faces. Their souls wept. Due to their connection, their suffering was equal and shared; they both bore the weight of what they had to do.

“For him.” Through their connection, Eric spoke to his wilting wife, sharing not his suffering but rather his courage. For Terra, who gave birth to their little miracle, having a son was not a rare or joyous experience. Like a knife, the pain pierced her.

Is there not another option? Little drops of tears landed on their son's face. Causing his small mouth to yawn and his big eyes to open and blink. Babies supposedly cannot smile or laugh. Their son did. Focusing directly on his parents' faces. To free his arms, he wriggled. He accepted his father's extended finger with a smile before his eyes once again closed.

"Can't we bring him with us?" While Terra watched it, she could tell that Eric wanted the same thing, despite his cool demeanor.

His situation would be worse than this. Eric murmured. A life on the run was not appropriate for the child, regardless of the likelihood that they wouldn't survive. "We must safeguard him. We have to have strength.

“I know.” Terra bowed her shoulders in resignation. Although she had known all along, what mother would want to lose her child?

"Only 11 years will pass. He will then attend school.” Eric spoke softly while holding his young son in his arms. With her hands, Terra cleaned her face.

“I would like for him to attend my school.” Terra cherished attending school among the lush Irish countryside.

"The Potters are from England. Before they come here, they need to gain more strength.” Although Eric disliked the idea of having to rely on another person's strength, he had no other choices. His wife followed him as he made his way up the four steps to the door. She retrieved her wand from her robe sleeve and conjured up a tiny basket to hold their infant.

“I wish you luck, my son.” Eric made this statement using the bond he had with his one and only son. He placed his son carefully inside the basket before removing the necklace from around his own neck. The front of the tiny heart had a Celtic knot engraved on it. Eric turned it around and showed Terra. She engraved her son's name into the back of the locket with a delicate flick of her wrist.

“This ought to keep your vampire tendencies in check.” Eric put it over his small head with shaking hands. Watching it shrink to fit, he didn't fear the necklace would choke him. Made from his own magic and blood, it would not harm his son. In a last act of care, he placed a small kiss on his son's head.

“I love you,” Terra said, placing her own small charms on the locket. Making sure no one could steal their son's only gift from them. “At least you'll have this.” Terra smiled, ignoring the taste of her own tears on her lips.

“He'll do great.” Eric reassured. “He is our son.” Pulling her by the arm. He felt her body fall into another quake. Again, with the unending stream of tears rolling down her face. He could do nothing for that this time. Anger at his inability to keep his family together caused his own eyes to become blurry. He picked up the broom and sat on it while having his wife hold onto his waist.

“I love you, my son.” Eric risked exposing his child to his intense emotions by speaking in a low voice. "One day, one day, we'll all be together once more. I swear.” He raised them into the air with his vow. His wife's tears were all over his back as they left England. Guiding those who hunted away from their son, who was the most important thing to them. They could only hope he would understand someday.