PROJECT GENESIS ENTRY #0529

Subject 37 has entered a state of decline. Both Subject 32 and Subject 37 exhibit increased hostility, diminished empathy, and impaired impulse control.

During a psychological evaluation, Subject 32 attacked staff, displaying an unusual preoccupation with blood immediately prior to the incident. A subsequent psychiatric assessment diagnosed Subject 32 with Renfield’s Syndrome.

Subject 32 is now under confinement. Direct contact requires restraints to ensure staff safety. Monitoring continues.

A breath of relief escaped me as Erebus swiped the keycard. The lock’s light flickered from blue to green—confirmation that we’d found the right room.

The lab was dim, just enough light to move without us stumbling over our own feet. Monitors lined the walls, casting a cold glow over metal countertops cluttered with equipment. 

I tucked my glasses into my shirt as I moved to one of the temperature-controlled storage units, its glass door fogged at the edges. Rows of vials lined the metal racks, each labeled with strings of numbers and letters that meant nothing to me. “Where’s the…” I muttered, trailing off as I spotted a clipboard attached to the side. My eyes scanned the listings—each vial cataloged, each compound assigned a code. Nothing stood out as the one we were looking for.

“Captain, can I get the keycard?” Atash asked.

I glanced up as he nodded toward a reinforced metal door at the back of the lab. Erebus handed it over without a word.

I turned toward the nearest desk, pulling open drawers. Loose papers, reports, medical logs. Then my fingers stopped on something worn at the edges. A journal.

Flipping through it, I recognized the cramped handwriting from my studies in the academy. Dr. Marelli. His personal notes on Project Genesis. I skimmed past pages of data until I hit the last entry.

“Subjects 32 and 37 remain stable. With their success, public trials will commence.”

My stomach tightened. That was the moment everything went wrong for humanity—or at least even more downhill than it already was.

“Everything here is about Compound-Genesis,” I said, still sorting through files. No mention of Compound-SB.

I moved to another filing cabinet, yanked it open. Another journal. A flash drive. My grip tightened as I pulled them free. “I think I found something—”

Silence.

I looked up. The lab was empty. My chest tightened as I stepped toward the open metal door, the journals and flash drive still clutched in my hands.

“Do either of you know how to hack a—” My words died in my throat.

Atash and Erebus stood frozen, their eyes locked on the center of the room. A massive glass enclosure.

Inside, curled on the floor, was a woman. Barely more than a teen, clad in a thin medical gown. Her porcelain skin was almost colorless beneath the dim lights, her icy blonde hair splayed around her like she’d been lying there for hours.

I stepped beside them. “What the fuck…”

“That’s exactly what we were thinking,” Atash muttered.

“They could’ve been using her for testing,” Erebus said, their voice even.

“Or as an office snack,” Atash added dryly.

I exhaled sharply. “Maybe she’s seen where they keep Compound-SB.” I moved toward the glass. “Think the keycard works on this?”

Neither of them answered. Their stares stayed fixed beyond me.

A chill prickled at my spine. I followed their gaze back to the enclosure.

The woman was no longer on the floor.

She stood inches from the glass, palm pressed flat against it. Her expression was unreadable—melancholy, maybe. But her eyes… Something in them made my pulse kick.

“Help,” she whispered.

Atash moved first, reaching for the keycard. Erebus caught his forearm before he could scan it.

“Wait.” Their voice was quiet but firm. “This could be a trap.”

“She’s just a girl,” I argued, my free hand wrapping around Atash’s wrist. “Bulwark job is to protect humans. We can’t leave her here.”

Erebus didn’t give clearance, and I didn’t wait for it. I pushed Atash’s hand forward, forcing the card against the lock.

Blue to green. A click. The door slid open.

The girl moved fast. Too fast. She collided into me, her small frame pressing against my chest, arms curling tight around me. The impact sent the journals and flash drive spilling from my hands.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her face buried against my vest.

I hesitated, arms hovering awkwardly. “…Yeah.”

I cleared my throat. “What’s your name?”

“Wren.” The word was muffled against the fabric of my gear.

“Wren, I’m Kieran. We work for Bulwark. We can keep you safe, but I need you to tell us why they were keeping you—”

“Sato.” Erebus’s voice cut through the moment, steady but sharp.

I turned my gaze.

They stood with Marelli’s journal in one hand. In the other, their pistol—aimed directly at Wren.

“Step away from her.”

“What?”

“Captain, what are you doing?” Atash stepped between us, his stance defensive.

Erebus didn’t lower their weapon. Their expression was unreadable. “Compound-SB isn’t a serum,” they said. “It’s a person. It’s Wren.”

The arms around me tightened. Too tight. My ribs strained under the pressure.

I looked down at her, expecting fear. But her expression had shifted—something twisting beneath her features. Her skin took on a muted hue. A silvery gray haze clouded her once—human eyes. The shape of her ears sharpened, stretching into points that were blackened.

Then she smiled.

The motion didn’t stop at the corners of her lips. The skin split, tearing through her cheeks to reveal rows of jagged teeth—two of them longer, sharper. Fangs.

A burning sensation seared through my shoulder before I could register what had happened. The world blurred at the edges as my knees threatened to give out. Blood drained from my body, leaving me lightheaded, untethered.

I think I blacked out. One second, her teeth were in my flesh. The next, Atash and Erebus were forcing the glass door shut, Wren thrashing on the other side. She slammed into it, blood smeared across her mouth and gown—my blood.

Thank god for reinforced aluminosilicate. A dry laugh rattled in my chest.

I shifted, dragging myself upright until my back hit the wall. My hand reached for my shoulder, fingers brushing the shredded strap of my vest. The wound throbbed, raw and burning. It looked less like a vampire bite and more like I’d been mauled by a damn shark.

Darkness crept in again.

The next thing I knew, something tapped my cheek. My eyes cracked open to find Atash crouched in front of me, pressing a cloth against my wound. His other hand was steadying me—though at some point, I had curled my fingers into the front of his vest to keep from slipping away again.

“We have to find a way to transport her alive,” Erebus said, scanning the lab with tense precision. “Kaveh, stay with him.” They moved cautiously toward the door. Time was running out. Someone would come looking for us soon.

Wren stood motionless inside the glass cage, her eerie muted blue eyes locked on me. Unreadable.

I peeled Atash’s hand away and lifted the cloth. Pain flared like wildfire. My breath hitched as I stared at the bite. Red veins spread outward in jagged, unnatural lines, burrowing beneath my skin like a spiderweb. It looked disturbingly similar to how vamps reacted to Scarlet Wood.

Atash exhaled sharply. “What the hell was in her bite?” His gaze flicked between Wren and the wound.

“I don’t know, but it’s getting worse.” My grip on his vest tightened, knuckles white. I pressed my head back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut against the pain.

“Hey, don’t pass out on me again Kieran.” Atash kept his voice light, but I could hear the strain beneath it.

Heat crawled up my neck, tightening my throat. My fingers traced the burning skin, my pulse hammering through my mind. No—not my pulse. Something else. A steady, rhythmic pounding.

“You know,” I murmured, forcing a swallow. “Pretty sure that’s the first time you’ve called me by my actual name.”

Atash huffed. “Do you prefer C-rank?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, then a sharp inhale as pain flared again. My hand slipped from his vest, fingers drifting up—brushing the side of his throat. The pounding wasn’t in my head.

It was his pulse.

“You should… you should call me by my name more.” My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

My mouth watered.

“Is that your dying wish? For me to call you by your name?” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

My thumb brushed over the pulse in his neck. My breathing shallowed. The pain was gone, but in its place was something worse—emptiness. Hunger.

“No,” I murmured. My eyes fluttered open, vision hazy. His face blurred before me, just out of focus. My fingers slid into his hair, pulling him closer. He didn’t resist. I felt his breath hitch, and heard his pulse quicken. 

Why is it so loud?

My lips ghosted over his, lingering for a heartbeat before instinct took over.

Warmth spread across my tongue, rich and sweet. The hunger inside me quieted, filled by something intoxicating. 

Then—

The metallic click of a gun being cocked. Cold steel pressed against my shoulder, right below Wren’s bite.

Reality snapped into focus. My mouth wasn’t on his lips. It was on his neck. My teeth had punctured his skin. And yet, I couldn’t stop. The taste wasn’t just indulgence; my body was processing the influx of energy with surgical efficiency. His blood was the sweetest thing I had ever tasted. Like I had been starving my entire life and only now, finally, was allowed to feast. 

“Now we know what the journal meant by bloodborne pathogens,” Atash said, voice steady, almost clinical.

Then, the gunshot.

The sound split through my skull, sharp and unforgiving. I recoiled, hands clamping over my ears. Had it always been this loud?

Another shot. Then another. White-hot pain bloomed in my shoulder, then my thigh. I hissed as the wooden bullets lodged deep, dark blood spilling from the wounds—thick and black—before the skin began to knit itself back together.

“Can you fucken stop? That hurts, you asshole!”

Atash stood over me, gun still trained on my chest. “Interesting.”

My vision swam. I rubbed my eyes, fingers fumbling at the irritation—contacts. They felt wrong. Too tight. I peeled them away, and the world sharpened. 

Then I saw my hands. Nails lengthened with to a point. Fingers stained at the tips like ink seeping beneath the flesh.

I lifted them to my face, half-expecting something monstrous. My jaw, my teeth— normal aside from a set of fangs. A quiet exhale of relief.

“Don’t worry,” Atash said, watching me. “You don’t have a pretty maw like Wren over there. Otherwise, you probably would’ve taken my neck clean off.”

His blood was still there, a slow trickle down his neck. The scent curled into my lungs, intoxicating. His pulse thrummed beneath his skin—steady, insistent. I swallowed hard.

Another shot. My thigh again. Pain flared, but it was secondary now. The hunger drowned it out.

“Don’t look at me like I’m food, Kieran.” Amusement flickered in his voice, my name rolling off his tongue too easily.

I pressed back against the wall, forcing my gaze away. “Stop playing with me and just kill me already. Use the UV.”

Footsteps. Measured, deliberate.

Erebus.

They stepped into view, pausing for a fraction of a second before their expression smoothed to neutrality. “Sato,” they said, voice calm as they approached. One hand stayed behind their back.

A sharp sting in my neck. Cold rushed through my veins, washing over my limbs like a wave pulling me under. My body went numb. Vision blurred.

Then—nothing.