Count Dominic Ashcroft settled into his private chambers, savoring the lingering taste of Sera's blood on his pate. The feeding session had ended thirty minutes ago, yet the extraordinary fvor remained—notes of complexity he couldn't fully describe even after fifteen years of blood connoisseurship. He dismissed his attendants with a wave, desiring solitude to fully appreciate the sensory experience.

  The rich taste triggered something beyond physical pleasure—a crity of mind he hadn't experienced in years. Memories surfaced with unexpected vividness, fragments of his human existence that had been fading with time suddenly crystalline in their detail.

  He closed his eyes, allowing the memories to flow.

  Eight years before the outbreak

  "Young master Dominic, your mother requests you join them for dinner before their departure."

  The butler's carefully neutral tone couldn't disguise his disapproval of the ten-year-old boy's appearance—clothing rumpled from py, hands stained with ink from his test experiment with the chemistry set delivered that morning. Dominic didn't bother looking up from the compound he was mixing.

  "Tell her I'm busy. She can see me when they get back from Tokyo."

  "Your parents will be gone for three weeks, Master Dominic. It would be appropriate to—"

  "I said I'm busy." The child's voice carried the absolute certainty of someone who had never been meaningfully contradicted. "Have Chef make me dinner in the east sunroom. The usual."

  The butler hesitated only momentarily before nodding. "Very well, sir."

  Later that evening, as Dominic picked at his perfectly prepared meal, his mother appeared in the sunroom doorway, already dressed for travel in a tailored suit that probably cost more than the butler's annual sary.

  "Dominic," she began, her voice precise and moduted—the same voice she used for board meetings. "Your behavior continues to disappoint. The staff are not your servants."

  "Aren't they?" he replied without looking up. "Father says the Ashcroft name commands respect."

  Something flickered across his mother's expression—perhaps recognition of her husband's words coming from their child's mouth. "Respect must be earned as well as commanded."

  "Father says Ashcrofts are exceptional. The rules for ordinary people don't apply to us."

  His mother checked her watch—a gesture Dominic had observed countless times before her departures. "We'll continue this discussion when we return. Your tutors will report directly to me regarding your progress."

  She didn't move to embrace him—physical affection had never been part of their retionship. Instead, she pced an elegantly wrapped package beside his pte.

  "Happy birthday, Dominic. The gift is from your Uncle Richard. He thought you might enjoy advanced reading on biochemistry."

  The memory faded, repced by another.

  Weeks before the outbreak

  "Dominic, darling, you simply must tag me in those Aspen photos. My followers are desperate to see the new Ashcroft chalet."

  Camil draped herself across the leather sofa in Dominic's private university apartment—a penthouse occupying the entire top floor of a building his father had donated to the school. Around them, the remains of st night's party littered every surface—empty bottles of rare vintage champagne, discarded gsses, and the occasional lost item of clothing.

  Dominic barely gnced up from his phone. "My social media's curated, Camil. Family properties aren't for public consumption."

  "Don't be bourgeois," she pouted, flipping perfect blonde hair over her shoulder. "It's just Instagram."

  "It's just strategic brand management," he corrected, his tone bored. "The Ashcroft name doesn't appear in common feeds. That's why we have PR teams."

  His actual csswork y untouched on his desk—another essay that some desperate schorship student would complete for the right price. Why exert effort when results could be purchased? His father's most recent conversation had made clear all that mattered was the degree, not the learning.

  At eighteen, Dominic had already mastered the essential quality of true wealth: the absolute certainty that the world existed to accommodate his desires. His position at the elite university was merely a formality—his future in the family business was secured regardless of academic performance.

  "Besides," he continued, "Father's unching the new pharmaceutical division next month. The family's maintaining low profile until after the FDA announcement."

  The doorbell interrupted Camil's response. Dominic's personal assistant—a recent graduate desperate for connections in the pharmaceutical industry—entered with his usual efficient smile.

  "Mr. Ashcroft, I've prepared the presentation for tomorrow's family foundation meeting. Your father asked me to remind you that board attendance is mandatory this quarter."

  Dominic sighed dramatically. "Schedule a helicopter. I refuse to spend three hours in traffic for a twenty-minute appearance."

  "Of course, sir." The assistant didn't react to the extravagance of the request. "Will four o'clock departure work with your schedule?"

  "I suppose." Dominic turned back to his phone, dismissing the assistant with his disinterest.

  Later, reviewing the presentation in the helicopter, Dominic barely scanned the content—something about monetizing biometric data collected from "free" health services in economically disadvantaged areas. The numbers looked good; projected profits substantial. That was all that mattered. The Ashcroft empire continued its expansion, and his trust fund would benefit accordingly.

  Weeks after the initial outbreak

  Music throbbed through the Ashcroft family compound, a fortress-like estate with military-grade security systems and an architectural design that prioritized privacy over aesthetics. News reports of strange attacks and unexpined deaths had begun appearing, but these disturbing events hadn't yet penetrated the wealthy encve where the Ashcroft estate stood. Total chaos was already engulfing the major cities, but here, the elite remained insuted from reality, their privilege creating the illusion of continued normalcy.

  Dominic surveyed his domain with practiced nonchance. Despite being only eighteen, he had already perfected the art of aristocratic indifference. The guest list had been carefully curated to include only the children of the most elite families—future connections that would serve the Ashcroft legacy.

  "Dominic." A familiar voice cut through the music. His Uncle Richard—his father's younger brother and the family's scientific genius—stood at the entrance to the main hall, looking distinctly out of pce among the revelers.

  "Uncle." Dominic embraced him with genuine warmth—Richard had always been his favorite retive, the only family member who engaged with him as a person rather than an heir. "I didn't realize you were in town."

  "Last-minute development." Richard gnced around at the party, his expression unreadable. "Could we speak privately? There's something important I need to discuss."

  In his father's study, sealed away from the music and ughter, Dominic noticed unusual changes in his uncle—a new intensity in his gaze, a preternatural stillness to his movements.

  "There's been a development at the research facility," Richard began, his voice tightly controlled. "Something extraordinary."

  "Another breakthrough?" Dominic asked, pouring himself a drink from his father's private reserve. The family's pharmaceutical division had been making headlines with revolutionary treatments.

  "Beyond anything we imagined." Richard declined the offered drink. "Dominic, what I'm about to share will sound impossible, but I need you to listen without interruption."

  Over the next hour, Richard revealed an astonishing story. The immortality research project at the Ashcroft-funded boratory had been testing a serum created with rare blood samples from a woman named Elena. The test subject, designated Subject 23, had appeared to die after receiving the serum, but then transformed into something entirely new.

  "When he awakened," Richard said, his voice hollow with remembered terror, "he wasn't human anymore. He attacked everyone in the boratory... including me."

  Richard unbuttoned his colr, revealing the unmarked skin of his neck—perfect, like marble. "He bit us here, draining our blood. I felt myself dying as he fed on me. But those of us he killed this way didn't stay dead. His saliva, when he bit us... it passed his transformed DNA into our bodies. We died, Dominic, and then we awakened as something else."

  "You died?" Dominic's skepticism was clear despite his respect for his uncle's scientific credibility.

  Richard smiled thinly. "I could expin the biochemical processes, but perhaps a demonstration would be more convincing."

  With movement too fast for human perception, Richard crossed the room, suddenly before Dominic. His eyes had changed, irises now rimmed with crimson, pupils expanded to consume the darkness. When he spoke, his teeth had elongated into points.

  "It passes only through direct feeding and death immediately after," he said. "Subject 23 escaped the facility after his transformation. We lost all data in the chaos—we don't even know his original name. Those of us who survived—in this new form—have been studying what we've become. We need blood to survive. We cannot tolerate direct sunlight. We're stronger, faster, more durable than humans."

  Dominic felt no fear—only fascination. "You're telling me you're... what? A vampire?"

  "Such mythological terminology is imprecise, but the parallel exists for a reason," Richard replied. "What matters is that we are the next step in evolution. Immortality. Power. Perfection."

  "Why are you telling me this?" Dominic asked, though he already suspected the answer.

  "Those of us who were transformed—Dr. Keller, myself, a few others—we've brought select individuals into our circle. We can pass on this gift through the same method. Not randomly spread like what's happening now as Subject 23 feeds across the cities, but deliberately cultivated under controlled conditions to preserve the best qualities."

  He pced a hand on Dominic's shoulder. "You've always understood what it means to be exceptional, Dominic. To exist above the common herd. I'm offering you the ultimate expression of that exceptionalism."

  Dominic didn't hesitate. "When?"

  Richard smiled with genuine pride. "Now."

  Two days after transformation

  The process had been excruciating. Richard had fed on Dominic, draining him to the point of death. In those final moments of his human life, Dominic had felt the strange sensation of something entering his bloodstream through the bite—Richard's saliva carrying the transformed DNA that had originated from Subject 23.

  Unlike those randomly transformed across the region through uncontrolled feeding, Dominic's transformation was carefully monitored by Richard and the surviving scientists, who administered specialized compounds throughout the process to enhance the final result.

  When he awoke to his new existence, the hunger was overwhelming but not uncontrolble. Richard had prepared for this moment, arranging Dominic's first feeding with scientific precision.

  "Your personal assistant has volunteered to help with your transition," Richard expined, using the euphemism with a slight smile.

  The assistant stood nearby, expression vacant—mesmerized by Richard's abilities. Dominic recognized the efficiency of the arrangement. The assistant knew too much about family operations to be safely released, now that the world was changing. This wasn't a desperate act of survival, but a calcuted elimination of a potential security risk that would simultaneously satisfy his new needs.

  Dominic's first feeding was nothing like the desperate, messy affairs of newly-turned vampires in the cities. He approached it with the same refined precision he'd applied to every aspect of his privileged life, draining the assistant without hesitation or remorse. It was simply the natural order—the superior consuming the inferior, evolution in action.

  One month after his transformation

  The Ashcroft compound had become a fortress against the total chaos that had engulfed the outside world. Government systems had colpsed entirely, panic and violence spread throughout every region, and the familiar structures of human society had disintegrated with shocking speed. Yet even in this new reality, Dominic's transition into vampire society proceeded with the same privilege that had defined his human existence.

  Dr. Keller himself—the brilliant scientist who had been working on the immortality serum when Subject 23 transformed—visited the compound with his inner circle of transformed scientists. Unlike those randomly transformed through uncontrolled feeding in the spreading chaos, Keller had developed a method for creating enhanced vampires through specialized supplementation during transformation.

  "The baseline transformation creates standard abilities," Keller expined during a private consultation in the compound's converted boratory. "But with the proper cellur modutors derived from the same rare blood that was used in the original serum, we can produce significantly enhanced capabilities."

  Dominic recognized the reference to Elena from Richard's previous expnations—the woman whose rare blood composition had contributed key elements to the original serum that transformed Subject 23. Her unique properties, Keller expined, allowed for greater enhancement when properly synthesized and administered.

  "Those of us with these enhanced abilities will naturally rise to leadership positions as our kind establishes a new social order," Keller continued, preparing a syringe with vibrant red liquid. "A hierarchy based on genuine biological superiority rather than the artificial constructs of human wealth and privilege."

  The irony wasn't lost on Dominic—his position in this future hierarchy would initially depend on the same accident of birth that had privileged his human existence. The Ashcroft compound's boratories, pharmaceutical supplies, and security infrastructure made it an ideal base for Keller's continuing research.

  "This enhancement will pce you among the most powerful of our kind," Keller expined as he administered the injection. "You'll be faster, stronger, with accelerated healing and greater sunlight tolerance than those randomly transformed."

  Dominic embraced this new existence with the same entitled confidence that had characterized his human life. The colpse of financial systems might have destroyed most fortunes, but the Ashcrofts had diversified into physical assets—pharmaceutical production facilities, secure compounds, and stockpiles of valuable resources. He leveraged these assets to establish his territory, converting human wealth to power in the emerging new world order with ruthless efficiency.

  A couple years after the outbreak

  Human resistance forces had attacked the Ashcroft compound, presenting the first genuine threat to the stronghold Dominic had established. Drawing on the resources and enhanced abilities at his disposal, he organized a strategic defense that not only repelled the attack but resulted in the capture of valuable human assets—scientists, engineers, and medical personnel who would be put to use in his growing operation.

  By this time, a loose hierarchy had begun to form among the transformed. Those enhanced through Keller's methods naturally occupied the top tier of this emerging social structure, while those randomly transformed through uncontrolled feeding formed the lower ranks. Territories had been established, with the strongest ciming the most valuable resources.

  The vampire who would eventually become known as the first Marquis visited Dominic's compound to assess his defenses after hearing of the successful repulsion of the hunter attack. Impressed by what he saw—not just the strategic victory but the organized operation Dominic had established—he recognized the potential value of formalizing their social structure.

  "What we need is order," the future Marquis expined. "A clear hierarchy that establishes authority and prevents constant conflict. The humans had their nobility—kings, dukes, counts. Perhaps we should consider something simir."

  Within the following years, this suggestion would evolve into the formal vampire nobility structure, with Dominic receiving the title of Count in recognition of his territorial control and enhanced abilities. But that was still in the future. At this early stage, what mattered was not titles but power—the power to control territory, resources, and the increasingly valuable human blood supply.

  In his private chambers, Dominic opened his eyes, surprised by the crity and detail of the memories. Fifteen years had passed since his transformation, yet tonight they felt as immediate as yesterday. He realized with sudden certainty that Sera's blood had triggered this unprecedented sensory recall—memories that had been fading over the years suddenly vivid again.

  It wasn't just the exquisite taste that made her blood exceptional. Something in her unique composition enhanced cognitive function, sharpened recall, intensified sensory perception. He had experienced nothing like it in fifteen years of feeding on premium resources.

  Dominic rose, moving to the window overlooking his carefully maintained night gardens. The implications were significant—beyond the epicurean pleasure, beyond the status of possessing a truly exceptional resource. If her blood could restore such crity of thought and memory, what other effects might prolonged consumption produce?

  This discovery added yet another dimension to his growing obsession with Sera. She might offer more than just exceptional taste. She might be the key to elevating his position further in the vampire hierarchy—perhaps even to providing insights for Project Immortal, the Archduke's ongoing obsession with enhancing vampire capabilities.

  He touched the hidden panel in his desk, revealing the small refrigerated compartment containing his most precious possession—the crystal vial of Keller's blood, preserved from the early days of the outbreak. Beside it, he pced a new vial containing a small sample of Sera's blood taken during today's feeding.

  Side by side, the two samples appeared ordinary. Yet each represented extraordinary potential—one from his past, one possibly securing his future. From silver spoon to vampire aristocracy, Dominic Ashcroft's existence had always been defined by exceptional privilege. And he had no intention of settling for anything less than continued ascension.