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Red lightning flashed and thunder rumbled overhead, casting eerie lights across the storm. The wind howled like a banshee. It was as if he was trapped in a painting where every detail was exaggerated and vivid.

A voice cut through the howling wind, pulling Ezra\'s attention. "What do you think, Shadrach?" The words echoed around him, spoken with a familiarity that sent shivers down his spine.

Ezra turned to the side and recognized the man standing beside him. The man with golden eyes, the same vampire who he had seen in a vision back when he claimed Valaren.

The man crouched, his fingers trailing through the shifting sands as if they held some hidden significance. Ezra felt a sense of déjà vu wash over him as he answered, his words flowing from his lips like lines from a well rehearsed play. "About what?"

He wasn\'t Shadrach but as usual, everything was progressing like it had already happened. Like he couldn\'t change what he had to say even if he wanted to.

Before the man could respond, golden lions emerged from the swirling sands, their forms wreathed in red electricity similar to the lightning above. They prowled towards them, their eyes fixed on their prey as saliva dripping from their jaws.

The man rose from his crouch, brushing sand from his hands with casual nonchalance. "It seems our guests have sent their pets ahead," he remarked, his voice tinged with amusement. "Let\'s oblige them."

Ezra sighed, resigned to the impending battle, and followed the man\'s lead as he walked, grinning, towards the approaching lions. With a deafening roar, the lions charged.

The man sidestepped a leaping lion and cut it in half with a swipe of his hand. His hand didn\'t even touch the lion and it crumbled to dust before it\'s carcass even touched the floor.

Ezra unsheathed a sword from his back and stabbed the lion in front of him. He moved like he had done this a thousand time before, the sword resting in his hands like an old friend.

Not this again. Where are we? Broadway? Is this some kind of play? What kind of dream is this? He tried to make another move but his body flowed as if in a set pattern.

As they fought, the man began to speak, his voice cutting through the din of battle. "Our lineage runs deep, Shadrach," he began, his words measured and deliberate as if he was taking a stroll through a garden. "We are the descendants of Night. Born from the depths of the Abyss itself. I inherited my mantle from my father and became the first vampire."

The first vampire? Ezra wanted to stare at the man in shock but his body kept flowing through sword forms, slicing lions left and right. What the fuck! Is this the vampire progenitor?

"Our blood carries the power of centuries. A legacy of strength and resilience passed down through generations. We never give up. We fight. We survive. We destroy."

Ezra listened intently, his focus sharpening as he absorbed the man\'s words. He was listening and seeing the progenitor. He didn\'t know much about vampire society but he was sure that only a handful people get to experience this. And now, I\'m one of them.

"But with power comes responsibility," the progenitor continued, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. "And our legacy is not without its burdens. We are bound by duty to protect our kind, to uphold the laws of our bloodline."

They fought side by side, moving with the grace that came from familiarity. Whoever Shadrach was, he had to be close to the progenitor. Is this the beloved descendant X spoke of? Or is this another son of the progenitor?

"We have faced countless enemies both within and without," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "But through it all, we have endured, standing firm against the tide of time."

Ezra felt himself nodded in understanding. "Together we stand. Divided we fall." He said like a mantra.

"And now," the man said as he bisected the last lion, his gaze piercing as he locked eyes with Ezra, "it is time for me to return to the Abyss. Our enemies keep coming here. I can\'t put the family in danger any longer. It\'s time to seek out the answers that have eluded us for so long."

"But what of the throne?" Ezra asked, his voice barely audible over the roar of battle. "What will become of our kingdom?"

The man\'s expression softened, a glimmer of vulnerability shining through his golden eyes. "Fear not, Shadrach," he said, placing a hand on Ezra\'s shoulder. "For I have chosen a successor, one who will carry on our legacy and keep the door to the Abyss open."

Ezra\'s could feel his vitality flowing rapidly within him rapidly at the mention of a successor. "And who is this successor?" he asked, his voice barely concealing his curiosity.

The man smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "That, my dear Shadrach," he said, his voice echoing with a sense of finality, "is for you to discover."

At that moment, three imposing figures emerged from the swirling sands, their forms obscured by the veil of the storm. Ezra\'s eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized them for what they were. The Wolfskins. Ancient inhabitants of the Abyss and enemy of their family.

The progenitor turned towards the newcomers, his face alight with delight. "Ah, it seems our guests have finally arrived," he exclaimed, his voice carrying across the howl of the storm with supernatural clarity.

Ezra felt a chill run down his spine as he watched the wolfskins approach, their eyes gleaming with feral hunger. "How are they here? How did they get through the doorway?" He knew that their presence could only mean trouble, their arrival a sign of imminent danger. Where there were three wolfskins, more were not far behind.

But the progenitor seemed unfazed by the threat of the wolfskins, his confidence unwavering as he stepped forward to greet them. "Welcome, my friends," he said, his voice dripping with honeyed charm. "It\'s been far too long since we last crossed paths."