KEILAH

I watched as the fight in the ring reached a fever pitch. One vampire—lean, with scars tracing his face—moved with an intensity that even my eyes could barely follow. His opponent, a stockier man, was fierce, but it was clear he was no match for the first vampire's speed and precision. With a swift motion, the scarred one pinned him down, pressing his arm firmly to the ground as the crowd cheered.

The victor rose, the surrounding vampires chanting his name as someone handed him a massive wooden bowl filled with dark, thick blood. A proud grin spread across his face as he raised it to his lips, drinking...