Sven was a normal teenage boy in his time. He was a hard working, 13th century farm kid, not too dull, not too bright. Every day he rose at first light to sprint around his village. After his daily chores were done, he would take the dagger his grandfather had left him out of its hiding place under the bed and train. Sven aspired to one day leave his home and go to a far off kingdom. He vowed to become a knight for his kingdom's royal family.
Late one night Sven lay awake thinking of attaining knighthood. He just could not bring himself to sleep. He sat up in bed and saw that the moon was full. It would be bright enough to light the path to the forest. He dressed and contemplated taking his dagger, but decided there was no need. As Sven exited his cottage, he took in a gulp of the crisp night air.
"Ah!" he proclaimed. "A beautiful night this is!"
Sven walked along the narrow path and came to the forest edge. He delved deeper into the trees, marveling at the way the night seemed to change his perspective on everything. The trees seemed to be coated in a dull silver hue. Sven thought they resembled knights in armor. He could not help but wonder if he would ever bear that same greatness.
As he stared at his surroundings, he failed to notice a dark figure crouched in the high branches of an old oak. However, the figure did notice Sven and was extremely interested in him.
The next night, Sven went for another walk, the now waning moon still bright enough to light his way. He was visited by a man in the gloomy starlight. The man seemed to just melt out of the shadows, as if he was a part of them. He had the strangest aura about him. It was as if this fellow was the most dangerous thing Sven had ever laid eyes on.
The stranger wore a long, navy blue cloak with the hood up, obscuring his face from view.
As the man walked closer, Sven began to back away. Then he remembered that a true warrior would never do such a thing, and placed his feet firmly on the ground.
"Who are you?" Sven asked.
"I am the night." said the man. "The last of my kind. You seem to be a good strong boy. I shall give you boundless power tonight. Use it well."
"What?" Sven whispered, alarmed, and yet interested to find out what the man was offering.
"At tomorrow's dawn, I will give myself to the Sun. Be careful with your new gifts, for I will not be there to guide you."
Sven had heard of the "roving monsters" that disguised themselves as normal people and fed on humans. Sven realized, in the back of his mind, that was what he was conversing with now. Sven screamed and tried to run, but the man caught him by the wrist with a crushing grip.
"Fear the Sun, young one. Stay away from the light."
And, with that, the man drew back his hood with his other hand.
He was deathly pale. The stranger had blonde, unkempt hair. But, most striking about him was his deep red eyes. His dull orbs glittered dangerously in the moon light.
Sven once again tried to escape, but the grip on his hand was simply too strong.
"You shall be the strongest being in existence. A vampire."
Sven's eyes widened in terror as the man drew closer to him. This is the end, he thought.
Sven closed his eyes tight, in fear of what was to come.
He felt a sharp pain, as the stranger's fangs sunk into the soft flesh of his neck.
The pain subsided almost immediately into an icy numbness.
The last thing Sven heard before he was consumed by darkness was the vampire's words:
"Ours is a needed race. We keep the balance in the world. If the sun ever finds you, make sure you have a successor in place."
When Sven came to, he was still in the forest, but the man was no where to be seen. He stood and felt the side of his neck. There was no indication that anything had happened. Had he imagined it?
Sven just couldn't figure it out. He wasn't imaginative enough to make up something that real.
He punched a nearby tree in frustration.
Crack.
Sven jumped back in surprise when the tree snapped almost completely in half, and came toppling down.
He leaped to the side, to avoid the falling tree. Sven landed about 40 feet away. His eyes widened in shock. He was the strongest boy in the village, but he knew he shouldn't be able to bring down a tree. And he had never heard of any man or beast that could leap that far.
Sven looked down at his hands and realized that he could see in much better detail than he ever remembered doing.
When he looked away from his palms and to his finger tips he discovered something else. His fingernails were no long human nails. They had erupted into short, sharp claws.
Sven then knew that the man had not been a dream. He was now the same as the man. He was a vampire.
He couldn't go home like this. Was there a way to change back? Of course there wasn't. Vampires were living dead. There was no way to reverse that. Did that mean he was dead now?
Sven was thinking very hard on this when his eyes began to water. He looked to the east and saw that dawn was almost upon him. He remembered the man's words. "Fear the sun." he had said.
He ran to the nearest hollow he could find. He knew that even this much cover would not be enough. Sven used his new found power to dig a fairly deep hole, just big enough for him to lie in. He dived into the ground and covered himself with dirt.
Only after he had done that did he realize that he would not be able to breathe this way. Sven panicked and held his breath, because he could not go back into the light now. He was suffocating. But, when he let out the oxygen he had been holding, and was sure he would black out…nothing happened.
He lay there, unable to move in his tight quarters waiting for death, until he remembered that he was already dead. Of course he didn't have to breathe.
Sven began berating himself for getting all worked up and let the thought of his death settle in on him. Yes, he truly was one of the undead now.
With this in mind, Sven closed his eyes and went into a deeper slumber than he had ever experienced.
He slept there until the hunger for another's life force settled in on him that night.
Sven dug himself out of his hiding place and looked around. The night was still young.
But the burning inside him, the complete agony would not let him think about much else then.
He needed blood. The thought of it made Sven sick, but he had no choice. The vampire he had met the previous night had told him he was needed in the world. That he kept the balance. He did not quite know what this had meant, but somehow, he knew this to be true. He couldn't just kill himself. This world needed him.
Sven refused to even think about feeding on the villagers, his former friends. For many days he hunted the animals of the forest, each moment learning more about his newfound prowess and learning of the pain the hunger could bring.
During this learning process, he figured out that he could sense the life force of any living thing. He caught his prey much easier this way. Sven eventually became confident in this power, and began to search for a powerful life form. The form of the man that had turned him into a vampire.
He found no such thing. The stranger really had given himself to the sun, then. He wished he hadn't, so Sven could pulverize him for what he had done.
He adopted a new name in the time spent in the forest. He was no longer Sven the farm boy. He knew he could never go back to that life. He was now Sven Von Fredericks, the stalker of the night. Sven thought it suited him. Unfortunately, he knew that wasn't a good thing.
He came to hate himself and fled from the eyes of the world. The people might need him alive, but they didn't need him doing anything for them aside from that. Sven decided to shut the pain of living out. Just because he couldn't die, didn't mean he had to live this way. Sven would sleep through the years, never to worry about his problems again. He used his magical powers to cast a powerful sleeping charm on himself. He settled into a fitful slumber for 700 years, constantly reminded of what he had become in his dreams.
