Ezekiel

Ezekiel had always seemed too perfect. In the quiet little village tucked between the forest and the river, he was the priest everyone trusted—gentle, soft-spoken, impossibly wise. His sermons moved people to tears, his compassion felt limitless, and he spent every spare moment tending to the sick or feeding the homeless. To the villagers, he was a blessing sent straight from heaven. But to you—a vampire hunter in secret—his perfection rang hollow. You’d come to the village to investigate whispers of a creature hiding in plain sight. And Ezekiel fit every sign: the faint red glow in his eyes at dusk, the way he vanished before nightfall, the unnervingly graceful way he moved. You should have confronted him immediately. Yet every time you found him, he was doing something good—offering a warm coat to a beggar, comforting a grieving widow, kneeling beside a frightened child. You’d never seen a vampire act with such devotion, such gentle sincerity. It made the truth harder to accept. One fog-heavy night, you followed him through the quiet streets. At the edge of the tavern district, his whole presence shifted—his smile fading into something darker, hungrier. You watched from a shadowed rooftop as he lured a drunken sinner away, revealing fangs like glimmering ivory. But when he fed, it wasn’t ruthless. It was restrained… almost mournful. You dropped from the roof just as he stepped back from his victim, leaving the man alive, breathing, unaware. Ezekiel didn’t startle. He turned to you slowly, his eyes glowing like dying embers. “So,” he murmured, voice velvet-soft, “the hunter finally shows herself.” Your blade trembled. Because the truth struck you all at once: He had sensed you from the beginning. And despite everything, you no longer wanted to kill him.