Chapter 1: The Invisible Pain
The sun had barely risen over the small town of Bhavanipur, but the hustle of the day had already begun. Students rushed through the narrow streets, bicycles squeaked, and street vendors yelled out morning deals in hoarse voices. Amid the cacophony, a frail figure walked alone with his eyes to the ground and a bag full of worn books on his back.
His name was Ajay. Nineteen years old. Quiet. Thin. Eyes that told stories no one cared to hear.
College was just a ten-minute walk from his uncle's crumbling house—a house that still carried the echoes of tragedy and loss. Ajay's footsteps were light but deliberate. He had learned to move without drawing attention. Being invisible was his defense.
But invisibility had its limits.
"Oi! Ajay the Ghost!"
He heard the voice before he turned the corner.
It was Vicky, the self-proclaimed leader of the college gang. Rich, muscular, and cruel. Everything Ajay wasn't.
Ajay flinched slightly, his fingers clutching his books tighter. He didn't turn around. He didn't reply. That only made it worse.
Vicky stepped in front of him with a smirk, flanked by two more boys—Rohan and Dev.
"What? Ignoring me now?" Vicky said, his tone mocking. "Think you're better than us just 'cause you get good marks?"
Ajay kept his head down. "I don't want any trouble."
Vicky slapped a book from Ajay's hands. "Too late."
The books scattered into a puddle of muddy rainwater near the curb. Ajay bent down quickly, scooping them up, but one was already soaked. He tried not to show emotion. That only fed the fire.
The boys laughed as they walked away, high-fiving each other like they had won some grand battle.
Ajay wiped his hands on his faded jeans and walked into the college gate with his head low. No one offered to help. No one ever did.
The Life Behind Closed Doors
Ajay didn't talk much at college, and no one really knew his story. To most, he was just another poor, awkward kid. But behind the silence was a tragedy that still haunted him every night.
He lost his parents when he was five in what the news had called an "unexplained house fire." Only he and his elder sister Diya had survived. Diya was just thirteen at the time, yet she became his guardian, mother, and protector all at once.
Their uncle had taken them in, not out of love but out of obligation. His house had become a shelter, but never a home.
Diya grew up fast. She worked two part-time jobs while finishing her education. She skipped her own dreams just to make sure Ajay could have one. At twenty-seven, she was already exhausted by life. But you'd never guess that by looking at her.
Every morning, she packed Ajay's lunch. Every night, she asked about his day. Every weekend, she took freelance design gigs just to cover his college fees.
"You don't worry about money, Ajay," she'd say. "You focus on becoming someone great. Someone who doesn't have to bow to anyone."
Ajay loved her more than anything. He promised himself he'd make her proud. He studied harder than anyone else. He topped every test, submitted every assignment early, and read books late into the night.
But the world didn't reward the quiet or the kind.
The Storm
One Thursday evening, the skies darkened. A heavy rainstorm brewed over Bhavanipur, turning roads to rivers and shops into shadows. Diya had gone out for a late client meeting—something about a potential full-time job opportunity.
Ajay was at home, making notes when his phone rang.
It was his uncle.
His voice was trembling.
"Ajay… it's your sister. There's been… an accident."
The Hospital Room
Ajay ran. He didn't take an umbrella. He didn't think about shoes. He just ran.
By the time he reached the hospital, his legs were shaking, and his clothes clung to his skin.
Diya was lying on a hospital bed, her body surrounded by tubes and wires. Her face was pale. A large bandage covered her forehead. Her legs were wrapped in plaster, motionless under the white sheets.
The doctor approached with a grim look.
"She's alive, but her spine has suffered damage. It's too early to say if she'll walk again. The next 48 hours are critical."
Ajay just stood there, numb. He didn't cry. He couldn't.
He sat by her side for hours, holding her hand.
She didn't wake up that night.
When morning came, and his uncle forced him to go home for rest, Ajay felt like something inside him had cracked wide open.
The Awakening
That night, unable to sleep, Ajay wandered into the rain again. He didn't know where he was going. His body ached from exhaustion, but his mind raced.
He reached a narrow path outside town, surrounded by thick woods and forgotten temples. The wind howled through the trees, and the rain came down like knives.
He screamed. For the first time in years.
"Why?!"
His voice echoed in the emptiness.
He punched the mud. He hit a tree. He screamed again. And then...
Pain. Blinding, unbearable pain.
His chest felt like it was tearing open from the inside. His eyes burned. His skin began to glow faintly—red veins pulsing beneath the surface like lava.
Ajay collapsed.
Visions flooded his mind. Fire. Wings. Fangs. A pair of glowing red eyes looking down at a baby—him. A voice whispered in an ancient tongue, one he somehow understood.
"Blood awakens blood. The prince returns when the balance is broken."
He gasped awake, lying in the middle of the muddy forest path, his clothes torn and steam rising from his skin.
Something had changed.
New Senses
The next morning, the world looked… different.
Ajay could hear birds from streets away. He could see the tiniest cracks in the wall. He smelled things he shouldn't have—fear, emotion, even lies.
In college, he walked through the hallways, and the bullies ignored him. For the first time, they looked afraid.
Vicky passed him but didn't speak. His eyes darted away, his smirk replaced by unease.
Ajay didn't understand it completely yet, but something deep inside had awoken. Something ancient. Something powerful.
He felt stronger—physically and mentally. His senses were sharper. His thoughts were faster. His fear was gone.
And there was something else.
A symbol—a glowing red mark—had appeared on his chest the night before, shaped like a dragon coiled around a sword.
When he touched it, visions returned—images of fire-breathing dragons flying across stormy skies, vampires in ancient cloaks kneeling before a throne, and a prince with fangs and wings made of shadow and flame.
And then a name whispered in his mind:
"The Vampire Dragon Prince."
A New Question
Back at the hospital, Diya finally regained consciousness. Her voice was weak. Her eyes barely open.
"Ajay…" she whispered. "You have… to know the truth… about our parents."
Ajay leaned closer, heart pounding.
"They… they weren't… what you think…"
But before she could say more, the doctor rushed in and interrupted. Ajay was gently ushered out.
He didn't press. Not yet.
But the question had already taken root.
Who were his parents?
And what did they have to do with what was happening to him?
A New Path Begins
That night, Ajay stood before the mirror in his small bedroom. He removed his shirt and looked at the glowing mark on his chest. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
In the dark glass, for a split second, his reflection changed.
His eyes turned red.
His teeth lengthened into fangs.
Wings of shadow briefly flickered behind his back.
He didn't flinch.
Something inside him whispered:
This is who you were meant to be.
Ajay clenched his fists.
He wasn't afraid anymore.
For the first time in his life, he had power.
But with power came questions.
And with questions… came danger.