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... parchment in the flickering light, and through the window, a full moon hung cold and indifferent above the city.
The man holding the pen was dressed impeccably, but his breathing had gone ragged, and something raw and bitter sat heavy behind his eyes.
On the corner of the desk sat a syringe. The liquid inside was a deep, vivid crimson.
*Experimental Formula Type I — Vampire.*
Henry Isaac signed the last stroke of his farewell letter, leaned forward, and blew out ...
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