Searing pain spiked through Marvis’s skull, dragging him violently from sleep. Darkness pressed heavily against his chest, suffocating and hot. Inside his mind, a blade sliced through flesh with terrifying precision. He screamed, but no sound escaped his throat as he watched the phantom blade carve a grotesque, symmetrical pattern into a man’s chest. Blood bubbled from the deep lacerations, pooling into the shape of a blooming lotus that twisted into the sharp, cruel angles of a letter ‘A’. This was the Crimson Bloom. Sweat soaked his sheets as Marvis bolted upright, gasping for air. He clutched his head, his fingernails digging into his scalp as the phantom pain slowly receded. His small, cramped apartment was bathed in the sickly green and pink hues of the neon signs outside. Below his window, the City of Black Lanterns hummed with its usual nocturnal depravity. Trembling, Marvis stared at his hands. He half-expected them to be stained with crimson, but they were pale, clean, and shaking. His ancient bloodline curse was stirring again. For years, it had remained a quiet, heavy weight in his veins, but tonight, the beast inside him was clawing at the gates. Nausea rolled through his stomach as he forced himself out of bed. The vividness of the dream felt less like a nightmare and more like a memory, a violent premonition etched directly into his soul. Desperate for air, Marvis grabbed a worn jacket and slipped out into the humid night. The city air was thick with the scent of cheap street food, exhaust fumes, and damp concrete. Rain began to fall, a light drizzle that did nothing to cool the fever burning beneath his skin. He walked aimlessly, guided only by a strange, magnetic pull in his chest that seemed to tug him toward the older district. Flashing red and blue lights cut through the heavy mist a few blocks away. Marvis stopped, his heart hammering against his ribs as a wave of intense dread washed over him. Crowds of onlookers had already gathered near the gates of an ancient Buddhist shrine. The local Wat, usually a sanctuary of peace, was now cordoned off with bright yellow police tape. Officer Jamie stood near the stone steps, his sharp eyes scanning the gathering crowd. He adjusted the collar of his damp jacket, his jaw clenched tight in frustration as his partner, Duang, spoke to a local monk. "Keep the perimeter secure," Jamie ordered, his voice cutting through the chatter of the crowd. "Nobody goes in or out until the forensics team finished taking photos." Duang sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "The captain is already breathing down our necks, Jamie. A body in a sacred place like this? It’s going to cause a panic." Marvis watched from the shadows of a large banyan tree, his breath catching in his throat. The pull in his blood was deafening now, a high-pitched frequency that vibrated in his teeth. Peering through the open doors of the shrine, Marvis felt his stomach drop. Laid out on the polished teak floor, right before the serene golden statue of the Buddha, was a lifeless body. Blood painted the sacred tiles. Even from this distance, Marvis could see the deep, jagged cuts on the victim's chest, forming the exact, horrific 'A' from his dream. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead. The vision had been real, a literal broadcast of a murder that had occurred while he slept. Slowly, a pale, shimmering mist began to rise from the corpse. Marvis blinked, rubbing his eyes, but the mist only grew denser, coalescing into the translucent shape of the dead man. Jamie walked right through the spectral figure to point out a piece of evidence to Duang. Neither officer noticed the temperature drop or the way the temple candles flickered violently. But the ghost was not looking at the police. It turned its hollow, weeping eyes toward the temple entrance, scanning the crowd until its gaze locked directly onto Marvis. Recognition flared in the dead man's eyes, a terrifying spark of awareness that defied the grave. Step by step, the phantom began to glide toward the police tape, its hand reaching out toward Marvis. Its mouth opened, moving silently as if trying to scream a name Marvis was too afraid to hear. Terrified of what his cursed senses were showing him, Marvis stumbled backward into the crowd, knocking over a plastic chair. Jamie's sharp gaze immediately snapped toward the commotion, his eyes narrowing as he spotted Marvis fleeing into the dark alleyways. Running blindly, Marvis didn't stop until he was back inside his locked apartment, his back pressed against the heavy wooden door. Inside, the television hummed quietly on his counter. A breaking news report flashed on the screen, showing live footage of the very shrine he had just fled, confirming the discovery of a brutally murdered man. He sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands as the realization set in: his curse was no longer dormant, and the killer's work had only just begun. As Marvis clutches his throbbing head, a cold, spectral hand briefly brushes his shoulder, leaving behind a faint scent of old blood and a whispered, guttural word: 'Hunter'.

Chapter 1: Crimson Bloom, Fading Light