**Shadows of Sera: Nightfall at Neon Haven**

### Blood and Shadows: A Club Under Midnight

**Chapter 1: Crimson Compromise**

The bassline from the dancefloor below throbbed through the velvet sofa and up Zara Vance’s spine as she lounged behind her desk, counting out cash for the night’s pool. The liquor bottles in the locked display cabinet threw flickers of colored light around the small office, courtesy of the rotating club sign that blinked "NEON HAVEN" in the window. Zara, owner and perpetual overseer, ran a hand through her spiky blue hair, tallying receipts for the tenth time.

A pale, elegant hand gripped the edge of her desk. The vampire’s nails were painted pearlescent black. Her lips were stained with something far more subtle than lipstick.

“Thank you,” the vampire murmured, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth—Zara’s blood. The bite at Zara’s wrist throbbed only slightly, thanks to her swift application of a cheap bandage. “I’m… much better now.”

Zara observed the shift: moments ago, the vamp—who’d introduced herself with the odd name Lys Delaine—had been wiry and coiled, voice ragged, eyes rimmed red with hunger. Now Lys regarded Zara with a level, searching gaze, her hands folded demurely.

“I’m glad you’re… you again,” Zara said, only half-joking.

Lys’s eyes, a shade too crystalline blue to be natural, softened from predatory to pensive. She drew in a deep breath, for appearance’s sake. “You remind me of someone. Can I… ask you a question?”

“You’ve already had your share of the personal,” Zara replied, flexing her fingers over the cash drawer, but something in Lys’s manner wasn’t sinister anymore. “Go ahead.”

“There was a woman in the city—a few years back, perhaps a decade at most. She looked almost exactly like you. Her name was Sera Vance. Is she your sister? Or perhaps your mother?”

Zara blinked. “Sera Vance? I don’t know the name. Never heard of her.” She shook her head. “I might have distant relatives, but my parents were Chloe and Maury Vance. I’m the last of the line as far as I know.”

Lys tilted her head, as if examining Zara from some new, cryptic angle. “The resemblance is uncanny. And she—Sera—she helped my… kind. She vanished one night. I need to find her, or at least what’s left of her story.”

Zara thought. The club was a known vamp haunt, though she played coy with the authorities and most of the staff. She’d never heard the name Sera before, though. “I can ask around,” she said. “But it’s not like I keep tabs on what everyone’s called. Besides, our regulars don’t exactly sign in with their real names.” She managed a weary half-laugh.

“But you know more than you claim,” Lys said softly. “You hear everything. Even the secrets that seep from the library’s gossip.”

At that, Zara bristled. Those damn regulars at the Circulium Library—a creaky marble building by day, a den of whispers by night—were always chattering about her ‘dangerous connections’ and ‘secret insight into the underground.’ They loved sending oddities her way. This time, a starving vampire in a cool leather coat.

Zara mentally cursed the frost-faced archivist who’d likely fed Lys tales about ‘the blue-haired club owner who knows all the night-folk.’

“I suppose I’ll owe the library crowd for this,” Zara muttered. “But fine. I’ll help you. We check the regulars tonight. A few vampires are bound to know something about this Sera gal.”

She was about to shoo Lys out to the lounge when the office door burst open.

Leona, one of Zara’s favorite waitresses, hurried in, a tray still balanced on her shoulder. “Boss, Bart hasn’t shown! The bar’s three deep and a bachelorette party just knocked over the Jäger tap—”

Zara’s mind reached for a solution and collided with genius. She looked directly at Lys, now more human than monster, and pointed to the door.

“How are your bartending skills?” she asked, flashing a quick grin.

“Er, what?” said Leona, eyeing Lys’s ethereal presence and blood-smeared mouth.

“We’re making a deal,” Zara said, already standing up and searching for a spare apron. “You want to talk to vampires? The bar’s your stage. Pour, chat, ask all the questions you want. In exchange, you help out while we sniff for this Sera Vance. You’re working my club tonight.”

Lys blinked. Something wary flickered in her eyes—a struggle between dignity and desperation, hunger for kinship overriding everything else. Then she nodded, slowly, as if accepting an old, sacred pact.

“I will tend your bar. And help you find your missing bartender, if you wish. In return, you help me look for Sera.”

Zara grinned. “Then, Ms. Delaine, consider yourself hired. Leona, show the new bartender the ropes—and keep an eye on her.”

Leona stared, her skepticism total, but shrugged. “Fine. I’ll tell Cassie to cover the lounge.”

Zara watched Lys stand, sliding into the role with old-world grace. She wasn’t fool enough to trust a vampire entirely—but she knew an opportunity when she saw one.

As Lys glided after Leona into the pulsing neon of Neon Haven, Zara swept her ledger shut and let herself hope, for just a second, that tonight’s mystery would end in answers, not tragedy.

Little did she know, the club brimming with hungry vampires and oblivious mortals, that secrets move easily among shadows, and old names—like Sera Vance—can kindle dangerous fires.

---

**Chapter 2: The Hunt Begins**

Lys proved a natural behind the bar, gliding between spills and shouts, her pale hands unerringly finding bottles Zara barely remembered buying. The club’s regular vamps eyed her with a flicker of recognition, or wariness, or even desire—Zara couldn’t tell.

Between pouring shots and discreetly collecting whispered rumors, Lys glanced often for Zara’s nod of encouragement. On a straining bar stool, Zara perched with her notebook, jotting down scraps:

- “Red-haired vamp, 2015, always ordered O-neg with her shot of whiskey—could that have been Sera?”

- “Old Man Mulholland talked about a lookalike, real civil, never drank mortal blood.”

- “Disappeared after the big fire in ’16—maybe Sera?”

Each time Lys came close to breaking through, the conversation would stall. Vampires have long memories, but most didn’t trust questions about the lost.

Zara, for her part, hovered between regret—should she really have pulled a vampire into her staff?—and hope. If Sera was real, and if she was family, then Zara’s orphaned, lonely life might finally make sense.

At closing time, Lys slumped behind the bar, glassware wiped and stacked. She looked less haunted, almost hopeful, as Zara slid onto a barstool beside her.

“No sign of Sera, but I have leads,” Lys said quietly. “Thank you for giving me a place among them. For tonight, at least.”

“Don’t mention it. And stick around. We dig deeper tomorrow. First, though—tell me about you and Sera. What was she to you, Lys?”

Lys’s eyes darkened with memory. “She saved my life once—when the city was less kind. She risked everything to keep the peace between our kinds. If she’s gone, I must know why. And… if she’s not, I must thank her—for making me... more than a monster.”

Zara nodded. In that moment, she understood something vital: her club wasn’t just a business; it was a sanctuary for the lost—human and otherwise.

She mentally thanked the library women, just once, for sending Lys to her. Then she smiled crookedly, offering hope into the hush of morning as the last vampires filed out under the fading pink lights.

“Let’s find her together,” Zara promised. “And maybe, in the hunt, we’ll save each other too.”

---
*(To be continued... as the night in Neon Haven deepens, and the ties of blood and mystery twist ever tighter.)*

This story was generated by user vivi.lex with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.

Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.

AI Prompts