The Night Eternal

Dear Zack,

This is my second time writing a letter that no father should ever have to write to his son: a suicide note. The first one I crafted before putting you on that train out of New York City, explaining my reasons for staying behind and fighting what I suspected was a losing battle.

Here I remain, still fighting that fight.

You were taken from me in the cruelest manner possible. For nearly two years now, I have pined for you, I have tried to find a way to set you free from the clutches of those who hold you. You think me dead, but no—not yet. I live, and I live for you.

I am writing this to you in the event that you survive me and that the Master survives me as well. In that case—which is for me the worst-case scenario—I will have committed a grave crime against humanity, or what was left of it. I will have traded the last hope for the freedom of our subordinated race in order that you, son, will live. Not only live, but live as a human being, unturned by the plague of vampirism spread by the Master.

My dearest hope is that you have by now come to the realization that the Master’s way is evil in its basest form. There is a very wise saying: “History is written by the victor.” Today I write not of history but of hope. We had a life together once, Zack. A beautiful life, and I include your mother in this also. Please remember that life, its sunlight, laughter, and simple joy. That was your youth. You have been made to grow up much too fast, and any confusion on your part as to who truly loves you and wants the best for you is understandable and forgivable. I forgive you everything. Please forgive my treachery on your behalf. My own life is a small price to pay for yours, but the lives of my friends, and the future of humanity—enormous.

Many times I have given up hope in myself, but never in you. I regret only that I will not see the man you will grow to be. Please let my sacrifice guide you onto the path of goodness.

And now I have one other very important thing to say. If, as I say, this plan comes off as I fear it might, then I have been turned. I am a vampire. And you must understand that, due to the bond of love I feel for you, my vampire self will be coming for you. It will never stop. If, by the time you read this, you have already slain me, I thank you. A thousand times, I thank you. Please feel no guilt, no shame, only the satisfaction of a good deed done well. I am at peace.

But if somehow you have not released me yet—please destroy me the next chance you get. This is my last request. You will want to cut down your mother too. We love you.

If you have found this diary where I intend to leave it—on your boyhood bed, in your mother’s house on Kelton Street in Woodside, Queens—then you will find, beneath the bed, a bag of weapons forged of silver that I hope will make your way easier in this world. It is all I have to bequeath you.

It is a cruel world, Zachary Goodweather. Do anything you can to make it better.

Your father,

Dr. Ephraim Goodweather