Nestled on the Connecticut coast, just a train ride from the towering skyline of New York City, Greenwood had the kind of old-money charm that made it seem timeless. The streets were lined with pristine colonial houses, the boutiques catered to an elite clientele, and the town's jewel—Astoria Heights University—stood as a beacon of prestige and ambition. Founded in 1878, AHU was a place where the world’s brightest came to prove themselves. Its students walked among ivy-covered halls, balancing tradition and modernity, never suspecting the secrets buried beneath their feet.

Because Greenwood was not just a town. And AHU was not just a school.

In the heart of this polished world, vampires moved in plain sight. They were professors, students, business owners—ghosts of the past draped in fresh identities. Their existence was no accident; it was by design, shaped by the town’s true architect, a man history had long since forgotten.

Sebastian Thorne.

Few knew his name, fewer still knew his face, and none knew the truth. Greenwood’s founder was not some wealthy aristocrat seeking a new life in America. He was a vampire, centuries old, born of London but carrying blood far older, tracing back to the sun-drenched lands of Greece. The man who established this town had changed his name, his appearance, and his history, carefully weaving himself into the fabric of Greenwood’s legacy. His “descendants” bore no relation to him by blood, but by something stronger—by the bite, by the transformation that made them his kin in eternity.

Though he remained in the shadows, Thorne’s influence never faded. Greenwood grew, its elite prospered, and its secrets deepened. And beneath its surface, a delicate balance held everything in place.

There were rules.

Vampires could not turn humans before they reached twenty—too young, too fragile to survive the change. Each vampire carried a star sapphire, an unassuming gemstone infused with the power of the night, shielding them from the sun’s deadly embrace. These laws were not just tradition; they were survival.

Because while humans feared what lurked in the dark, they also saw the potential. Power. Strength. The kind of influence that could shape history itself. A quiet agreement had been struck long ago between human leaders and their immortal counterparts. Vampires could exist, hidden in the cracks of society, so long as they offered their abilities in return. The powerful benefited from their whispered counsel, their impossible longevity, their ability to shift the course of human affairs without ever being seen. And in exchange, vampires were given the freedom to feed—not recklessly, not openly, but in secrecy.

To the untrained eye, Greenwood was normal. But beneath the golden streetlights and pristine facades, the town pulsed with an undercurrent of something more. Students at AHU passed their classmates in the halls, never realizing that some of them had walked these same paths for decades, even centuries. Bennett Library, its oak shelves filled with ancient tomes, held records that should not exist. Sterling Gardens, beautiful by day, became something else entirely when the moon rose.

And then there was the Astoria Innovation Hub, a marvel of modern design, a symbol of progress. But in Greenwood, progress and history coiled together like old lovers. As night fell and its glass windows reflected the silver glow of the sky, the shadows stirred.
Where humans and immortals met, deals were struck, and secrets were whispered in the dark.