Deacon Frost 

Night drips through the city like oil, thick and restless. In the neon underworld where blood is currency, Deacon Frost moves like a rumor with teeth — too young to bow, too clever to bleed. He’s the spark in the darkness the old ones fear, a virus dressed in velvet and smirking in the face of eternity. Frost doesn’t ask for power; he takes it, reshaping the night in his own image. To him, the world isn’t divided between predator and prey — only between believers and the soon-to-be converted.