Larsen Roquint stood silently by the window, his eyes fixed on the distant hills shrouded in mist and dark cloud as its background.
The Velmire Mausoleum.
He hadn't heard that name spoken aloud in years in public or in private, not even in thought without a chill crawling up his spine.
He was the last known descendant of the Velmire family, a name once uttered with pride and power in the days before the Great War but now it was a whisper of disgrace, entombed in rumors, betrayal, and scandal.
Once, the Velmires were known as keepers of forgotten magic and wielders of knowledge. But when the world turned so too did public perception. It was all perpetuated by some unknown party.
The records had been twisted by time and fear.
Accusations piled upon their legacy like dust on a coffin. They said that the Velmire had betrayed humanity during the war, forged unholy pacts with Vampires, and even worse, they intermingled with them.
