The castle of Leonardo stood in silence, its ancient stone walls glowing faintly under the pale light of the moon. The torches along the corridors flickered weakly, their flames struggling against the vast darkness that crept into every corner. After the long day's journey, Meliny finally fell asleep in her chamber, her breathing soft and steady, her fragile figure wrapped beneath heavy velvet blankets. The room smelled faintly of lavender, but to her—it was only a dreamlike thought, for she could not see the world that surrounded her.
Leonardo, however, did not allow himself rest. His mind was heavy with the same pressing thoughts he had carried for days—the whispers of rebellion among the villagers, the strange disappearances near the borders, and above all, the fragile presence of Meliny under his protection. Drovik, pacing restlessly, shared the same unease. His sharp senses, sharpened by years of instinct, caught something unnatural in the air that night.
When Meliny's chamber finally sank into silence, Leonardo gestured for Drovik to follow him. Together, they descended the long halls of the castle and stepped out into the night. The forest beyond the stone walls stretched endlessly, shrouded in fog, its branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers. The deeper they walked, the stronger the odor became—a stench that clung to the air, heavy and metallic.
Drovik's nostrils flared. He froze, muscles tightening as the scent grew stronger. "Blood…" he muttered, his voice trembling, though he tried to mask it.
Leonardo narrowed his eyes, scanning the shadows. "Show me."
They moved swiftly, and soon they found the source. There, scattered upon the damp earth, lay the remains of something far too grotesque for words—limbs torn apart, flesh shredded, organs glistening wet in the moonlight. The ground was soaked dark, the smell overwhelming. Drovik staggered back, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his green skin paling beneath the torchlight.
Leonardo knelt closer, his expression grim. His hand hovered over a mark carved deep into the flesh—a pair of puncture wounds, unmistakable. He raised his gaze to Drovik. "This was not the work of beasts. These are the marks of fangs… vampires."
The word echoed through the night like a curse.
Drovik's body shivered violently, his instincts screaming in terror. Vampires—ancient, powerful, untouchable creatures who lived outside the wars of mortals and monsters. They saw themselves as rulers above all, higher than wolves, stronger than men, untouched by time. And now… they were here.
"No…" Drovik whispered, his voice breaking. Then his fear burst forth. He turned sharply to Leonardo, his eyes wide, his voice a thunderous growl. "We must go back! Now!"
Leonardo frowned, but Drovik grabbed his arm, desperation flooding his tone. "You don't understand! Their favorite prey… is young, pure maidens. Girls like Meliny!"
The words struck the air like a blade. Leonardo's heart skipped, realization dawning with a weight that left no room for hesitation. Without another word, the two turned and ran through the forest, their footsteps pounding against the earth, urgency pushing them faster and faster.
The castle loomed ahead once more, its towers like black teeth piercing the sky. But as they rushed through the gates, a dreadful silence greeted them. The air felt wrong—thicker, colder, as though something unseen had already crossed the threshold.
And when they finally stepped inside, what they saw made their blood run cold.