---
☾ In the Manor — Deep Night, Forbidden Forest ☽
Deep within the forbidden forest, where light struggles to penetrate the thick canopy, an ancient manor stands, forgotten by time. Its stones, blackened by centuries, are worn away by dampness and silence. Once imposing, the building now seems to suffocate beneath the weight of ages, like a cursed relic the forest strives to reclaim.
Inside, noble, antique objects are arranged with a disturbing care, echoing a grandeur long lost. Frayed tapestries, chandeliers coated in hardened wax, portraits faded by dust — all breathe a past frozen in oblivion.
And at the far end of the great hall, upon a throne whose velvet has dulled with age, there he sits.
Majestic. Silent.
The lord rests in shadow, draped in sombre elegance, his spectral blue gaze piercing the void as if peering into another world. He does not move. He reigns — not over a people, but over the ashes of a vanished kingdom.
A male voice reverberates through the damp echoes of the room.
"Lord…" it says, low and resigned.
The speaker stands tall, cloaked in a coat from another time, gazing gravely at the cracked walls. He steps forward slowly, without awaiting reply.
"Once… your kingdom was among the most prestigious. Even more than mine. An ancient glory, feared and revered through the ages."
He pauses, his eyes vacant as if the memories themselves wound him.
"But here we are. Nothing remains. Nothing but ruins… and us. Condemned to linger."
He steps fully into the light, revealing a face marked by centuries, yet strangely preserved. His golden eyes gleam with an eerie glow, and his smile offers neither warmth nor trust — only a relic of old power. His cloak brushes the cracked marble floor like a forgotten whisper.
"By some great miracle, we survived…" he says, his voice deep and smooth.
"Dried up, forgotten… and yet, here we are. We owe you eternal gratitude, Lord. Perhaps our past pacts preserved between us some form of balance… or respect."
He halts a few steps before the throne, his gaze fixed on the motionless vampire. Then, sharper:
"For me, at least… I was brought back not by your hand, but by that nectar… That delicious blood seeping from the cave walls like a divine offering. No other liquid has ever so fully satisfied me."
A fleeting, almost cruel smile crosses his pale lips.
"I only hope that girl is still alive. For it is because of her… that I would feast again. It is through her that it all began anew. And believe me… I truly hope to find her."
A heavy silence falls. The Lord still utters no word. But his icy blue eyes slowly lift to meet the lord's.
Just a look.
Yet it is enough. The lord Azhram — for that was his name — immediately understood he had reached the limits of the millennium-old vampire's patience. The Lord's silence was no absence of reply — it was a warning.
Azhram stepped back.
He did not press further.
---
A vicious smile curled Azhram's lips as he half-turned, eyes scanning the heavy, dusty draperies of the old manor.
"Well then…" he said in a honeyed tone, "I'll go see what the city has to offer. Perhaps I'll find my pleasure tonight."
A calm but cutting voice echoed instantly, like a blade falling in the darkness:
"No need to trouble yourself, Lord Azhram. You will find no satisfaction. The only solution… is that girl."
Azhram slowly turned, a flash of irritation crossing his gaze.
From the far end of the hall, a figure emerged from the shadows. So beautiful she could make statues tremble, she moved with silent grace. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders like moonlight fallen upon a sea of blood, and her deep red eyes shone like two cursed jewels.
She wore a jet-black gown embroidered with silver, its subtle neckline and high collar underscoring a noble, icy elegance.
Azhram gave a new smile, this time tinged with slight mistrust.
"Ah… Lady Isolde de Varellia," he murmured smoothly. "Fallen princess of the ancient Stygian Empire, scourge of weak hearts and traitor to the throne…"
He bowed his head slightly, irony contained.
Isolde stared without flinching, impassive as an obsidian statue.
The lord stepped forward slowly, emerging from the shadows of the dilapidated throne. His footsteps echoed softly on the ancient tiles. When close enough, he took Isolde's hand gently, bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss as cold as it was solemn.
"What an honor to receive your visit, Lady Isolde," he murmured in a grave voice.
A joyless smile hovered on the lady's lips, her red eyes scrutinizing him with unsettling intensity.
"Not much, I assure you," she replied softly. "I have merely recalled… that you once rejected me. Before karma petrified us all for centuries. And since then, one question haunts me: why?"
A tense silence followed. Azhram, watching the scene from the corner of his eye, raised an eyebrow and gave a slight mocking bow.
"Well… I suppose it's time for me to take my leave. I'll leave you to your reunions, frozen though they may be."
Without waiting for an answer, he left the room, his footsteps fading into the manor's dark corridors.
The lord, meanwhile, had not taken his gaze off Isolde. Slowly, he brought his hands to her slender waist, placing them there with unexpected tenderness. Their eyes met in a suspended moment.
Then, without warning, he kissed her. A deep, ardent, passionate kiss.
When he finally pulled back, Isolde's eyes blazed like twin flames.
"I must be away for a few hours," he whispered in her ear. "But I will return."
"I will wait for you, Valthorne," she said.
---
☾ Meanwhile, far from the manor… ☽
---
✧ In Audrey's room — late at night ✧
I was taking my shower before bed, as usual. Water ran over my skin while my eyes fell on my wrist. Two clear marks, twins, were etched there. Bite marks. I looked away, embarrassed, refusing to linger.
Wrapped in a towel, I left the bathroom at the end of the hall. The wing was silent at this hour, my footsteps barely audible. Arriving in my room, I gently closed the door and sighed.
I moved toward my wardrobe, still wrapped in my towel, searching for something to wear.
"Audrey."
I spun around suddenly, breath caught.
"You… you scared me!"
I instinctively clutched the towel tighter, panic sweeping my gaze across the room.
"Well… it's not polite to enter a young lady's room like that! And I remind you we only meet twice a week… no more! So leave! Immediately! Besides, I need to get dressed, you're becoming… a bit too…"
---
⋯ Silence settled, tense as a drawn wire, then was broken by a firm voice ⋯
"Audrey," he said, advancing slowly toward me. "From now on, you will forge no bonds with the students of your academy. Especially not with new people."
"Huh? What? Why?" I replied, utterly thrown.
"Do as I command," he answered.
"It's not up to you to decide who I talk to!" I retorted, looking away as I resumed my search through the wardrobe.
He moved closer. His icy fingers grasped my face, holding my cheeks firmly. He was so near. I felt his breath, his burning gaze fixed on mine. Instinctively, I tightened the towel around me, fearing he'd see what I desperately tried to hide.
"You will do as I say," he murmured.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. His hypnotic gaze, his imposing presence… I had no courage to speak.
Finally, in a weaker voice, almost a whisper:
"Let me go…"
He obeyed. Slowly.
Then he sized me up from head to toe, like a predator assessing its prey, a hunting look lingering on his lips.
"Have a good evening."
And he disappeared, as usual.
---
Alone once more…
Again, I was embarrassed. But this embarrassment… I didn't understand it. It wasn't fear, nor anger. At least, not only. There was something else. Something more diffuse, harder to name.
I slowly brought my fingers to my cheeks, still warm. A rosy tint had spread across them, and I didn't dare look in the mirror.
I sighed, almost whispering, as if putting words to it made it more real:
"He's too strange…"
I sat at the edge of my bed, gaze lost in the void, clutching the towel tightly.
"What have I gotten myself into…"
I closed my eyes for a moment.
---
☼ The next morning, at the Academy… ☼
✦
In the political science classroom that morning…
The class took place in a large room with tinted windows, where the morning light barely filtered through. An atmosphere that might have calmed me if I hadn't had to sit next to Edward Whitmore.
The professor had decided to mix up pairs "to encourage open-mindedness." Result: I ended up stuck beside the student I hated most — who, on his side, royally ignored me.
He didn't even turn his head when I sat down. Arms crossed, distant gaze, he treated me like a bothersome shadow. Yet his presence weighed at my side like a silent threat. When I finally dared to turn my head toward him, he beat me to it.
His steel eyes, cold and disdainful, seemed to remind me I was nothing. But this time, I did not lower my gaze. I straightened slightly.
"Are you going to follow me your whole life, or is this just a temporary obsession?" he murmured mockingly.
I flipped through my textbook without flinching.
"I could ask you the same. You're always where I go. Maybe you want me to teach you how to run away."
A spark of amusement flashed in his eyes. He leaned slightly toward me.
"Believe me, I know how to run… but you're no threat. Just an annoying distraction."
"Whitmore, Elmere… silence," the professor growled.
We fell silent, at least on the surface. But the silent war continued. The class was on systems of authority in ancient kingdoms. The professor announced a group exercise. Of course, pairs were already assigned.
"Whitmore and Elmere, you're together," he said.
I clenched my teeth. Of course.
I turned to Edward, who gave me that smug smile I hated.
"Perfect. You'll come to my place. I have a study room better stocked than this academy's."
"Why did I have to be with you? But well… we don't get to choose, do we?" I retorted sharply.
The rest of the class was a string of whispered barbs. The professor had to call us to order three times. He was clearly fed up.
"This pair is a disaster," he muttered under his breath. "I swear, if you disrupt class again…"
But I no longer listened. I listened only to him.
When Edward leaned close and whispered low:
"You're nothing but administrative trash here. You're worth nothing, Audrey. And your family…"
Something inside me broke.
I jumped up, rage burning. I forgot the rest of the class, forgot where I was. It was just him and me.
"Edward Whitmore! I challenge you. From today on, your name will never be at the top of anything. I will crush you, and everyone will see it."
Silence. All eyes were on us.
He stood too, his gaze sharper than usual. Not cold. Not mocking. Curious.
"Interesting," he whispered. "We'll see, Elmere. But you'll regret those words."
He leaned in, his cruel smile splitting his face.
"Four days. That's all you have before you fail."
"We'll see about that."
The professor clapped his hands, exasperated.
"Fine! I refuse to waste another minute playing school monitor. You will do your presentation outside of class. It's due in four days and will count double. If you fail to cooperate… your grades will suffer."
I stood tall, eyes locked with Edward's. He no longer looked at me the same way. His gaze was no longer icy. There was… something else. Maybe he had finally realized I wasn't just a distraction.
But an adversary.
---