The Awakening of Legend...
Three hundred years passed.
Empires fell. Wars burned the earth. The world changed.
But legends never die.
In modern-day Paris, a young historian named Adrian Moreau became obsessed with an unfinished manuscript discovered beneath the ruins of an old monastery. The pages spoke of a vampire king named Lucien and his immortal queen, Élodie—rulers of shadow, destroyers of hunters, breakers of curses.
Most scholars dismissed it as myth.
Adrian did not.
The manuscript mentioned a hidden tomb beneath the forgotten cliffs outside Versailles. A tomb sealed not with stone… but with blood.
One storm-heavy night, guided only by candlelight and obsession, Adrian found it.
A massive iron door carved with ancient symbols.
At the center—two intertwined roses made of black metal.
Without understanding why, he pressed his palm against the cold surface.
Lightning split the sky.
The door opened.
Inside, the air felt frozen in time. At the heart of the chamber stood two thrones carved from obsidian stone. Upon them—motionless figures.
Lucien.
Élodie.
Perfect. Untouched. As if asleep.
The legend had said they vanished.
It never said they died.
Adrian stepped closer, heart pounding.
Suddenly—
Élodie's eyes opened.
Crimson.
Lucien followed a second later.
The chamber trembled as ancient power returned like a tidal wave breaking through centuries of silence.
"You should not have come," Lucien's voice echoed, calm but devastating.
Adrian fell backward, terror overtaking obsession.
The world outside had forgotten fear of the night.
But the night had not forgotten the world.
Élodie rose from her throne, movements graceful and terrifying.
"We did not sleep," she said softly. "We waited."
The hunters were gone.
The curse was broken.
But humanity had grown bold again—careless, arrogant.
Lucien extended his hand toward Élodie. She took it.
A storm formed above Paris that night unlike any recorded in history.
By morning, Adrian Moreau had vanished.
His manuscript? Gone.
Only whispers remained.
Some say two elegant figures were seen walking along the Seine at midnight—beautiful, untouchable, dangerous.
Not hiding.
Not hunting blindly.
But watching.
Waiting.
Shameless.
Eternal.
And very much awake.