Blood and Desire

Whispers of the Past

The moon hung low over the kingdom of Eldoria, casting long shadows on the cobblestone streets. In the narrow alleys, a figure moved with silent grace, her eyes cold and sharp. Seraphina, the heartless vampire, was hunting again. Her nights were always like this, feeding on the blood of unsuspecting people. But tonight felt different. As she walked through the quiet streets, something strange stirred inside her. Ahead, she saw her target: a young girl, no more than sixteen, unaware of the danger. As Seraphina got closer, she felt a sudden hesitation, a feeling she hadn't known in centuries. In that moment, the hunter became unsure, caught off guard by unexpected emotions.

For the first time in centuries Seraphina was hesitant, she decided to give up and go back home, which stood at the edge of Eldoria, nestled deep within a forest that seemed to swallow light. The mansion was a relic of a bygone era, with ivy-covered stone walls and towering spires that pierced the night sky. Its once-grand facade was now weathered and crumbling, yet it retained an eerie beauty. Tall, arched windows lined the exterior, though most were obscured by heavy, dark curtains that rarely parted.

Inside, the air was cool and heavy, filled with the scent of aged wood and forgotten memories. The grand hall was dominated by a sweeping staircase, its banister carved with intricate designs of roses and thorns. Flickering candlelight cast long shadows, illuminating the rich, burgundy carpets and the ornate, antique furniture that filled the rooms. Portraits of long-dead ancestors gazed solemnly from the walls, their eyes following any who dared to enter.

Seraphina's private chambers were a sanctuary of darkness and solitude. A grand canopy bed draped in deep crimson silk stood in the center, flanked by dark wooden furniture and a large, ornate mirror that seemed to reflect not just the room, but also the secrets it held. Shelves lined with ancient tomes and peculiar artifacts spoke of centuries of knowledge and power. In one corner, a small writing desk held parchment and quills, along with a single, withered rose in a crystal vase—an echo of a forgotten past.

Despite its decaying grandeur, the mansion was more than just a home; it was a fortress, a place where Seraphina could retreat from the world, secure in her solitude and the shadows that were her constant companions.

Seraphina's kitchen was a functional and stark space, with rough stone walls and a large, ancient hearth. An assortment of iron pots and pans hung above the hearth, and a scarred wooden table stood in the center. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of preserved herbs and spices, adding an earthy scent to the air. Small, high-set windows let in only slivers of moonlight, casting eerie shadows across the stone floor. Despite its disuse, the kitchen was meticulously clean, a quiet reminder of a once-bustling household now lost to time, yet it was her favorite place to enjoy a glass of wine.

She sat down at the old wooden table and poured herself a glass of wine to make herself forget about the odd felling of the night, she was confused as to why she couldn't attack that specific girl.

That night consisted of her drinking and thinking but at one point she got angry and smashed the wine bottle against the wall, the feeling she had buried centuries ago was finally coming back to her and she couldn't let it get to her like it once did, she believed that a vampire was incapable of love but she had made a mistake of loving a woman in the past, a woman that made her forget about her monstrous origins, that woman was Isabelle, the two women were inseparable at the time.

As the shards of glass glistened like tiny stars scattered across the floor, Seraphina slumped against the wall, her breath heavy and ragged. Memories of Isabelle flooded her mind—the laughter they shared, the stolen moments in the moonlight, the warmth of a touch that made her feel human again. But that love had ended in tragedy, and the pain of that loss had forged the unyielding armor around her heart. Now, facing the bewildering stirrings of emotion once more, Seraphina vowed to resist. She would not allow herself to be vulnerable again, to feel the searing agony of love lost. As the dawn's light began to creep into the room, she steeled herself for the battles ahead, determined to bury her feelings deeper than ever before. Little did she know, this was only the beginning of a journey that would test the very core of her existence.

Just as she resolved to suppress her emotions, a soft knock echoed through the silence, sending a chill down her spine.

A/N: who's knocking on the door?