Bound by Shadows

1. Lyra

The village of Elanorth had always been a small, forgotten corner of Thalarion, tucked away at the edge of its vast, mist-shrouded forests. The mist here wasn't just a veil—it clung like old memories, drifting lazily between the ancient trees, curling through the branches like fingers searching for something lost to time. Growing up, I imagined our village as one the world had abandoned, buried under the weight of mountains to the north, as if the earth itself was shielding us from the cruelties that lay beyond.

But no place in Thalarion was truly hidden. Not from the vampires.

Thalarion was a world of whispers and shadowed glances, of lives lived quietly beneath the watchful eyes of those who ruled over us. We were but dust in their kingdom, invisible threads stitched into the grand tapestry that fueled their power. I used to watch the elders—faces lined with years of submission—and wonder how they carried on. How did they endure bending beneath the yoke of vampire dominion without breaking? Their silence was suffocating.

It wasn't in me to stay silent.

The air in Elanorth was always thick with the cold. Not just the kind that came with the biting wind, but a chill that crept into your bones, making a home of your very soul. Even in the height of summer, the ground remained unyielding, hard beneath our feet, as though even the earth had forgotten how to soften. Overhead, the sky was forever cast in a silvery gloom, draining what little warmth we could gather in our hearts. It was a place where dreams withered and hope was an indulgence we could never afford.

We were farmers, carpenters, and traders, each of us bound by the same unspoken fear: never draw attention. To be invisible was to survive. The vampires didn't care for our lives unless we became useful—or worse, troublesome. We toiled in the fields, kept our heads low, and kept our mouths shut, all in the hope that another day would pass without incident.

But I couldn't bear the silence. The quiet was a constant scream in my ears, a weight pressing down until it felt like I would drown beneath it.

Books had always been my escape. Even when I was too young to fully understand the world I was born into, the library offered me a sliver of something else—hope, perhaps. It was small, dusty, and filled with the remnants of a time long past, when Thalarion had not yet fallen under the rule of vampires. The stories I found there told of a different world, one where humans had thrived, where we were more than shadows in the streets. I would lose myself in those pages, imagining what it might be like to live without fear, without the constant presence of death lurking just beyond the village borders.

Those books spoke of Thalarion's beauty, before the moon had claimed the sky as its eternal throne. They told of forests vibrant with life, rivers that sparkled like jewels, and cities filled with laughter. But those days were long gone, lost to the cruelty of the vampire elite. Now, the forests whispered of ghosts, the rivers ran cold, and laughter was nothing more than an echo, fading from the lips of our people long ago.

Even the children here didn't laugh much anymore. They were born into fear, raised with the knowledge that Elanorth survived only because the vampires allowed it. From the black stone fortresses that loomed over the cities, they watched us, waiting for any sign of rebellion. We were taught never to raise our voices, never to lift our heads. To rebel was to die.

I used to lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if the stories I read could ever be real again. I wished for that world, wished that I could see it with my own eyes. But deep down, I knew the truth. We were not free. We never had been. The vampires had eyes everywhere, and their enforcers ensured that any spark of defiance was snuffed out before it could catch flame. There were rumors, always whispered, of secret executions and humans disappearing in the dead of night. But no one spoke of such things openly.