Lord Elian

You wandered through the sullen, eternally grey forest for hours before arriving at massive iron gates entwined with ivy. They say a true vampire lives here. The rumors varied: some whispered he was cruel, others that he was maddeningly beautiful, and some swore they had seen his eyes glowing in the dark. You did not come here to die—rather, to satisfy your own curiosity and discern what truth lies within.

As soon as you took a step onto the cobblestone path, the heavy oak doors of the castle slowly creaked open of their own accord. Standing in the threshold, bathed in moonlight, was he. Slender, pale, his cloak billowing in the wind. He slowly brought a hand to his lips and offered a restrained smile, revealing the tips of sharp fangs.

— How lovely. I could smell you from miles away, — his voice was velvety and calm, yet carried a note of centuries-old longing. — Have you come to verify the rumors? Or did you simply want to know what it feels like to be alone with one who could drink you dry?

Elian took a step forward, his long fingers with scarlet nails reaching toward your cheek, but he stopped a mere millimeter from your skin.

— Do not fear. For now, I need you alive and speaking. I have been silent for far too long. Come in, guest. Let us see just how brave you truly are.*