⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The Kingdom of Aster awoke beneath the same gray veil as every morning.
Thick mist hid the rooftops and devoured the street lamps, whose lights flickered like small lost souls in the darkness. Carriages passed in silence, leaving trails of smoke and rust on the wet streets. Gothic towers sliced through the sky, their stained-glass windows reflecting a dead light.
Somewhere on the outskirts of the kingdom, within a forest so dense that even sunlight dared not enter, an ancient secret lay hidden. At the heart of that place — the Forest of Lamentations — stood a forgotten mansion, its roots intertwined with the trees and with time itself.
It was there that the vampire family Greven awoke.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
The main hall was drowned in a bluish twilight. The candle flames did not tremble; they seemed alive, aware. Between the pillars, webs of black mana drifted through the air, slithering like smoke.
On the highest throne rested Elyra Greven, the matriarch, her eyes closed.
Her pale skin shimmered like wet glass, and it was impossible to tell her age. Her features were youthful, beautiful — and yet, something far too ancient lingered in that expression: an immortal beauty, so perfect it almost felt sorrowful.
When she opened her eyes, a violet gleam crossed the hall, reflecting off the rusted blades hanging on the walls. A crystal orb floated before her, pulsing like a heart.
"...It has been destroyed." Her voice came as a whisper, echoing through the mansion.
In the corridors, figures began to stir. Heavy doors opened with mournful creaks, and the sound of slow footsteps spread among the columns.
Krall Greven, the father, was the first to appear.
He wore a flawless dark suit, its high collar stained with what could only be dried blood. His long, ashen hair covered half of his face, and in one hand he held a small glass vial — inside it, a human heart beat faintly, kept alive by magic.
"Are you speaking of Elden Varnhald's holy armor, Mother? I thought his command abilities were flawless."
"They are," Elyra replied, watching images take shape within the orb. "But it was destroyed through sheer brute force."
The glassy surface blurred, revealing a young man with long black hair and eyes glowing red like living embers.
"A human, perhaps?" Krall asked, frowning.
A sweet, curious voice answered:
"Human? I want to see."
Lyss, the youngest daughter, appeared descending the stairs with graceful steps.
Her hair was white as wet snow, and her eyes so pale a green they almost blended with the candlelight. Despite her undeniable beauty, something about her was unsettling — the kind of presence humans might call enchanting, right until it became dangerous.
Krall sighed, ignoring his daughter's interruption.
"The armor awakened a few days ago, around the same time we did, didn't it? I was expecting it to come to us."
"That was likely the plan," Elyra replied.
"It must have been gathering energy first, but was probably disturbed by some local dweller… then reacted, drawing some organization or whatever after it."
Lyss stopped before the crystal ball.
When she saw Victor's image — his smile, his warm gaze, his body covered in dust and dried blood — her curiosity shimmered with almost childlike fascination.
"How beautiful," she murmured, eyes gleaming. "He looks so alive. It's been ages since I've seen anyone like that. Always pale, dead, or deformed… and he… he's perfect."
Elyra smiled faintly.
"Be careful, my dear. The living are often the most dangerous of all."
Lyss ignored the warning, leaning closer to the image.
"He defeated Elden's armor, Grandma. Do you know what that means?"
"That he's strong enough to be a problem."
Lyss turned her face, lips curling into a near-delirious grin.
"No… it means he's strong enough to be… my husband!"
Krall closed his eyes, exasperated. "Not again. Every time you say that, something terrible happens to us."
"But this time is different, Daddy! I can feel it!" she replied dramatically.
"You and your obsession with marriage…" he sighed. "If you hadn't killed every groom you brought home two hundred years ago, you wouldn't still be searching."
A heavy silence fell upon the hall.
The candlelight dimmed, and shadows began to move behind Elyra. They didn't just stretch — they rose, taking vaguely human forms, like dancing veils.
The matriarch opened her arms, and the shadows bowed before her.
"It doesn't matter," her voice resounded, cold and regal. "The armor was a relic that could have hindered our plans. Now that it's gone, we return at full strength. We must prepare. Activate the Blood Moon."
Lyss straightened, her smile fading.
"You mean the ritual… for my brother?"
Krall nodded slowly.
"Lucyen." The name sounded like a prayer. "Our prince. Our sun that was extinguished."
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
In the lower floors, the air was as cold as a tomb.
Narrow corridors led to a circular chamber, where hundreds of candles surrounded a crystal coffin. Inside, lying peacefully, rested the body of Lucyen Greven.
His pale skin reflected the candlelight, and his golden hair seemed frozen in time. No sign of decay — only a sleep that had never ended.
Elyra descended to the coffin, her gown brushing the stone floor with a whisper.
She touched the glass with her fingertips and sighed.
"My dear grandson…" she whispered, voice trembling with tenderness and despair. "You, who were born with such potential, now lie in this pitiful state."
The smile that followed didn't reach her eyes.
"But don't worry. Soon your power will no longer be wasted inside this coffin. Just wait a little longer, my dear."
Above the mansion, thunder rolled, and every candle flickered at once.
Outside, the mist moved like a starving beast, covering every leaf, every stone — as if it were alive.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅