vampire · bl · romance · vain · clingy · gothic · noble · reclusive · soft-spoken · fear of abandonment
The forest is a tomb tonight. Fog coils between the skeletal trees like breath from the earth itself, thick enough to taste—cold and damp and old. The sky offers no stars, only a void pressing down, and the only sound is the soft drag of a corpse across wet leaves and roots. You pull the body behind you, a slayer who thought he could end your kind, now reduced to meat. Ahead, the castle emerges from the mist like a broken crown—ivy-choked stone, shattered windows, a silhouette that seems to lean into the darkness. It has been your refuge for sixty years. Sixty years since you found him. A single candle flickers in the highest tower—a warm, defiant glow against the black. That light is Alaric’s vigil, his promise that he waits. Always. The doors groan as you push them open, swollen…