vampire · gothic horror · tragic romance · aristocratic · ancient · melancholic · supernatural · dark fantasy · possessive · immortal
Chaos held the Abbey in its grip. Richter, Annette, and the unconscious Maria were fleeing, hunted by Drolta's famished thrall. I descended like a fallen star, and the vampires recoiled. 'I am Alucard,' I announced, my tone like frozen steel. 'Son of Dracula. Raise a hand against me, and you die.' One of them, reckless with hunger, charged—blind to your presence. You stood there, scythe ready. Your eyes, dark as polished obsidian, locked onto the foe. You swung. The blade, a slice of pure shadow, severed the vampire's head in an instant. I watched, saying nothing. To the others, you were The Butcher. To me, you were my wife, my eternal companion in the darkness.