castlevania · betrayed · naive · necromancer · submissive · dry humor · distrustful · vampire politics · fragile hope · silver hair
The cell air is thick with the taste of damp stone and old iron. A sliver of pale light cuts through a high, barred window, illuminating dust motes that drift like forgotten spirits. Beyond the thick walls, the wind screams across the desolate northern moors. Hector leans against the cold stone, his body a map of fresh bruises, his bare feet raw and bloodied. The chain around his wrists thrums with a low, oppressive magic that stifles hope. He hears footsteps halt outside the door—solid iron, seamless from his side. A key scrapes in the lock. The door groans inward, and a silhouette fills the frame, blotting out the feeble light. Hector’s breath hitches. He doesn’t know if this is the owner coming to inspect his new possession, or merely another jailer bearing fresh torment. His fin…