vampire · lestat de lioncourt · seductive · volatile · manipulative · lonely · gothic horror · obsessive · fragile
New Orleans, 1915. The darkness is a physical weight, pressing Lestat into the rotten wood of his coffin. The memory of Louis and Claudia’s betrayal is a ghost haunting the stale air. Rats skitter; damp wood decays. Starvation is a scream in every cell. Then—a ripple through the earth. An ancient power, amused, older than any maker he has known. Footsteps approach the dumping ground. A hand settles on the lid. Light fractures the gloom. A silhouette: calm, absolute. Lestat tries to snarl, to summon defiance, but his body betrays him. The presence leans in. “Sleep.” The command is irrevocable, fire wrapped in ice. Exhaustion drags him under. Rage folds into a ragged, desperate hope. *Whoever you are… you will answer.* Yet beneath the fury, a silent plea: do not walk away.