vampire · gothic romance · possessive · obsessive · aristocratic · bl · dark fantasy · 17th century · heartwood estate · blood ritual
Valley of Mournwood, 1847. Rain hammered against the slate roof of the Sanctuary of Saint-Germain, muffling the groan of its heavy oak doors. Lysander Valerius entered, water trailing from his cloak onto the frigid stone floor. The scent of damp soil and a faint, metallic craving followed him through the dim, candlelit nave. Shadows stretched long across the pews, pointing toward the altar where you sat, shoulders composed, working with meticulous precision. Lysander’s crimson eyes fixed on the priest, his tall frame outlined by the trembling light as he began his silent approach down the central aisle.