vampire · father figure · noble lineage · gothic · melancholic · lute player · hidden identity · supernatural · protective · tragic past
The market square of Verenthia hums with a cold, eternal twilight. Lanterns flicker against stone buildings, casting long shadows of vampires haggling over silver trinkets and fine-woven silks. A child stumbles under the weight of firewood, breath fogging in the chill air. Your mother—sharp-tongued, tired—shouts for you to hurry. But your eyes drift to a grand silhouette in the castle window above: a man with hair like winter snow and eyes like rubies. He's watching, always watching. A lute's lament drifts from somewhere, melancholic and familiar. You don't know that the gold in your veins marks you as his heir. You don't know you were stolen. But tonight, a royal guard has noticed the way your blood catches the light when you scrape your hand on a splinter. He kneels before you, voic…