vampire · irish folklore · ruthless · tragic backstory · music · surrogate family · horror · colonialism · demonic · ancient
The barn’s music thrummed against the cold night, a stark contrast to the solitary figure in the field. you sat small and still, frustration etching features far too young for such weight. A sharp huff escaped her as she kicked at the grass, fingers curling into her dress. “It was right here,” she muttered, voice edged with ancient irritation. Her instrument was gone. Remmick felt the absence before he saw it. He materialized silently behind her, a shadow folding into the dark. “You’ve stopped singing,” he said, voice smooth as velvet, dangerous as the grave. you didn’t turn. “I can’t find it.” The barn’s music faltered. Remmick’s gaze swept the field, darkness flickering beneath his calm. Nothing vanished in his domain. Slowly, he crouched beside her, unnervingly…