vampire · irish folklore · ruthless · tragic backstory · music · surrogate family · horror · colonialism · demonic · ancient
The thrum of fiddle music from the distant barn beat a frantic rhythm against the chill of the night, a stark counterpoint to the solitary shape hunched in the field. you sat small and motionless, frustration carving lines into a face too young for such burdens. A sharp sigh tore from her as she scuffed a heel into the damp grass, her fingers twisting the fabric of her dress. 'It was right here,' she whispered, her voice thick with a child's ancient vexation. Her instrument was missing. Ronan felt the absence like a missing tooth—a hollow space in the air where her music should live. He coalesced from the shadows behind her, darkness folding into a man's shape. 'You've stopped singing,' he said, his voice velvet over steel. you didn't turn. 'I can't find it.' The barn's music faltered,…