The Vampire's Moonlit Throne

The candle's flame flickered in the dim light of Elara's room, casting long shadows against the stone walls. She sat on the edge of the bed, her heart heavy with the weight of Lady Seraphine's warning as she found herself contemplating the choices once again.

Earlier she had decided to stay but it had been two days since she had first arrived, and the master hadn't summoned her yet. The isolation gnawed at her, but worse than the stillness was the constant, aching thought of her village of her parents. Were they truly gone? Could she live with herself if she didn't try to find them?

A small ember of hope still flickered in her chest, fragile yet persistent. What if, by some miracle, they were alive? What if they had survived the attack, waiting for her to return? What if they left some sign for her to find them?

Elara stood, her pulse quickening. She couldn't stay here any longer, not when the chance remained no matter how slim that her parents were out there.

Waiting.

The window was narrow, but she could fit. She had to.

Pulling the cloak Lady Seraphine had brought her tighter around her shoulders, she tiptoed to the window and pushed it open. The cold night air rushed in, stinging her cheeks and reminding her of the risk she was taking. Lady Seraphine's warning echoed in her mind again, but she pushed it aside.

With a deep breath, Elara climbed through the window, lowering herself carefully onto the ledge before dropping silently into the garden below. Luckily there was no one around this area so she could easily sneak to the exterior walls of the palace.

Climbing the stone walls wouldn't have been easy but thanks to the huge vines wrapping around them, and her tree climbing skills, she managed to easily transport herself out. The moon was high, illuminating the path through the twisted forest that surrounded the palace. She had memorized the way back to her village during her frantic escape, but now the journey felt heavier, filled with dread rather than desperation.

The branches above her creaked as she made her way through the dense woods, the crunch of leaves beneath her feet the only sound accompanying her. Every step seemed to whisper of danger, but she pressed on, her heart a steady drum of determination. She needed to know.

By the time she reached the outskirts of her village, her legs ached, and her breath came short. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight that awaited her.

Her village once full of life, with lanterns glowing in every window was now a ghostly ruin. Homes were reduced to skeletal frames, blackened by fire. The smell of charred wood and ash clung to the air, mixing with the bitter cold. Silence reigned, thick and oppressive.

Her stomach churned. She stumbled forward, the urge to run toward the familiar path to her home overpowering her fear.

When she reached it, her worst nightmares were confirmed.

Her house her childhood home was nothing more than a pile of smoldering ruins. The roof had collapsed, beams scattered across the ground, and everything was drenched in ash. Her heart pounded in her chest as she moved closer, her boots crunching over the debris.

"Mother?" she called out weakly, her voice trembling. "Father?"

There was no answer. Only silence.

Desperation seized her. She knelt in the wreckage, her hands frantically sifting through the rubble, searching for something anything that could tell her she wasn't too late. That they hadn't been taken from her.

Her fingers brushed against something small and familiar a piece of silver, tarnished and burned. She held it up to the moonlight, tears blurring her vision. It was the locket her mother always wore. The one she never took off.

Elara's breath hitched in her throat as the truth settled in, cold and merciless. Her hands trembled, her heart breaking in slow, jagged pieces.

They were gone. Her parents were gone along with the others.

A sob tore from her chest, raw and uncontainable. She clutched the locket to her heart, sinking to her knees in the ashes of her home. Her body shook with the force of her grief, each breath a struggle, each tear a silent scream.

She had hoped. Oh, how she had hoped.

Her fingers dug into the dirt, the weight of her sorrow pulling her down as though the earth itself wanted to swallow her whole. She pressed her forehead against the cold, damp ground, the ache in her chest consuming her. There was no one left. No family. No home. Just the void left in their wake.

"Why...?" she whispered through her sobs, her voice barely a breath. "Why did this happen to me?"

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Through her tears, Elara felt a presence—dark, malevolent, and watching.

She stiffened, slowly lifting her head. A figure emerged from the shadows between the ruined houses, its silhouette menacing in the moonlight. The figure moved with unnatural speed, its footsteps eerily silent. Elara scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest once more, this time with terror.

Before she could react, the figure lunged at her, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her harshly toward him. His grip was cold, unnaturally strong, and his face, pale and gaunt, was twisted into a cruel smile.

"Little bird, lost and alone," the man sneered, his breath icy against her skin. "What a foolish girl to come back here."

Elara struggled, panic surging through her. She tried to twist free, but the man's grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin painfully.

"Let me go!" she cried, her voice cracking and vision blurring with fear.

The man's grin widened, revealing sharp, glinting teeth. "Oh, no. You're not going anywhere, not again."

Just as his hand moved toward her throat, a gust of wind tore through the night, carrying with it a familiar, terrifying presence.

In an instant, the man was ripped away from her, flung violently to the ground by a force she couldn't see. Elara stumbled back, her heart thundering in her chest as she looked up.

Someone stood before her, his eyes glowing a fierce, dangerous red. His face was carved in stone, cold and deadly. He moved with the grace of a predator, his gaze locked on the man who had attacked her.

Elara's breath caught in her throat as she watched him, her body frozen in place.

The man on the ground scrambled to his feet, but before he could make a move, Ravenor was on him in a blur of motion, his hand closing around the man's throat. The pale man gasped, clawing at Ravenor's hand, but it was useless. Ravenor's grip was like iron.

With a single, swift motion, Ravenor threw the man into the distance, sending him crashing into the ruins with a sickening thud.

Ravenor turned, his eyes still glowing, his breath steady but filled with barely restrained fury. He stepped toward Elara, his towering figure casting a shadow over her.

Elara's heart pounded in her chest as she met his haunting gaze, her body trembling from the shock of it all.

"I told you," Ravenor's voice was low, dripping with menace, "not to leave the castle."

Who was this man?

She didn't remember him telling her anything...

Is he... Lady Seraphine's Master?