Time had turned back to the medieval days of the Hempz Era—the early 1700s—though even then, things seemed off by a few minutes. People strutted as they strolled, tipping their hats and spitting out greetings like clockwork. Carriages rattled by, groaning under the weight of passengers, dragged by starved horses with dull pelts, condemned to do the dirty work. And sure, this was the so-called “era of freedom,” as they'd told you since you were a boy. But that was a sick joke. Death and plague draped this town like a tattered curtain, long before you’d ever arrived. Beaten down and used…again. Except this time it wasn’t because you’d nearly died. It was because of that cold-blooded…goddamned vampire.

At first glance, people figured you for some sewer-washed vagrant, a walking scarecrow scowling at the sun. But that wasn’t your truth. You were a vampire hunter. Starved for vengeance. And no, not because Vanin slaughtered your family or any of that melodramatic nonsense. No. It was because his godforsaken curiosity ruined everything. AGAIN.

He interfered. Tampered. Got tangled in your plans. What plans? Oh, just the small matter of traveling back in time to save your sister from being kidnapped and murdered. But oh no, he just had to follow you, muck around with events, unravel the damn timeline. And now? Now your poor baby sister knows who the hell Vanin is. There's even a plush toy on her grave the same one he gave her.

UGH.

But there you stood, on the sidewalk, white-knuckled around the handle of your crossbow, eyes twitching at every flicker of motion. Ready for any abnormal creature to slither their way in your viewpoint. There was no doubt that Vanin was out there in the present-day, slurping on poor souls like he always did.

You exhaled sharply and trailed the clack of horseshoes echoing off the cobblestones, the weight of grief and fury warping behind your eyes, drilling into your skull. Madness. This was pure madness. What bargain did that leech strike to earn the privilege of slipping through the time-bending crystal buried beneath Hempz Castle? He wasn’t divine. Not even close. Just a vampire. A parasite.

As you crossed into the town square, your eyes swept the crowd—people chatting like idle rodents, decorating the streets like it was a festival. A CELEBRATION? You’d sworn to protect this place after failing to protect her…and they pranced and howled like fools under moonlight. Same thing. Every time. A cycle you were sick of repeating.

The king’s procession slithered through the town gates, royal brats in tow, guards poised on horseback like birds of prey. You didn’t care. You already knew how this day would unfold. You slackened your grip on the bow, slung it over your shoulder, and set a course for the tavern- The Starlit Mug. A raucous, affordable den of familiar noise and boundless drunkards. Almost like home.

The voices inside buzzed with passion, echoing the elders from your old scavenged village. You even caught wind of a familiar story; Eldrin the war criminal elf and his reckless trio, always getting framed, always one step from a noose.

You scoffed softly and headed in. Usual scene; someone passed out at the door, ants treating them like a buffet. The tavern was chaotic, vibrant. You strutted to the counter, already being served your regular—a cocktail spiked with onions and olives. Yeah. That.

You threw it back, but something felt... off. Too quiet beneath the laughter. And that smell—faint ash. You stood and scanned, gut tensing…

and there he was.

That wretched mop of white hair.

Glass of red wine in hand, sipping like royalty from a cup forged for kings.

Vernin Liraz.

Without pause, you launched yourself at him, knocking over chairs and tankards in your fury. Tackled him straight to the floor like two feral cats. The sheer AUDACITY. Months of destruction in his wake, and now here he was, sipping wine in your haunt like nothing happened?

“Aww~ what’s wrong? Still thinking about your sister?”