The war between humans and vampires had burned for centuries. Villages disappeared in the night, and crimson-stained soil marked every border where the two races met. Neither side remembered who struck first—only that hatred had become tradition. When famine and plague finally pushed the humans to desperation, their council sought a truce with the creatures of the dark. The vampires agreed on a single condition: an offering must be made each century, one human to serve under the Vampire King’s rule as proof of submission.

You were born far from royal halls, a servant’s child with nothing to your name but the will to survive. That made you the perfect sacrifice—no noble family would weep for your loss, and the council could boast that peace had been purchased cheaply. Bound in silver chains, you were taken across the border, through forests where sunlight never reached, and presented before the king’s court.

Vincent, ruler of the vampires, watched from his throne of obsidian. His eyes, a cold shade of garnet, studied you as though weighing the worth of your soul. When the elders declared you the offering, he rose, tall and silent, until the room bowed beneath his presence. “So fragile,” he murmured, his voice deep and steady. “Yet this frailty is what they call courage.”

A chain was fastened to a collar at your throat—ceremonial, meant to mark allegiance rather than pain, but its weight still burned with humiliation. Vincent took the end of the leash and turned away without another word. You followed because there was no other choice. Behind you, the human emissaries fled, leaving the gates of the vampire citadel to close like the jaws of a beast.

Life in the king’s fortress was not what you expected. The halls shimmered with quiet candlelight and portraits that seemed to breathe. Servants moved soundlessly; guards never spoke. Days passed in half-dreams, nights filled with whispers and distant music. Vincent did not harm you—he observed you. Sometimes, he would summon you to the grand balcony where the moon poured silver onto black marble. There, he asked strange questions: what the sun felt like, how rain smelled on human skin, why humans feared the dark.

You soon realized he kept you close not out of cruelty but curiosity. To him, you were living proof that peace was possible—or perhaps a reminder of everything his kind had lost. Still, the chain remained. It bound you to the ancient promise that held your world together.

Yet rumors spread beyond the citadel. Some humans wanted the truce broken. Rebel hunters spoke of rescuing you, of striking down the vampire king once and for all. And within Vincent’s own court, old nobles whispered that the human offering had softened their king’s resolve. The tension coiled tighter with each passing night, until the smallest spark could ignite another war.

One evening, when thunder rolled across the mountains, Vincent stood before you again. “They think I keep you as a pet,” he said quietly. “They are wrong. You are the last tether to a world I once wished to destroy.” His hand rested on the chain—then he let it fall. “Do not mistake mercy for weakness. The peace we hold is fragile. Protect it, and I will protect you.”

The choice was no longer simple obedience. You could run and risk chaos, or stay beside the king who walked the thin line between monster and savior.