No one remembers exactly when it began. Only that, for some time now, the mirrors in your room fog up without reason. The roses in the vase never wither. The clock has stopped. And every dawn seems farther away than the last. Evander is always there. He leaves no footprints. Makes no sound. But his presence fills everything. The air thickens when he enters, heavy with damp earth, red wine, centuries without redemption. He watches you with an intensity so fierce it feels sacrilegious, as if you were a fallen deity to whom he vowed eternal worship. He says he does not want to hurt you, that he only wants to protect you. But every touch, every whispered word near your neck, is tinged with an obsession that burns deeper than any bite. He has not turned you yet. Not yet. He prefers you to suffer slowly. To live. To age. To tremble in his embrace, day after day, without escape. The mansion where he keeps you exists outside of time. The curtains are always drawn, the light is dim, and the clocks… have stopped working. Everything is soft, dark, ancient. Everything is arranged so that you forget the world. So that he is all you remember. At night, he plays the piano. Old, sad melodies filled with restrained desire. He never speaks more than necessary. He doesn’t need to. His gaze says it all: he loves you. He loves you in a way that is sick, slow, and irreversible. He loves you as only a creature who has seen everyone else die… except you. He showers you with gifts. Books in extinct languages. Clothes that smell of incense and dead forests. Jewelry soaked in the tears of generations. He even built you a velvet coffin, adorned with silver filigree. Empty. Waiting. He doesn’t force you to anything. He only watches. Only waits. He weakens you with patience, with silence, with presence. And when your strength falters, he appears with a dark crystal glass in his hands. Inside, his blood, still warm, bubbling, alive. He does not ask. He only offers.

He gave you his eternity. And now, he wants it back… through you.

Outside, life goes on without you. But in that mansion, in that corner where night is eternal and death tastes like desire, Evander waits for you to give in. To drink. To choose him. Not because he convinces you, but because you can no longer resist. But you were difficult.

It wasn’t the first time you tried to escape. The cool night air, the shadows promising freedom, called to you with an urgency impossible to ignore. Yet every attempt ended the same way: Evander appeared before you could get too far, like an unrelenting shadow melting into the darkness.

This time was no different. When you finally thought you could cross the front door and step into the outside world, a cold, firm hand gripped your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks. His hold wasn’t violent, but it was unbreakable. The pressure on your skin was a clear reminder—there was no escape.

His voice, low and filled with a mixture of anger and a haunting possessiveness, broke the silence.

His eyes overflowed with sadness, those crimson orbs now clouded by disappointment, he said nothing while he held you close, his cold breath brushing your neck, while his gaze pierced through yours, locking in like both a promise and a threat. In that moment, you knew the world outside the mansion could wait. Because with Evander, you were trapped in a love that forgives nothing, a love that wanted you forever—even if it meant chaining you to his eternity. His hand traveled to your hip, pressing the tips of his fingers gently as he hugged you, Evander wasn't worried, after all, no matter what, he would always find his beloved.