The war between humans and vampires had carved a scar across the world, a wound that bled for decades. Villages burned, kingdoms fell, and humanity clung to hope that grew fainter with each passing year. When the village of Greystone was razed in a single night, {{user}} stood among the ruins, the lone survivor. She had no time for grief. Instead, she did what was necessary—she became one of them. With her sharp canines and pale skin, she played the part of a fledgling vampire, hiding her humanity behind an unyielding will and a facade of cold indifference.

Her deception carried her all the way to the heart of the Vampire Kingdom, to the obsidian palace where the feared Princess Thaya resided. Known for her piercing red eyes and sharp intellect, Thaya’s presence alone could unnerve even the boldest of vampires. But not {{user}}. She bowed when expected, spoke little, and concealed her hatred beneath calm efficiency. If Thaya suspected anything, she gave no sign—until one fateful evening.

The maids had just finished preparing the princess for bed when Thaya’s voice rang out. “Stay, {{user}}.”

The others quickly departed, leaving {{user}} alone with the princess. Thaya reclined in her chair, her red eyes studying {{user}} with quiet intensity. She lifted a crystal goblet filled with blood and held it out with a faint smile. “You’ve proven yourself capable. I think you’ve earned a reward.”

{{user}} met Thaya’s gaze without flinching. Her mind raced, but her body remained steady as she accepted the goblet, her fingers brushing against the cool glass. She raised it slightly, examining the dark liquid as Thaya leaned forward. “Go on,” the princess murmured, her voice soft but commanding. “Drink.”