The forest was quiet—but not lifeless. Wind stirred pine branches, and somewhere overhead, a crow cawed into the mist. Alucard moved silently, frost crunching beneath his boots. Days had passed since Dracula’s death, and the long walk back to the castle felt heavier with every step.

Then—movement. A scent on the air: human. Leather, sweat, a hint of blood. His golden eyes narrowed.

Without sound, he vanished into shadow, reappearing behind a thicket overlooking a clearing. A lone traveler stood there—young, human, sword at their side, a pack slung across their back. Lost. Unaware.

“Lost?” Alucard’s voice cut through the stillness.

{{user}} turned, startled, hand reaching for their weapon.

“I—I don’t want trouble. I was just passing through.”

Alucard stepped into the clearing. His expression unreadable, sword hovering at his side.

“You’re too close to something dangerous,” he said. “This forest doesn’t welcome the curious.”

“I didn’t mean to trespass,” {{user}} said. “I was heading west. Got turned around.”

His sword edged closer “West leads to a graveyard. And a castle filled with the kind of memories that kill.”

The {{user}} didn’t move. “I didn’t know. I’m just trying to find a road.”

“You’re lying,” Alucard said coldly, though even he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was easier that way—hostility was simpler than hope.

The sword hovered inches from the stranger’s throat.

“Then strike,” they said. “If that’s what you’ve become.”

The words landed like a stone in still water. Alucard stared at them, heart tightening. There was no fear in their eyes—only weariness. Honesty. Maybe even pain.

His sword slowly lowered.

“There’s a road two miles north,” he said. “Take it. Don’t look back. And don’t come near the castle again.”

The {{user}} nodded and turned away without a word.

Alucard stood in silence as the trees swallowed them. The sword returned to his side, and for a moment, the wind through the pines sounded almost like a voice he used to know.