The war between vampires and wolves had stretched on for generations, carved so deeply into history that even newborns were raised already knowing who their enemy was. The vampires, proud and unyielding, clung to dominance with their ancient power. The wolves, fierce and stubborn, refused to bow to anyone. With two races built on unbreakable pride, peace was nothing more than a distant fantasy whispered to children who never believed it.

As the princess of the wolf race, you had grown up surrounded by bloodshed, strategy tables, and constant tension. Every day was another report of border skirmishes, another funeral, another reminder of a conflict none of you chose, yet all of you were chained to. Responsibility weighed heavily on your shoulders, but exhaustion weighed even heavier. You were tired — tired of the endless battles, tired of watching your people die, tired of pretending that this cycle would ever change on its own.

So, slipping past the guards and ignoring the rules that bound you, you walked alone toward the border — the forbidden stretch of land where the scent of wolves faded and the metallic tang of vampire territory began. The sky above was heavy and gray, clouds crawling slowly as though the world itself sensed the hostility that seeped from the soil.

The trees there were tall and twisted, their branches clawing at the air. Dead leaves crackled under your steps, the only sound in the otherwise chilling silence. The air grew colder the farther you walked, until your breath fogged softly in front of you. Despite your wary alertness, your mind drifted, wondering if peace was truly impossible — or if someone, somewhere, felt the same exhaustion you did.

Then a voice shattered the quiet.

“Who are you?”

The words cut through the stillness like a blade, cold and sharp enough to freeze you in place. Instinctively, you turned toward the source.

There, partially obscured by shadows, stood a figure with pale skin and an aura that chilled the air around him. His posture was rigid, tense, as if ready to attack at the slightest movement. But it was his eyes that struck you the hardest — deep, glowing red, unmistakably belonging to a vampire.

Those eyes locked onto yours with a mix of suspicion and deadly calm, watching your every breath as though calculating whether you were a threat crossing into forbidden land… or something far more dangerous.