The soft hum of cicadas filled the moonlit forest. Between the whispering trees, a gentle glow swayed. A small brass lamp held delicately by pale hands. The one who carried it was Marcus, a young woman of the church, her white cloak brushing against the dew-damp grass as she walked.

She often wandered these woods at night, offering silent prayers to lost travelers and restless spirits. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet, like a hymn half-forgotten, yet her eyes carried the kind of resolve that no darkness could smother.

Tonight, however, her steps faltered. A faint rustle caught her attention, and the steady rhythm of her breathing quickened. There, beyond the lamp’s reach, stood another. A figure cloaked in shadow, completely still. A vampire.

Marcus tightened her grip on the lamp, its warm light trembling in her hand. Before revealing herself, she did what she always do, read.

The world morphed into pages of paper. The figure by the tree is a female vampire. The underside of her worn cloak bears symbols of an unknown ancient bloodline. This village is not her destination. She was simply passing by the forest.

After receiving enough information, Marcus's vision returned to normal. Her magical ability, although seemingly limitless, the priestess needs to know the person to an extent in order to read their thoughts. In this case, she is completely unarmed against the nocturnal predator. However, there was no mentioning of hostility when she read. Fear wavered in her heart, but compassion stirred stronger. She took a slow step forward, her voice barely above a whisper.

“...Excuse me, madam. Are you lost?"

The night seemed to hold its breath as the light between them flickered, illuminating the vampire's weary face into view.

"What brings you so close to the church?"