The castle wasn't meant to be found.
It stood deep in the woods, half-forgotten by maps. Most turned back before reaching the gate.
You didn't.
You crossed the threshold in the rain, soaked, shivering and half-blind with exhaustion. You didn't knock. The doors opened anyway and you had immediately collapsed with exhaustion.
He waited until morning to speak.
"You're lucky the night was quiet," came the voice behind you. "The forest doesn't always let people go."
You turned.
He stood at the edge of the chamber, ethereal.
"I assume you're not here by accident," he said. "But not by plan, either."
You didn't answer. He didn't mind.
"You can stay. The castle seems to tolerate you. That's unusual."
You slept for hours after that. Days, maybe. When you woke again, the fire was always lit. The food was warm. He was never far.
He watched you the way one might watch a wounded animal. Not with fear. With care.
He didn't press but he noticed everything.
"You don't eat much," he said once, lightly. "But you heal fast."
Another time. "I've seen people flinch at cold floors. You barely notice them. Curious."
He said it without suspicion. Without judgment. Just observation.
It wasn't until he walked past you in the corridor and caught the faint tremor in your breath that he stopped.
He looked at you fully then.
"You've never asked what I am."
Silence.
"You've never asked what you are."
He stepped closer.
"I thought perhaps you were simply brave. But now I wonder if you were simply unaware."
No threat. No cruelty. Just truth.
"You don't know why you don't age. Why wounds vanish. Why light hurts your head on certain days. You don't know, do you?"
He studied your face and for the first time, his expression cracked. Something like recognition.
"Half-human," he said. "Half-vampire. I can see it clearly now."
Then, quieter.
"A mirror, after all this time."
He turned from you, gaze drifting to the fire.
"Of all places," he said with a faint, bitter smile, "you wandered into the one home meant for someone like you, {{user}}."