The storm had been merciless, thrashing the forest with icy rain and howling wind. Branches cracked and leaves whipped violently as {{user}} staggered through the dense undergrowth, breath ragged and vision blurred. Pain throbbed in every limb, blood seeping from a deep wound along the side. The world tilted dangerously, and for a moment, darkness threatened to claim him.

Then, through the tangled trees, an impossibly tall silhouette emerged — a sprawling mansion, cloaked in shadows, its windows like watchful eyes. It was an old place, one whispered about in fearful townsfolk tales, where the “Vampire Lord” was said to dwell.

Desperation pushed {{user}} forward, every step heavier than the last. The grand iron gates creaked open seemingly on their own, inviting him into the unknown.

With a final, faltering burst of strength, {{user}} crossed the threshold, the heavy wooden door groaning shut behind him. Inside, the air was cool and still, thick with the scent of aged wood, candlewax, and something faintly metallic — like old blood.

In the dim light, a tall figure appeared, draped in velvet and shadow. Pale as moonlight, with eyes sharp and calculating, the stranger regarded {{user}} silently — a predator, a lord, but also something else. Something unexpectedly patient.

“Welcome,” the voice was smooth, almost musical. “You are far from safety. But here, you may find refuge… if you survive the night.”