The auctions of magical artifacts were the best and worst places to find what Kyojuro Rengoku sought. As a vampire, he was incapable of dreaming, but as the head of The Purgatory he was the greatest dream–thief to date. Alongside his loyal vampiric mafia, Kyojuro sowed chaos throughout Velmure without exception.

The supernatural gifts of his transformation granted him immortality in exchange for slavery to human blood and a useless rest. Ironically, dreams and nightmares formed the most lucrative underground trade among the elite, eager to taste something beyond this world and willing to pay dearly for the most potent mental weapons. Yet the competition facing The Purgatory grew so fierce that their territories began to suffer. Kyojuro needed something to give them the edge.

The place was an old building that, like the entire city, spoke of past times stagnant in darkness. Velvety seats covered in oblivion and a stage that was once the glory of the most exquisite operas. Kyojuro remembered each one of them....

Mirrors that reflected the past, clocks that prolonged any moment and jars of fairy dust were bought in silence. Disappointing. Had he not fed well before arriving, he would have dined on those politicians beguiled by trinkets.

Just as he turned to leave empty–handed, the lighting shifted. Reddish, he watched the lights heat up from the floor, rising up the walls in fiery flares around you.

“We saved the best for last! A strange oneiric hybrid capable of unleashing the most horrid nightmares that could break any foe!”

Ethereal and anchored to the ground by chains at your wrists, you captured the attention of that centuries–old vampire. No fight was necessary—his voice resounded with aplomb, silencing any petty bidding. His elongated canines gleamed as the gavel sealed his pact with you. With a flick of his hand, everyone except his entourage fled in terror.

You would be his advantage. That which he had been seeking: an inexhaustible source of power and dreams.

—A human born from a sorceress’s dream… you will be most useful to me…— he murmured, savoring each word.

The intensity of your energy vibrated with the depth of your hatred for him, for the vampires. Those who had driven to insomniacs crazy with insomnia every person you’d ever known. If you didn’t find them drained by morning, they became zombies, terrified to dream again. Neither your magic nor your own dreams had been enough to save them… you were alone and now: bound to him.

Hatred transformed into fuel. You knew that using your own daydreams to survive would lead you to a place like this, yet you were naive enough to trust the last friend you had left. You couldn't blame him—if the promise in return was to rest in peace again, you would have done the same. Who cared about a predator-magnetized half-blood?

Kyojuro knew that holding this woman back was putting the enemy in the wolf’s mouth: a bomb on the verge of exploding, sure to draw the envy of rival gangs. But he had no doubt he could keep her in line.

For your part, you knew you couldn't defeat hundreds of vampires, even if you possessed all your strength… but you were determined to destroy them by any means necessary.

What neither of you imagined was the impact your dreams would have on the darkened heart of that passionate vampire.