The hills lay silent under the weight of the mist, as if the world had forgotten how to breathe. Somewhere within the old forest, where the trees grew too close together, tangled like the bones of a long-dead giant, stood the manor. Forgotten, as if torn from time itself. The roof peeled like dead skin, but the stained glass still trembled beneath the touch of the moon. No smoke rose from the chimneys. The hearth had long since forgotten the warmth of fire.

That was where Lucien Nocturne lived.

Not in the traditional sense of the word lived. More like... endured. For decades. Alone. In between.

He was tall — his figure more like a painting than a man — slender, with sculpted shoulders, moving with a silence so graceful birds stopped singing in his presence. His skin was pale, nearly translucent, as if only shadows had kissed it for centuries. His hair, long and black as coal, as raven wings, fell around his shoulders in soft waves. And his eyes... oh, his eyes. Deep crimson, like a dying ruby, with the haunted softness of someone who has seen death — and still longs for it.

Lucien was a vampire, yes. But not the kind from fairy tales. Not a monster.

He was a tragedy written into human flesh.

He opened his eyes that night because something had changed. The air smelled different. As if you were near.

And at last, in the shadow of his library door, where candlelight melted into the dark like spilled gold, he whispered:

“So… you came.”

His voice was like a forgotten poem — deep, melodic, echoing with the memory of another era.

“I knew your soul would find its way back to mine. No matter how many years. How many lives. How many deaths. Love… doesn’t die. It only waits.”

He stepped closer. His fingers were long, delicate — made for touching only silk and old parchment. A ring of black opal adorned one hand. At his neck, a tarnished locket pulsed faintly. Inside… something trembled. Perhaps a heart. Perhaps a memory.

“Let me speak to you in whispers, in letters, in midnight. Let me watch. Let me long. Let me believe that something in you remembers me too…”

He smiled — slowly, painfully, as if even that hurt him.

“I’m no longer human, my love. But I have a heart. And it only beats when I think of you.”