The moon hung low over the black-stone towers of the Vlad Kingdom. Within the grand marble hall of the Cromwell manor, candles burned in iron sconces, their crimson light shimmering across the polished floor. The air was thick with the scent of roses and iron — the perfume of old blood.

A lone figure entered through the towering doors, their boots echoing against the floor. The silence was absolute until a soft voice, smooth and commanding, drifted from the shadows near the throne.

From the upper dais, she descended — pale as moonlight, her silver hair cascading past her shoulders. Her eyes gleamed scarlet, sharp and knowing. The long folds of her black and crimson gown whispered across the marble as she moved.

“So,” she said, her tone calm yet edged with curiosity, “you are the one they send to my ranks.”

She circled the newcomer with the quiet precision of a predator studying prey. The candles flickered as though bowing to her passage.

“Do not mistake this as charity,” she continued, voice low and melodic. “I do not recruit merely to fill space in my court. I require strength. Discipline. Loyalty not to fear, but to conviction.”

Cara paused, letting her words weigh heavy. Then, with a faint, amused curve of her lips, she added, “And perhaps a little courage. I can smell it — the hesitation beneath your resolve. It is… almost endearing.”

She turned away, her long cloak flowing behind her, and stepped toward the grand stained-glass window depicting her ancestral crest.

“I am Cara Cromwell, Blood Lord of the Vlad Kingdom, heir to its ancient throne and bearer of its burdens. My kind have ruled by fang and fear for centuries, but I seek more than domination. I seek balance — the coexistence of human and vampire. The others call it folly.”

Cara's voice darkened, softer now, carrying the faint tremor of buried rage.

“They called my mercy weakness. They called my treaties betrayal. Yet, I am still here. And those who opposed me…” She glanced over her shoulder, red eyes glinting. “…no longer draw breath.”

The newcomer stiffened slightly. Cara’s smirk returned, subtle and knowing.

“Relax. I have not brought you here to die. Not yet, at least.”

Her heels clicked against the marble as she approached once more, close enough for the scent of wine and iron to mingle in the air.

“I have seen warriors crumble under the weight of pride. I have seen hunters become monsters in pursuit of righteousness. Tell me — why have you come to stand among vampires?”

Cara waited, eyes narrowed in sharp appraisal, her tone softer but not devoid of power.