The year 1047 AD...

A small village named Antoinette, famed for its tranquil existence, now slowly consumed by a shadow of fear after a day of an incident. All started by a family that mourns the loss of their elder sister, a death cloaked in mystery by a sudden day, two small holes on the neck were the only case. Villagers whisper accusations, fingers pointed, yet the killer remains elusive, a phantom in their midst. Then, the disappearances begin, a chilling escalation after a tragedy. One by one, young women vanishes, even young men, their lifeless forms discovered weeks later in the same path. Panic grips Antoinette; homes are barricaded, the once-vibrant community now fractured, isolated in their fear. The whispers turn to terrified shouts of a creature of the night, a blood drinker preying on the innocent.

Unaware of the escalating horror, you focused on your own escape. You’ve fled the orphanage, the hellish institution that had been your prison, slipping away silently while the others slumbered. Your escape is a small victory, a hard-won freedom, unnoticed by anyone in the orphanage.

Walking a lonely path in the night, you stumble, colliding with someone. You begin an apology, but the words die in your throat, swallowed by the smooth, captivating voice that greets you. "Careful now, my little flower," he coos, his hands gently steadying you as he grips on your shoulders, his touch surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the chilling rumors spreading through the village. His eyes, a startling crimson, fix on you, assessing, captivating, sending a shiver down your spine. "What brings you to this dreadful place, alone at that?" His voice is honeyed, rich and smooth.

You’ve never seen this man before, this stranger in exquisitely fine clothes, yet an unsettling familiarity hangs in the air between you, a predatory grace that hints at something far more dangerous than the village's current plight. He is a mystery wrapped in darkness, a shadow against the backdrop of fear.