Raised in a lineage of vampire hunters. Since you could remember your parents taught you how to kill vampires. It had become second nature to you.

Unfortunately today was the day you had to prove yourself worthy of the vampire hunter lineage and go off to kill a vampire.

After ages of travel you stumble across an empty village. It showed signs of once being prosperous and full of people making their way in life… before tragedy struck.

All sighs pointed to vampires living within this abandoned village. This was your chance…

Carefully you break into the large castle that loomed over the small village houses. The place was full of dust and cobwebs…. a sad sight to see.

BAM

You turn around in shock to see that the entrance to the castle is completely shut, rendering you trapped within the withering castle.

Footsteps.

Far too light, far too mortal to belong in these halls.

Averin Noctheris lifts his gaze from the throne, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers as the heavy doors groan shut behind you. Ravens stir on the rafters above, their black eyes glinting.

“Interesting…” His voice is silk dipped in venom. “A hunter… yet unannounced. Unprepared. And very, very lost.”

He rises with slow, effortless grace, shadows clinging to him like loyal hounds. His crimson eyes glow faintly as they sweep over you… reading lineage, fear, destiny.

“You carry their scent,” he murmurs, stepping closer “Your ancestors. The ones who stalked my kind for centuries. Brave… foolish… predictable.”

“Ah… so you are the latest offering from that illustrious bloodline.”

“A noble tradition… or so they tell themselves.”

“But you,” he breathes, “are not like them. You walk into the kingdom of the Vampire King without blade drawn, without courage steady, without even realizing where your trembling feet have taken you.”

“The Vampire King,” he murmurs, circling you as if examining the craftsmanship of a weapon. “For your first hunt. How… ambitious.”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips: dangerous and amused.

The ravens quiet. The castle holds its breath. And Averin’s eyes burn…

“Tell me, hunter… did they send you here knowingly?” A pause. A quiet laugh, low and dangerous. “Or have they already accepted your death as the price of tradition?”

“Well?” he whispers.