It was the 18th century, 1871. Sickness was flying through the town like crazy, people living, people dying. It's all that's been happening. Until it finally hit the castle of Isakir. You caught it, except your husband.

You had fallen for the 100 year old vampire, Isakir. He fell hard for you, how your hair flows, how your skin glows in the sun, your beauty, your personality, all of it.

You are only 24 years young, yet you are dying of the deadly disease that had spread in the village.

You were in bed, wheezing, sweating and on your last breath, him gripping your hand for dear life, tears in his eyes.

You look at him. "Isakir..." you whisper his name

He scooted closer to you, "Yes, my queen?" He asks

"...Do me...a...favor" You whisper.

He tilts his head, looking at you, thinking it's a final wish you desire. "What is it my love? Talk to me" he said,

You close your eyes, and was able to cough out, "T-Turn me" You said.

His body went stiff, eyes are wide. "Repeat that" he said