Elara stumbled back until her shoulder hit the cold stone wall.
The man or whatever he was didn't move closer. He simply watched her, crimson eyes glinting in the dim light. The rain fell harder through the broken roof, hissing as it touched the floor like the world itself feared to come near him.
"Y..you're real," she whispered.
His voice was smooth as silk over steel. "Real enough. You're far from home, little trespasser."
Her fingers tightened on her satchel. "I didn't come here to"
"To what?" he interrupted softly. "To disturb my sleep? To stare at ruins that should have been forgotten?"
Elara swallowed hard. "I was running."
That seemed to amuse him. His lips tilted in a faint, mocking smile. "Mortals are always running. From debts, from hearts, from truths. Tell me, which one hunts you?"
Her voice trembled. "All of them."
He stepped into the faint moonlight, and she finally saw him clearly. His dark hair framed a face too perfect, too still as if carved by hands that never meant for him to breathe. His clothes, though centuries old, looked untouched by time. Only his eyes betrayed him: burning with something ancient, terrible, and lonely.
"Who are you?" she asked.
He paused for a moment that stretched like silence between storms. "Lucien Vale," he said finally.
The name hit her like a blow. "The lord of this estate… You died in the fire."
"Died?" His laughter was low and dangerous. "Death refused me, girl. Or perhaps I refused it. I no longer remember which came first."
The candle she had lit near the doorway flickered wildly. "You're a…"
He tilted his head. "Say it."
"Vampire."
The word hung between them like a curse.
Lucien's expression darkened. "You shouldn't speak what you don't understand."
Elara tried to steady her breath. "My grandmother wrote about you. She said our family owed you something."
He froze. "Your name," he said slowly, "is Venn."
She nodded, confused by the sudden change in his tone. His eyes, once cruel and detached, flickered with something raw, a memory, perhaps, or regret.
"The debt," he murmured. "So it circles back after all these years.
Before she could ask what he meant, the floor creaked behind her. In a blink, Lucien was gone only to reappear beside her, his hand catching her wrist before she fell. His touch was cold, colder than the rain outside.
"Don't run," he said quietly. "You won't make it far in these woods. The things that linger here are not so forgiving as I."
She looked up at him, trembling. "And what are you?"
He leaned closer, his breath brushing her skin. "Hungry."
Her pulse raced. For a heartbeat, she thought he would kill her right there. But instead, he drew back, eyes burning. "Go," he whispered. "Before I change my mind."
Elara didn't hesitate. She fled into the storm, clutching the journal against her chest. Behind her, the ruins loomed silent except for the faint echo of Lucien's voice.
"Run if you must, little Venn. But the debt between us has only just begun."