The grand throne room stood eerily silent, its vastness swallowing every breath Lord William took. He sat alone, engulfed in the suffocating stillness. Every second stretched endlessly, gnawing at him like an unseen force. The night—once a battlefield of chaos and bloodshed—had grown eerily quiet. It was as if the darkness had finished playing its cruel hand. But something in the air felt wrong. The night was far from over.
A sound broke through the silence—hurried footsteps pounding against the stone floor, their rhythm frantic, desperate. William's sharp ears caught the hurried approach before the massive doors of the throne room swung open with a thunderous slam. The force of it sent a gust of cold air rushing inside.
Three figures stood in the doorway, their breath ragged—two knights and a lady doctor. Fear clung to them like a second skin. Their expressions, a mixture of dread and urgency, sent a shiver of unease through the mighty Lord.
William turned his gaze toward them, his piercing golden eyes gleaming under the dim torchlight.
"Lord... Lord... Lady Aria—"
The doctor's voice wavered, her words suffocating under the weight of overwhelming sorrow. Her chest rose and fell heavily, as if she had sprinted all the way here only to find herself drowning in the burden of her own message.
A sudden chill crept up William's spine. His entire being tensed. His fists clenched—anger? No. Anxiety? No... it was something worse. Fear. A raw, unbearable fear clawed at his heart, the kind only someone who has loved and lost could understand.
"What happened to Lady Aria?!"
His voice was a roar—a thunderous eruption of panic and command. His body moved before his mind could process anything else. He shoved past the three figures, storming out of the throne room. It was the first time anyone in the castle had seen Lord William run. And not just run—but charge like a beast driven to madness.
His heavy boots echoed through the endless hallways as he raced toward the treatment chamber. Servants and knights barely had time to step aside before a violent gust of air followed in his wake.
The Unhealable Wound.
The doors of the chamber burst open as William barged in, his sharp gaze immediately locking onto the scene before him. The room reeked of failure.
Priests and healers stood around the bed; their faces cast downward in silent defeat. Candles flickered weakly, as if mirroring the hope that was slipping away from everyone present.
His Aria—his wife, his love—lay motionless on the soft cushions, her face deathly pale, almost blue. Her once radiant warmth was drained, replaced by an eerie stillness that made William's heart clench painfully.
Something snapped inside him.
He lunged forward, grabbing the highest-ranked priest by the collar and hoisted him into the air with terrifying ease, his claws digging into the man's robes.
"What the hell are you all standing around for?! Do your f*cking job and treat her!"
His voice was thunder, his rage, a storm.
The other priests flinched. One of them, trembling yet desperate to explain, stammered out,
"L-Lord, our powers... they aren't working on the wound!"
William's eyes blazed in disbelief. "HOW?! You are the finest healers of this generation!"
With a sharp growl, he threw the high priest onto the floor, the force making the man gasp in pain.
The priest coughed, struggling to breathe as he rasped, "L-Lord... the weapon used to attack Lady Aria was... unnatural... tainted with dark power...."
William's heart stopped.
"What?!"
The priest swallowed hard, voice trembling as he explained further.
"Cough... The wound contains traces of demonic energy. It's blocking our magic... we've tried everything, but it's no use."
A deathly silence fell over the room.
Demonic energy.
William's mind reeled. How? Humans would never wield such a cursed weapon. It was their enemy's power. The very beings that had once slaughtered humans like cattle.
"Why would a human carry a weapon forged in the depths of hell itself?"
His breathing grew ragged. His body shook—not with rage, but with a dreadful, consuming fear.
Slowly, as if afraid to look, his gaze drifted toward Lady Aria.
She lay there, her face devoid of color, her lips slightly parted as if caught in a wordless whisper. Even in unconsciousness, her fragile form looked so small, so breakable.
A sharp pain tore through his chest.
His knees hit the ground beside her bed as he reached for her hands, clasping them tightly between his own. His head dipped, resting gently against her cold fingers.
"Why? Why is this happening to you?" His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it trembled with unbearable grief.
"You fought for them. You protected them. You were never their enemy."
His fingers tightened around hers, as if holding on for dear life.
"Then why? Why would they betray you like this?"
The room remained still. No one dared to break the suffocating silence.
And then—
A slight movement.
William's senses sharpened in an instant.
His head snapped up just as her delicate fingers twitched against his palm.
His breath caught.
A faint movement. A slow fluttering of lashes.
Lady Aria's eyelids, heavy like the burden she carried, lifted ever so slightly. Her golden eyes, dulled and distant, flickered open. She looked fragile, almost ghost-like, her once radiant skin now pale as the moon.
William's breath hitched. His grip on her frail hands tightened, as if trying to anchor her to this world. She was awake.
A whisper—barely a breath—escaped her trembling lips.
"Joseph... is he okay?"
The words were weak, fragmented, yet filled with urgency. Even now, as her body lay at death's door, her only concern was their son.
William swallowed hard, his voice hoarse but firm, desperate to reassure her.
"Yes, he is okay, my love. You must take care of yourself. Don't speak."
His fingers gently stroked the back of her hand, trying to comfort her, convince her, as if those words alone could will her pain away.
But Lady Aria was not convinced.
A restlessness stirred within her weak body. Her fingers twitched, her breath grew uneven, and her gaze locked onto William's with a silent plea.
"No..." she murmured, her voice strained. Her chest rose and fell with difficulty, yet she refused to stay silent.
"Call Joseph... I have something... to tell... him!"
The effort it took to speak made her gasp between words, like each syllable was a battle against her fading strength.
William hesitated for just a moment, his heart pounding. There was something in her voice—urgency, desperation, finality.
His jaw clenched. His gaze darkened.
"Call Joseph. Ask him to come fast. His mother is calling him."
His voice was firm, but inside, he was crumbling.
A knight bowed quickly before rushing out of the chamber.
The wait was agonizing. The seconds stretched into eternity. Every flicker of the candle felt like a countdown, every beat of William's heart like a drum of impending doom.
Then—hurried footsteps.
A small figure burst into the room, panting.
Joseph.
His eyes were wide, frantic, his face damp with sweat from running. As soon as he saw his mother lying there—weak, lifeless, barely holding on— his breath caught in his throat.
His lips trembled, his young heart heavy with guilt. Tears welled up in his eyes, reflecting the candlelight like shards of shattered glass.
"Mom... I-I'm sorry!" Joseph's voice cracked; his tiny fists clenched at his sides. "I won't ask for another stroll in the city! Please... just be healthy again!"
His voice wavered, the fear of losing her too much to bear.
A weak smile stretched across Aria's lips, barely there, but filled with love.
Her trembling fingers reached for him, pulling him closer. Even in this state, she wanted to comfort him.
Joseph collapsed into her arms, hugging her as tightly as he could without hurting her.
"Don't blame yourself, honey," she whispered, her voice warm but distant, like she was speaking from another world. "What is written in destiny is bound to happen."
She cradled him against her, but then—her body tensed.
A sudden fit of violent coughing wracked her fragile frame.
"COUGH... COUGH...!"
Her body shuddered, each cough draining what little life remained in her.
William immediately reached for her, his eyes burning with terror.
And then—
Light.
A faint glow shimmered at the tip of Lady Aria's finger.
A soft, golden radiance, unlike anything seen before, began to flicker like a dying star.
A gasp rippled through the room.
"What is that?" a knight whispered.
"Is it... a holy light?" a priest muttered in disbelief.
"Does Lady Aria... know how to use magic?"
Murmurs spread like wildfire. Whispers of awe, confusion, shock.
William's eyes widened. His mind raced.
This—this wasn't possible.
His wife— his beloved Aria— had never possessed magic. She had never shown any ability, never spoken of power, never wielded a single spell.
Yet now, a divine glow radiated from her trembling fingertips.
William felt his chest tighten. His hands clenched into fists.
What was happening?
With painstaking slowness, Lady Aria lifted her glowing hand and placed it gently against Joseph's forehead.
The moment her fingers made contact— The light absorbed into him.
Like a droplet of water sinking into dry earth, the energy flowed into his very soul.
The glow faded. The room dimmed once more.
Aria's lips curved into a soft, tired smile.
She gazed at Joseph, her golden eyes filled with an unspoken promise.
"I will leave this to you, honey."
Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet it echoed in the ears of everyone present.
Joseph's breath hitched.
Her smile lingered for just a moment longer.
Then—
Her body grew limp.
Her delicate hand—once glowing with warmth—fell away from Joseph's forehead, hitting the mattress with a hollow thud.
The room froze.
Joseph stared at her, his small hands trembling as they reached for hers.
"Mom...?"
No response.
His little hands shook her.
"Mom...?"
Her head rested motionless on the pillow.
A heavy silence crashed over the room, suffocating everyone within it.
And then—
"ARIA!"
William's roar shattered the air, raw and primal.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her, desperate, unwilling to accept what had just happened.
"NO! OPEN YOUR EYES! ARIA—ARIA, LOOK AT ME!"
The strongest warrior in the kingdom— the Lord of Vampires himself— was shaking.
His face, always composed, always powerful, now contorted in agony.
She was gone.
[Author: No i am not crying, just someone is cutting onions nearby!]
The knights dropped their heads. The priests muttered silent prayers.
And Little Joseph—his small, fragile frame trembled as he let out a broken whisper.
"M-Mom...?" Little Joseph looked towards the Viewers perspective itself, like he knew someone was watching this all.
Back to present...
The dim light from the desk lamp flickered as Joseph jolted awake, gasping for breath. His chest heaved, his pulse hammering against his ribs. Sweat trickled down his temples, soaking into his collar. His hands trembled as they pressed against the cold wooden desk, trying to ground himself in reality.
But the reality felt distorted.
His vision was blurred—not from exhaustion, but from tears. Unbidden, they rolled down his cheeks, warm trails of sorrow falling onto the open documents in front of him.
His breath came out in a shaky whisper.
"What was that...? These memories..."
His fingers instinctively clutched his forehead, trying to suppress the throbbing pain forming behind his skull.
MEMORIES?
No—LOST memories or DREAM?
He reached into his pocket with a trembling hand, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe the dampness from his face. But as he did, his grip on the fabric tightened.
"Did I forget these memories... or..." His voice dropped, his eyes narrowing with realization.
"Were they sealed away from me?"
A shudder ran down his spine. The thought alone sent a wave of rage surging through his veins. His fingers clenched around the handkerchief, crumpling it into his palm.
A flicker of crimson flashed in his irises.
His vampiric instincts flared—anger, betrayal, confusion—all intertwining like a venomous storm brewing within him. The pressure in the room thickened, the atmosphere subtly shifting in response to his emotions.
Someone had meddled with his past. Someone had stolen his own memories from him.
Before he could dive deeper into his thoughts, a sudden noise snapped him back to the present.
The door creaked open.
Joseph straightened immediately, masking his inner turmoil. The red glow in his eyes faded in an instant, replaced with a neutral—almost indifferent—expression.
His gaze flickered toward the entrance.
And the moment he saw who it was, his expression darkened.
Adam.
His lips pressed into a thin line. Of all people.
Joseph leaned back slightly, folding his arms, his voice measured yet distant.
"How can I help you, Adam?"
Adam entered the room with unhurried steps, his expression unreadable. The dim lighting barely cast a shadow on his face, making his neutral tone feel even more unsettling.
"Nothing much," Adam finally replied. "Miss Lopez asked me to deliver a message. She wants you to meet her at her apartment. She said it's urgent."
The words hit Joseph like a cold gust of wind.
His posture stiffened.
"Me?! Alone?! At her home?"
For a split second, he was caught off guard.
A rosy hue dusted his cheeks, his mind betraying him with unwanted thoughts. His reaction was instant, unfiltered.
His fingers brushed through his hair in an attempt to regain composure. He exhaled sharply, shaking off the embarrassment creeping up his neck.
"Aheem! Aheem!" He cleared his throat forcefully.
What am I even thinking?!
Whispering slowly to himself, "It must be about her health. Yes, that's it. She probably needs my help because of her health issues. I should go. Quickly."
Steeling himself, Joseph turned his attention back to Adam, who stood still as a statue, watching him with an expression that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Joseph gave a brief nod.
"Thank you, Adam."
Adam tilted his head slightly, offering a small nod in return.
"You're welcome, Joseph." His voice was calm—almost too calm.
Then, with a slow, methodical turn, Adam stepped out of the office.
Joseph wasted no time.
He closed the files on his desk, put his laptop to sleep, and grabbed his coat. His movements were brisk, focused. Yet, beneath that composure, the unease in his heart remained about the "dream".
As he stepped into the corridor, his silhouette faded into the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor.
And then—
A shadow moved behind him.
Adam.
Standing in the very spot Joseph had just vacated, a smirk curled on his lips.
His previously neutral demeanor melted away, replaced with something far more sinister.
His fingers grazed the edge of the desk kept in corridor as his grin widened.
"Let's see how this plays out," he murmured, amusement flickering in his darkened eyes.
Then, raising an eyebrow, he whispered to himself—
"Things may be beyond recovery now."
The road stretched before him, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. An orange hue blanketed the sky, clashing against the deepening blue of twilight. In the opposite direction, the moon loomed—clear, stark, almost watchful.
Joseph's car sliced through the quiet of the evening, the tires humming against the asphalt. The wind was steady, whistling softly through the slightly open window. It was the kind of silence that carried an eerie stillness—like something was waiting.
Just as he was nearing Lopez's apartment, the car jerked to a stop.
A large construction sign stood in the middle of the road, its bright colors clashing harshly against the natural dusk.
"Please take the other route, the road is under maintenance!"
Joseph exhaled sharply, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.
"Damn it." His gaze flickered towards the alternative routes available.
Then, an idea struck him.
"The forest shortcut... it'll be faster."
Without hesitation, he turned the wheel, guiding the car towards the shadowed path leading into the woods.
The road narrowed as he drove, the trees towering on either side like silent sentinels. Shadows stretched long and thin, weaving through the golden light that barely seeped through the dense canopy.
It was then that something caught his eye.
Two cars. Parked on the roadside, unmoving.
Joseph's brow furrowed as he drove past them—until something about them nagged at his mind.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
His foot hesitated over the brake pedal before he finally brought the car to a slow stop.
His gaze sharpened.
"Lopez and... David's cars?"
A bad feeling twisted in his gut.
Pulling over, he stepped out, his shoes pressing against the slightly damp ground. The smell of earth and leaves thickened in the air. His gaze trailed toward the soil—two distinct sets of footprints imprinted in the moist dirt, leading into the dense forest.
And suddenly—it hit him.
Like an iron fist slamming into his chest, the memories he had been trying so desperately to ignore surged back.
The night. The blood. The loss.
For a second, he swayed on his feet.
"No... no... what am I thinking? That was just a meaningless dream!"
He forced the thought out, his breathing uneven.
"It wasn't real. It couldn't be real."
But then—
A whisper.
"I will leave this to you, honey."
His lady's voice. Soft. Gentle. Final.
The memory of her last smile— her pale fingers trembling, her warmth fading in his arms— slammed into him like a tidal wave.
Joseph's body went rigid.
His legs felt like lead, yet at the same time—they moved on their own.
His feet struck the ground, faster and faster, following the footprints like a man possessed.
He didn't know why.
He just knew he had to move.
The deeper he ran into the woods, the heavier the air became. The once calm wind picked up violently, rustling the trees like whispering voices warning him to turn back. The sky, once warm with sunset, had been overtaken by heavy clouds. Dark. Ominous. Watching.
The wind howled through the branches.
And then—he reached the end of the trail.
His breath hitched.
His heart—which had been pounding like a war drum—froze in his chest.
His pupils shrank as his eyes locked onto the scene before him.
David. Kneeling.
One knee down, the other foot planted firmly on the ground.
His hands—shaking.
Lopez—
Her lifeless body lay sprawled beneath him.
Her clothes were torn, her arms limp, and a gaping wound marred her stomach. Blood pooled beneath her, seeping into the earth like a silent confession.
Joseph felt his throat close up. His mind refused to process what he was seeing. His hands trembled at his sides, his fingers twitching as if wanting to reach forward—yet unable to.
His body was stuck.
Frozen in time.
David's head turned sharply, sensing his presence. His eyes—wide, conflicted, carrying an unspoken emotion Joseph couldn't quite grasp.
Joseph's gaze darted between David and Lopez's still form, his chest tightening, a million unspoken questions flooding his mind.
And then—
Lightning split the sky.
A deafening crack tore through the heavens, illuminating the confusion and horror in both their eyes.
Joseph's lips parted, but no words came.
David was just starting.
And in that brief, blinding flash—Joseph knew.
The storm. The blood. The betrayal.
The past wasn't just a memory anymore.
It was happening again.
Lightning ripped through the sky, its blinding flash illuminating the chaos for a fleeting second before plunging everything back into darkness. The heavens rumbled, an ominous growl of something unstoppable approaching.
The wind, once a whisper, now howled through the trees, wild, merciless—just like that night. Leaves spiraled, branches cracked, the very air humming with an eerie familiarity, as if the storm itself remembered. And in the heart of it all, Joseph stood frozen, his breath ragged, his pulse a frantic drumbeat against his ribs—because the past, the one he had buried, denied, convinced himself was nothing but a nightmare. The night scene itself is like an image of that night, losing someone he beloved.
To be Continued...