With pain in her soul, Nira broke down. She shattered the silence with a voice frayed by exhaustion and shadowed by regrets for Paleș. Her words, gathered from long roads and scattered rumors across the lands, rolled out heavy, carrying the echo of a restless search.
— "I gathered information... from inns, from whispers. I met people who, out of fear of torture, chose silence. I searched for rumors about the book, but no one... no one knows anything. Still, in the end, luck found us. The rumor said that Metropolitan Cassian of the East had gathered all the Seraphim to search for a book stolen two years ago. The book was called Credo Prohibitum. They say it is the oldest book in the heritage of the Eastern Catholic Church, Nira said, sincerity glinting even in her eyes."
— "Cassian of the East did this? — Ioh asked, breathless."
Nira, unaware of the connection between Ioh and Cassian, ignored his reaction. Her gaze remained lost, and her voice became a cold thread, full of shadows:
— "On the road... I learned something else. Far... far away, in the northern part of Transylvania, in a forgotten village hidden between mountains... it is said that a vampire lives there."
She paused for a moment, and the silence between them thickened.
— "A vampire who hasn't tasted blood... for hundreds of years."
— "Is that even possible? For a vampire to resist the taste of blood? — Ioh said, stunned."
— "He hides... so he won't be hunted by the Vlach King! Nira said, pressing every word. Officially, no one can confirm this, but unofficially... the King wants him dead."
She leaned a little closer to Ioh, looking him straight in the eyes.
— "They say he might not even be alive anymore. But if he is... he's one of the few who can read the Credo Prohibitum. The book... it's written in Thracian. A forgotten language, ancient as the young mountains."
Ioh, amazed:
— "I've heard legends about that ancient language... but never about anyone who could understand it."
Nira lowered her voice, almost whispering:
— "The vampire's name was lost over time. No one knows what he's called. And no one... no one has ever survived an encounter with him."
The silence stretched between them. Then, like a cold blade, her voice cut through the air:
— "And there's something else... The Third Chain. One of the leaders of the Four Chains... has been missing for nearly nine and a half years."
Ioh remained still. His gaze darkened.
— "The balance... is starting to break... And a new conflict might soon begin…"
— "But what happened to Paleș?… Why is he missing? — Ioh's voice was low, but his eyes scanned around as if hoping to see him step out of the shadows."
Nira bit her lip, trying to speak, but her words trembled.
— "Paleș… was captured… and tortured… because of me. — Tears flooded her cheeks."
— "Tell me everything. Everything that happened!"
Nira closed her eyes for a moment, as if searching for the strength to continue. Then, with heavy breath, she began:
— "It's like a story... one I've lived before, a long… long time ago."
Then, Nira sat heavily on the chair where Paleș used to sit. The wood creaked softly, like an echo of memories. She ran her fingers along the edge of the table, where Paleș had left invisible traces, and raised her eyes to Ioh.
— "Here… here he always sat… — she murmured, almost to herself."
And so, in a lowered voice, Nira began to reveal her past, and what followed was not a mere memory. It was a bond of fate, a story that was beginning now, in the silence of the manor. And Ioh remained motionless, letting himself be drawn back in time…
"Many years ago... I wasn't called Nira, protector of a manor. Back then, I was Velina. A woman wandering from land to land, with no place of her own. At that time, the world wasn't as you see it today. The beasts of the night didn't dare show themselves in the daylight, and the silence of the roads was still untouched by their terror.
In my chaotic wandering, after many trials... I found a ray of light. A little boy, the son of a priest in a part of Transylvania under the rule of the Kingdom of Hungary. We met daily; we went to church together, spent hours as inseparable friends. For the first time, I felt I was no longer alone. Then, on a quiet day, a stranger appeared. Dressed in white rags, with a cloth over his head. His stature and features... almost like yours, Ioh. He approached me without hesitation and asked where the church entrance was. I led him without asking who he was. The only thing I felt was a chill, being near him… like a wild beast lived inside him.
As thanks, he handed me a small bottle with a green liquid. 'It heals any illness... and grants immortality,' he said. I laughed inwardly. I believed only in faith and salvation, not in tales. But things were about to change.
A few days after the stranger disappeared, a disaster struck Transylvania. Rumors spread that a single man had killed thousands of soldiers from the Hungarian Kingdom, slaughtering horses and men alike. The Kingdom sent more troops — all fell to the beasts of the night. Slowly, the local population began whispering thanks for their deliverance, and in time, Transylvania declared its independence under its own rulers.
Six months after meeting the young man, things changed in the church too. The boy no longer came. Everything became cold. After my final confession, I decided to leave again, to wander in search of another ray of light. At that confession, I told the priest about the potion I'd received and my wish to travel again. He offered me a chalice of holy water, saying it would protect me from the dark creatures I might encounter. I drank it… and immediately, a strange warmth spread through my body. My vision blurred, breathing grew heavy, pain burst through my limbs. A cry of despair escaped me: 'Father… what… what have you done to me?' I saw him as if standing on a distant mountain. My mouth moved, but I couldn't speak. The priest knew what I wanted to say. He uttered something… or maybe my ears distorted the words: 'Now try using the magic potion... to save yourself.'
With my last strength, I stumbled out of the church, opened the green bottle, and drank. In moments, my body healed. The stranger had been right… but why had he given me such a gift? I quickly got up and hid in a bush. I watched the priest… but shadows moved near him. I couldn't understand what they were. Then I saw that animals also had shadows, but some were red — the shadows of death. That's when I understood: the power I received came with responsibility… and a curse. Every time I saw the shadows, there followed a silence... and then I could glimpse the future. For years I tested this gift and discovered its secret. My gift predicts a person's fate through shadows, spanning fifteen years. Once that time ends, I can see the shadows for another fifteen years.
I told people I read in shells or other signs, but fear grew in those who could not understand. One day, in Wallachia, near the Transylvanian border, the ruler of a fortress decided what I did was witchcraft. He condemned me to mutilation, not death. He told me to choose a part of my body to lose. I chose my ear… so I'd hear fewer cries and pleas from the world. I couldn't give up my eyes — without them, I couldn't use my gift. Since then, I've lived with only one ear... but I stayed alive.
Time passed, and I aged slowly. I never fell ill. Another effect of the serum. Since then, I've been searching for a place to find peace… and this manor is the closest to what I've ever dreamed."
Ioh remained still. Nira's words settled in his mind like a thick fog, unwilling to lift. It seemed like a fireside legend. Too old, too strange to be true. And yet… every detail, every tremor in her voice, fit. The story had, for Ioh, the bitter taste of a "déjà vu" — not a memory he had lived, but more like a forgotten dream, lost in a quiet corner of the mind.
His gaze, sharp and unwavering, fixed on her without blinking. In his sharp mind, the conclusion had already formed: these weren't mere words — Nira had lived every moment she spoke of.
— "Fine… but Paleș? — his voice turned sharp, slicing through the air like a blade. — What happened to him?"
Her eyes flickered. Her lips tightened, as if trying to keep a deep wound sealed.
— "This… isn't the kind of story that brings peace, Ioh… she said, her gaze lost somewhere far, where the shadows of memories stirred."
Silence fell between them, heavy, cold. Then, with a long sigh, as if giving up running from the past, Nira raised her eyes to him.
— "I will tell you… I will tell you everything they did to him…"
The words came out slowly, each one carrying a weight of blood and guilt.
And so, the story of Paleș opened like an old wound, letting the past flood once more into the present.