The first time Sylene laid eyes on Sir Draven, he had mistaken him for a ghost. So pale, so silent—the vampire's golden eyes were dull and lifeless. Apathy pooled in their depths, weighed down by something unspoken.
What had happened to the peculiar yet kind gardener? Sylene didn't know. He only saw the way the other moved, carrying out each duty mindlessly—never absent, never resting.
Even when thorns left fresh scratches along his fingers, the gardener simply continued, as if numb to the pain.
And Sylene—Sylene had felt as if he had found his kindred.
There was a pendant Sir Draven often wore—a small, unassuming locket he would stare at for long moments. It could open, but Sylene had never glimpsed the photo hidden inside.
It must be nice to have someone care that deeply for you, Sylene secretly thought.
That night, bathed in moonlight, they had sat together on the stone bench—one tall and motionless, the other curled beside him like a wary animal, body marred by rose-thorn wounds.
Sylene had once read that people brought together by tragedy found a certain relief in each other's presence. Maybe that was what he felt after losing his sister. And perhaps...Sir Draven had lost someone important too.
Grief is love with nowhere to go. The thought made Sylene ache. A deep sadness settled in his chest.
And remembering the warmth of dinner tonight only made it worse.
Would he ever feel that kind of peace again? Would he ever have another moment like that—safe, content, surrounded by kind people?
To be seen, to be heard, to be wanted in a way that made his presence matter—as if he were no different from anyone else.
Not as an experiment, a prototype of perfection, or the disgraced son of fallen nobles—but simply as... Sylene.
And… would it ever be possible to make his favorite vampire feel the same warmth he had experienced today? Would Sir Draven ever smile like those humans—just once?
Not the faint, practiced gentleness he usually wore, but a true smile—one that broke into unrestrained laughter, the kind that reached his eyes, brought tears of joy, and spilled straight from the depths of his heart.
Would the vampire cherish it as much as he did? Sylene had never been on the receiving end of such care before. The gentle kindness of the inn's people, the warmth of their laughter—it was all new to him. And he found himself yearning for it all the more…
The first kindness he had ever known had come from Sir Draven. Even that smallest act had been enough to give him the will to live despite his hopeless circumstances.
If one vampire's kindness had given him that much hope…
What would it feel like to receive it from many people? To be cared for, not just by one, but by a whole community?
He wanted to know. He wanted to feel it, to name it, to understand emotions that had always eluded him.
He longed to belong as they did—to their community, their way of life, their world
Lifting his gaze to the window, Sylene stared at the night sky. Stars stretched endlessly above, scattered like tiny lanterns in the dark. Their soft glow was the last thing seen before sleep claimed him—peaceful and dreamless.