The moon hung low and full over Grimwell, casting an eerie silver glow on the old rooftops and crooked alleyways. Crickets chirped faintly in the distance, trying to drown out the whispering wind that weaved through the trees like it carried secrets meant only for the dead.
It was supposed to be just a silly dare.
"Come on, Elle. You said you wanted an adventure."
Elle Kane rolled her eyes, pulling her sweater tighter around her. The October chill was biting, and every instinct told her tonight was a bad idea.
"I meant a beach trip or a party. Not breaking into some ancient vampire house," she replied dryly, glancing up at the looming silhouette of Hollowridge Manor in the distance. It stood like a grave carved into the hillside, tall, dark, and abandoned. Or so everyone said.
Adara smirked and tossed her long braids over one shoulder. "Don't be a coward. You've got the brain, the sarcasm, the mysterious beauty... now prove you're not a chicken."
"I'm not a chicken. I'm just sane."
They weren't alone. Adara had dragged along Jasper, the tall, moody art student who rarely spoke unless it was to quote Poe, and Lani, who clung to Jasper like he was her personal bodyguard against every ghost in the county.
Elle looked at them now and sighed. How had she ended up in this circle?
"You only have to go in for five minutes," Adara said, holding up her phone to record. "Touch something old. Bring back proof. That's it."
"And if I get possessed?"
"Then you better look cute doing it."
The others laughed. Elle didn't.
Hollowridge Manor had a history soaked in blood and whispers. People said it was cursed. That anyone who entered alone would never come out the same. Some never came out at all. But it wasn't the urban legends that bothered Elle.
It was the dreams.
Dark corridors. Echoes of her name. A voice, low and haunting, that called to her in the night. And always, those eyes in the shadows, watching.
She had dreamed of the manor long before she knew it was real.
That should've been enough to keep her far away.
But now, here she was, standing before rusted iron gates, a flashlight in hand and a nervous flutter deep in her stomach.
"Five minutes," she said, more to herself than anyone else.
The gate creaked open like it hadn't been touched in decades.
She stepped through.
---
The air changed the moment she crossed the threshold. It was colder. Heavier. Every crunch of leaves beneath her feet echoed like thunder in her ears.
The manor stood before her like a slumbering beast, its windows like hollow eyes, its wooden bones groaning with age.
She pushed open the front door. It let out a long, angry creak.
Inside, it was darker than any place had a right to be. Dust coated the floor like snow, undisturbed for years, yet faint footprints seemed to lead inward, fresh ones.
She told herself it was just animals. Maybe squatters.
But her heart said otherwise.
She walked slowly, scanning the walls lined with faded paintings, portraits of people who looked hauntingly regal, yet not entirely... human. A cold draft kissed her neck.
Something brushed past her shoulder.
She spun around. Nothing.
Her fingers tightened on the flashlight. "This is insane," she whispered. "I'm not dying over a stupid dare."
But just as she turned to leave, a whisper echoed down the hall.
"Elle..."
She froze.
"Hello?" Her voice cracked. "Who's there?"
No response.
She inched forward, heart pounding so loudly she barely noticed the soft sound of the piano playing. Somewhere deep in the house, someone was playing Clair de Lune.
It was impossible. No one lived here. No electricity. No reason for a piano to be playing itself.
Unless...
She followed the sound, down a long corridor, past cracked mirrors and broken chandeliers. The music stopped just as she reached the grand salon.
And there he was.
Standing by the dusty grand piano, bathed in moonlight.
Tall, Impossibly tall, Dressed in black from neck to boots. Hair like ink. Skin pale, almost glowing. And eyes
Those eyes.
Not just dark, but endless. Ageless. Like they had seen empires fall and suns burn out.
He didn't move when she entered. Didn't speak. Just watched her, like he'd been waiting.
"Who are you?" she managed to say.
A pause. Then his voice. Smooth as velvet. Low. Laced with something ancient.
"You're not supposed to be here."
"I".....
I didn't mean to... I was dared to... I'm leaving now."
He stepped closer. "You shouldn't have come."
She backed away. "Look, I don't want trouble."
He tilted his head slightly. "Trouble already found you."
Lightning flashed outside. For a brief second, the shadows behind him twisted like wings.
"Who are you?" she asked again, trembling now.
He stepped closer. "I am the last thing your heart remembers in the dark. The one you've been dreaming of all your life."
"I don't dream of monsters."
"No," he said softly. "You dream of me."
Silence.
Then she said it. The word her heart feared.
"Vampire."
His smile was sad.
"I haven't heard anyone say it like that in a long, long time."
"Are you going to kill me?"
He looked away. "I could have. But something stopped me."
She waited.
Then he whispered, "You."
She didn't know what to say. The room seemed to close in around them. Her breath came shallow. Her pulse thundered.
And then he stepped back.
"Leave, Eleanor Kane. While I still have the strength to let you."
---
She didn't remember running out the front door, only the way her heart screamed for her to keep moving. Her friends were gone, typical.
Probably didn't wait more than a minute after she entered.
She didn't stop running until she reached her dorm. Didn't speak about what happened. Didn't tell anyone.
But she felt it. Every day since.
He was watching.
And a part of her, the part she didn't understand was waiting for him to come back.