The manor was quiet when the clock struck midnight. Elena lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling, the book hidden under her pillow. Sleep would not come. Every time her eyes grew heavy, she saw him again—the man with red eyes, the voice that claimed her as his.
The house creaked with old age. A shutter rattled in the wind. Normally, these sounds were harmless, but tonight they felt different, as if the whole manor breathed and shifted around her.
Finally, unable to bear the stillness, Elena rose. She wrapped herself in a cloak and lit her lantern. The flame wavered weakly as she stepped into the dark hall.
The portraits lining the walls seemed even more alive at night. Shadows covered their painted faces, but their eyes still gleamed faintly in the dim light. She tried not to look at them. Her feet carried her downstairs toward the great hall.
As she descended the grand staircase, a sudden chill swept through the air. The lantern flickered, threatening to go out.
"Elena…"
Her heart stopped. The voice was soft, close, like a whisper against her ear. She spun around, but no one was there.
"Show yourself," she whispered, her voice shaking.
Silence answered her.
She clutched the lantern tighter and hurried across the hall. Just as she reached the door that led to the courtyard, a sound froze her in place. Footsteps. Slow, steady, coming from the shadows.
"Who's there?" she called.
From the darkness, a figure appeared. A man, tall and slender, dressed in black. His cloak seemed to blend into the night itself. His face was pale, almost too pale, but handsome in a way that unsettled her. His eyes glowed faintly—not red, but a strange golden hue that caught the light.
Elena's breath caught in her throat.
"Forgive me," the man said, bowing slightly. His voice was deep, smooth, like silk. "I did not mean to frighten you."
"Who are you?" Elena asked, taking a step back. "How did you get inside?"
The man smiled faintly. "I go where I am needed."
His answer made no sense, and yet it sent a shiver down her spine.
"I should call the guards," she said, though her voice lacked strength.
"There is no need," he replied calmly. "I am not your enemy." He stepped closer, but his movements were slow, careful, as if he did not wish to alarm her. "I came because the blood calls. You have felt it, haven't you?"
Her grip on the lantern tightened. "What do you mean?"
"The whispers," he said softly. "The dreams. The voice in the night. You are not imagining it, Elena. You are hearing the call of your ancestor."
Her heart pounded painfully. "How do you know my name?"
The man's golden eyes glimmered. "I know many things. I have watched this family for centuries. And now, it begins again."
Elena shook her head. "This is madness. I don't even know who you are."
"My name is Lucian," he said at last. "And I am here to protect you."
"Protect me? From what?"
He paused, his gaze darkening. "From him."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"Who?" Elena whispered, though she already knew the answer.
Lucian stepped closer, his cloak brushing the floor. "The one who calls to you in the dark. The first. The ancestor. He is not just a memory, Elena. He still walks this world. And now, he has found you."
Her blood ran cold.
"I don't believe you," she said, though her voice shook.
Lucian studied her quietly. "You will. Very soon."
He turned as if to leave, but she called after him. "Wait! Why me? Why now?"
He stopped at the doorway, his back to her. "Because his blood runs strongest in you. And he will not rest until you are his."
With that, he slipped into the shadows, vanishing as suddenly as he had appeared.
Elena stood frozen, the lantern trembling in her hand. For the first time, she wished the voice in the dark had been only her imagination. But now, she knew the truth.
The ancestor was real.
And he was coming for her.