Darkness.
Not the darkness of a room. No. Of course not.
Nor was it the darkness which belongs to the magnificence of twilight.
It was something else.
Something or somewhere, which neither began nor ended.
Engel didn't know how long he had been within this realm of fathomless penumbra.
Time had no meaning here.
There was no sense of breath.
No weight.
No sensation of temperature.
It was a place where his subconsciousness existed.
At first, he did question whether he was indeed dead, but the idea of death didn't quite fit.
It felt more like an in-between.
Just before the threshold of crossing over, perhaps.
But then a ripple pulsed beneath Engel's feet as he stood upon a crimson ocean.
Engel crouched down and peered into the water below. There was no reflection. No face to behold.
It stretched endlessly within his inner world.
There was no shore.
No horizon.
Just darkness above.
A void.
His expression hardened.
"Interesting."
The vampire's voice echoed, not outward, no.
Inwards.
It was as if his inner world was listening in on itself.
Then he looked up into the pitch-black above him, and for the first time he noticed that the darkness wasn't exactly empty.
It was waiting.
It felt older.
A presence which existed beyond humanity.
Beyond the world Engel had come to know through centuries passed.
One might say eldritch, even.
He slowly stepped forward.
The bloody ocean rippled beneath the base of his bare heels again.
And something stirred within the internalised twilight of his soul - into the darkness above.
***
In the psychiatric ward, a machine beeped.
Doctor Julian Summerset stood in front of the containment chamber, staring at the monitor.
The readings were impossible.
Engel Darkbourne, the dreaded emperor, remained physically unconscious.
There was no movement. Not even a twitch. No signs of waking.
And yet, his brain activity had changed.
Not increased.
Changed.
Julian adjusted his glasses on the crook of his nose.
"That isn't possible."
He checked the readings again.
It was the same result.
The emperor was dreaming.
Dreams that were far from normal.
As though his mind was somewhere else.
***
Inside the void, Engel continued to roam across the ocean. The darkness remained silent until the presence decided to respond.
Not with words.
With images.
The void opened like a window, and Engel could finally see beyond his own internal world.
***
Prosper.
His first thought wasn't relief.
It was pain.
But there he was, alive and standing alone in the family home.
The same home where laughter once existed.
The same home where Amy and Silas took their first steps.
Where Silas had sat beside the fireplace reading.
Where Engel had played the piano.
But now - it was quiet.
Too quiet.
Prosper looked exhausted.
The man who had always been impossible to break looked like he was carrying the entire weight of the world on his shoulders.
Engel reached towards the image.
"Prosper."
And then nothing.
His hand passed through, and the vision remained untouched.
He clenched his fist until his knuckle turned white.
For the first time in centuries, Engel felt powerless.
***
The image changed.
Amy, his daughter, was shown to him through the void.
His little girl - well - not so little anymore.
She stood under the city lights, as a woman, as a globally known musician.
A person who created their own world through music and artistry.
He felt pride.
Then fear.
He swallowed the lump in his throat as a sinking weight pressed down against his heart.
He could see the uncertainty in her red eyes - the insecurity festering underneath the confidence.
He could see the anxiety and alarm flickering across her face as she sensed the dangers around her.
Engel stepped closer.
"Amy."
The vision flickered, and her head turned as if she heard him.
Engel froze.
Then the visual of her faded into the black.
The void shifted again.
Silas.
Engel's heart tightened immediately.
His eldest son.
The quietest of the family.
The child who sat for hours playing chess with him.
The one who noticed everything.
He could feel his presence, but there was no image, just darkness.
No Sound
Barely anything at all.
Engel frowned at the dark mass.
"Silas?"
Nothing.
"Silas."
Still nothing.
***
The crimson ocean beneath him rippled and moved.
A feeling seeped into the recesses of his own mind, but it wasn't his.
It was gentle.
New, and yet impossibly old.
He looked down.
The water rippled again.
He squinted, trying to focus on what was stirring in the depths.
A small black sphere floated beneath the surface - watching.
Engel stared, and then the sphere pulsed. Warmth spread through him - a sense of familiarity.
The ball of energy did not speak. It didn't need to.
That is when Engel realised that this presence wasn't merely a source of magic, but rather life itself.
A new beginning.
A child.
His expression softened.
"You are here."
Then the darkness of his subconscious began closing around him.
Engel felt himself being pulled away.
Back.
Back towards his own body.
Towards the coffin.
He quickly looked down at the sphere again - at the newborn soul.
"Please - stay with me."
The soul pulsed again.
A promise.
Then the void around him and the crimson ocean beneath his feet vanished.
***
Engel's eyes remained closed.
The machines continued their steady rhythm - with the doctor watching the monitor closely.
Then the readings changed again.
A second magical signature appeared.
Jullian stepped closer.
His breath caught in his throat.
Something almost beyond his own comprehension.
His fingers trembled as he reached for his notebook.
Not because he was afraid, but because he discovered something unprecedented.
Something alive within the soul of the emperor.