THE PAIN WAS in my head, white-hot and crackling, radiating in waves of nauseating agony that left me gasping for stale air. I forced my eyes open to a swarm of tiny, blurry spots dancing delicately in my vision. It made the surrounding darkness feel even more suffocating. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, frantic and deafening.

  My grime-covered fingers groped for purchase, but the cold bite of metal around my wrists restrained my movement. I gave an experimental tug, but I was met with no give, only a harsh rattle of chains.

  Panic started to claw at my chest.

  I tried to focus, to recall what had happened for me to end up here—but my memories were elusive, nothing more than jagged, fragmented flashes that I found difficult to piece together.

  I blinked sluggishly, willing my vision to clear, but the shadows hungrily swallowed everything in my sight. Slowly but surely, my eyes seemed to adjust to the inky darkness. I could barely make out the edges, but as my vision sharpened, one thing became undeniable: the chains.

  Heavy, thick rusted links anchored my wrists to the coarse stone floor beneath me, their unyielding grip sending an icy shiver down my spine with its ominous finality.

  Where exactly was I?

  Somewhere in the black void, a sound stirred—nothing distinct, just a subtle shift in the air, a brush of something… or someone.

  I stiffened, every muscle of my being tensing as my eyes darted toward the source of the sound. My breath caught, held tight in my pounding chest as I strained my ears in quiet anticipation. Anxiety coiled in the pit of my stomach and the silence seemed to crawl over my skin like a tangible, living thing.

  "Are you afraid, little one?" a voice whispered, slicing through the stillness of the air like a sharp blade.

  There was something almost gentle about it, a sickly sweetness that made my insides twist uncomfortably. The words—their tone—made my blood run cold. I wanted to respond, to demand who they were and what they wanted, but the words were stuck in my throat. All I could do was exhale shakily, the metallic tang of blood coating my tongue intermingling with the dread surging through my veins like wildfire.

  Silence stretched after the whisper, taut and waiting like a viper poised to strike.

  Then, the voice slithered through the air again, softer now and as smooth as silk, "There's no need to be afraid." His voice was almost coaxing, deliberate. "As long as you comply, things will go very well for you. You'll see."

  The strange tenderness in his tone felt entirely out of place. It didn’t match the shackles locked around my wrists or the choking darkness that seemed to swallow the whole room. His words clung to me, too sweet to trust.

  I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. "What’s going to happen to me?"

  "That depends entirely on you. Give me what I seek, and no harm will come to you,” he lamented easily, voice dropping with a perverse kind of patience that expected me to understand, to accept the vague proposition he was offering.

  I frowned, wincing as the expression tugged at the tight sensation at my hairline. "What do you want?"

  There was a pause, followed by a slow exhale as if he were amused. "First of all, I want to know what you are."

  The words struck like a slap; my mind spun as my stomach twisted violently.

  "I don’t know what you mean," I said quickly, forcing the words out before my hesitation could betray me.

  An eerie, almost delighted laugh bubbled up from the depths of the darkness. It was unsettling.

  “Ah, such a poor liar,” he mused. “You don’t think I know when I’m being deceived? How quaint.” He was waiting, watching. His presence, though unseen, was all around me. “One last chance,” he tutted. “Tell me the truth. What are you?”

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  I clenched my jaw, steeling myself in my resolve. "I don’t know what you mean," I gritted out.

  Suddenly, without warning, a cold hand shot out of the darkness, seizing my jaw in an ironclad grip and forcing my head upward. I flinched, my breath hitching as deft fingers dug into my chin, the sharp pressure mirroring the bite of metal presently latched around my tender wrists.

  "I do not tolerate liars," he seethed, forcing me to meet his gaze.

  And for the first time, I saw him. No longer just a voice in the dark or an omnipresent presence—he was real and terrifyingly so.

  His skin was pale, almost luminous, and unnervingly perfect. His ice-blue eyes burned with something ancient and unrelenting. The sharp angles of his cheekbones and the severe line of his nose only heightened the unnatural beauty of his face, but it was his blond, shoulder-length hair, tied back with such precise care with not one strand out of place, that made him appear most regal.

  His black pupils expanded and contracted, the hypnotic pull of his power pressing against my mind as he attempted to compel me. “Tell me.”

  I forced my mind into a wall of resistance. His command slithered persuasively through my consciousness like a serpent, coiling and searching intensely for a way in. The pressure built, insistent and invasive but I held firm.

  Then—just as suddenly as it had come—it faltered. The tendrils of his influence frayed, unravelling and dissipating into nothingness.

  "Tell me what you are," he commanded again.

  His power surged once again, pressing, probing, and demanding.

  I bit down on my lip, refusing to break. I narrowed my eyes at him defiantly. When I did not speak, his patience thinned. The third time, his voice snapped like a whip, sharp and furious.

  "Tell me!"

  The roar of his voice sent a jolt through my body, his fangs fully bared. My breath stuttered and my eyes instinctively widened at the sight. Fangs. Long, gleaming, and sharp enough to tear through flesh in a heartbeat. Fear prickled at the recesses of my mind.

  The monster was finally unmasked.

  His grip tightened minutely, just enough to make my jaw ache. His knuckles were stark white, forcing my mouth open slightly in a silent reminder of who truly held control here. A few agonising heartbeats passed before he released me, throwing my head aside as he withdrew himself away. Pain bloomed where his fingers had once been, my skin burning alight from the ghost of his touch.

  I clenched my teeth, willing myself not to make a sound. He tilted his head, studying me with such an intensity that sent ice through my veins. And then, something changed. His anger smoothed into something quieter, tamer.

  Interest.

  He inhaled, slow and measured, as if savouring a rare delicacy. It unnerved me.

  "That," he murmured, eyes gleaming with something dark and what I assumed to be fascination, "is exactly why I must know what you are." A slow, knowing smile crept across his lips. "I’m sure you’re aware by now that immortality comes with its privileges,” he drawled. “I have walked this world for four centuries, and in all that time, I have never encountered anything quite like you." He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his voice taking on a velvety, rich tone that held an undercurrent of menace. "I am nothing like the common breed of my kind. My existence is not sustained by mere longevity, as it is for lesser vampires. My blood was steeped in power long before my turning, infused with something beyond mere mortality. And with that power comes certain… advantages.” His pale fingers flexed as if already reaching for the truth buried within me. "I have the ability to slip into the minds of others, unravelling their secrets thread by thread, peeling back their truths like parchment.” His gaze darkened, the light within them shifting like a storm behind glass. His smirk was slow, indulgent, inevitable. “And that power,” he murmured, his voice dropping to something akin to reverent, “is what I will wield against you.” He lifted his hands—gentle, precise, deliberate. The tips of his index fingers came to rest against my temples, the cold of his hands seeping into my skin like poison. "I will uncover your secrets," he whispered in conviction, "whether you offer them willingly… or not."

  And then, the invasion began.

  Pain flared back to life within my skull worse than before. It felt like claws raking through my mind, tearing mercilessly apart raw memories, rifling through thoughts, and desecrating what was meant to be mine and mine alone.

  Splintering. Breaking. Agony.

  The more I resisted, the sharper the pain became. "Agh!" a guttural cry tore from my throat, ripping from deep within me as my very mind was wrenched apart.

  It was exhausting to push against, the effort to keep him out was like pushing against an unrelenting tide. My mind strained, the pressure of his advances mounting until it became unbearable. And just when I thought I would shatter beneath the tormented weight of it all, the fight slipped from my weak grasp.

  A familiar image surged forward.

  My grandmother’s house.

  It's clear as day. Vivid and real.

  As if I were standing before it once more