Xavier’s mind swims in and out of consciousness. His body feels heavy, as if every muscle has turned to lead, but slowly, he becomes aware of strange sounds, voices. They are distant at first, like echoes in a cavern, but gradually they grow clearer. He comes to the realisation that he's being held, cradled against a soft yet cold body. The scent of something sweet and intoxicating fills his senses.

He can’t move, can’t speak, but he can hear. Two voices, one flirtatious and laced with cruel humor, the other sharp yet melodic, piercing through the fog in his mind.

"...turning a human without... consent, ...phina? Disobedient..." The first voice carries a charm that unnerves him. He feels a touch, light as a feather, tracing along his chest. The fingers are cool, but the sensation burns into his skin, sending shivers through his body. The hand moves slowly, deliberately, down his chest, over his stomach, and lingers suggestively on his groin, causing an involuntary tremor, making her chuckle.

"I know... ." The woman replies softly, her tone tight with restrained anxiety. Xavier feels the arms holding him tighten slightly, protectively, yet there is something desperate in the way she is clinging to him.

"...Silva? What... of him?" The smooth voice cutting through the silence, pressing for an answer with patience. As she starts to speak, Xavier feels another hand cup his cheek, her touch light yet possessive.

"...killed..." The woman responds coldly, almost mechanical, in stark contrast to the tension in her earlier words. Her grip loosens again, but as Xavier rests in her arms, he feels the subtle tremor.

"...decades-old Warden... in a place with... no threats?" The voice questions again, its tone inquisitive, probing for the truth with the precision of a scalpel. The woman's hand starts to move down to his throat, running her nails softly over his skin, before continuing her second, deliberate journey down his body.

"...blood hunts... sloppy... the man... on his trail... language... unusual... suffocate... in the city... " Her explanation is cold and emotionless, no guilt in her voice.

"...understand... but turning him... your choice... punishment..." The voice delivers the verdict with a chilling detachment, a decree that sent a fresh wave of dread through Xavier’s mind.

"...Understood..." The woman’s final words are barely a whisper, a fragile resignation that lingers in the air like a fading echo. As the haze claims Xavier’s mind once more, pulling him back into the void, he feels the last touch—a lingering caress at his lips, a promise of what was to come, before everything faded to black.

When Xavier opens his eyes again, he finds himself in a strange room, covered in black paint and delicate designs. Panic grips him as he sits up straight, making his chest ache with the effort. His mind reeling from the phantom pain he feels.

Memories of death flash into his head. He can still feel the searing pain of the metal rod piercing his chest, the brutal impact that stole his breath away. The cold void that remains where his heart had been left an emptiness, yet he also feels more whole in an odd sense.

"What happened? I died?" Xavier whispers to himself, his voice trembles as he tries to piece together what he doesn't understand.

"What... what was that? Who were they? What were they?" His thoughts spiral, confusion mixing with fear as he struggles to remember, but the images in his mind are too fractured, too distorted to make sense.

Struggling to his feet, Xavier stumbles toward the door, his hands tremble as he fumbles with the handle. The door creaks open, and he staggers out into an unfamiliar hallway. The air is thick with a strange, musty scent, and the dim lighting casts long shadows across the floor. Every step feels like an immense effort, his legs weak and unsteady beneath him.

"This can’t be real...," Xavier mutters under his breath as he continues moving forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "Am I dreaming? Is this some kind of nightmare?" He reaches up to touch his chest, half-expecting to find some mark or wound, but there is nothing—just the dull throb of lingering pain and the unsettling emptiness in his heart, or what he assumes is his heart. But when he starts paying closer attention, he realizes that he has no pulse, no beating in his chest.

As Xavier tries to make sense of his surroundings, he collides with a figure. He looks up to see a man with golden hair and mismatched eyes—one green, the other a deep amber—staring down at him. The man’s expression twists into one of disgust, his lips curling as if he’d just encountered vermin.

"Where am I?" Xavier asks, his voice hoarse and weak. He feels an overwhelming sense of dread in the pit of his stomach, a fear that whatever the answer might be, he won't like it.

The man hardens his gaze, his disgust only deepening as he looks Xavier up and down. "Why are you speaking to me?" he sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. "Know your place, filth."

"I’m not—" Xavier starts, but the man cuts him off with a sharp glare, his mismatched eyes morph into a blood red color and fear seeps into Xavier's soul.

"You’re nothing here," the man continues, his voice low and dangerous. "You don’t ask questions. You don’t speak unless spoken to. Understand?"

Xavier suddenly feels a surge of anger and fear mix in his chest, but the power dynamic between them is clear. He is in no position to argue. "I... I just want to know where I am," he says, his voice faltering as he tries to keep the panic at bay. "Please."

The man scoffs, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Invictardor." he says in a mocking tone. "A place far beyond your understanding... or your worth. If you value whatever life you have left, you’ll learn to keep your head down."

Without another word, the man brushes past Xavier, shoving him aside. Xavier stumbles back, catching himself against the wall, his heart pounding in his chest. Even if there is a lack of said heart, he can still feel the rush of stress after talking to the man.

As the man’s footsteps echo down the hallway, Xavier stands there, frozen, the weight of his situation is pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. "Invictardor..." he whispers to himself, the name sending shivers down his spine.

Xavier continues his way down the dimly lighted hallways. The oppressive atmosphere of the place weighing on him, each step heavy as he ventures deeper into the halls. Xavier can feel the eyes of figures watching him, their whispers filling the air like the rustle of dead leaves.

As he makes his way through the twisting corridors, he notices the inhabitants of this place. Pale, elegant figures moved silently, their eyes glinting with curiosity as they cast sidelong glances at him. Xavier overhears snippets of their conversations, their voices laced with disdain and amusement.

Stolen story; please report.

"He's supposed to replace Silva?" one voice murmurs, followed by a low chuckle.

"Pathetic," another sneers. "He won't last a day."

Xavier swallows hard, the absence of a pulse still unnerves him, but there is no time to dwell on it. He has to keep moving, has to find answers, like in the past.

After what feels like it took an eternity, Xavier reaches a grand staircase that spiraled upward. The steps are carved from some dark minerals, each one etched with intricate symbols.

"Time for some light exercise..." Xavier grits his teeth, and begins to climb, his legs still trembling with each step.

At the top of the stairs, he finds himself before a pair of massive doors, carved with images of twisted figures. Taking a deep breath, Xavier pushes the doors open and steps into a vast chamber. The room is dimly lit by flickering torches, shelves filled with books standing parallel to one another. His eyes are drawn to a desk at the far end of the room, where a single red gem lays glinting in the dim light.

Curiosity gnaws at him, and Xavier finds himself walking toward the desk. The gem seems to call, to whisper, to beckon him. It's crimson shine entrances him. He reaches out, his fingers closing around the cool yet hot, smooth yet rough and sharp yet dull surface.

The moment he touches it, a surge of familiarity washes over him. Memories of a life he lived, people he knew and feelings he had filled his head. The doors behind him creak open, and Xavier returns to proper consciousness. In shock, he quickly pockets the gem, stepping away from the desk just as a figure enters the room.

She looks tall and gorgeous, her pale skin glowes faintly in the dim light. Her long, dark hair cascades down her back, framing a face that is beautiful like none before and none after. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, lock onto Xavier as she approaches him with a slow, deliberate grace. An intoxicating scent waftes from her as she nears, a heady blend of something exciting, causing him to feel dizzy.

"And what do we have here?" she purrs, her voice dripping with amusement. "On your first day, you're already being a naughty boy."

Xavier feels a cold shiver run down his spine as the woman closes the distance between them. Before he can react, she is upon him, pressing him back against the wall. Her touch is both gentle and firm, her fingers trace the line of his jaw before trailing down to his chest. Every touch feels like she is searing his skin with her fingers, as if she branded him as cattle.

"I... I wasn't—" Xavier begins to stammer, but the words die in his throat as the woman’s fingers brush over the spot where his heart should be.

"Stealing from me?" she whispers, her breath burning against his skin. She slips her hand into his pocket, retrieving the gem with a slow, deliberate motion. "How bold you are, what's your name?"

“Xavier,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Xavier,” she repeats, savoring the syllables as if they are a rare delicacy. Her gaze flicks down to the gem in her hand, then back to his eyes. “Such a lovely name for a thief.”

“I’m not a thief,” Xavier says, the words rushing out in a desperate attempt to explain himself. “I didn’t mean to—”

She silences him with a sharp look, her hand tightenens around the gem. “No need for excuses. You’ve been here for mere moments, and already you’re playing dangerous games.”

The fear of how little he understands about where he was or what he had become is gnawing at his mind.

“What will you do with me?” he asks, trying to keep the fear from his voice.

The woman smiles, a slow, predatory curve of her lips. “That depends on you, Xavier. You’ve shown boldness—perhaps even a bit of courage. But that courage may just as easily be stupidity.”

She leans closer, her lips almost brushing his ear as she whispers, “If you dare to steal from me again, I’ll make sure you understand what true suffering is. Eternity can be a long, long time when spent in torment.”

Xavier shudders, the threat sinking into his bones. He feels the weight of her words, the genuine tone behind them, pressing down on him like a physical force.

“But,” she continues, pulling back to look at him, her expression softens just slightly, “I can also be... merciful. Prove yourself useful, and you might find this place less... unbearable.”

Xavier nods, not trusting himself to speak. The woman studies him for a moment longer, then releases him, stepping back with the gem still in her hand.

“Good,” she says, her tone dismissive. “You may go, Xavier. But remember—I'm always watching.”

As Xavier reaches the door, a question gnaws at the edge of his consciousness, one he couldn’t push aside for some reason. He hesitates, then turns back to the woman, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"What... what am I?" he asks, the words heavy with uncertainty.

The woman's gaze softens slightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes as she regards him. "Ah, Xavier, you’re part of the Undeath now," she replies, her voice smooth and almost soothing. "You’ve been reborn as one of us—a vampire. Immortal, powerful, and forever bound to the night."

She steps closer, her presence commanding and intense.

"Your old life, your human life, is over. Now, you belong to a different existence—one where the rules of living no longer apply. You’ll hunger for blood and discover strengths you never imagined possible. But with this power comes a price, Xavier. The light of day is lost to you, and the need to feed will be a constant companion."

The woman doesn't stop, instead she sits down at her desk and exhales before continuing to speak.

“There’s something you should understand about your position here as well, Xavier. Your role in this house is the lowest, your life is no longer your own. You belong to us now, or rather to me."

Xavier thinks back to the ways the other peop-, vampires reacted to his presence and understands her words thoroughly.

"The way in which you joined our society was irregular, but I've never been someone to exclude our kind. Just like anyone else you'll have the chance to prove your worth to me.”

Xavier looks at her, unsure of how to respond.

“I’ve decided that you’ll begin training tomorrow,” she continues. “You will learn the basic arts of vampirism—how to control your hunger, how to harness your new strength, and the ways of our immortality.

She pauses, her expression growing more serious as she regards him. “But there’s a fact you need to grow accustomed to. Our family, the House of Invicardor, stands at the lowest rung of the main vampiric hierarchy. We’ve lost much of our influence over the centuries, and with Silva gone, our standing could sink even deeper. In the eyes of others, we are weak, teetering on the brink of obscurity.”

The woman's gaze sharpens, and she takes a step closer to Xavier, her voice lowering. “But I believe there’s something different about you, Xavier. Something deeper. You were turned in a recent era, one that has shaped you in ways the others cannot understand. This gives you a perspective that they lack. It’s a gift, one that could be our salvation if you learn to harness it.”

The woman stands up from the desk she has chosen to sit behind, and approaches Xavier once more. She places a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm but not unkind. “I won’t lie to you—this will not be easy. There are those who will doubt you, who will see you as nothing more than a tool to be used. But if you can rise above that, if you can embrace what makes you different, you will go further than any of those who doubt you. Remember that as you begin your training.”

Just as quickly as she approached him, she moves back to her seat. This time Xavier felt less of the previous dread and spoke out in his more usual tone.

“Before I go,” Xavier says, his voice a bit steadier now, “I need to know—who was the pale-haired woman?”

The woman's eyes gleam with amusement, a smile slowly appearing at the corners of her lips. “Ah, you’re already curious. I suppose that’s to be expected. The woman you saw is not someone you need to concern yourself with—for now. But if you succeed in climbing our ranks, if you prove your worth, then I might just tell you everything you wish to know about her.”

Xavier feels a mix of frustration and intrigue, but he knows better than to press further, especially after what happened with Silva. He simply nods, knowing that whatever answers he was seeking will only come with time and obedience.

He hesitates for a moment, then spoke again. “What should I call you?”

The woman looks surprised for a moment, before the surprise turns into soft laughter. “My my, aren't you forward~"

"My name isn’t something a servant should use,” she replies, her tone tinged with warning. “But since you asked so nicely, my name is Lilith. However, from this moment forward, you will address me only as ‘Countess.’ Do you understand?”

Xavier nods, feeling the weight of her command. “Yes, Countess,” he says, the words feeling strange on his tongue but somehow fitting.

“Good,” Lilith says, her smile fading into a more serious expression. “Now go. You have much to learn, and your training begins tomorrow.”

With a final nod, Xavier turns and leaves the room, the door closing softly behind him.