18th century,
In the Coty Mountains, mist shrouded the peaks, creating an eerie feel. Towering trees whispered with the wind, haunting melodies seeming to echo, as if music drifted up from the earth itself. Some saw it as a place for mystical beings, yet those brave enough to venture deeper found a sense of wonder unlike anywhere else. Legend told of secrets revealed on azure nights, but few dared brave the daunting path.
As that fateful night neared, the village buzzed with anticipation and unease. Past stories mingled with dreams of the future, weaving a tapestry of tales. Amidst it all, the Guardian kept watch over those venturing into the forest. Under the starlight, the journey began anew, a quest for discovery.
In a dimly lit tavern corner, Lord Velor, his fiery hair and piercing eyes defying expectations, faced a duke's emissary tasked with reining in his rebellious ways.
"Please Lord Velor, His Grace orders you must remain in the castle until the ceremony. No revelry or entering the village," the emissary implored, his frustration and desperation clear.
Velor's response was a subtle smirk, unfettered by his title's constraints or others' expectations. Yet beneath his defiance lay complexity, depth few understood. A man caught between nobility's obligations and the call of freedom.
"Why must I endure this ceremony each azure night?" Velor questioned, reaching for an amber liquor bottle.
"We cannot persist in this folly night after night. I've warned you repeatedly, yet you forget, inviting the duke's wrath upon me," Marcus lamented, anxious.
"But why must I remain cooped up until nightfall? Even my father mingles freely. The moon has yet to reach its peak. I've asked incessantly with no answer," Velor sighed, glancing towards the faint music.
As Velor's gaze lingered on the beckoning door, Marcus hesitated, his resolve faltering before Velor's defiance. The tavern seemed to hold its breath, anticipating their clash of wills.
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"You must understand," Marcus began, resigned. "The azure night upholds sacred traditions tying our land to ancient rites..."
Velor's expression softened with understanding. "I see now, Marcus. Forgive my defiance, I did not grasp this night's significance. I'll heed the decree and honour tradition, as is my duty." He paused. "But can I have this one night out? I'm not inclined to return yet. Father may confine me to prevent me leaving again."
Marcus sighed. "Why must you disobey every time? I know you'll defy the Duke regardless." Yet he allowed Velor his way. Velor briefly embraced his servant - his close companion.
As their talk ended, Velor hurried out urgently, like a parched man finding an oasis. He seized a liquor bottle, pouring the ruby liquid in a shimmering cascade in the moonlight. Taking a fortifying sip, he felt a fleeting respite from his earlier tension. Each sip drew him deeper into the liquor's intoxicating warmth. Oblivious to time's passage, he wandered the village streets aimlessly, footsteps guided by restless wanderlust. As he meandered, Velor found solace with the village elders, their weathered faces lit by lantern light. He listened intently to their tales of days past, finding comfort in their timeless wisdom. But simple pleasures also beckoned him - a puppy's wagging tail, a friendly pat on the head. In these fleeting moments, he found peace amidst his restless soul.
Unbeknownst to Velor, the azure night had fallen, its spellbinding aura surrounding the village as revelry grew with the celebration. Gazing skyward, he beheld the radiant moon adorning the deep blue canvas, captivating his eyes.
As he wandered, his path led to the village pond beside the woods. There he caught sight of his reflection, his fair complexion now flushed crimson like his fiery hair. Chuckling softly, he settled on the soft grass, bottle in hand, indulging until it was drained. Heavy-lidded from the night's intoxicating embrace, Velor began succumbing to sleep. Yet as he teetered on the brink, an unsettling rustling came from the woods - a cacophony of peculiar sounds and movement. Though initially unbothered, Velor's senses jolted as he felt an inexplicable presence. Opening his alcohol-blurred eyes, he beheld a figure - neither man nor beast, but otherworldly. With a chilling smirk, grey eyes like the misty moon, it seized Velor in an icy grip. Before he could protest, sharp fangs pierced his neck, a shiver unlike anything he'd felt coursing through him. As his lifeblood drained, Velor's consciousness wavered, perception fading like a dying flame's flicker. When clarity returned, the figure had transformed, a visage of vitality replacing its former pallor.
In that moment, Velor understood the ancient truth before him. The creature was no mere animal, but a being of darkness and legend - a vampire.