The darkness is your kingdom, the light is your salvation, Alba.

“Damn, I must’ve dozed off… Ugh, my head is spinning,” I muttered, my voice echoing off the damp walls.

A thin thread of moonlight seeped through the cracks in the well’s cover, piercing the darkness with a blinding brightness.

“Hello? Is anyone up there? Anyone… or anything?” I called out, my voice slightly trembling. I shifted to stand but winced as I felt intense pain spreading through my ankle. “Great… twisted it,” I muttered bitterly.

The icy water lapping at my legs amplified the isolation, its chill biting into my skin. I hope that there weren’t any creatures lurking in the depths, waiting to feed. The thought made me laugh dryly... wasn’t my situation miserable enough already?

“Was I possessed? I lost control of my body all of a sudden.” My voice cracked. “Why is everyone against me?”

If I think it through again, my cursed existence is to blame. Everyone who stayed too close eventually paid the price. Some died. The luckier ones left me behind.

“Funny, isn’t it?” I chuckled hollowly. “No one’s been brave enough to just end it! Hahaha.”

Optimism was never my strength. Yet, I spent my life cheering others on, urging them to face their fears, to keep going. I wondered now what that made me. A hypocrite? Or something worse? Maybe I was a ruthless predator, weaving my cursed web and trapping them in it.

“What a mess!” I sighed. “I wonder who is going to be the unlucky soul to uncover this well.”

As I tried to sleep, hoping to quiet my overactive mind, I heard someone singing in a beautiful voice.

“Faen alor en felora, surdan ieth un falen,

Myrith the aira, renar thor felathen.”

I didn’t understand a word, but his voice was soothing and the words enchanting. It might be their local language.

“Hello? Is anyone up there? I am stuck here, for I don’t know how long… Can you help me out?”

Faen alor en felora, surdan ieth un falen,

Myrith the aira, renar thor felathen.

He repeated the same lines, with the same tone, as if he hadn’t heard me.

“Hello?” I shouted with all my might. “Can you hear me?” I said, trying desperately to stand.

Faen alor en felora, surdan ieth un falen,

Myrith the aira, renar thor felathen.

Still, the same answer.

As I tried to reach for a stone not far from me, my foot faltered, and I slipped, my palm crashing against the rough surface. A sharp sting shot through my hand as it sliced open, blood welling up.

“Ugh!” I cried out in pain.

Blood spread through the water, staining it a dark crimson, swirling like ink in the current. The smell was growing stronger by the minute, making me dizzy.

Faen alor en felora, surdan ieth un falen,

Myrith the …

Suddenly, I noticed a figure peering through the cracks of the well’s cover. I couldn’t fully depict his appearance, but his crimson eyes were all I could see.

In an instant, he shoved the well cover aside with one effortless motion.

He tossed a rope down, his voice low and foreign as he sang, “Tira alor tuwa, faerith ke lotha.”

I didn’t understand a word, but the rope felt like my only chance. I tied it around my waist mechanically, not sparing a second thought, knowing it was my way out.

He pulled me up with ease, as if I weighed no more than a feather.

“Thank you! Without you, I would have been stuck here forever.” I exclaimed, breathless.

But his expression remained unreadable, his eyes locked on my hand as though I were an unfamiliar creature.

In one swift movement, he grabbed my wrist and licked the blood from my hand.

“The hell!” I shouted, pushing him away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He didn’t flinch, his gaze still fixed on my hand, as if I were no longer even there.

I tried to stand, but my legs betrayed me, leaving me weak and unbalanced. The man leapt onto me with startling speed, pinning me to the ground. He bit into my hand, and I felt the cold sting of his teeth as he drank my blood.

Despite my shock, a strange thought crossed my mind: Is this what it’s like for them? I had always read about vampires as tragic beings, cursed by their bloodthirsty nature, unable to escape the cycle of feeding or dying.

In the stories, they were often oppressed, battling their own instinct to survive. But in front of me, this one seemed to embody that very curse with no remorse. His eyes glinted crimson as he continued to drink, his grip on my waist unyielding.

Suddenly, he halted. His grip loosened, and he crumbled to the ground.

With the last of my strength, I shoved him away. To my horror, blood pooled around his eyes, and dark foam bubbled at his mouth. His skin turned an unnatural shade of blue, his lips a sickly violet. It was as though the very life was draining from him. Before I could react, his body began to disintegrate, turning into dust, drifted away in the air.

“Wow, you’re luckier than I thought, young miss!” a voice chimed.

A tall young man emerged from behind the bushes, his unkempt blond hair falling messily over his forehead. His clothes, torn and smeared with dirt, gave him a rugged appearance. Despite his disheveled state, there was a certain grace in his movement. I felt a fleeting sense of relief when I realized he spoke because a language I understood. But somehow, my words failed to come out.

“Something tells me that you’ll be able to escape this misery all on your own. What do you think?” he asked, his tone light with amusement.

I glanced down at the palm of my hand, feeling a sudden urge to scratch. To my surprise the wound was gone.

“Huh?” I muttered, confused.

“Hahaha!” he laughed. “You don’t know anything about yourself, do you?”

“I presume you know my life story perfectly?” I said, my voice laced with exhaustion.

He knelt beside me, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, revealing the insignia on my neck. His eyes, a translucent gray, shimmered like mist on a cold morning.

“Oh yeah I do… Lady Alba.” he said, his voice carrying an unsettling certainty.