A month has passed.

Thirty exact days since that dark night when I signed my name with blood and fear running through my veins. And yet, it all felt like some kind of dream—a strange and unsettling dream, as if my mind had invented it to escape a reality far more monotonous than I’d like to admit. But every time I touched the small cut on my finger, now healed, I remembered that it wasn’t a dream… it wasn’t a nightmare… it was simply the harsh reality of my situation.

I signed a contract with a vampire… with a creature that feeds on blood… and tonight, the full moon forces me to return to that dark and gloomy castle for what she called: “The Offering.”

I didn’t tell anyone. After all… how could I?

Hi, Dad, remember that creepy forest near town you told me never to go into? Well, guess what—I went, got lost, fell like fifty times at least, found a haunted castle, the kind that’s super creepy and full of cobwebs, and now I have to go every month so an immortal woman with white hair and red eyes can drink my blood for free.

Yeah. Right. Immediate hospitalization. No questions asked. No return.
Or at the very least an exorcism with the priest from the local church.

So I had no option but to lie… I’m not proud of it, I honestly hate lying to my father’s face. I said I needed to study, that I wanted to spend the night out to clear my mind. I packed a change of clothes, a flashlight, the wrinkled map that was completely useless but somehow comforting, and some food I probably wouldn’t even touch.

The forest greeted me with a strange… suspicious stillness. No birds. No breeze. Only the crunch of my steps and my heartbeat speeding up. This time, I didn’t get lost. It was as if something… or someone was guiding me. A distant call, soft, buried deep in my chest.

And when I reached the castle, I realized something…

She was waiting for me.

The great iron doors were wide open, like the hungry jaws of a wolf… or something far worse. I crossed the threshold without hesitation. The inside hadn’t changed: endless columns, dense darkness, the same air frozen in time as the last time. But there was one difference. A dim, reddish light flickered at the end of the hallway, casting eerie shadows.

I hesitated, but let it guide me deeper into the ancient construction.

I entered a large vaulted room, its walls decorated with worn tapestries and a fireplace burning with a fire I didn’t remember seeing before. In front of the flames, on an old-looking armchair, sat her.

Velmira.

Her silver hair flowed like a waterfall, just like last time, but this time she wore a simpler black robe—no adornments, yet elegant all the same. She sat still, simply watching the flames in silence. She glanced at me from the corner of her eye, without changing her expression or greeting me.

“You came.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

“I promised,” I said, shrugging as I closed the door behind me.

She gestured toward a nearby table. On it lay a clean white cloth embroidered with gold, a carved crystal goblet with elegant details, and a small wooden case. I approached, trying not to show how badly my hands were trembling.

“What do I have to do?” I asked.

“Sit. Don’t move. And above all: don’t scream. My ears are more sensitive than you think, and I’m prone to migraines…” She looked straight into my eyes. “Trust me… you don’t want to see me in a bad mood.”

The chill in her voice cut through me like a blade—it wasn’t a simple warning. It was a threat. One to not make loud noises that could bother her.

I sat in the chair beside the table, taking a deep breath. Velmira stood with almost ethereal grace and approached me. Each of her steps was a whisper of the past, hollow against the old wooden floor. Each glance felt like an invisible weight pressing on my shoulders.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, unsure whether I meant to ask her or myself.

She tilted her head with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes—one that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Only if you’re afraid.”

I caught a glimpse of her fangs in that faint smile. She opened the wooden case and revealed a thin dagger of dark silver. It wasn’t ceremonial. It was sharp. It glimmered faintly under the firelight.

“I don’t use fangs,” she explained, noticing my surprise and confusion. “This way it’s less… personal.”

I nodded. A bit disappointed, though I didn’t know why.

She leaned toward me. Her breath was cold, lifeless, yet not unpleasant. She lifted my arm gently and rolled up the sleeve of my olive-green jacket so it wouldn’t get in the way. Her fingers were freezing, but her touch… was almost tender. As if she were afraid to break me.

“Relax,” she said when she felt how tense I was. Then added, “Otherwise it will hurt more than necessary.”

I closed my eyes and took a breath, easing my muscles. I felt the cold blade against my skin. And a moment later, a thin line of fire sliced across my forearm. It wasn’t deep—just enough for the blood to start flowing slowly. It still burned though, and I bit my tongue not to yelp.

Velmira held the goblet beneath the wound, keeping my arm steady so the blood wouldn’t spill elsewhere. The sound of the droplets hitting the crystal was the most intimate thing I had ever heard. She didn’t look away even once. She watched my blood with great focus, as though reading a secret in every drop that fell.

“Your blood is… quite warm,” she murmured. “More than I expected.”

“And what does that mean, exactly?” I asked.

“Nothing. Or everything.”
Simple words, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Once the goblet was half full, she pressed a gauze over the cut, stopping the bleeding. Her hands remained cold, but her expression had softened—even if only slightly.

She took the goblet. She didn’t toast, didn’t say anything solemn. She simply lifted it to her lips and drank slowly.

I watched her. I swear, I tried to look away. But in that moment I couldn’t.

Velmira was beautiful—she always had been. But now… there was something more. Something between vulnerability and ecstasy… Was it the blood? She closed her eyes at the first sip, and the faintest blush—a blush—rose to her pale cheeks, giving her a hint of color. As if for a moment, she stopped being a creature of the abyss and became… human.

When she finished, she lowered the goblet slowly. She looked at me, and for the first time, there was no distance between us.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

I blinked, startled.

“You’re asking me?”

She nodded seriously.

“Your pulse is stable. You didn’t lose too much. But it’s unusual for someone so young to stay calm during their first offering.”

“It’s not like I had a choice, right?”

“You could have run. Many do… or try to. Then I find them. Or not.”
She paused, tilting her head. “But you came back willingly.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“I don’t know if it intrigues me… or annoys me… maybe both.”

She walked back toward the fire, setting the goblet down with elegant ease. She stood with her back to me, staring into the flames.

I wrapped the bandage around my arm and stayed quiet for a while. The room felt strangely calm, as if it refused to breathe without her permission.

“How many times have you done this?” I finally asked.

“Thousands,” she replied without hesitation.

“And always like this?”

She didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her voice was low.

“No. Almost never like this.”

I tilted my head, confused. “Like this how?”

“With conversation.”
She turned slightly, giving a faint smirk.
“With fire. With someone who looks me in the eyes without crying, shaking, or begging.”

I stood slowly. A small wave of dizziness hit me, but nothing serious. I walked toward her, not knowing why.

“Does it bother you that I look at you?”

“No. It just… unsettles me.”

We faced each other. I could almost hear the slow rhythm of her un-beating heart—if she still had one. Her eyes, no longer as bright, seemed to search for something even she didn’t understand.

“Why did you spare me that night?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you never spare people?”

“No.”

“Then… why me?”

Silence.

“Maybe…” she whispered, “because you reminded me that I can still doubt.”

With that, she turned away again.

“You may stay until dawn. It isn’t safe to walk at night.”

“Because of wolves?” I asked.

“No… because of worse things.”

I settled onto a nearby divan without asking more. Exhaustion washed over me—the fire, the blood loss, the journey… everything blurred together, making my eyelids heavy.

Before I fell asleep, I looked at her one last time.

Velmira, standing by the flames, the light dancing across her hair. An immortal creature who spoke as though she’d forgotten how to feel.

And yet… that night, after barely knowing her for a month, I sensed something had changed in her… something had returned…

Maybe, just maybe… she wasn’t as alone as she appeared.