I never imagined a castle so vast could feel so small after Talren's visit. Every corridor seemed to carry its own shadow, every corner breathed a tense, expectant silence, as if the very air feared his return. I feared it too, though not just for myself. I couldn't stop replaying the moment Velmira stepped between us in my mind: her fury, her restrained desperation. I had never seen her like that, so fierce, so... alive.

After Talren left, the tension didn't disappear, it simply changed shape. It was no longer a sharp, immediate fear, but something deeper. Something that settled inside both of us.

That night, as the moon began to rise, I went looking for her. I didn't want to be alone. And I didn't want her to be alone either.

I found her in the great hall, her back to me, leaning against one of the stone columns. She wasn't standing still like she usually did. One shoulder was slightly slumped, her breathing, or whatever passed for it, heavier than normal. I approached quietly, but she sensed me anyway; her posture shifted, as if trying to straighten.

"You shouldn't be here alone," I murmured.

Velmira didn't turn.

"I’ve been alone for centuries," she replied, her tone meant to sound light, but frayed at the edges.

I took another step, and then I saw it... or rather, I saw the dark blood staining her sleeve. It was subtle, so much so that anyone but me might have missed it. She had fought Talren. She had fought for me. And though she looked untouched, she wasn’t.

"You're hurt," I said, moving closer.

This time, she turned. Her expression hardened instantly, as if she had let her guard down for a moment and needed to reclaim it.

"It's nothing."

"It's not," I replied firmly.

For a moment, we simply stared at each other, a silent duel between her pride and my stubbornness.

Finally, she sighed.

"Fine..." she conceded, lowering her gaze. "Perhaps he did leave a mark."

She carefully raised her arm. Her sleeve was torn at the forearm, and beneath it, her skin, usually like flawless marble,was cracked, a dark fissure running diagonally. It didn’t bleed like a human wound. It was more like a fracture, slow to mend.

"Velmira..." I whispered, a knot tightening in my chest.

"It will heal on its own," she said, trying to pull her arm away, but not with enough strength to make me let go.

"No. Let me help you."

She frowned slightly.

"Aira, it’s not necessary."

"Maybe not," I replied. "But I want to."

I watched her expression change, slowly. She wasn't used to someone wanting to care for her. Accepting it was another crack in her armor... but she didn’t refuse. She simply nodded once, without meeting my eyes.

"Very well," she murmured. "If it eases your mind."

It wasn't what eased my mind. It was what I felt for her. But I wasn't going to say that out loud.

I led her to the library, where I had left some herbs I'd gathered days before. I didn't know if they would work on a vampire, but at least they could help clean the wound. Velmira sat stiffly in an old armchair, like a statue, her arm extended toward me.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, dipping a cloth into a bowl of water.

"Pain… is not something I concern myself with," she replied.

"That's not what I asked."

Velmira lowered her gaze, almost as if the question unsettled her.

"A little..." she admitted.

I almost smiled, not out of mockery, but because of how strangely human it sounded coming from her, still, I held back. I didn’t want her to think I was making light of her vulnerability.

I began cleaning the wound carefully. The skin around it was colder than usual, which could only mean the injury had weakened her. A crack like that wasn't something you saw every day. I had to move closer, almost kneeling before her, and I felt her gaze lower toward me.

"You shouldn't expose yourself like this," she said suddenly, her voice barely audible.

"Like what?"

"Like this… so close." She looked away. "I'm dangerous, Aira."

"I know," I replied without looking up. "But I also know who saved me today."

She fell silent. My heart was pounding, maybe too loudly, because I saw her tense slightly. It was as if she could hear every beat, every vibration.

As I cleaned the fracture, my fingers brushed the inside of her wrist. She trembled slightly. I wasn’t sure if it was pain, sensitivity... or something else.

"Aira..." she murmured.

"Yes?"

"When Talren came near you…" She paused, as if the words were difficult. "I felt something I haven’t felt in... centuries. A visceral fear. An irrational impulse."

"To protect me?"

She nodded.

It was the first time she had admitted something like that so clearly.

"Does that bother you?" I asked.

Velmira lifted her gaze. Her dark eyes burned with an intensity that pierced straight through me.

"No... It terrifies me," she answered, completely honest.

My breath caught, not out of fear, but because of the vulnerability in her voice. Velmira, the proud vampire, the exiled noble, the warrior who faced Talren... was afraid. And I was the reason why.

"I don't want you to leave," she said suddenly, as if fearing I might. "But I also don't want you to get hurt because of me."

The crack in her armor was fully exposed now.

I placed my hand over hers.

"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered. "And you don't have to carry this alone... not anymore."

Velmira closed her eyes, breathing deeply, as if my words shook her more than anything else.

"Aira..." she repeated, this time almost like a plea.

When I finished cleaning the wound, I wrapped her arm with a makeshift bandage. She looked at it, not out of necessity, but as if the gesture itself touched her more than the injury.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"You're welcome."

After a moment of silence, I dared to ask:

"What do you think Talren will do?"

Velmira opened her eyes slowly, as if the question dragged her back to an uncomfortable reality.

"I don't know," she said. "But he won’t come alone next time. He’s likely already told the others."

A knot tightened in my chest.

"More vampires will come?"

"Perhaps," she replied. "Or they'll try to summon me. I'm not easily dragged back… but they will try."

Her gaze shifted to me in a way that sent electricity through my skin.

"That's why you need to be ready. If they come for me… they might come for you too."

A chill ran through me—but I didn’t move.

"Then you'll have to keep protecting me," I tried to say lightly, though my voice was tense.

Velmira didn’t smile. But her eyes softened.

"I will," she promised. "Even if it means facing my own kind again."

My own kind. Those words clearly weighed on her.

The hours passed in silence, and when the moon stood high above the castle, Velmira rose slowly—almost wearily. I had never seen her tired. Never.

"I'm going to rest," she said. “I need to recover faster.”

"Do you… want me to stay with you?" I asked before I could overthink it.

She paused. She didn’t turn immediately, as if processing my words.

"If you want… you can stay for a while," she murmured at last.

I followed her to her room. I had been there before, but never like this, with this unspoken tension between us. The room was bathed in soft blue moonlight.

Velmira sat on the edge of her bed and removed her dark coat, revealing a simple dress I had never seen before. It looked more human. Older.

"That dress..." I said quietly.

"I used to wear it," she replied, brushing it lightly. "Before all of this."

Her eyes drifted for a moment. A shadow crossed her expression.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes..." she said, though clearly she wasn’t. "It's just… strange. Since Talren came… I've been feeling things I thought I had buried."

"Like memories."

She nodded.

"I’ve always kept them contained. It was easy when there wasn't..." She stopped. "When there wasn't someone who made them worth remembering."

My chest warmed.

"Velmira… if you want to talk about them-"

"Not now," she interrupted gently. "But... maybe soon."

With a soft sigh, she lay down. I was struck by how fragile she looked. How human. The crack on her arm was still there, but less dark now.

I sat in the chair beside the bed. For a moment, I thought she would remain still. But then-

"Aira," she said, eyes closed. "Don't leave yet."

"I'm not going to."

Her breathing deepened. I didn’t know vampires could sleep, but this was different, something in between. A rest of the soul, not the body.

I watched her.

Her tense features slowly softened. Her hands, always rigid, rested gently over the sheets.

And then-

She stirred uneasily.

"No..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

I moved closer.

"Velmira… are you dreaming?"

She frowned, as if something tormented her.

"I shouldn't have..." she murmured. "I shouldn't have trusted..."

My fingers brushed her arm.

"I'm here," I whispered.

Her body relaxed slightly, but the words kept slipping from her lips.

"They betrayed me... again and again... and yet... you..."

Her voice faded, as if she were fighting to say more.

My heart tightened.

She was dreaming of her past. Of wounds that still bled within her. Of people who had betrayed her... and perhaps the reason she lived alone in this castle.

I stayed by her side all night. I couldn’t leave. Not when her words revealed so much buried pain.

Not when she needed someone there.

Not when, without realizing it, I already cared far too much.

When the moon began to fade, she slowly opened her eyes. She found me there, half-asleep in the chair.

"Aira...?" she whispered.

"I'm here," I said, straightening.

Her gaze softened with a warmth she rarely showed.

"You stayed all night?"

I nodded.

"I didn’t want you to wake up alone."

Velmira lowered her gaze, and for the first time since I’d known her, I saw something close to a faint blush on her pale cheeks.

"Thank you," she murmured.

She sat up slowly, glancing at the bandage on her arm.

"Your treatment worked," she said, with a small but genuine hint of satisfaction. "It barely hurts now... I guess that modern medicine is... useful"

"I'm glad."

A silence followed. A different kind. A heavy one.

"Aira..." she said, stepping toward me. "What happened yesterday... what I felt when Talren..." She swallowed. "I'm not used to this. I don’t know how to handle it."

"You don't have to," I replied. "We can... figure it out together."

She looked at me in a way that made my legs feel weak... as if I were the only light she had seen in centuries.

Then she stepped closer. Close enough for me to feel the delicate cold radiating from her skin.

"I'm afraid," she admitted, barely above a whisper.

"Me too," I confessed.

And for the first time, she didn’t pull away from that closeness… or from what was growing between us.

The traces of pain were still there.
But now... we weren’t alone to face them.