The sky bled crimson over the Vaelthorne estate as twilight descended, the air heavy with the scent of old magic. Deep within the stone halls of the eastern tower, Alaric stood motionless in the center of his chamber. His eyes burned with eerie intensity—icy blue, but streaked now with a flicker of ancient gold. His hands trembled as waves of unexplainable memories surged violently through his mind.
He could no longer contain them.
The pain began at the base of his skull and pulsed through his chest like a second heartbeat. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the cold marble floor. The world around him dimmed, and the past—his true past—came flooding back.
---
Flashback: 10,000 Years Ago — Ravenshade
The world was younger then, lush and wild. Castles made of dark stone towered like gods over dense forests. In the cursed heart of one such castle, a man named Duke Dracon had descended into madness.
Obsessed with cheating death, Dracon carved through ancient knowledge and forbidden rites. The day his wife—Lady Evienne—died in childbirth, something in him shattered. In desperation, he summoned the witches and elves, offering gold, blood, anything, to bind his soul to eternity.
He succeeded.
Dracon became the first vampire—immortal, inhuman, a monster veiled in man's skin.
But it wasn't enough.
He turned to his children—Alaric, Serene, and Victor. They were young and pure then. He did not ask for consent. He forced his blood into their veins, killing them… then resurrecting them as something greater—and more terrible.
They awoke, not just as vampires… but as anomalies. Originals. Their blood was potent, older than anything in existence. They couldn't walk under the sun. Their thirst for blood was unquenchable. Their power, unchecked. But unlike their father, they had humanity still lingering in their souls.
Horrified by what they'd become—and what their father had become—they allied with the Elves and orchestrated his downfall.
It was Alaric's blade that took Dracon's head.
---
Flashback Continues: The Curse of Love
In time, peace found them. The siblings ruled over Ravenshade in harmony, feeding only on animals, cultivating their powers in solitude.
Then, Alaric met Karena Carello, the royal witch of the moonborn coven. Her laughter brought light to his eternity. They were meant to be enemies—but she loved him. And he, her.
Karena was, by fate and politics, promised to Victor to preserve supernatural balance.
But Alaric broke every vow and duty when he stole her away.
They ran. Hid. Loved. And in time, had twins.
Years passed before he returned, begging forgiveness from his siblings with Karena and their children by his side.
But Victor and Serene saw betrayal. The moment they stepped foot in the vineyard of Ravenshade, the blades were drawn. Alaric was struck down. Karena's scream shook the earth. Before she fell, she cast a powerful incantation:
"Our souls will find each other again—not in this life, but the next. I'll wait for you, beloved. Across lifetimes."
Then she and the twins fell, the vines running red with royal blood.
From that blood, the ancient curse of twins was born: in every vampire generation thereafter, if twins are born, the stronger will die on their eighteenth birthday.
---
Present Day: Vaelthorne Estate
Alaric jolted from the memory with a strangled cry. The truth of his soul—his legacy—ripped through him like a sword.
He was Alaric Vellaria Vaelthorne, son of Anathra and Lord Vaelthorne.
But also—he was Alaric, the Original, the ancestor, the elder vampire thought lost to time.
He had known it since birth. But now… the full awakening had begun.
His veins burned. He could no longer hide the power surging inside him. His nails sharpened into claws, fangs lengthening.
The blood of an ancient returned.
---
From beyond the door, a soft knock echoed. "Alaric…are you okay?," Seraphine's voice came, muffled with worry.
He said nothing.
He couldn't.
He would hurt her again. He knew it.
---
That night, while everyone slept, Alaric stood alone on the northern balcony. His aura rippled with silver and violet—a mark of ancient bloodline magic. His eyes glowed in the moonlight.
Then, like a whisper of fate, a voice echoed through the air.
"Now that you have been awaken fully. What will I call you."
A figure emerged from the shadows—Caveen smiled,
Alaric didn't flinch.
"Still alaric, my descendant" Alaric replied, and he thinks of Seraphine. Caveen only knows his true nature.
Caveen's gaze softened ever so slightly. "You found her, didn't you… Karena's soul in Seraphine."
Alaric closed his eyes. "She has no memory of me. But I will protect her. Even if the world burns."
Caveen nodded," But as you awaken, the reincarnation of Victor will came if he sense it. My ancestors buried down his body and soul through the elves but he instructed them that when the time will come that you and Karena will be reincarnated, he will came and look for you, maybe to end the conflicts of you two"
"Not to end the conflict but to reclaim what is rightfully his, Karena." Alaric slowly look outside.
Next day.
Seraphine stepped into the room hesitantly, her footsteps light, cautious. She wasn't sure what she expected.
But there he was.
Alaric.
Sitting at the far end of the table, dressed in a deep midnight-blue shirt, his silver-streaked hair catching the light. He looked… alive. Not just in the literal sense, but truly present. His back was straight, one hand casually resting near a porcelain teacup, the other slicing neatly into a plate of eggs and fruit. There were even faint shadows under his eyes—proof of recovery. Of struggle. Of humanness.
Seraphine froze at the entrance, heart fluttering like a bird trapped in her chest.
"Alaric," she whispered, barely audible.
He looked up.
The moment their eyes met, his fork stilled.
A flicker of something unspoken passed between them—grief, regret, gratitude… and more.
He stood slowly, chair scraping quietly on the marble floor.
"You're up early," he said softly, the corner of his mouth curling.
Tears welled in Seraphine's eyes before she could stop them. She crossed the room in quick steps and threw her arms around him without warning.
Alaric staggered slightly, surprised—but he caught her. Held her. Let his chin rest atop her hair.
"I thought I lost you again," she mumbled into his chest.
He exhaled shakily. "You nearly did."
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes wet but smiling. "You're here now. You're awake… and you're eating breakfast. Do you know how long I waited just to see you do that again?"
He chuckled—a deep, quiet sound that rumbled in his chest. "It's just toast and eggs."
"It's everything," she replied.
And there they sat—side by side as the sun rose higher, the scent of breakfast filling the space between them like a promise.