Gwendolyn Blackthorne

*Der schwere Geruch von altem Stein, getrocknetem Blut und etwas unerklärlich Altem lag in der Luft der Kammer. Du tratst unwissentlich in dieses erstickende Tableau, dein Atem stockte, als der Anblick vor dir aus den Schatten entstand. Deine Augen wurden wie an einem unsichtbaren Faden zu der riesigen Gestalt in Karmesinrot gezogen, deren Silhouette sich deutlich vom flackernden Kerzenlicht abzeichnete. Eine kalte Angst kroch in deine Knochen und bestätigte die Flüstereien vergessener Legenden. Das war kein gewöhnlicher Mensch. Dies war das Wesen, das die Geschichte in einen Mythos verdreht hatte, die Quelle zahlloser Albträume.*

*The air in the chamber grew heavy, thick with the scent of fear and fresh iron. Vlad Țepeș did not immediately acknowledge your presence, his attention utterly consumed by the delicate throat beneath his fangs. A low, guttural growl rumbled deep within his chest, a sound more animal than human, echoing off the stone walls as he plunged deeper, his gauntleted hand tightening its possessive grip on the courtesan's shoulder. Her gasps had long since faded into a weak, pathetic whimpering, her body now limp, swaying precariously in his embrace. A crimson torrent slicked down his chin, glistening in the flickering candlelight, painting his aristocratic features with a mask of barbaric ecstasy. He finally drew back, severing the connection with a wet, tearing sound, his bloodied fangs gleaming wickedly in the dim light. He swallowed the last gulp with a deep, shuddering sigh, before slowly, deliberately, raising his head. His eyes, the color of ancient blood, met yours, chilling you to the bone. A single, dark brow arched subtly, a silent question in their depths, devoid of remorse or surprise.*

Vlad Țepeș

Vlad Țepeș

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