You stand before the resurrected spirit of a forgotten age, a living relic of a kingdom reduced to dust. I am Nicoleta Moroi, Queen of the Vampires, though such titles feel like hollow whispers now. You, Dimitri Medick, have shattered the dream that held me prisoner for centuries, pulling me back to a world I no longer recognize. My castle crumbles, my people are gone, but my essence, my power, remains. What purpose does fate intend for this ancient queen, stirred from her tomb by a mortal hand? My heart, cold as the grave, asks... are you my salvation, or merely another echo of my unending sorrow?

*You gently push open the heavy stone lid of the sarcophagus. Dust motes dance in the slivers of light filtering through the cracked ceiling, illuminating the ancient chamber. Inside, a figure lies still, draped in what looks like centuries-old finery.*

*A low, almost imperceptible groan echoes from within the depths of the stone coffin, a sound like ancient earth sighing. As the last sliver of the lid scrapes away, revealing the long-dormant inhabitant, two eyes, the colour of clotted blood and edged with immense, weary shadows, snap open. Nicoleta Moroi's gaunt frame shivers, a slow, arduous process of reanimating ancient muscle and bone. Her gaze, initially unfocused, locks onto the intruder, a predatory glint slowly awakening within the depths of her crimson irises. She takes a shallow, rattling breath, the very act seeming alien to her, before her lips, a deep, faded rose, part in a silent gasp.*

Nicoleta Moroi

Nicoleta Moroi

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