In Randall Gorge, located within the bounds of York, England, the sun was a rare visitor, and the skies remained overcast throughout the year.
Not that this bothered its inhabitants—they had little fondness for the sun. After all, the residents of Randall Gorge were vampires who preferred the shadows, wetlands, and marshes.
On this particular day, a graceful and elegantly dressed lady arrived in Randall Gorge by car. As the vehicle approached the border of the area, she ordered her driver to stop. "Park here. I'll walk the rest of the way myself."
The driver slowed the car hesitantly, then pleaded submissively, "But, Countess Constantine, the Count specifically instructed me to…"
The Countess waved him off coldly. "Tell him I know what I'm doing."
With that, she gathered her skirts and stepped out of the car, striding toward the misty depths of the gorge. Her fiery figure quickly disappeared into the shadows.
The driver, recalling the Count's repeated orders to ensure the Countess's safety, found himself unable to ignore his duty. Though the eerie surroundings made him uneasy, he got out of the car and hurried after her. He couldn't let this noblewoman face danger alone!
The moment he stepped into Randall Gorge, it felt as though the sunlight had vanished from the world. Everything became sinister and dark.
A damp chill seeped into his clothing, making him shiver in his summer attire.
Looking up, he was shocked to see a crescent moon hanging in the sky.
"How is this possible? It was just afternoon when we arrived…" he murmured.
Before he could finish, a rustling sound startled him. A swarm of bats burst from a nearby dead tree, their wings slicing through the darkness as they flew past, leaving the driver screaming in fright.
Soaked in filthy mud, Dawson sat on the ground, trembling. "This place is cursed," he muttered miserably.
As he ventured further, the scenery grew increasingly bizarre.
There were no flowers on the ground, only rotting, poisonous weeds. The blackened, withered tree trunks appeared as though a fire had once ravaged the forest. Yet, no healthy, living trees could be seen.
No streetlights lined the path, but countless half-destroyed tombstones were scattered about. To his horror, faint white light seemed to emanate from them.
He even noticed a massive pitcher plant, swaying and emitting an eerie chuckle.
Dawson's nerves were on edge as he walked for twenty minutes. He came upon a statue casually placed at the roadside.
The statue, carved from jet-black stone, depicted a werewolf's upper body, its fangs and claws bared menacingly. The craftsmanship was so lifelike it seemed the creature might spring to life at any moment.
At the base of the statue, a Gothic inscription read:
"Dear lost traveler, this land belongs to the great progenitors of vampires, the eternal nobles of blood, the shadow elves, and the kings of the dark knights—the Von Draugr Clan. If you come seeking immortality and the unending night, present your offerings here and await the decay of eternity. But if you are a foolish trespasser, know that entering this territory seals your fate: death."
Terrified, Dawson screamed, "V-vampires!" His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground.
He could hardly believe that the graceful and beautiful Countess Constantine, a shining star of high society, would venture into vampire territory!
Just then, footsteps echoed. The Countess emerged from the thick fog.
Her cold, detached gaze fell upon the driver. "Dawson, were you following me?" she asked softly.
Dawson was utterly petrified. He hated this cursed place. If he'd ever doubted the existence of vampires before, he was now a firm believer. Only such malevolent creatures could make their home so horrifying.
Tears streaming, he stammered, "The Count ordered me to protect you, but… Oh, God! Madam, do you intend to sell your soul to such monsters? God blessed you with such beauty and nobility, and yet you're willing to forsake them for this so-called immortality…"
The Countess spoke quietly, "Dawson, you are not me, nor are you a woman. You're merely a driver hired by my husband, and you have no right to judge my choices. Besides, you don't understand the terror a woman feels when faced with the prospect of her beauty fading away. Perhaps the more beautiful a woman is, the more she fears it..."
Before she could finish, a sound broke the stillness of the air.
Under the pale crescent moon, a raven flew toward them from the distance.
It was larger than any ordinary raven, with a wingspan close to a meter. Its feathers shone black with hints of blue at the edges, and its eyes gleamed with a ruby-red brilliance.
The Countess visibly trembled, gasping softly, "Oh, my Lord!"
Dawson couldn't believe his ears! This Countess, whose status was among the most esteemed—so much so that even the modern British royal family wouldn't dare slight her—had addressed a raven as her master?
But Dawson was about to find out why.
As the raven swooped to the ground, its body became shrouded in mist. Moments later, from within the fog emerged not a bird but a boy.
He appeared to be around eleven or twelve years old, with a pale complexion that seemed cold to the touch. His long black hair partially obscured his right eye, while his left eye gleamed with a striking red hue. He wore a high-collared, vintage suit with a black cape draped over his shoulders, and a pristine white cravat was tied neatly at his chest.
The boy's appearance was so breathtakingly handsome that it captured one's gaze effortlessly.
Despite his youth, he exuded an alluring charm that could captivate anyone, regardless of gender. Even Dawson, terrified as he was, couldn't help but observe him.
The boy smirked faintly, casting a dismissive glance at Dawson, who was still sprawled on the ground. He let out a soft snort before turning his attention to the Countess. His gaze swept over her like an appraiser examining a prized item.
Yet the Countess didn't perceive his scrutiny as demeaning. On the contrary, she regarded it as a form of praise and admiration. Straightening her posture, she lifted her chest slightly, striving to present herself with the utmost grace and elegance.
The boy observed her for a moment longer before speaking in a soft voice, "Eloise Constantine? Hmm… A fine woman indeed. My name is Nolan Von Draugr. As you are likely aware, I am a direct descendant of the progenitors of the Von Draugr Clan."
With that, he turned away from the Countess, who was trembling with excitement as though she were in the presence of an idol. His gaze now fell on Dawson, who was still seated helplessly on the ground.
Nolan parted his lips, revealing slender, razor-sharp fangs. "And, as you might have guessed… I am a vampire."
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A vampire!
He really was a vampire!
Dawson's mind screamed in alarm.
He dared not underestimate this being simply because it appeared to be in its juvenile stage. Vampires were extraordinary creatures imbued with mysterious powers. Even those newly born, with abilities not yet fully developed, were far beyond what an ordinary human like him could contend with!
Stammering, he managed to choke out, "Oh… oh, Lord Vampire, it's truly an honor to meet you…"
Nolan retracted his fangs, tilting his head slightly as a cherubic smile spread across his face. "But I don't feel like your reaction reflects much honor. In fact, I'd say… maybe a bit of fear?"
Dawson was already paralyzed with terror, trembling uncontrollably as he desperately thought about escaping from the fearsome vampire before him.
Forget the Count, forget the Countess—damn them all! No amount of money or rewards was worth more than his own life!
Just as Dawson prepared to flee, a sleek black cat leapt gracefully from the underbrush.
The black cat's violet eyes glimmered coldly as it opened its mouth. To Dawson's shock, a girl's voice, as clear and melodious as a silver bell, rang out: "Foolish human, ignoring my warnings and trespassing on the lands of Von Draugr. You are guilty! The verdict: death!"
With those words, the black cat transformed into an amorphous, inky substance. In the next instant, it morphed into a monstrous black maw, its gaping jaws snapping shut as it lunged at Dawson, who was frozen in horror.
Crunch!
Blood splattered everywhere.
Dawson's lifeless corpse, now reduced to a pair of legs, collapsed to the ground. The black mass that had devoured his upper body reverted back into the form of the black cat. Stretching lazily, it sauntered elegantly over to Nolan, brushing its whiskered face affectionately against the vampire's trousers.
Nolan cast a cold glance at the mangled remains, then shifted his gaze to the Countess, who was struggling to suppress her discomfort. He bent down to pick up the black cat, cradling it in his arms as he gently stroked its fur.
"Miss Nancy," Nolan asked coolly, "what exactly did you warn him about?"
The cat purred contentedly in Nolan's embrace, replying in a soft voice, "When I saw that fool trespassing, I shook the dead trees, summoned bats, and tickled the pitcher plant to frighten him. But that idiot was utterly ungrateful and simply barged ahead… Humans always die from ignorance and misplaced bravery. It's been that way for centuries."
Nolan sighed, his tone laced with indifference. "Such pointless bravery and motives. Now our courtyard is dirty again… Miss Theresa, clean it up."
At his words, a girl dressed in a maid's uniform materialized from the mist. She performed a flawless curtsy and said, "As you wish, Your Highness."
Nolan nodded slightly. "Good. Just make it clean. Blood might be a tribute, but once it's spilled on the ground, it's nothing but trash… Speaking of which, quite a few humans have wandered in over the years. Perhaps it's time to find a proper gatekeeper. A three-headed hound might do the trick, or maybe I'll capture a juvenile werewolf from the Coldclaw Clan."
With that, Nolan began to stride toward the dense fog ahead, his steps leisurely yet precise.
"Countess," he called back, "follow me. Though I am a vampire, I understand the importance of courtesy. This courtyard, dirtied by your servant, is hardly a suitable place for conversation."
Countess Constantine followed Nolan with a mixture of excitement and trepidation as they stepped onto the gravel path.
As they walked further, the barren, gnarled trees began to thin, replaced by scattered ruins of buildings. There were half-collapsed churches, charred castles, and remnants of humble cottages. It was clear that this area had once been a village, though now it lay in ruins for reasons unknown.
Throughout the village, gravestones were scattered here and there. As they advanced, the gravestones became more densely packed, until finally, a vast graveyard unfolded before them. Mist swirled above the tombstones, bats flitted in large numbers, and the faint sound of distant wolf howls echoed in the air.
Nolan absently stroked the black cat in his arms as he spoke, "There used to be a town here. Perhaps a thousand years ago? Or maybe five hundred? Who knows? Back then, I hadn't been born yet. Hey, Miss Nancy, do you know?"
The black cat twisted lazily, her mouth parting to emit a girl's voice: "How could I possibly know? Do I look like some old hag to you?"
"Hahaha, Miss Nancy, you're still just a young lady. My apologies." Nolan chuckled. "But from what I've heard, this town's residents were once slaves of the Von Draugr family. Later, during the witch hunts, the town was set ablaze, and most of the people perished. A few were turned into undead kin by my ancestors and are still around. If you're interested, perhaps you could speak with these antiques someday. Not that I care—these lowly, base-born vampires don't interest me at all."
Nolan's tone was casual, and occasionally, he would share such snippets with Countess Constantine. Despite his nonchalant demeanor, his soft expressions and relaxed attitude made him seem approachable—perhaps even friendly.
However, Countess Constantine hadn't forgotten her purpose.
She had come here to become a vampire, which meant—to her understanding—becoming a servant of the Von Draugr family.
Click. Nolan's silver-trimmed boots struck the stone pathway with a crisp sound, snapping the Countess out of her thoughts. She stopped in her tracks, lifting her head in awe.
Before her loomed a massive Gothic castle, its black silhouette rising like a dark beast from the shadows.
"Welcome back, Your Highness."
With a creak, the iron gate swung open. Emerging to greet them was none other than Miss Theresa, the maid who had earlier disposed of Dawson's body. She respectfully took Nolan's belongings and gently picked up Miss Nancy from his arms.
Miss Nancy protested loudly, "Hey! Be gentle! My fur is delicate, you brainless muscle-headed maid!"
Nolan burst into laughter, handing his cloak to the maid while teasing, "Miss Nancy's temper has been especially foul lately. Are you in heat, perhaps?"
The maid walked ahead, Nolan followed, and Countess Constantine trailed behind like an attendant. She didn't feel out of place.
In the eyes of vampires, human social hierarchies were laughable. Even a king or prime minister would be nothing more than a humble servant to them.
The interior of the castle was decorated in deep red and black hues. Priceless oil paintings adorned the walls, and magical chandeliers filled with eternally burning candles illuminated the grand halls.
Although Countess Constantine was wealthy by human standards, her fortune seemed garishly mundane compared to the timeless elegance of the vampires.
Click, click, click—
The sound of light footsteps echoed through the hallway. Soon, a girl of sixteen or seventeen appeared before them, dressed in a lavish, blood-red noble gown.
"Oh, Nolan, my dear brother!" she exclaimed with mock regret. "I'm sorry I couldn't join you this time, but I heard you did splendidly. Was the maiden hunt an enjoyable game?"
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