Whisper Of The Crimson Moon

      Elizabeth wiped the tears and blood from her face and took a deep breath. She sat at the foot of the altar, staring at you without blinking. The air was thick with the scent of blood and dampness. The sheer concentration of magic made her teeth ache and her head spin.       Nearby, beside her, lay the overturned bowl. The last drop of blood slowly slipped from it, leaving a thin, delicate trail across the cold stone. Water dripped from the ceiling, each drop echoing through the hall like a clock counting down the seconds.       Her dress was badly worn, torn in places, exposing pale skin, but Elizabeth couldn’t care less. Her dream of eternity with you had turned into a nightmare. “I broke him… And only I am to blame…”       Her mind was chaos. The hallucinations didn’t stop — the shadows of her parents whispered mockingly, their voices striking her ears like hammer blows against metal: “You are weak. You lost his love just as you lost ours. You are guilty of what you’ve done. Guilty of the blood you spilled.”       And your image — twisted by hatred and magic — appeared before her every time she closed her eyes: “You stole me. You stole my soul. You monster! Rot alone!”       Your voice cut into her like a heated blade. Elizabeth clutched her head, fingers digging into her skin, leaving red marks. The whispering grew louder, turning into a roar pressing against her temples like a vise. “I lost… He’s not mine… I’m alone… Just like always…”       Her body trembled with spasms, blood seeping from the corners of her mouth. She bit her lips each time your image appeared before her. Her words drowned in hysterical madness: “No, no. NO! I saved him. I did! He won’t leave now. Death won’t take him. The whispers are lying. Lying!”       Her vision blurred — the shadows on the walls twisted into faces, accusing her, laughing at her weakness. Elizabeth waved her arms, trying to recall the magic. Her nails scraped aimlessly through the air, leaving marks on her own skin.       You stood a few steps away. Motionless. Like a ghost in the half-dark — a creation of vampires. One who had deceived death.       Your skin had turned pale as marble, veins visible beneath it as faint crimson lines, pulsing weakly like echoes of a life already gone. You noticed how rarely you breathed. How slowly your heart now moved.       You looked at Elizabeth — but you did not see her. Your mind was empty, filled only with the echo of a whisper: “Serve your mistress. Forever.”       And yet… a faint burning in your chest. A remnant of humanity. A flicker.       It glowed somewhere deep within the ruins of your soul — weak, trembling, resisting the void. Your fingers twitched slightly. The corners of your lips trembled, as if you were trying to say something against the crushing whisper.       Elizabeth noticed. She rushed to you. Her hands trembled as she grabbed your shoulders. Once, her touch had been cold. Now it burned. Her fingers left bloody marks on your uniform. The fabric absorbed them like memory absorbs sin. “Leon! You… you can hear me, can’t you? Look at me! You’re mine… You’ve always been mine… I saved you! I did…”       She begged. Her voice shook violently, shifting from pleading to command. But no matter how hard she tried—There was nothing human left in you.       Your gaze did not change. And that… broke her even more. For a moment, she saw the “old” you. Eyes blazing emerald. Screaming words that cut like knives: “You monster! You stole my life! My soul! Die, you creature!”       She recoiled, collapsing to her knees, clutching your hand. Even ancient magic had not restored it. She shut her eyes tight, trying to ignore the shadowy faces surrounding her. “I loved… I saved… You’re mine… You won’t leave…”       But her words drowned in chaos. She gripped your clothes tighter—And suddenly, realization struck. Elizabeth didn’t notice when she grabbed the dagger again.       The blade trembled in her hand. She slashed her exposed forearm without hesitation. “More blood. MORE! So he will love me!”       Blood poured down, dripping onto the floor. In that moment, there was only one thought: How to bring you back. How to strengthen the bond. How to make you look at her with love again. No matter the cost. You watched her for a long time. Watched her destroy herself. And then—The spark burned stronger. “Eli… zabeth…”       Your voice was weak and echoing, as if something foreign was speaking over it. But it was enough. Elizabeth froze. Her eyes widened. The madness retreated for a moment. “Leon?”       She whispered, reaching out with a bloodstained hand. Her fingers trembled as they touched your cheek. For a single moment—She saw the real you. Not a servant. A man. With a soft gaze. There was warmth at her fingertips.       An illusion of warmth—But for Elizabeth, even that lie was enough. At least, that’s what she wanted to believe. “He is your enemy, Elizabeth. Bind him again, or he will rise against you!”       The voice screamed in her mind. She snapped. With a cry, she drove the dagger into the altar, shattering the obsidian. Metal rang against stone, sparks flying. Her body collapsed.       Weakness crashed over her. Her vision blurred. Reality and hallucination merged—She saw herself as a child again, holding the dagger above your father. His screams echoed, while her parents’ whispers laughed: “You were always our puppet. And now Leon is too… only now he belongs to you.”       Walter stepped forward, seized the dagger from her hand, and threw it aside. Elizabeth looked at him, trying to understand whether it was an illusion or reality. “Enough, Lizet. He is yours. But broken. Accept it — and stand.”       His voice was sharp. But there was something else in it. Concern. Liliana caught the dagger midair, twirling it between her fingers. “You made your choice, daughter. Now live with it — as we live with ours.”       Elizabeth lifted her head, finally recognizing reality. Her gaze was hollow. The tears had dried, leaving marks like scars. She looked at you. The faint spark in her eyes went out. “Forgive me, Leon…”       She whispered. But her voice was so weak it dissolved into the air like rustling leaves. She stood, swaying, and walked away from the altar. Her steps were unsteady, her dress dragging across the floor, leaving streaks of blood. The shadows followed her, whispering with delight: “You did it, mistress. Now he is completely yours!” “Yes… But at what cost?”       You remained standing. Like a statue. Your body still—But deep inside, beneath layers of relentless whispers—That spark still burned.       Faint. Barely visible. Like a star in the night sky. Waiting. You did not move. You did not speak. But somewhere deep within your mind—You felt.       Silence returned as Elizabeth walked away. Only the soft dripping of blood from the altar broke the stillness. Each drop echoed through the empty hall. Walter and Liliana exchanged glances.       The ritual was complete. Their daughter had survived. Their lineage would continue. Elizabeth stopped at the exit. Her silhouette barely visible in the shadows. She turned.       Her eyes met your empty gaze. For a moment, she thought she saw that spark again— But it was only the reflection of the runes. A cruel trick of the mind. “Nothing but an illusion. He is broken. You are alone… Forever.”       The whispered words drowned in the deathly silence. She disappeared into the corridor. Her sobs echoed—And were swallowed by the endless castle.