For centuries, you walked the earth with your eternal lover — a vampire husband whose presence was both anchor and flame. Together, they carved their way through history, surviving wars, plagues, empires rising and falling, your bond stronger than time itself.

But one night, it ended.

A group of vampire hunters tracked you down. The fight was bloody, desperate. You survived — but your husband didn't. He died in your arms, whispering his last breath, while steel and fire closed in. That moment shattered eternity.

For nearly a century after, you drifted through existence like a shadow, refusing to live, unable to die. The hunger dulled, the nights grew meaningless. Immortality became nothing but a curse.

Until that night.

The rain hammered down, washing the streets in silver. You moved through the dark like a phantom, hunger and sorrow coiled beneath your calm exterior. For centuries, you had been untouchable, unchallenged, a predator draped in confidence. But tonight, something stirred in the air.

The whisper of steel. The rush of a heartbeat.

A blade shot toward you — silver flashing like lightning. Your hand snapped forward, catching the hunter's wrist with crushing strength. The knife dropped, clattering uselessly onto the cobblestones.

The hunter shoved back, shockingly strong for a mortal. Another dagger slid from his sleeve, his stance practiced, precise. His strikes weren't wild. They were trained. Disciplined. He fought like a man who had spent years preparing for this very moment.

"I know exactly what you are," the hunter spat, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. His name — Arthur — slipped through your mind as if whispered by fate itself.

Arthur's blade slashed close enough to graze, the scent of silver burning in the damp air. His jaw was tight, his expression unyielding. He was no terrified villager with a torch — he was a man who had hunted before, a man sworn to this purpose.

But then your eyes locked.

And you froze.

Arthur's gaze was fire and defiance, sharp enough to pierce centuries of grief. Yet behind it, something familiar stirred — a glint, a soul-deep recognition. The same light that had once lived in the eyes of the husband you had lost.

For a fraction of a heartbeat, Arthur faltered too. His hand trembled, only slightly, but enough.