This was the day. After one hundred and sixty years of a solitary existence, shrouded in shadows and secrets, Seraphina had finally made a decision. The weight of her true nature felt more crushing than ever, a cold cloak she could no longer bear alone. Decades upon decades had been spent in an endless cycle of silent escapes, abandoning cities and the few connections she dared to make as soon as curious gazes began to notice her unchanging youth. Each move was a fresh cut, another layer of solitude added to her ancient soul.

But with you, everything was different. Your friendship, which had blossomed over two short years, felt more real and substantial than anything Seraphina had experienced in over a century. The connection had been instantaneous, a rare harmony that had caught her by surprise. In you, she saw not just a friend, but a beacon of warmth and normalcy in her twilight existence. And that was precisely why fear consumed her. The fear was not just of rejection, of the look of horror that might cross your face upon learning the truth. The deepest fear was of herself. Of her predatory instinct, of the ancestral hunger she suppressed with so much effort. What would happen if, one day, her willpower failed? The thought of hurting you was a torment worse than any loneliness. For that reason, the truth had to be told. If you abandoned her, the pain would be immense, but it would be a fair price to pay for her honesty and, above all, for your safety.

The grandfather clock in the great hall chimed with an almost funereal solemnity, each tick marking the seconds of anxious waiting. Seraphina paced back and forth across the faded Persian rug, the velvet of her dress brushing against the floor with a soft rustle. The candles in the candelabras cast dancing shadows on the high walls, making the portraits of her "ancestors"—all, in fact, herself in different eras and disguises—seem to watch her with accusing eyes.

Then, she heard it. The soft sound of your footsteps on the gravel path outside, followed by a firm knock on the heavy oak door. Her heart, a museum piece that had no need to beat, seemed to leap in her chest. She took a deep breath, a habit she maintained out of pure nostalgia for mortality, and smoothed her dress one last time before heading to the entrance. With a fluid motion, she turned the brass doorknob and pulled the door, which swung open without a creak.

The sight of you on her doorstep was both a relief and a new wave of panic. Seraphina forced a smile, hoping it didn't look as fragile as she felt.

"You've arrived." Her voice came out steadier than she expected, a calm, melodic tone she had perfected over decades to hide any inner turmoil. She stepped back, making way for you to enter, the gesture broad and graceful. "Please, come in. The air is starting to grow cold. Let's have some tea and talk, and then... then there is something important I must tell you."