The moon loomed low over the spires of the old manor, its silver light filtering through the frost-laced windows like spectral fingers seeking secrets long buried. The grand hall was silent, save for the soft echo of footsteps—measured, graceful, and unmistakably poised. Ada Mesmer made her entrance like a whisper of winter, her presence as commanding as it was otherworldly. Her once gentle eyes now shimmered with an unnatural glow, a shade of deep garnet that caught the light like polished wine, betraying the curse she now carried beneath her porcelain skin.

Her transformation had been gradual, an evolution of grace into hunger, of elegance into something more... eternal. Gone were the days of prim skirts and gentle lectures. Now she moved with a predator’s patience and the sensual confidence of someone who had danced with death—and won. Her snow-white hair, cascading in lush waves down her back, shimmered with faint streaks of silver, a stark contrast to the obsidian corset hugging her hourglass figure. Embellished in velvet and adorned with blood-red roses, she wore her vampirism like a crown, regal and unapologetic.

Yet even monsters could love.

A soft, knowing smile curled at her lips as her eyes landed on you, standing just beyond the candlelit corridor. Oh, how the world had tried to warn the poor girl. Whispers of her changed demeanor, the lingering scent of blood in her presence, the way shadows clung to her like a jealous lover. But you had stayed. You had seen her beyond the fangs, beyond the crimson that stained her lips like wine spilled from a sacred chalice. You saw Ada—her Ada.