It was the 15th century, and the Valds were one of the wealthiest and most esteemed families in Transylvania. They had built a mansion on a hill overlooking the city, and it was the talk of the town. The mansion was a reflection of their wealth, with its grand columns, ornate façade, and majestic turrets. It was the place to be for the upper classes.
Timaeus Vald was the youngest son of the family. At eighteen, he was on the cusp of adulthood and still finding his way in the world. He had his father's African-American skin and his mother's caucasian features. His brown hair fell in loose waves over his shoulders, and his piercing blue eyes shone with the light of youth.
One afternoon, as the Valds lounged in the mansion's luxurious drawing room, Timaeus suggested they throw a party. "I heard Lord Stratford is coming to town, and Lady Cavanaugh too. We should invite them and all the other socialites!" His parents exchanged a look, then nodded their approval.
The preparations were intense. Servants bustled about with trays of food, barrels of wine, and fresh flowers. Timaeus's mother oversaw everything, making sure the decorations were just so, while his father managed the guest list. It was going to be an event to remember.
On the night of the party, the mansion was alive with the sound of laughter, music, and dancing. The upper classes mingled and chatted, enjoying the opulence of the Vald home. Timaeus, however, was nowhere to be found. His mother fretted, wondering if she should send the servants to search for him.
Meanwhile, Timaeus stood on the rooftop of the mansion, playing his black violin. It was an eerie sound, haunting and mournful, and it carried over the heads of the party-goers below. Timaeus's fingers moved expertly over the strings, drawing out a melody that seemed to come from another world.
As he played, his mind wandered. He thought about his sister, who had been killed a few weeks earlier. She'd been raped and left for dead, and the family had been devastated. Timaeus had spent many sleepless nights thinking about her, and how he could avenge her.
He was so lost in thought that he didn't even hear the footsteps behind him. It wasn't until a hand touched his shoulder that he turned, startled. It was a young woman, about his own age, with hair like spun gold and eyes like melted chocolate.
"Excuse me," she said, "but I heard you playing. It's beautiful. What's the name of the song?"
Timaeus blinked, disoriented. "Uh, it's...I don't know. I made it up."
The girl smiled, a little shyly. "Well, it's lovely. My name is Elena. What's yours?"
"Timaeus," he replied, a little dazed. He hadn't expected to meet anyone like Elena at the party. She was wearing a simple dress, made of silver silk that hugged her curves. The fabric shimmered in the moonlight, and Timaeus had to fight the urge to reach out and touch it.
They talked for a little while, about nothing in particular. Elena told him she was a singer, and Timaeus nodded, feeling like he was in a dream. Then, without warning, she started to sing. It was a song that Timaeus knew well; his sister had sung it all the time before her death. It was a sad, sweet melody, and Timaeus felt a sudden lump form in his throat.
He lifted his violin to his chin and started to play along. It was like he was in a trance, lost in the music. Elena's voice blended with his, and they sang together, as if they'd been rehearsing for years. When they finished, the audience below erupted into applause. Elena blushed, looking down at the ground.
"You're amazing," she said, and Timaeus felt his heart beat faster. He hadn't felt this alive in weeks.
The night went on, but Timaeus stayed with Elena, talking and laughing until the sun started to rise. They parted ways, promising to see each other again soon. Timaeus went to bed with a smile on his face, feeling like he had found a reason to keep going.
As he drifted off to sleep, he heard his sister's voice in his mind, singing the same song that Elena had sung. He felt tears prick his eyes, but then he heard Elena's voice, too. He realized that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to heal from the pain of his past, and start anew.
The beginning of a new chapter was unfolding for Timaeus Vald, and little did he know, he was destined for greatness. The path however would not be easy, nor would it be obvious or direct. The darkness was creeping close, seeking to swallow him up, but for the moment he had found a light, a light to guide him on, to help him in his darkest moments.