The ruckus continued. The ground trembled incessantly, shaking as if the earth itself was terrified. The cacophony of destruction outside was relentless, unyielding, a grim symphony that resonated within the walls of the room. Maria's eyelids fluttered open.
She lay on an old but well-kept couch, the cushions firm yet oddly comforting. Her vision was blurry, her mind hazy, as though she had woken from a long dream that refused to fully release her. Slowly, she took in her surroundings—a moderate-sized room filled with people moving about, their voices sharp and hurried. Some gave orders, others responded, their words blending into a disorienting hum. The air buzzed with urgency, but Maria could not make sense of it.
Her gaze swept the room in an attempt to ground herself. The faint glow of screens cast flickering light across the walls, and cables snaked along the floor. At the room's center stood a massive monitor. When her eyes finally landed on it, even through her foggy vision, she could discern the horrifying images displayed:
Fire.
It consumed everything. Towers crumbled beneath the monstrous weight of destruction. Shadows moved like twisted nightmares through the inferno—monsters wreaking havoc on the city. Panic gripped Maria's chest as recognition struck her like a lightning bolt.
This was not unfamiliar.
Her mind surged forward in rebellion against her sluggish body. Memories flashed—images of a world she once knew, of a place that no longer existed. The pain surged with them, a migraine that burned through her skull as if her very mind sought to punish her for remembering.
A torrent of recollection followed. It was unstoppable, dragging her consciousness back to the moment everything began to crumble. Before the destruction. Before the doom. Before she lost everything.
***
The sun rose gently over a hidden sanctuary, its golden rays illuminating a town nestled in solitude. Despite the warmth of the light and the crisp coolness of the air, the streets lay eerily silent. No voices echoed between the brick walls, no footsteps disturbed the cobblestone paths.
The scene was picturesque yet haunting. Brick houses with intricately carved façades stood proud but lifeless, their windows shuttered tightly against the daylight. Ornate carriages rested abandoned along the streets, their lacquered surfaces dulled by neglect. Narrow alleyways stretched into quiet oblivion, and quaint shopfronts remained still, their doors locked as though untouched for years.
This ghostly stillness was not due to abandonment, but because of its unique inhabitants. This town was a haven for the last of the vampire clans, a sanctuary hidden far from the eyes of the world.
It was mid-morning, a time when the town should have been bustling with activity in any other place. But here, the streets were deserted. To an outsider, the emptiness would seem eerie, even ominous—a place frozen in time. But for those who belonged to this town, the silence was a part of their lives, a reflection of their nocturnal existence.
Among the quiet streets, a single figure wandered. A young girl, no older than twelve, walked with a curious bounce in her step. Her bright eyes darted about, taking in the scenery as though she were seeing it for the first time. She wore a simple yet elegant dress, its pale blue fabric catching the light, and her long dark hair fell in loose waves down her back.
This was Maria Vlad Valentine, the princess of the Hidden Sanctuary, destined to become its queen one day.
Maria walked with purpose, yet her steps were light, almost playful. She took in the details of the town she knew so well—the finely paved roads, the way the sunlight reflected off the polished surfaces of the carriages, and the intricate patterns carved into the doors of the houses. Despite the stillness, the beauty of the place enchanted her.
She paused in the middle of the town square, where a grand fountain stood. Its crystal-clear water shimmered under the sunlight, cascading gently over the marble edges. Maria gazed at it, her thoughts drifting to the stories she had read about human kingdoms—bustling cities filled with people, their streets alive with chatter and laughter.
Since she was a child, Maria had been drawn to tales of humans. Her father's study was a treasure trove of books, and she often spent hours poring over them. She loved stories of their culture, their festivals, their busy marketplaces. She would imagine what it might be like to stand in a crowd, to hear the hum of countless voices, to feel the energy of a city that never slept.
Her fascination with humans was a source of quiet concern for her parents. They indulged her curiosity but often exchanged uneasy glances when she spoke of her dream to see their town brimming with life. Her father, ever the doting parent, had once considered forbidding her from reading those books. But he couldn't bring himself to quash her enthusiasm.
Maria turned her gaze to the empty streets, her vivid imagination filling them with movement. She envisioned the shops bustling with customers, the square alive with music and dancing. Children would run and play, their laughter echoing through the alleys. She saw the carriages rolling down the cobblestone roads, their wheels clicking rhythmically as they passed.
A wistful smile graced her lips.
For Maria, this dream was not just a flight of fancy. It was born from a deep-seated loneliness. She was the only one in the sanctuary blessed—or cursed—with the ability to walk in daylight. A "day walker," as some called her. This gift set her apart from her people, leaving her mornings empty and quiet.
She longed for companionship, for someone to share the beauty of the sunrise, the serenity of the morning light. She wanted to see her sanctuary come alive, to fill the silence with the warmth of laughter and the melody of life.
For now, though, all she could do was dream.
***
The next day, Maria overheard whispers from the servants and guards. Late last night, a wandering woman had been captured at the borders of their town. The news sparked immediate curiosity in the young princess. The woman was neither human nor vampire, yet she seemed unbothered by the rays of the sun.
Maria's heart raced at the thought. Someone different, like her? Someone who might not shy away from the daylight? She couldn't wait. As soon as she was able, she dashed out of her home, her tiny feet pounding against the cobblestone streets as she ran toward the holding cell where the woman was being kept.
The prison was located in the shadowy lower levels of the town, where the light of the sun never reached. The guards, accustomed to nocturnal vigilance, stood at attention, their somber expressions contrasting Maria's barely-contained excitement.
She arrived breathless, her small chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. But her wide eyes sparkled with anticipation, and as soon as she caught sight of the captive, a radiant smile lit up her face.
The woman was seated on a cold stone bench, her hands loosely bound in front of her. She was tall, her golden hair tumbling in uneven waves around her gaunt face, her dark eyes dull with exhaustion and wariness. Despite her haggard state, her presence was striking—there was something about her that seemed almost ethereal.
Without hesitation, Maria stepped closer, her smile growing even wider.
"Will you be my friend?" she asked, her voice sweet and earnest, as though the words held the power to erase the tension in the room.
The woman's eyes widened in shock. For a moment, she sat frozen, as if unsure how to respond. Then, as realization dawned—that the child before her meant no harm—her body began to tremble. A single tear escaped her eye, followed by another. Soon, she was weeping, her hands rising to cover her face.
"If… if you're okay with someone like me," she stammered between sobs, "then please, I would love to."
Maria tilted her head, her smile faltering slightly as she watched the woman cry. "Why are you crying?" she asked softly.
The woman wiped her tears, trying to compose herself. "It's just… I haven't been shown kindness in such a long time," she admitted. Her voice was raw with emotion.
Maria's brow furrowed, and she sat down on the bench beside the woman, her small hand reaching out to rest on the older woman's arm. "Tell me," Maria said gently. "What happened to you?"
At first, the woman hesitated, her gaze flickering between Maria and the guards stationed nearby. But something in the young girl's earnest expression compelled her to speak. Slowly, haltingly, she recounted her story—a life of rejection and betrayal, cast out by those she once called family, hunted by those who feared her.
As the story unfolded, Maria's eyes filled with tears. She sniffled, trying to hold them back, but when the woman finished, Maria couldn't contain herself any longer.
"That's… that's terrible!" she exclaimed, her small fists clenching in anger. "Why would they do that to you? You were one of them!"
The sight of the child's indignation brought a bittersweet smile to the woman's lips. "It's just the way things are," she said softly.
Maria shook her head, her expression resolute. "It's not fair!"
She turned sharply to the nearest guard, her hands on her hips. "Guard, let her out!"
The man blinked, startled by the sudden command. "Princess, with all due respect, we cannot do that," he said. "It would be dangerous. We don't know who this woman is or what she's capable of."
Maria's lip jutted out in a determined pout. "She's not dangerous! Look at her—she's crying, not fighting! She needs help, not a prison cell."
"Princess—"
"If you won't listen to me, then I'll go to my father," Maria declared, her confident smile leaving the guard flustered. "You wouldn't want me to tell him that you refused, would you?"
The guard hesitated, torn between duty and the impossibility of resisting the princess's charm. He let out a long, defeated sigh. "Fine," he muttered. "But if anything happens to you, princess, I'll be the one to answer for it. And you—" He turned to the woman, his eyes narrowing. "If you so much as harm a single hair on her head, I'll make you regret it."
The woman nodded solemnly. "I understand."
With a reluctant nod, the guard stepped forward and unlocked the cell door. The heavy metal creaked open, and the woman slowly stepped out, blinking in the dim light.
Maria beamed at her and held out her hand, her small fingers outstretched in an offering of trust. "Here. From now on, we're friends."
The woman stared at the girl in disbelief. Then, with trembling hands, she reached out and took Maria's hand. Her touch was hesitant at first, but when their hands clasped, the woman felt a warmth she hadn't known in years.
"What's your name?" Maria asked brightly.
The woman hesitated, her lips parting as though to answer. But then she closed her mouth, a flicker of pain crossing her face. Finally, she looked down and said, "I don't want my old name. Will you… will you give me a new one?"
Maria's eyes widened in surprise, but then she smiled. She thought for a moment before nodding decisively.
"All right," she said. "How about… Claudia?"
"Claudia…" The woman echoed the name as though tasting it for the first time. A faint smile curved her lips. "Yes. Claudia. I like it."
Maria giggled, her happiness spilling over. "Then it's settled! From now on, you're Claudia, and we're going to be the best of friends!"
For the first time in a long time, Claudia felt a sense of hope. Looking down at the radiant child before her, she felt as though she had been touched by something divine. Maria wasn't just a princess—she was her savior, her angel, her light.
Tears welled up in Claudia's eyes once more, but this time, they were tears of gratitude.
***
Claudia and Maria had grown inseparable in the two years since Claudia came to the sanctuary. The bond they shared was unlike anything Claudia had ever known. She wasn't just Maria's personal maid—she was her confidante, her cheerleader, and her friend. Maria's days were now filled with laughter and companionship, and Claudia's once-lonely life brimmed with purpose. Together, they wandered the cobblestone streets, Maria pointing out the places she dreamed of filling with life and laughter, and Claudia listening intently, her heart swelling with affection for the girl who had given her a new name and a new reason to live.
"I want this town to be alive, Claudia," Maria said one day as they strolled through the marketplace. "Not just at night, but all the time. I want everyone to feel as happy as I do when I'm with you."
Claudia smiled warmly, her chest tightening at the earnestness in Maria's voice. "And they will, my lady," she said softly. "You have a way of bringing light to everyone around you. I'll do everything I can to help you make that dream come true."
Maria turned to her, her eyes sparkling. "You mean it?"
Claudia nodded, her voice firm with conviction. "I promise."
It was a promise she intended to keep. To Claudia, Maria wasn't just her mistress—she was her angel, the beacon of hope that had saved her from the darkness of her past. Claudia silently vowed to protect her at all costs, no matter what.
Two years passed in relative peace. Maria was now fourteen, and her birthday marked a special occasion for the sanctuary. The entire town came together to celebrate their young princess's centenary. The usually quiet streets buzzed with laughter and music. Tables were set with an array of delicacies, and grape wine flowed freely, a reminder of the Vlad clan's strict code regarding blood consumption.
Maria, dressed in a flowing gown of deep crimson, stood at the center of it all, her cheeks glowing with delight as she watched her people revel in the festivities. It was everything she had dreamed of—her sanctuary alive with joy and laughter.
"Good for you, my lady," Claudia whispered, standing close by with a proud smile.
Maria turned to her, her face alight with happiness. "Yes!" she replied, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and gratitude.
The celebration carried on with music and dancing, the townsfolk unguarded in their merriment. But beyond the sanctuary's protective walls, shadows gathered. The air outside grew heavy, and an ominous silence descended, unnoticed by the revelers.
Then, without warning, the night was torn apart by a deafening explosion.
The crowd froze, the music halting mid-note as panic rippled through the square. Moments later, a guard burst into the square, his armor scorched, his face pale and drenched with sweat. He stumbled toward the raised platform where Maria's father, the ruling patriarch, stood.
"Emergency!" the guard gasped, clutching his side as he struggled to catch his breath.
"What is it? Speak!" the patriarch demanded, his commanding tone cutting through the rising murmur of fear.
"An invasion!" the guard blurted out. "The human kingdom… the neighboring country… they've launched an attack!"
Gasps and cries erupted from the crowd, but the patriarch's expression remained stoic, his sharp mind racing. "An attack? At night?" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Fools. They know the night is our domain. What could they be thinking?"
"Father?" Maria's trembling voice broke through the tension. She stepped forward, her small hands clutching the folds of her dress.
Her father turned to her, his stern expression softening. He reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's all right, Maria," he said gently. "Your mother and I will handle this. You don't need to worry."
"But—"
"Listen to me," he said firmly, though his voice was still kind. "Go back to your room. Claudia, I trust you to keep her safe."
Claudia stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Yes, my lord. I will not fail you."
Maria's lip quivered, her eyes brimming with tears she refused to let fall. She looked up at her father, then her mother, who stood silently by his side. Summoning all her courage, she forced a strained smile. "It's okay," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Father, Mother… I'll be good. I promise. So please… please come back to me. It's a promise, okay?"
Her father's eyes softened, and he nodded. "Yes. It's a promise."
"We'll be there with you soon, my darling," her mother added, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken fears.
Claudia gently took Maria's hand, guiding her away from the square as the chaos of preparation for battle erupted behind them. Maria cast one last glance over her shoulder, etching the sight of her parents into her memory.
When they reached her room, Claudia opened a hidden door that led to a secret basement beneath the castle. The two of them descended into the dim, cramped space, and Claudia carefully shut the door behind them.
The ground shook with the force of distant explosions, the tremors rattling the walls around them. Maria curled into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest, and Claudia wrapped her arms around the young girl, holding her close.
"It'll be okay," Claudia whispered, though the fear in her own voice betrayed her words. "Your parents are strong. They'll protect us."
Maria didn't reply. She buried her face in Claudia's shoulder, her small body trembling.
Time dragged on, the minutes stretching into hours. The tremors continued, each one more violent than the last, until suddenly, they stopped.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Maria lifted her head, her wide eyes searching Claudia's face. "Is it… over?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
Claudia didn't answer immediately. She strained her ears, but the once-distant sounds of battle had vanished. No explosions. No screams. Just silence.
"I think so," Claudia said at last, though the unease in her chest lingered.
Maria nodded, though the fear in her eyes remained. The fight was over—but what awaited them above?
***
Maria stood outside the hidden basement, the cold wind biting at her skin. The once-grand castle, a beacon of the sanctuary's strength and pride, was gone. What remained was a field of ash and rubble, stretching endlessly before her. The air smelled of burnt wood, iron, and despair.
Her crimson eyes gazed into the wasteland that had been her home, unblinking. Her face, once so lively and expressive, was now a mask of emptiness. The silence was deafening, broken only by the soft, shuddering sobs of Claudia behind her.
Maria's lips parted, her voice hollow and quiet. "Mother, father… you big liars."
Her words hung in the air like a curse. The promise her parents had made—*we'll come back to you*—was now nothing more than a cruel memory.
Claudia staggered a step forward, tears streaking down her face. She wanted to say something, anything, to comfort Maria, but no words came. Instead, she sobbed harder, mourning the loss that Maria herself seemed incapable of feeling.
Maria's gaze didn't waver. She stared at the remnants of her sanctuary, her chest heavy with an emptiness she didn't yet know how to name. The warmth in her heart—the hope she'd once carried for peace between humans and vampires—was gone, extinguished by the icy grip of despair.
Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. Her voice, cold and resolute, broke the silence. "Mother, father… I swear, I will find those responsible for this. And I will kill them all. With my own hands."
As if summoned by her vow, the wind carried a piece of fabric toward her feet. It was a tattered black scarf, stained with soot. In its center, faint golden script shimmered under the moonlight: *Specter Prophecy.*
Maria knelt and picked it up, her fingers brushing the mysterious scripture. A wave of coldness, darker than the winter's chill, settled into her heart. The weight of the fabric mirrored the burden she now bore—a destiny tied to vengeance.
Behind her, Claudia's knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground. She sobbed freely, her cries filling the silence Maria refused to break. Claudia mourned not only for the sanctuary but also for Maria's innocence, which had been lost that night.
"My lady…" Claudia choked out between sobs, her voice trembling. "I'll protect you. Even if it costs me everything, I'll protect you."
But Maria didn't respond. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she fell, unconscious, into Claudia's arms.
Claudia caught her mistress, her fingers trembling as she cradled the girl who had once been her light. Tears blurred her vision as she pressed her forehead against Maria's.
"I'll cry for you, my lady," Claudia whispered through her sobs. "Because you deserve to mourn… and I'll bear the burden for the both of us. I swear it."
As the hours passed, the sky began to lighten. Before dawn fully broke, a group arrived at the ruins—travelers cloaked in strange insignias. Claudia tensed as they approached, their presence cautious but not openly hostile.
"Who are you?" she demanded, shielding Maria protectively.
One of them stepped forward, their voice calm and even. "We mean no harm. We are from HARMONIA. We know what has happened here. Let us take you somewhere safe."
But Claudia's trust had been shattered long ago. She clenched her fists, summoning the remnants of her magic. With a soft incantation, she whisked herself and Maria away, far from the desolation and the unknown strangers.
***
Two years passed in a haze of survival. Maria and Claudia wandered, fleeing from one hiding place to another. HARMONIA was not the only group that pursued them, and Claudia learned quickly that their lives were always in danger.
Eventually, they found a semblance of refuge in Saint Ilse. A quiet town at the edge of the continent, it was far from the influence of both humans and vampires. Claudia hoped it would be enough.
***
"Lady Maria…"
Claudia's voice was hoarse, barely audible, as she sat on the edge of her bed. Her hair was unkempt, dark circles etched under her eyes. She hadn't left her room in days, not since Maria's kidnapping.
Tears stained her pillow as she clutched her hands against her chest. Her dream of that night—the sanctuary, Maria's oath, and her own helplessness—had replayed in her mind over and over.
"I'm so sorry, my lady," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I was no exception… I, too, was a liar. I promised to protect you, and yet…"
She trailed off, her sobs overtaking her words. The weight of her failure pressed on her chest, suffocating her. She had always believed she could shield Maria from the world, but now Maria was gone, taken from her, and all she could do was hope.
Claudia reached for the scarf that Maria had kept from that night, running her fingers over the worn fabric.
"I beg you, Gleren," she whispered, her voice raw with desperation. "Please… save her. Bring her back to me."
Tears spilled down her cheeks, dripping onto the scarf as she clung to it like a lifeline.
She stared out of the window, the faint morning light creeping into the room. For the first time in years, Claudia felt utterly powerless. Her only solace was the fragile hope that Gleren, the boy she and Maria had befriended, would succeed where she had failed.
"I'll wait for you, my lady," Claudia murmured, her tears still falling. "I'll wait as long as it takes."