Jean sat up abruptly, the heavy velvet curtains shrouding her room in darkness, save for a faint glow from the last few embers in the fireplace. Her bed was expansive and grand, made up of deep crimson covers and layers of soft pillows—a luxury she wasn't accustomed to.
Silver candelabras flickered around the room, casting elongated shadows that seemed to dance on the dark wooden walls. The castle's opulence was overwhelming, from the carved headboard adorned with intricate floral designs to the faint scent of jasmine and rosewood lingering in the air.
She rubbed her eyes, her fingers catching on the lace sleeves of her white nightgown. This couldn't be real, she told herself, yet the voice was disturbingly clear.
"Good morning, pumpkin." The words echoed in her mind with a tone both warm and mocking.
She froze, her heart thundering. "No," she whispered to the empty room. "I must be dreaming… Or maybe this room is too stuffy. Yes, that's it." Jean's voice trembled, though she tried to keep herself grounded by gripping the carved armrests of a nearby chair.
'You should be happy to hear from me, pumpkin; it is I, Lucius Drake,' the voice continued with eerie calm.
Jean shot up from the bed, spinning around in search of any trace of the voice's source. "Lucius… Drake? But you're… you're dead!" Her voice wavered, her hand trembling as she clutched the high collar of her gown.
'You seem to want that to be true,' Lucius murmured with amusement. 'I mean, technically, I am dead—but that's where you come in.'
"What does that even mean?" Jean muttered, wrapping her arms around herself protectively, as though the thin lace could somehow shield her from whatever was happening. Her mind whirred, the rich, shadowed room feeling far too close, and the flickering candlelight almost mocking her fear.
'Oh, see? You're beginning to get the hang of it,' Lucius replied in a tone that was both encouraging and slightly condescending. His words seemed to wrap around her, sinking deep as though his voice had embedded itself directly in her thoughts.
A chill swept over her, and she shook her head vehemently. "This is madness! Lucius Drake is long gone. I'm probably just… I'm adjusting to a new life, a new castle." She hugged herself, whispering, "Yes, it's all just my imagination…"
'Denial won't help, dearest pumpkin,' Lucius's voice cut through her self-assurance with smooth indifference. 'I'm here to help you fulfill your purpose.'
"My… my purpose?" She scoffed, attempting a bravado she didn't feel. "What, exactly, could you know about my purpose?"
'More than you realize,' Lucius replied with a smirk in his voice.
"I don't need the information, keep it to yourself," Jean countered.
'I'd tell you anyway,' Lucius insisted.
"Fine. I'll ignore you, then." She turned her back on the voice, willing herself to focus on the warmth of the dying fire, the delicate etchings on the dresser mirror, the faint patter of rain on the window.
'That's ridiculous,' His tone turned serious. 'And besides, I'm in your head now. You can't ignore me.'
Jean clenched her fists, her cheeks flushed with frustration.
'I'm afraid it won't be that simple,' Lucius replied with a chuckle. 'I can hound you anywhere, anytime. Soon enough, the whole castle will think you've gone mad.'
The very idea made her stomach twist. "So… so I am going insane?" Her voice was barely a whisper, her fingers trailing absently over the wood grains of the vanity, tracing the etched patterns as though grounding herself.
'Not insane. Just… attuned to something extraordinary,' Lucius's voice took on a softer edge, a note almost of encouragement. 'You summoned me, after all.'
"I didn't summon anything," she protested, though her voice had lost some of its edge.
'How?!'
'By wishing to find me, pumpkin, you're not dense,' Lucius replied.
'i didn't,' jean denied.
'Aren't you an architect?' he asked. using the word wrongly again.
Jean frowned, 'An architect?' she asked, confused.
'Yes, you search for artifacts and bones, no?' Lucius inquired.
'An archeologist, and bones yes I…' she trailed off her eyes widening.
'Haven't you been wishing, hoping, to find me?' Lucius prompted smoothly, his tone persuasive.
'To understand my past, perhaps uncover the secrets of Wyfn'Garde? Those restless nights, staring out over the kingdom, wondering what lies beneath its surface… I felt your summons, dearest pumpkin.'
Jean faltered, her eyes wide with shock. She had wondered about him—about the infamous Lucius Drake, whose legend was spoken about in hushed whispers. And yes, she had dreamed of uncovering secrets, of traveling the kingdom in search of history, relics… even bones.
Her fingers stilled. "You're… you're a vampire," she whispered, the realization as cold as the room's draft.
'Very perceptive of you,' he replied, almost lazily. 'Though I remember very little, I know enough to recognize I am… not alive. And yet, I am here with you, a curiosity, isn't it?'
Jean dropped onto her bed, her hands pressed against her temples. "What do you want from me?"
'To do what you do best,' he said, his voice gentler now, almost coaxing. 'Find me. My remains lie somewhere in Wyfn'Garde. Dig me up,"
She stared blankly into the mirror, her own reflection wide-eyed and weary, her hair tousled around her pale face. "And do what with your skeletons?"
"Oh I hope that's not all that's left of me. We'd do great things dearest pumpkin," he promised.
Jean scoffed, "What kind of 'great things' would I accomplish by bringing back a dead vampire?"
'Great things, pumpkin, things that even you have only dared dream of.' His voice turned dark, with a hint of a growl.
A tremor ran through her, but a strange spark of intrigue flickered alongside her fear. Jean pressed her palms against the cool vanity top and took a long, steadying breath, leaning closer to the mirror as if she could somehow see him on the other side.
"Then tell me, Illusion," she whispered. "If I were to help you… where would I start?"
He chuckled, the sound lingering in her mind long after he stopped speaking.
Jean's fascination with archaeology began in childhood, sparked by an intense curiosity about ancient artifacts and bones she found at home and on her travels with her parents. She would spend hours exploring forgotten relics, piecing together stories about the people and places that had come before.
Her parents, amused by her boundless enthusiasm, encouraged her to follow this passion, letting her tag along on their journeys to historical sites.
But one fateful day, Jean's curiosity led her to a perilous discovery that left her gravely ill. Fearing for her life, her parents took her to a divine lady known for her mystical abilities. This woman not only healed Jean but painted a haunting vision of the future that must be avoided at all costs.
The experience left Jean deeply shaken, yet it only fueled her desire to unravel mysteries and understand hidden histories. Her brush with fate transformed her interest into a calling—a drive to uncover and preserve knowledge, tempered by a caution that would stay with her for life.