Twilight of the Evergreen

Aelor flipped through the old books, their cracked leather covers and faded ink whispering secrets of a forgotten time. Each page was dense with knowledge: diagrams of vampire anatomy, alchemical recipes for weapons, and detailed records of hunts. But as he read, he couldn't shake the feeling of Kaelen's stillness behind him. The vampire stood motionless, his red eyes fixed on the skeletal remains of his kin mounted on the walls.

Aelor frowned, closing the book in his hands. He set it aside and quietly walked over to Kaelen, who didn't so much as flinch at his approach. Standing beside him, Aelor looked up at the grim display, his heart heavy with guilt. After a long silence, he spoke softly.

"Kaelen… I know the elves are my people, my family, but…" His voice wavered. "I feel ashamed. Knowing they did this to your kind—murdered them, dissected them like animals for centuries—it doesn't feel right. Not anymore."

Kaelen's expression didn't change. His gaze remained fixed on the skulls, their sharp fangs glinting faintly in the blue light. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and distant. "I don't blame you for what your people did, Aelor. You weren't part of it." He paused, the weight of his words settling over them. "But I can't help wondering who they were. These skeletons, these faces… Were they like me? Were they stronger? Smarter? Or just unlucky?"

Aelor hesitated before asking gently, "Do you recognize them? Any of them?"

Kaelen's jaw tightened, and he shook his head. "No," he said, his voice carrying a faint bitterness. "I don't even know how I came to be—how I was born. I don't know who I was supposed to be before the coffin. And now, I never will."

The silence between them felt heavy, oppressive. Aelor turned his gaze back to the nearest skull, studying the delicate curve of its fangs. They seemed untouched by time, still sharp and lethal despite the centuries. Curiosity tugged at him, and he raised a hand, brushing the tip of his finger against the fang.

A sudden sharp sting made him flinch. A thin red line appeared on his fingertip, a bead of blood welling up and dripping to the stone floor. "Ow," he muttered, pressing his thumb to the cut to stop the bleeding. "I wasn't expecting them to still be that sharp."

The faint metallic scent of blood filled the air, and Kaelen stiffened beside him. Aelor glanced up, noticing the way Kaelen's shoulders tensed, his breathing deepening ever so slightly. Kaelen's red eyes glinted in the flickering light as he clenched his jaw, clearly battling with himself.

"Kaelen?" Aelor asked softly, tilting his head in concern.

Kaelen didn't respond at first. His gaze flicked to the tiny wound on Aelor's finger, the sweet scent of blood clouding his thoughts. Every instinct screamed at him to take it—to taste it. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. Not after everything they'd just shared. Not after Aelor had trusted him so completely.

Still, he stepped forward, his movements careful and deliberate. "Let me see," he said, his voice rough but steady.

Aelor hesitated before holding out his hand, his face soft with trust despite the faint blush rising to his cheeks. Kaelen gently took his hand, his long fingers cool against Aelor's skin. He brought the injured finger to his lips, hesitating only a moment before closing his mouth over it.

Aelor's breath hitched as Kaelen's tongue brushed over the cut, his fangs grazing the skin ever so slightly. It was warm, almost soothing, and the faint sting of the wound melted away. Kaelen sucked gently, his movements careful and controlled, as though fighting his very nature with every moment that passed.

When he finally pulled away, he pressed his lips together, his breathing shallow. "There," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "It'll stop bleeding now."

Aelor swallowed, his cheeks burning as he looked up into Kaelen's eyes. The vampire's gaze had shifted, no longer distant or bitter but sharp and piercing. Those crimson eyes seemed to see straight into Aelor's soul, and the intensity of the moment made Aelor's heart race.

"Kaelen…" he whispered, unsure of what he wanted to say.

Kaelen held his gaze for a long moment, his thumb brushing absently over the back of Aelor's hand before he released it. He stepped back, putting space between them as if reminding himself of the boundaries he had vowed not to cross.

"You should be more careful," Kaelen said finally, his voice soft but tinged with something deeper. "Even a small wound can cause trouble… in the wrong company."

Aelor glanced at his finger, the lingering warmth of Kaelen's touch making his cheeks heat again. But his curiosity quickly replaced his embarrassment, and he looked back at the vampire thoughtfully. "Kaelen," he began cautiously, "have you ever… I mean, have you ever tried drinking the blood of an elf before?"

Kaelen froze mid-step, his posture stiffening. He didn't turn around immediately, as if weighing his words carefully. "Not that I can recall," he said finally, his voice quiet but steady. "But I'll admit…" He trailed off, his crimson eyes darting back to Aelor for a fleeting moment. "Your blood smells… sweet. Too sweet."

The words hung between them like a charged current, and Aelor couldn't help the nervous flutter in his chest. He opened his mouth to ask more, but before he could, Kaelen abruptly turned and began walking away, his movements sharp and deliberate.

"We should keep searching," Kaelen said briskly, his voice taking on a colder edge. "There's no time to waste if we want to find the answers we came for."

Aelor blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Kaelen's demeanor. He nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on the vampire's retreating figure. "Right… of course," he muttered, returning reluctantly to the shelves and scattered books.

But focusing was easier said than done. Kaelen's earlier words replayed in his mind, and he couldn't shake the thought of how Kaelen had reacted to his blood. His fascination with the vampire only deepened. I need to study him further,Aelor thought, his fingers brushing absently over the spines of the ancient tomes. There's more to him than even he knows.

Meanwhile, Kaelen moved to the far end of the library, keeping his focus on the chests scattered across the floor. His jaw tightened as he struggled to push the scent of Aelor's blood from his mind. He knelt by one of the larger chests, its iron hinges rusted but intact, and carefully pried it open.

Inside was an array of old scrolls and artifacts, their magical auras faint but still present. Among them, something caught Kaelen's eye: a staff, ornate and imposing. He reached in and lifted it carefully, the weight of it heavy in his hands. The staff was carved from dark wood, its surface inlaid with faintly glowing runes and intricate, ancient details.

Kaelen turned the staff over, examining it closely. "This writing…" he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible. The runes were written in an archaic script, one he didn't recognize, though it felt strangely familiar. Whoever had crafted it had been long dead—perhaps as old as the skeletons lining the walls. Yet the staff still thrummed with a quiet, restrained power.

Aelor noticed Kaelen's discovery and abandoned his half-hearted search to approach him. "What did you find?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Kaelen glanced up, holding the staff upright. "A staff," he said simply, his voice neutral, though there was an undertone of fascination. "It's… ancient. The magic in it hasn't faded completely. Whoever made this knew what they were doing."

Aelor's eyes widened as he stepped closer, studying the intricate carvings. "Those runes… they're older than anything I've ever seen," he said, his voice filled with awe. "Do you think it belonged to the elves who built this place?"

"Possibly," Kaelen replied, running his fingers over the markings. "But I doubt it was meant for study. This isn't a tool for learning. It's a weapon."

Aelor frowned, leaning in closer. "A weapon? Against vampires?"

Kaelen nodded slowly. "Most likely. But it feels… incomplete, somehow. Like it was meant to do more than just kill." He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the staff. "I can't explain it. But it's as if this staff was meant to hold something—channel something."