Episode 3: The Vampire Alaric Awakens

Beneath the ruins of the Black Citadel, deep in a crypt of stone and ash, the air shifted.

Cold. Silent. Waiting.

Chains rattled in the darkness, heavy as fate. Crimson runes pulsed across the walls, humming like a heartbeat. And in the center of the crypt, laid upon an obsidian slab, was a man. Pale as moonlight. Unmoving.

Until now.

The spell shattered like breaking glass.

And Alaric Vellaria Vaelthorne opened his eyes.

---

Eighteen years of sleep.

Eighteen years since Queen Elara cast her final spell—betraying the Council, rejecting the plan, turning herself into an infant to hide her powers, and cursing him to slumber until she returned.

He remembered it all.

Her tearful face as she whispered ancient words.

The warmth of her hand against his chest.

The flash of magic before the world turned black.

Now… she was awake.

And so was he.

---

Alaric sat up slowly, his body crackling with dormant power. His silver hair fell to his shoulders, eyes burning with deep crimson. A black crest glowed faintly on his chest—the mark of the Vellaria bloodline.

Footsteps echoed outside the chamber.

The doors creaked open, revealing cloaked figures holding torches.

The Council of Night had come.

A woman stepped forward—tall, regal, her eyes blindfolded with golden silk.

“Welcome back, Lord Vaelthorne,” she said with a voice like music and venom. “The moon has bled. Your Queen walks the world again. It is time.”

Alaric stood, the stone cracking beneath his feet.

“You dare wake me after what you did to her?” His voice was cold thunder.

The Council members didn’t flinch.

“She abandoned the plan. Sealed her fate. But fate always circles back,” the woman replied. “Lucifer stirs beneath the catacombs. The Gate must be opened. Only she can do it. Only you can make her remember.”

Alaric turned away, his fists clenched. “She made her choice. She wanted peace.”

“She was deceived by human love and mortal weakness,” said another Council member. “But you—you are our weapon.”

He looked at them.

Old monsters, wearing faces of beauty and cruelty.

“I am no one’s weapon,” Alaric said.

But even he couldn’t ignore the truth.

His Queen was out there.

And she had no memory of who she truly was.

---

Far from the crypt...

Elara couldn’t sleep.

Not because of the red moon, or the secrets her parents told her.

But because every time she closed her eyes, she saw him.

A man in black armor. Standing in fire.

Calling her name.

“Elara…”

She woke with a gasp, heart pounding, breath shaking.

Mark rushed into the room. “Another vision?”

She nodded.

“I saw him again. The one with silver hair and blood-red eyes. I think… he knows me.”

Evelyn looked pale. “That’s impossible. Alaric was—”

She stopped herself too late.

Elara’s head snapped toward her. “Alaric?”

“Forget I said that,” Evelyn muttered.

“No,” Elara said. “Who is he?”

Mark and Evelyn exchanged a look.

She already knew the answer.

“He’s your husband,” Evelyn whispered. “From a life you chose to forget.”

---

Back at the Black Citadel…

Alaric stared at the portrait the Council preserved.

A painting of Elara as she was: tall, regal, dark-haired with a crown of bone and roses. A queen of midnight.

“She was powerful,” said the blindfolded woman. “But she feared the truth of her blood. She believed Lucifer’s awakening would destroy the world.”

“She was right,” Alaric growled.

“No,” the Council member countered. “Lucifer is not death. He is rebirth. And she was meant to be the bride of darkness. The Queen of the New Age.”

Alaric turned to them. “I will find her. I will remind her of who she was.”

“And you will bring her to us,” the woman said.

Alaric’s smile was cold.

“I will bring her back. But not for you.”

---

Later That Night...

Elara stood before the mirror, tracing the bracelet Evelyn returned to her.

The magic within it buzzed against her skin, like it was waking too.

Her memories were broken—like shards of glass. Flashes of battles, of a throne, of dark wings and whispered vows.

A name echoed in her head: Alaric.

She didn’t know if she feared it or longed for it.

Then the mirror began to ripple.

She gasped and stepped back.

A shadow formed in the glass—tall, elegant, eyes glowing red.

It spoke in her mind:

> “My Queen… I am coming for you.”

---

Elsewhere…

In a ruined temple outside Crestfall, the ground split open.

From the depths, black mist rose.

A figure emerged—cloaked, skeletal hands holding a blood-soaked book.

He turned his hollow eyes to the sky.

“The Moonblood stirs. The Queen is near. And the Vampire Alaric returns.”

He raised the book.

“Lucifer will rise. And the world shall burn anew.”