“It was 1723, winter in the English countryside. My family was hosting a grand ball to celebrate the winter solstice, my mother’s favorite time of year. We were nobility—the Byrons—an old family even back then. That’s how you maintained your reputation in those days,” he said, managing a small, fleeting smile as Elena nuzzled closer against his side, listening intently.


    “As the eldest son, I was expected to keep up appearances. It was my duty to attend and socialize with the guests, dance with the women, and network with all the other nobility. Be the picture of propriety.”


    Elena gave a soft snort, a smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth. “You must have loved that.”


    He rolled his eyes slightly, but his smile grew a fraction more genuine. “I was a regular socialite.” He shook his head. “Honestly, I hated it. I preferred books and quiet libraries to people even then. But my father was adamant that I learn to act like a proper gentleman, so he made sure I played my part. I think I would’ve lost my mind if it weren’t for my sister, Isabell.”


    His voice caught on her name, and he felt Elena’s gaze sharpen, her concern palpable. He pushed on, not wanting to linger on the pain that still twisted in his chest at the memory.


    “She was only fourteen then, but she was probably the best person I knew. Smart, funny, and utterly fearless. She had our father wrapped around her finger, a power she used sparingly—almost always to get me out of some social obligation I was dreading. That night, she was a ball of energy, darting around the ballroom like a little whirlwind, trying to convince me to dance with her. But I wasn’t having it. My father and I had gotten into an argument earlier that had put me into a foul mood. All I wanted to do was leave and go for a walk.”


    His voice turned bitter, and Elena’s hand tightened around his, offering silent comfort.


    “I wish I’d danced with her…” he murmured, his eyes turning distant again, haunted.


    “She wasn’t one to take no for an answer,” he continued, his tone growing lighter, as if clinging to the memory of her stubbornness. “So when I slipped out of the ballroom for some air, she followed. When Isabell decided something, there really wasn’t any talking her out of it. She pestered me until I let her come along. We ended up walking down toward the edge of our estate, where the grounds gave way to a small thicket of trees. She was feeling adventurous, excited to be out of the stuffy ballroom. But when we got there...”


    Theo’s voice faltered, his expression tightening as the memory resurfaced with vivid clarity. “Something didn’t feel right. The air changed. It was... still, like the night itself was holding its breath. And I could swear I felt eyes on us, watching from the shadows.”


    Elena’s breath caught slightly, sensing the tension threading through his words. She remained silent, letting him continue at his own pace.


    “I told Isabell we should head back, but she just laughed, thought I was imagining things. I was going to insist... but then I saw him. A man stepped out from between the trees. He was dressed far too richly for a stranger wandering the woods, and there was something... wrong about the way he moved, the way he smiled at us. Too smooth. Too perfect.”


    Theo’s jaw tightened, his hands flexing as if he could still feel the chill that had crept over his skin that night. “He greeted us like we were old friends, asked what we were doing so far from the party. Isabell, being her cheerful self, answered before I could stop her. She always saw the best in people, believed that kindness could win over anything.”


    He let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but the sound was hollow. “But I knew better. I tried to steer her back toward the estate, but the man... he was faster than anything I’d ever seen. In the blink of an eye, he was blocking our path, smiling that same, unnaturally calm smile. And that’s when I realized we were trapped.”


    “I tried to keep him talking, to distract him—anything to buy us time. But it was all for nothing. He was so fast. He grabbed me by the throat and pinned me against a tree. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He was like iron, so strong that it felt like fighting a mountain. Isabell screamed for him to let me go, ran at him, even tried to pull him off me, but he just swatted her away like she was nothing.”


    He swallowed hard, the memory cutting through him as sharply as it had all those years ago. “She hit the ground hard, but she got back up. Isabell, she... she always was brave, even when she should have been terrified. She got up and threw rocks at him, shouting at him to let me go, to fight her instead. She wouldn’t stop, even though he barely paid her any attention.”


    Theo’s voice broke slightly, and he squeezed Elena’s hand for strength. “I thought... I thought he was going to kill her. But instead, he turned to me, and he laughed. He said... he said she reminded him of a moth trying to attack a flame. And then, without any warning, he told her to run.”


    Elena’s brow furrowed, her breath catching. “He let her go?”


    Theo nodded, a haunted look in his eyes. “I think he found it amusing, to give her a chance. Or maybe he just wanted to play with his prey, to see if she’d make it. He turned to me and said he’d catch up with her later—after he’d finished with me. And then he bit down into my neck.”


    Elena’s eyes widened, disbelief glimmering in her green gaze.


    “Turning someone isn’t as simple as biting them. You have to drain them almost completely, then replenish their blood with your own. After I passed out from the blood loss, he took me to his hideout—a shack in the middle of nowhere. I was tied up inside for days, left alone except for the few hours each night when he’d come back. He’d talk to me while forcing me to drink his blood, telling me all about how he had a collection of nobles he’d turned into fledglings and how his master, Lucian, would train us to be ‘proper’ vampires.”


    “Lucian?” Elena’s voice was small, barely there. “The vampire who’s after me?”


    He forced a bitter smile, though it felt hollow on his lips. “The very same. Turns out Lysander was Lucian’s first fledgling.”


    Her confusion twisted into fear, and Theo saw her piecing together the horror, but he couldn’t stop now. The burden of it all demanded to be shared. “Lysander had the same spirit as Lucian. A monster, through and through. After days of being force-fed his blood, I started to change. I felt stronger, faster—but there was a weakness, too. A gnawing emptiness. Lysander told me it was because I needed to feed. He let me go, told me to come back to him when I was done. At the time, I didn’t understand why his words felt like chains around my will. But when a vampire turns you, you’re bound to them. It’s like compulsion, but worse. You don’t lose yourself. You stay awake inside your own mind, fully aware as your body obeys.”


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    He paused, trying to steady himself, but his voice trembled, betraying the fear that still clung to those memories. “I ran as soon as he let me go. Part of me didn’t want to believe what had happened. I thought if I could just get home, I could pretend it had all been a nightmare. That first night, I nearly did go home. I made my way straight to our estate, and I must have been only a few yards from the front entrance when I saw my mother storm out the door, my father following behind her, trying to calm her down. Even from that distance, I could tell she’d been crying. I almost called out to them, but the moment I took a few steps closer, the smell of their blood hit me like a wave. In that instant, I knew—there was no going home.”


    He swallowed, his fists clenching as the memory tightened its grip. “Instead of going back, I found a cave and hid there, hoping for... I don’t even know what. Maybe I thought I could starve myself, fight the hunger. But Lysander found me within hours. He told me I could try to hide, but he wasn’t going to tolerate ‘human nonsense’ for long. And if I didn’t feed soon, I’d learn what it meant to resist.”


    His hands began to tremble, and he balled them into fists, forcing himself to continue. “Elena... the hunger when you first turn, it’s... unimaginable. It’s like a black hole inside you, pulling everything into its emptiness. Everything you are, everything you’ve ever loved—it all becomes a shadow, swallowed by the need. You’d do anything—anything—just for a moment’s relief from that endless, all-consuming darkness.”


    He let out a bitter laugh, a sound that was more like a rasping breath. “Three days. That’s all it took. Three days and my humanity slipped away from me like water through cupped hands. I knew I couldn’t last another night, so I made up my mind to feed.”


    Even now, he could still see Lysander’s silhouette emerging from the trees that night, stepping into the moonlight like he’d known all along that Theo would break. “I don’t know if Lysander sensed I was ready or if he just knew it would take that long. But he came to me and taught me a lesson I’ll never forget.”


    Theo’s throat tightened as he remembered. “I was barely out of the cave when he appeared, striding towards me like a shadow come to life. I knew what he would say—I knew what he was about to command. And I... I dropped to my knees. I begged him for mercy.”


    The memory burned hot in his chest, turning his voice rough. “Whatever pride or dignity I had left, I threw it at his feet. I promised him anything. My life, my loyalty, whatever he wanted. But he didn’t care. He didn’t need my promises—he already owned me. He could make me do whatever he wanted. And I think he preferred knowing I’d fight it.”


    He paused again, closing his eyes against the wave of shame, the silence between him and Elena growing heavier, pressing down on him like a weight. He could hear Elena’s breath, feel the tension in the air. He hated that she had to hear this, but she needed to know what he was—what he is.


    “He ordered me to go home. To my family.” His voice broke, and he could barely force the next words out. “My blood turned to ice. I wanted to refuse, to run, but I couldn’t. My body wasn’t mine anymore. I walked like a man to his own execution, but I walked.”


    Elena’s silence felt like a scream in the darkness, but he couldn’t stop. “When we reached my home, I could hear them inside. I could smell them—my father, my mother, everyone except Isabell. A small mercy I had thought. At least I wouldn’t have to hurt her.”


    He stopped, clenching his jaw against the tremor in his hands. The memories were so vivid, so real, he almost expected to see the familiar door in front of him again. “By then, the hunger was so intense I could barely see. Every cell in my body was screaming for blood. A part of me—the monster he’d made me into—wanted to tear down that door and end the hunger, no matter what it cost. But I fought it. I begged him, begged God, anyone who would listen. Not them. Please, anyone but them.”


    He could feel Elena’s eyes on him, her shock and pity, but he kept his gaze on the floor. “Then he ordered me to feed on them. And just like that, whatever was left of my will... it shattered.”


    Elena’s hand flew to her mouth, tears streaming down her face, but Theo couldn’t look at her. He stared at his hands, his voice low. “I opened the door... and I did it. I fed on them.” He paused, his fists tightening, as if he could wring the guilt from his body. “I felt their lives drain away with every second, their bodies growing weaker beneath me. I wanted to stop—I tried to stop—but I couldn’t. I fed on them until there was nothing left. Nothing but cold, empty corpses at my feet.”


    “That wasn’t even the worst part,” he whispered, his whole body trembling as if he could shake the memory loose from his soul. The tears he had fought so hard to hold back finally broke free, spilling down his cheeks in thick, crimson streaks. “I wanted to feel disgusted. I should have felt horror—should have screamed, raged, ripped myself apart for what I’d done. But I didn’t.”


    His voice cracked, and he closed his eyes, the shame almost too heavy to bear. “All I felt... was relief. This horrible, soul-crushing relief. The hunger was gone. And in that moment, nothing mattered but the quiet, the stillness inside me. It felt like a weight had been lifted, and I hated myself for it.”


    He drew a ragged breath, his hands shaking as he wiped at the blood-tinged tears. “That was the worst part—not the killing, not the fact that I drained them, my own family—but that when it was over, all I felt was peace. Like the darkness inside me had finally been satisfied, and for just a moment, I didn’t care about the cost.”


    “Lysander walked in then, standing over the bodies, and told me to look. Told me to never forget what I had become—and what I was capable of.”


    "Lysander left me alone after that. He said he had things to do and that he wanted me to learn to be a “real” vampire before he’d come to take me back. For a long time, I was nothing but an empty shell, drifting through the nights without purpose. That’s when Arthur found me. He helped me find myself again—taught me how to take blood without killing, how to blend into society, how to live with what I’d become. He taught me everything."


    "Years later, Lysander returned, ready to drag me back under his control. But Arthur stood in his way. He tried to get the council involved, citing a new policy that placed limits on how many fledglings a vampire could create. But, since the policy had gone into place after I had been turned, the council didn’t care. So, Arthur took matters into his own hands—he killed Lysander."


    "When Lucian found out, he went after my sister as retribution. By then, she had a family of her own. She had a husband and three kids. Lucian slaughtered them all and took her. I tried to appeal to the council and to Arthur, but they called it a “reasonable trade.” I begged Arthur to help me get her back, but he refused, saying it was too risky. Desperate, I tried to rescue Isabell on my own, but I never stood a chance against Lucian."


    "Lucian promised he wouldn’t kill her—or hurt her too much—if I started working for him. So that’s what I did... until recently."


    The early dawn light crept through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the room. Theo braced himself for Elena''s reaction. He expected her to pull away, to look at him with the fear or disgust he knew he deserved after everything he had told her. But she didn’t.  A part of him even braced for the familiar “It’s not your fault” speech he’d come to expect from Arthur, but Elena remained silent.  Instead, she rested her head on his chest, and he felt the warmth of her quiet tears seeping into his skin.


    Her bare body against his was a comfort he hadn’t anticipated, a solace he wasn’t sure he deserved. He half expected her to flinch or recoil, but when she didn’t, he hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his arms around her, holding her as if she were the only thing keeping him afloat in the midst of a storm. Her silence soothed him in a way he couldn’t put into words, as though she understood him in a way no one else ever had.


    He had expected judgment, fear—anything to confirm the darkness he knew was inside him. But all he found in her was warmth, her quiet acceptance unraveling the walls he had built to protect himself.


    Theo wished they could have stayed like that just a little longer, but it wasn’t meant to be.