Beyond the portals of hell - even beyond Paradonia's immortal sights - miles away from the thresholds of the human domain, lies a realm of darkness.
In the heart of this country is its capital, Elsein, a city forever shrouded in eternal night and illuminated under the permanent, full face of the blood moon.
It was founded on a heartfelt ambition, a dream of a place where the sun may never touch the children born of the night and render them to ash again. It was a haven for the persecuted and for those who followed the creed of twilight.
In the center of this very country is a sombre fortress - a residence which belongs to a proud vampire, the founder of Ashes End.
Vincent Rosenberg.
And as usual for Vincent, it was a perfect night like every other. No sign of change in the chilling air.
Thousands of rose petals rain down from the glass dome in a frolicsome yet elegant spiral. Generations worth of roses cultivated and grown outwardly across the high ceiling, basking in the red moonlight, showering his guests with sheer extravagance.
Beauty.
Perfection.
Constant glee and laughter fill the ballroom. The vampires of high society waltz to their blessed hearts' content, compelled by the alluring and magnetic pull of the in-house orchestra. Intoxicated by the divine taste of crimson in their wine glasses.
But for Vincent, he found himself lost in his own thoughts, and everything was muffled behind the closed balcony doors. His eyes became keenly drawn to what was beyond his balcony. From there, he had a perfect view of the dark city under the glorious light of the moon. It was truly a place of peace. And what made it all possible was the barrier acting as a protective dome over the country of Elsein, making them invisible to the human world. It established a great divide between magic and the ordinary, so neither of them could conflict.
He takes a small sip from his glass, letting the sweet yet savoury taste of vermillion wash over his tongue.
Then a streak of gold shimmers in his peripheral vision.
He casts the rest of his gaze to the glimmer and squints. In the darkness above, there was a sudden, diminutive golden fissure branching across the yonder. Vincent double-takes and blinks. And for the first time in what felt like a century, his heart felt heavy - weighted.
A sinking feeling. An unprecedented sense of dread.
The wine glass slips from his fingers - and the sound of shattering glass hitting the floor pierces his ears. He couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away from the developing crack in the barrier. He felt paralysed to the core. Helplessness had coiled itself around his frame and made him rigid. Then an irritable sensation crawls up his throat. He coughs into his hand to see golden liquid splattered across his cold porcelain palm.
He had forgotten what dread felt like. This horrible familiarity. One he yearned to disappear. He had forgotten his vow - the vow he made all those years ago. That promise to himself.
The refusal of surrender.
Never to give in to the creeping dread.
Even if he is marked for death.
The vampire pulled himself together. He knew he had been resting too comfortably for the past century. Not to mention, his guests would begin to suspect something if they saw him like this. The vampire straightens his posture and clears his throat, trying to show a stiff upper lip. He quickly takes out a fragrant napkin from his inner breast pocket and wipes away the fresh stain before setting it alight - watching it burst into golden flames. The miniature flame dances within his palm until its inevitable demise, and renders the evidence to ash - scattered to the high winds of twilight.
Any show of weakness in high society is a death sentence - especially for a Rosenberg.
He turns around and opens the balcony doors, making his entrance once more. Appearing before the masses. The music slows as he makes his way to the centre of the dance floor. His guests all present themselves to him with a curt bow. As one should.
He takes his place at the heart of it all amongst the nobles and joins hands with a lady of his choosing. Leading the waltz. The nobles follow suit and pair up with a partner.
Vincent's hand slides down her thinned corseted waist, whereas the other guides the dance. The slow, drawn-out rhythm of the violins begins to quicken. Hitting a higher tempo. Their feet pick up the pace - and his guests mirror their rapid movements, becoming fully immersed in the music of the night.
They spin together - and the vampire slowly dips the lady back, making her spine subtly arch forward. Her head tilts backwards, and strands of dark brown hair fall across her face. He draws the fine points of his fangs over the exposed nape of her neck. If her undead heart could, it would skip a beat.
Rosenberg smirks knowingly, and his bloody gaze instinctively flickers ahead, across the other side of the ballroom, but then he freezes momentarily. Passing behind the crowds and flitting amongst the wallflowers was a lady with hair as vivid and radiant as fire itself, which cascaded down to her lower back in waves.
Vincent blinks - and she is gone.
An instant frown marks his countenance. This was the first time the lord of Roses had seen such a person, which prompted him to wonder if she had bypassed the guest list and snuck in.
The music reaches its climax. He and his partner make one final spin, joined hand in hand, before switching partners again. The next lady caught in his rhythmic embrace also had red locks, but the tint wasn't quite the same.
A coincidence, perhaps?
He pulls her in by the waist - bringing her closer to his chest as they take the dance floor by storm. They spin again, carrying the steadfast momentum of the violin's quick tempo.
Then a sudden flash of red in his peripheral vision reels in his full attention, diverting his gaze away from his current partner. An elven woman with long red hair, the same one he saw earlier amongst the masses, but this time, she had a pair of impressive golden antlers protruding from her head, and the base of the pair sat a crown of roses. Her bright green eyes shone like emeralds and carried a twinkle of utmost glee. She joined hands with a man - a human. Seeing this caused Vincent's lip to upturn into a snarl.
He had a deep set of light blue eyes and medium-length brown hair, cut at the shoulders. Like the elf, he was also adorned with a crown, one of silver. They were both dressed in formal, yet seemingly regal attire. He wore what appeared to be an imperial red and black suit, whereas she wore a long-sleeved green dress with golden accents.
To the vampire, they appeared so familiar, as though it was at the tip of his tongue, and yet he couldn't place it.
Just who were they?
The more they danced, the more it felt as though time was slowing down - and for the first time in centuries, he felt the sudden bite of coldness upon the back of his neck.
Then, everyone around him faded into the background and vanished from his field of vision. He could no longer feel the hand of his partner. The display of the regal couple drew him in and prompted him to step closer, without fear or doubt, as though he was enticed in by an unseen presence.
The last time he had ever seen someone look into the eyes of another with such longing and admiration was his late wife.
His darling Sophia.
Vincent grits his fangs. A bubbling sensation builds up in his chest, and the same irritation as before slithers back up his throat. He lurched forward and coughed into his hand again. Strands of auburn hair fall past his eyes as he stares down at his trembling palm to see liquidised gold pooled in the centre, then followed by a shooting pain which pierced his skull. The sight of the mismatched couple sets itself aflame as they both waltz into an ashen oblivion.
He quickly grabs another tissue from his breast pocket, eager to wipe the stain from his hand and burn it immediately before the others catch onto his scent.
The scent implying a weakness.
Thus, with a slight waver, he sweeps his hair back and forces himself to stand up straight. Determined to present an air of proud refinedness to his audience.
The show must go on.
The flow of time slowly resumes. Reintroducing a sense of normality back into the ballroom.
A hand quickly clasps his own. They continue the waltz. It was as if no one was aware of the fact that he was frozen in time a mere second ago. And before he could take a moment to adjust, his hand is snatched away - pulled into another dance.
His new partner was a lady with white hair, white as snow. Her steel grey like eyes pierce his red ones.
She leans in.
"You can see her, can't you?" The woman whispered into his ear with a sly yet sharp tone.
It wasn't a question, but rather a statement.
She lingers before meeting his gaze again. Her eyes were smiling. Mocking even. She pulls out a knife tucked into her dress and slashes him across the throat, delivering a very fine hairline cut, after he leapt back, avoiding a direct gash across his windpipe.
The music discontinues, and the guests disperse quickly, smelling the blood in the air.
All of them knew it belonged to Rosenberg.
His hand ghosts over his throat. The sting of the cut was taking longer than normal to fade - and if he didn't act soon enough, the other guests would soon notice. A weakness soon to be revealed before their predatory and opportunistic gazes.
He coughs into his hand again, spilling more golden blood into his palm. Leaving nothing to chance, he flicks his wrist, and thousands of roses grown against the high ceiling begin to slither downwards. They coil rapidly around the assassin in unison.
She smirks back at him, and bursts into a swarm of ethereal butterflies. The collective of insects shoot through the glass panels of the rose-tinted windows, giving the impression of phantom-like shards. Flying towards the full moon, and vanishing beyond the vampire's sight.
"The Arkn'hails send their regard." Her whisper echoes.
Then, the crowd begins to clap, and erupt into a loud applause, believing it was all a performance.
Rosenberg sweeps his hair back and smiles with a bows.
"Thank you. Thank you." The vampire laughed, and smoothly gestures to his side.
"And if that little performance wasn't enough to satisfy you, there is still plenty more refreshments to go around!"
They continued to applaud him and quickly were attended by members of staff, offering them drinks on a silver platter. Basking in the façade of the night.