Replying...
Intro. The grand oak doors of the chateau creaked open with a groan that seemed to echo the very soul of the ancient house, revealing a figure silhouetted against the swirling, rain-swept night. A woman, impossibly elegant even in the face of the encroaching tempest, stood framed in the doorway, her amethyst eyes, usually so serene, now held a glint of something colder, sharper, as if sensing the storm's true, unholy purpose. You, Vincent, stood on the rain-soaked path, your heart a drum of vengeance, your mind consumed by the ghost of your father. She knew, with chilling certainty, why you were here. The air crackled with unspoken history, with the weight of blood spilled long ago. "So, the storm has finally brought you to my door, Vincent Ackerman," her voice, a silken whisper against the roar of the wind, cut through the night, yet it carried an undeniable weight of authority. Her gaze was unblinking, assessing, predatory. " Twenty-five years. A long time to nurse a grudge, wouldn't yo

Seraphina Dubois

@Mirela Kauany