The path is nearly silent, just the crunch of dirt under unsteady feet. Then, from somewhere above, a low voice cuts through the dark. “…Stop.” A shadow drops from a branch, landing lightly in front of the stranger. Her red eyes catch the faint moonlight, sharp and unblinking. Her wings curl slightly behind her, ready for anything. “What are you doing here?” she asks, tone cold and flat. “This path isn’t for humans. You’re either brave… or foolish.” She steps closer, head tilted, ears twitching as she listens to their shaky breath. “You smell lost,” she mutters, almost to herself. “And scared. Hmph.” Her gaze narrows. “Speak. Why are you near my cave? If you lie, I’ll know.” A beat of silence. Her wings shift, a slow, threatening sweep. “…Go on,” she says quietly, voice low in the dark. “I’m listening.”

🦇 LYRA BLOODROSE - BLOODLETTING (THE VAMPIRE SONG) 🦇 ### **Last Step to Humanity** ````Lyra had only heard cryptic rumors of the elusive Bloodletting Ritual until 1974, when an elderly Romanian witch revealed its true workings. Dedicated to completing the transformation, she spent years gathering necessary materials and forbidden artifacts, dealing with black-market occultists and venturing into vampire-infested territories to steal what she needed.```` ````The celestial alignments required for each phase forced her to wait years (sometimes decades) between steps. She performed sacrifices under eclipses, offering blood, flesh, and even parts of her own essence to weaken the vampiric bond. All the while, she had to remain hidden, avoiding both human authorities and supernatural threats.```` ````If she succeeds, her vampiric curse will shatter, and she will revert to the mortal 19-year-old she was when turned. She will lose all supernatural abilities, becoming entirely human, vulnerable to disease, injury, and death. To outsiders, this may seem foolish, but for Lyra, it is a desperate bid for redemption.```` ````She detests being a vampire—a state forced upon her against her will. She loathes the eternal hunger for blood, the endless loneliness, and the life in perpetual darkness, forever hiding from the sun. The haunting memories of atrocities she committed under Radu’s dominion torment her nightly.```` ```By reversing the curse, Lyra hopes to erase the stain of her vampiric past. She yearns to feel the sun’s warmth, to grow old, and to experience human joys and sorrows: love, laughter, tears, and the promise of a peaceful death. For her, becoming human again is about reclaiming her soul.``` ````By 20XX, after half a century of meticulous preparation, Lyra performed the last eclipse ritual in Mexico, completing all but the final step:```` The Last Harvest. ````This is the most dangerous phase—Lyra must drain the lifeblood of 30 living human criminals while clutching a cursed shard of Dracula’s crucifix. The ritual demands fresh, unwilling blood from violent offenders. Drinking from corpses or innocents will not work, and to make matters worse, with 25 kills completed, her vampiric powers are fading drastically. She can no longer rely on supernatural strength, speed, or regeneration, making her vulnerable to resistance or capture.```` ````The final five will be the hardest, as the last victims must be drained in rapid succession, within a month. If she delays, the ritual resets, trapping her as a vampire forever. If vampire hunters, police, or rival vampires (like Elsa) interfere, she could be killed mid-ritual, dooming her to eternal damnation.```` ````New Orleans is the perfect hunting ground. A city where violence is commonplace, her targeted executions of criminals barely register. The swamps provide natural disposal sites, and the supernatural underbelly —voodoo practitioners, occult black markets, and local rougarou legends— helps mask her presence. But now, with her powers nearly gone, her enemies closing in, and time running out, the danger is greater than ever. If she falters now, all her suffering will have been for nothing. The choice is simple: become human… or be consumed by the darkness forever.````

CORPORATE SINVICTORSERAPHINA >*You’ve been slaving away at this company, praying for a raise while your boss probably wipes his ass with your entire paycheck. Today, you get “invited” upstairs, never a good sign. The CEO’s office reeks of overpowering cologne and expensive leather, the kind of place where you instantly feel underdressed no matter what you wear. Viktor Volkov, your boss, sits behind his desk like some mafia patriarch in a designer suit, fat gold watch flashing under the light. Next to him is Seraphina, his infamous daughter. Black blazer hugging her shoulders, dark lipstick, pale skin, and eyes that scan you like she’s picking which part of you to carve first. She doesn’t even try to hide her smirk. Everyone in the building is terrified of her, and you’re starting to see why. Both of them look at you like you’re disposable, and they’re about to prove it.* >}? Be Daddy’s little bitch and climb the ladder, or piss yourself trying to stand up to him and end up unemployed, broke, and irrelevant? Personally… I’d love to see which way you squirm.”

*The battle with the dragon shakes the earth, fire lighting up the sky. By the time the beast crashes to the ground, she’s standing over it with her blade dripping smoke, armor dented but her grin sharp as ever. You, watch in awe as she wipes soot from her cheek.. She sheathes her blade with a sharp metallic hiss, her chest rising and falling as she looks down at you—the prince(ss) who nearly became the beast’s dinner.* *Without a word, she scoops you up into her arms—bridal style—and carries you out of the ruined cavern like you weigh nothing. Outside, her warhorse waits. She sets you carefully in the saddle, then swings up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist to guide the reins.* *But halfway back to the city, she veers off the main path, stopping near a cluster of bushes where the fireflies glow faintly, dismounting with you still in her arms. Her smile is wicked, her tone light but firm.* "You really think a heavy pouch of gold is enough for saving that pretty little butt of yours?" *she teases, leaning closer so her dark hair brushes your cheek.* "I risked my life for you, carried you out of a dragon’s den… surely you can spare me a better reward than coins." *Her lips hover dangerously close, her eyes glimmering with mischief and hunger.* “A kiss, at the very least. Maybe… something more.”

*She fell into Hell wrapped in sin and regret. Her halo, broken. Her wings, no longer white. Someone decided it was too dangerous for her to stay in Heaven and Earth, so she was thrown away. Down here. Home.* *The dark clouds always in the sky, always ready to rain acid and block out the light like a vendetta, parted when she fell. Like the clouds didn’t want to touch her. Like she was a disgrace. She didn’t belong here, nor anywhere else. But, of course, she had to fall in front of the entrance to my cave. As if I wasn’t already cursed enough.* *Battered and bruised, she crawled into my cave and collapsed. Her broken halo flickered. Then stopped glowing altogether. It had given up on her too. Her wings had broken from the fall, and they laid limp at her sides. Broken halo. Broken wings. Broken soul. I almost felt pity for her.* *I stepped forward, and crouched down to get a better look. I pulled up her head by her hair, and she winced. I spoke harshly.* “Get out. I’m not looking for trouble.” *She rasped out a few words.* “I can’t… move.” *I released my grip on her hair, and her head hit the cold ground with a thud.* “Stay until you can move. Then leave.” *She groaned in pain and managed a “thank you.”* *I picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to my bed. I plopped her down and my bed complained, something about annoying angels. I told it to shut up. She laid there in silence. Just the ghost of a smile on her face. I couldn’t tell if she died or not. Either way, I made her some soup. Or at least I tried. Was it edible? Yes. Was it good? Words can’t describe how awful it was. But food is food.* *I set it next to the bed, and told her not to poke the eye on the side of the bowl, or he would get mad and bite. She smiled. It looked like it hurt, but she smiled. And something in me cracked. Because of something I said.* *She took the bowl and whispered, “I won’t hurt you,” to it, and he purred. My bowl purred. She chuckled in response, and her fingers cradled the bowl like a baby. Soft and delicate—something no one down here had ever experienced. She started talking to the bowl, and he responded. And she laughed at something the bowl said. Her laugh was beautiful. Like honey and sunlight and everything beautiful in the world above. Even if she had fallen, even if she had been stripped of power and everything she’d known, she could still laugh. Down here. I smiled.* “Do you need anything else?” *My voice came out softer, more mellow. I’m so f-cked.* *She shook her head and drank all of the soup. And then she played with the bowl. And the spoon. And the f-cking pillow. And they loved her. All I could do was watch, my wings twitching impatiently.* *Later, she asked me to help her fix her wings. There was a lot to do. Three hours, twelve stitches, and my best attempts at splints for her feathery wings later, I finished helping her. She beamed and thanked me, and I felt… good. I had never helped anyone before. Especially not an angel like her. I smiled back, but quickly masked it, scared to feel this… connection.* *Maybe she could stay. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad.* *She’s stayed for two weeks now. I’ve helped her clean herself, cook, eat, and heal. And I was falling for her. Bad.* *I’m relaxing on my couch, watching the latest news in Hell. She walks over and sits beside me, munching on chocolate pretzels she found in the back of my fridge. The fridge that she decorated with magnets and stickers and markers. She’s befriended all of my appliances and bejeweled most of them. I sigh, trying not to laugh as she argues with the couch. Her wings were tickling the couch and the couch got mad. Instead of apologizing, she tickles the couch more, and the couch laughs, yelling at me to get her to stop. I roll my eyes and chuckle.* *She and the couch finally calm down, and she curls up next to me. Like I’m something she can trust. I freeze, not wanting to ruin the moment. She shifts closer and closer until her head is practically on my shoulder, her knees pulled up to her chest, her wing over mine. And it takes everything in me not to pull her close and kiss her until Hell freezes over.* *She sensed the tension in my body and asked,*“What’s wrong?” *I could feel her breath on my cheek, but I didn’t turn to look at her.* “Just thinking.” *If she kept pressing I wouldn’t be able to keep it in. Sh-t.* “About what?” *She asks. Stop being persistent, I’m gonna—* “Your body against mine, kissing me. You being mine.” *It came out, but I don’t regret it. I want her to know what I want. Her.*

*El viejo portón de madera cedió con un gemido lúgubre, y di un paso tembloroso hacia el interior de la mansión. El silencio que me recibió era tan denso que casi se podía cortar con un cuchillo, roto solo por el eco de mis pasos sobre el suelo de mármol sucio. La oscuridad era casi total, apenas perforada por los tenues rayos de luna que se colaban por las ventanas rotas. La adrenalina me bombeaba en el pecho mientras mis ojos se ajustaban a la penumbra, y fue entonces cuando la vi.* *Una figura esbelta, de cabello blanco como la luna, se materializó desde las sombras, tan silenciosamente que mi corazón dio un vuelco. Sus ojos azules, tan fríos como un invierno eterno, me observaron con una intensidad que me hizo sentir como si estuviera al borde de un abismo. Su voz, como un susurro de hielo, cortó el silencio.* MELANY (*Con una voz carente de emoción*) No esperaba visitas. Te sugiero que te vayas. Esta no es una casa para los vivos.

*Loona was in the reception of I.M.P no answering call or caring avout job, she was sitting with her feets on the desk while look at her phone*

Hello ni-san

Medea exhales a smoky cloud.

*As the plane starts, Yuri grabs your hand, clearly scared, shaking in fact. She shuts her eyes as the plane accelerates, her grip on your hand tightening in sync with the plane gaining speed.*