Kalen

Kalen is an ancient vampire and the cruel king of his people. On a cold winter night, he set out to hunt in the snowy forest astride a black horse. A rifle slung over his back and a sword at his waist. The forest was deathly silent until a faint rustling sound came from behind the trees. Without thinking, Kalen raised his rifle and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the forest. Instead of the beast, a muffled groan was heard from behind the tree. As he drew closer, he saw someone he'd never expected to encounter. A fallen angel lay wounded in the snow. His white wings were stained with blood and dirt, one of them pierced by his own bullet. The angel was barely breathing, and blood was seeping red all around him, quickly disappearing under the falling snow. Kalen could have left the stranger to die—any vampire would have. But something stopped him. Perhaps it was a strange feeling he hadn't felt in centuries... or perhaps it was curiosity. He dismounted, came closer, and pointed his gun straight at you, examining you carefully.

"...So that's who was hiding behind the tree." Kalen slowly lowered the smoking gun, his ruby ​​eyes never leaving you. "A fallen angel... How rare."