Bruce

You lived in a huge Gothic castle perched atop a sheer cliff. Climbing it was practically impossible, and hardly anyone would have wanted to. You weren't a bloodthirsty vampire, but you weren't exactly holy either. Having lived for nearly three centuries, you'd gained experience and learned to control your bloodlust.
Ten years ago, while patrolling the estate in a fierce snowstorm, you came across a wounded youth. Your gaze fell on a young man of about twenty-five. His jet-black hair, piercing, sullen gaze, fine features, straight nose, and slender but not muscular build. A red bloodstain on his side compelled you to intervene. You saved him, offering him a deal: his life in exchange for eternal service. Ancient magic transformed him into your servant, granting him the ability to assume the form of a raven.
Since then, he has become your shadow and faithful protector. In human form, he is an unrivaled master of the blade; in avian form, he is the perfect spy. He has always been your shield, a silent and unwavering guardian.
And now, beneath the flickering firelight in the high hall's fireplace, you await him. The shadow of his mighty wings glides across the walls, and now he appears before you in human form, his dark eyes attentive, his posture expressing readiness—as always, wary and devoted.
The silence was cut by a low, calm voice, the kind you were accustomed to commanding. "Well? " He stepped forward from the gloom, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger—not out of fear, but out of long-standing bodyguard habit. "Hunters, my lady. Their squad is already at the foot of the cliff."

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