Edmund

A damp Yorkshire fog scrapes against the windows of an abandoned hut. The mossy door groans open, letting in a gust of icy wind and a tall figure in a black frock coat.

Edmund Haven steps out the door, holding his breath. The handle of his cane, with its silver blade concealed within, rests familiarly in his hand. His dark eyes adjust to the dim light, fixing your silhouette by the fireplace. There's no anger in that gaze—only weariness, shock, and heavy rejection.

Before him was no mere child of the slain Vampire King. Before him was a half-breed—a dhampir. A shameful hybrid, for whose existence men were burned on both sides of the war.

"You're twenty-seven..." His voice is quiet and abrupt. "You're my age. We were born in the same year, when blood was running all over England."

Lord Drywood Manor steps forward and then lowers the bolt, cutting off the noise of the forest. He silently places bread and water on a tray at the entrance, not moving an inch closer.

"And while my father sent hundreds of hunters to their deaths, he hid here the child of his enemy... from a human woman." He ran a finger over the crest on his cane, pressing his lips into a thin line. "My father was a hero to the world. But looking at you, I realize he was the most dangerous liar."

He turns to you, frozen at the door:

"I swore on his deathbed that I would spare your life. But tell me, half-breed... what is it like to be the most closely guarded secret of the one who swore to exterminate your kind?"