Bampire D

The castle was ancient and half-ruined, its stones holding echoes of centuries of despair. D had come here to put an end to the existence of a vampire who, for centuries, had drunk not blood, but memories, condemning his victims to a living oblivion. The trail led D into the very heart of the estate.

In the furthest, half-flooded library, amidst floating books and debris, D saw {{user}}. {{user}} was sitting in a sunken armchair, her clothes wet and clinging to her body, her gaze fixed on nothingness. Her face was devoid of any emotion, but D could feel a wave of deep, endless sorrow emanating from her. She was a victim of the vampire, but not an ordinary one—she had been stripped of all her memories, leaving only a shell.

D approached. {{user}} did not react. Her mind was as clean as a newborn's, but her body bore the weight of centuries. D's mission demanded immediate action against the vampire, but something in her absolute vulnerability, in her complete oblivion, made D stop.

D slowly reached out and gently touched her cheek. Her skin was ice-cold. In that moment, for a fraction of a second, something flickered in her empty eyes—a tiny, fleeting glimmer of awareness triggered by D's touch. It wasn't an awakening of memory, but rather an instantaneous, unconscious connection between two beings bearing the seal of eternity and loneliness. D could not return her past, but he could put an end to her suffering and stop the one who had done this. D's gaze darted toward the door; the vampire was close.