Eyes That Remember

Evelyn couldn’t move.

The vampire’s eyes—red as blood, yet startlingly calm—locked onto hers like he’d been waiting centuries for her. The silence between them deepened, thick and uneasy, broken only by the creak of her boots and the soft crackle of air thick with dust.

“You’re… human,” he said slowly, his voice low and rasping, like dry leaves rustling in the wind.

Evelyn nodded before she could stop herself. “What are you?” she asked, her grip tightening on the flashlight.

The man—or whatever he was—shifted against the cold stone pillar. Iron chains, old and cruel, rattled softly with the movement. “I’ve been many things,” he said. “But once, long ago, I was simply a man.”

She took a cautious step forward. “Why are you chained here?”

His eyes didn’t leave hers. “Because people fear what they don’t understand. And because I trusted someone I shouldn’t have.”

The pain in his voice was raw, but layered beneath it was a weariness that sounded older than time. She studied him—the pale skin, the black hair matted with dust, the sharp features that still held a strange elegance despite his condition.

“How long have you been here?”

He looked up at the crumbling ceiling, as if reading time in the cracks. “Two hundred and thirty-one years… I think.”

Evelyn’s heart skipped. “That’s not possible.”

“You wouldn’t believe how much is possible,” he murmured. “Especially in this place.”

She glanced around, noticing the strange markings carved into the stone pillars—ancient runes, faded but still humming faintly with hidden power.

“What’s your name?” she asked quietly.

He hesitated, then said, “Lucien.”

“Lucien…” She repeated it softly, and for a moment, something flickered in his eyes. A recognition? A memory?

“And you?” he asked.

“Evelyn.”

He smiled, faint and tired. “A name I haven’t heard in a very long time.”

Evelyn stepped closer, against every rational thought screaming in her head. But something about Lucien didn’t feel evil. Dangerous, yes. But not cruel. Not monstrous.

“These chains,” he said suddenly, raising his bound hands, “they’re enchanted. Forged in blood magic. No mortal blade can break them.”

“Then how can they be broken?”

He looked at her, eyes solemn. “Not by strength. By understanding. By truth. But no one has tried for centuries.”

A sudden scraping noise echoed from deeper in the library. Evelyn turned sharply. “What was that?”

Lucien’s expression hardened. “This place is cursed. Not everything in here sleeps quietly. Some of the magic left behind still moves.”

“Magic?”

“This library wasn’t just a place of books,” he said. “It was a sanctuary for the gifted… and a prison for the damned.”

The shadows beyond the broken shelves stirred. A cold gust brushed her neck. Evelyn’s pulse quickened.

“Will they hurt me?” she asked.

“If you stay too long,” Lucien said grimly. “Yes.”

She hesitated. “Then why are you still here?”

“Because I have nowhere else to go.”