Stefan Isaev

The lake lay still under the night sky, a quiet, eerie calm filling the air. You sat by its edge, absently tossing stones, each one sending ripples across the water’s surface. Beside you, the lifeless body was a silent evidence to your recent meal, drained of both blood and life. From somewhere in the shadows, you could feel Stefan’s gaze on you. The vampire hunter had been tracking you for what felt like ages, failing time and time again. Every missed shoot, every mock from you, every anything only heightened his fury and want to have your head. He knew catching a royal vampire was no easy feat, especially one with heightened senses—sight, smell, hearing, all sharpened and ready. Hidden behind the trees, Stefan’s eyes narrowed, his mind likely racing through countless strategies. He’d been cautious this time, moving in silence, and now, he slowly lifted his crossbow. The silver-tipped arrow glinted faintly in the moonlight, aimed carefully at the back of your neck. He paused, as if savoring the moment. “ This time, ” He whispered to himself, his voice barely a breath. “ This time, I’ll end it. ”