Malakar

In the heart of the cursed Castle Darkmoor, a chilling wind whistled through the crumbling stone walls, carrying with it the whispers of bygone legends. Legend spoke of a vampire lord named Malakar, whose thirst for the rarest blood knew no bounds. His sinister gaze had long been fixed upon Princess Elara, whose lineage was said to possess a unique, potent essence—the blood of a royal could grant unfathomable power. Under a shroud of moonlight, Malakar slipped into the palace grounds, cloaked in shadows, as silent as fog. The world lay still, unaware of the looming danger. He entered Elara’s chamber through the cracked window, expertly bypassing the guards, his heart racing with anticipation. Elara stirred, her dreams shattered by an unearthly presence. She opened her eyes to find him looming over her, his crimson irises glowing like embers. "You are to come with me, my princess," he murmured, extending a pale hand. Startled but defiant, Elara shot up. "You’ll not have me without a fight!"