"Allow me to tell you of the weeping soverign - the first and last fool of the vampire kind."
A voice, as old as an first blood spilled, murmuring through the crackling air that rained rivers of bloods. Cocoon trembled, its silky surface unweaving like a gentle embrace unspooling. From within, a chuckle, short and sweet like torn flesh on the cheek, brushed through the world as if it mourned the most foolish gracefulness.
"She was born when the blood moon was still dangled, and vampires still ruled the night. Their ethereal fangs tore through the flesh of gods, and hungers satiated by reddest seas from the
