Payal_Sankhla

When 22-year-old Cimmona Vane discovers a forgotten painting whispering her name and a crimson eclipse turns the skies over Blackmere, her quiet life as a restoration artist crumbles into shadow. Unknowingly, she awakens an ancient curse — and with it, a vampire bound by oath and centuries of silence.

Robin is dangerous, immortal, and beautiful in the way that thunderclouds are before a storm. He says Cimmona’s blood holds a key long lost to the vampire world — and now every creature of the night wants a taste.

As dark forces close in and her own powers begin to stir, Cimmona must choose: run from the darkness... or become it.

A tale of cursed bloodlines, slow-burn romance, forgotten covenants, and the magic of becoming who you were meant to be — even if it means rewriting the rules of life and death.

BloodBath

Cimmona Vane — 22 years old, fiercely independent, intuitive, and drawn to the occult. She works as a restoration artist in the old city of Blackmere, where shadows and secrets linger.

The blood moon rose over Blackmere like a silent omen, casting a crimson glow across the gothic spires and cobblestone alleys of the sleeping city. Most of the town remained unaware, but Cimmona Vane had felt its coming long before it painted the night sky red.

She stood alone on the roof of the Whitlock Gallery, her windblown coat fluttering behind her like a cape. Below her, Blackmere's old quarter lay quiet, the gas lamps casting golden pools of light that barely held the shadows at bay.

Cimmona brought her camera to her eye and focused on the moon. The eclipse had begun — the edges slowly devoured by darkness. But her camera, seasoned and reliable, flickered as if short-circuiting. She frowned.

Not the chill of spring air. This was different — it crept along her spine, like unseen fingers tracing bone. Cimmona lowered the camera. The street below was empty… but not quiet.

She heard it: the faint sound of something… breathing.

The hairs on her arms rose. "Hello?" she called out, peering into the alley.

Then a whisper, soft as silk: "Watcher."

She spun around, heart thudding. No one. Only the roof, the sky, the eclipse.

But she wasn't alone. She knew that now.

Cimmona rushed downstairs, locking the rooftop door behind her. Inside the gallery's dim corridor, the antique portraits seemed to watch her pass. She paused before a 17th-century oil painting—"Lady of Thorns." It was her favorite, yet tonight, the woman in the portrait looked… different.

Cimmona stepped back, breath caught in her throat.

Glass shattered somewhere behind her.

She turned to run — but a tall figure emerged from the gallery's shadows, as silent and graceful as moonlight. He wore a long coat, the color of storm clouds, and his eyes… his eyes burned with ancient hunger.

"Cimmona Vane," he said, his voice deep and old. "They will come for you now. But you are not ready to die."

"My name is Robin," he said. "And your blood just woke a curse."

Chapter 1: A Strange Eclipse