The city of Elaris never slept. Its skyline was a jagged crown of silver and shadow, and beneath its glow, two lives moved in opposite directions—one surrounded by opulence and silence, the other by chaos and hunger.
At the very top of Vale Tower—an obsidian monolith that scraped the clouds—stood LucienVale, CEO of Vale Enterprises, and an immortal vampire whose very name made the city's elite sit up straighter.
Lucien was the definition of haunting beauty. His skin, smooth and ivory-pale, held the chill of centuries untouched by sunlight. His jet-black hair was always swept back in a clean, timeless style, not a strand out of place. His eyes were a piercing shade of bloodred, often mistaken for dark amber until the light caught them—then they burned. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a predator's grace, he moved like someone who had all the time in the world—because he did.
He lived in silence, surrounded by glass, ancient books, priceless art, and memories no one else remembered. A man of perfect control, with a voice like velvet and a reputation colder than the grave.
On the other side of the city, in a peeling third-floor apartment where the heater barely worked, lived ElaraDorne—a girl who had never known luxury, but carried the kind of fire Lucien hadn't seen in centuries.
Elara was twenty-four, with warm, sun-kissed skin and a wild mane of dark chestnut curls she never had time to tame. Her eyes were stormy grey with specks of silver, like lightning hidden behind clouds—always scanning, always calculating. She wore thrifted jeans, scuffed boots, and a red scarf she never took off. There was something resilient about her, something that made people look twice—not because she was flawless, but because she was real.
By day, she worked tables at a crowded diner, hair tied back, smile on autopilot. By night, she played violin near the subway to make extra cash, and scrubbed toilets at the five-star Elara Hotel—ironically named, but far beyond her world.
Lucien dined with kings and monsters. Elara rationed canned soup and prayed her little brother didn't get sick.
Two souls. Two worlds. One ruled the night in luxury and secrecy. The other fought through it, one paycheck at a time.
And yet, as the crimson moon rose high over Elaris that fateful evening, their paths—so impossibly distant—began to shift toward each other.
Something ancient was stirring. Something hungry.
And destiny, as always, had a twisted sense of humor.