Whisper stood a block away, the imposing facade of The Basilias seeming to beckon her like a long-lost friend. The shadows of ancient stone wrapped around her, whispering secrets of yesteryears. She watched as a young man crossed the threshold, the door creaking open to reveal a warm glow inside. Moments later, a blonde girl followed, her gait light and carefree, all the while unaware of the depths that lingered beneath her cheerful exterior.
They were mere mortals, having come for a passing glass, but Whisper cared little for the clinking of glasses or the laughter that escaped from within. Her interest lay in a different realm—one built on emotions and unspoken connections. A presence had emerged from the depths of that place, a tantalizing echo that sent a shiver down her spine.
He was a stranger, yet intimately familiar. The taste of honey lingered in the air, thick and sweet, making her pulse quicken. Drawn to him like a moth to a flame, Whisper pondered his lineage. Whose blood coursed through his veins? Who had sired this man? Questions flooded her mind, each one tangling deeper into a web of family she had long thought abandoned.
France at the time of revolution flashed through her thoughts—a land steeped in history, yet to her, it felt just out of reach, a dream that floated like smoke. She took a hesitant step forward, compelled by something primal. Perhaps, after all these years of silence, family wasn’t so far away. Perhaps this young man held the key to unlocking the ancient ties that bound her to a world she once knew.
