The Promise That Refused to Fade
Silently— She remembered the last time she saw Azriel.
It didn't come to her like a clear memory.
No… it was fragmented. Soft at the edges. Like something her heart refused to let go of, yet couldn't fully hold.
The air that day had been cold.
Not the kind of cold that bites the skin—
but the kind that settles deep inside your chest… and stays.
Her fingers tightened slightly at her side.
"…You're leaving again," she had said back then, her voice steady… but only just.
He didn't answer immediately.
That was always how Azriel was.
Azriel Ruinous.
The strongest vampire of his era.
The one hailed as the God of Battle and Victory.
The only being whose name alone could make even the heavens hesitate.
Black hair. Golden eyes.
And when power surged through his veins—
those eyes would burn crimson, like a storm soaked in blood.
He wasn't just strong.
He felt… inevitable.
Like victory itself had taken human form.
And yet—
"…Eliora."
