Les vampires, strada l’ancienne lignée
Les vampires, strada l’ancienne lignée
The cobblestones beneath my boots were slick with rain, reflecting the flickering gaslights of the narrow, ancient alleyway. I clutched the worn parchment tighter, its edges brittle from age. It was a map, a cursed map, handed down through generations of my family. It led to the lair of the Les Vampires, the Ancient Lineage.
My grandfather, a man whose eyes held the knowledge of a thousand years, had warned me. “Don’t go,” he’d rasped, his voice a dry whisper. “They are not to be disturbed. Their hunger knows no bounds.” But the lure of the map, the promise of a hidden truth, was stronger than fear.
I followed its winding path, the scent of damp stone and decay filling my nostrils. The air grew colder, thick with an unseen presence. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic drum against my ribs. Finally, I reached the end of the alley, where a wrought iron gate, twisted and rusted, stood guard.
A low growl emanated from within, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. I pressed the parchment against the gate, its words glowing with an unnatural light. The iron groaned, yielding to an unseen force.
The entrance to the lair was a cavernous space, echoing with the drip of water and the rustling of unseen things. I ventured inside, the parchment clutched tight in my hand, its light a feeble beacon against the oppressive darkness.
As I moved deeper, the whispers began. They were soft at first, like the rustling of leaves, but they grew louder, morphing into chilling moans and guttural growls. I could feel eyes on me, watching me with a predatory hunger.
Finally, I came to a massive chamber, its walls adorned with ancient symbols that pulsed with a malevolent light. In the center, a throne of black obsidian stood, its edges sharp as razors. And upon it sat the Les Vampires, the Ancient Lineage.
They were not as I had imagined. They were not monstrous beasts, but rather elegant figures, shrouded in flowing black robes. Their faces were pale and gaunt, their eyes burning with an unholy fire. Their presence was as heavy as the air itself, suffocating and oppressive.
They rose from their thrones, their eyes locking onto mine. Their lips curled into a cruel smile, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth.
“You have come,” a voice rasped, emanating from their collective form, a chilling chorus of whispers. “You have come to disturb our slumber.”
Fear froze me in place, my blood turning to ice. The parchment in my hand trembled, its light flickering.
“We are the Les Vampires,” the voice continued, a symphony of chilling whispers. “We are the guardians of the ancient secrets, the keepers of the eternal night. And you have dared to trespass.”
They moved towards me, their robes billowing around them like the wings of a raven. The stench of decay and blood filled my nostrils, choking me. I stumbled back, my feet heavy, my mind reeling.
Their claws, sharp as shards of glass, reached out, their touch a burning sensation.
“You will learn the price of your curiosity,” the voice hissed, its words a venomous caress. “You will learn the meaning of true fear.”
The light of the parchment flickered, then went out. I was lost in the darkness, surrounded by the ancient, unyielding hunger of the Les Vampires, the Ancient Lineage. My screams were swallowed by the darkness, lost to the endless night.
