1801, The Parting

1801 — The Sea and the Silence

The ball was only the beginning.

A few weeks later, Victoria's health declined sharply.

A nameless ailment.
A fever that did not burn.
A pallor that never left her skin.
Silences that stretched too long.
Absent gazes.

The doctors spoke in hushed tones.
The servants crossed themselves.
Her terrified parents decided to act.

To save her.

They sent her away.

They spoke of sea air.
Of rest.
Of a remote territory, far from gossip and salons.
An ancient estate, on the borders of the Veiled Moon.

Victoria did not protest.

On the ship's deck, the wind lifted her auburn hair.
The sea was vast.
Indifferent.
As if it already knew she would not return the same.

Alaric tried to follow her.

He questioned the servants, begged the guards.
He wrote.

In vain.

The ship disappeared over the horizon,
and with it,
the light.

All that remained for him was a rose.

Still red,
but already heavy with absence.

He knew nothing.

Did not know that this unknown ailment was not a disease,
but a mark.

He did not know that, in a secluded manor,
under the veiled moon,
something ancient was awakening within her.

He did not know that Victoria de Sangremare
was not dying.

She was transforming.

Under the chandeliers of London, love was born…
and in the silence of the night, the curse awoke.