The Hand that Stops Destiny

It was already too late.

Alaric was no longer quite human.
But he wasn't lost yet.

New blood burned inside him.
Thirst was whispering.
And yet, he was only looking for her.

Victoria.

Through ruins, forests and forgotten sanctuaries,
he followed the trail of her song -
the violin he thought he heard on moonless nights.

That's when he came across Layla.

It doesn't appear.
She was already there.

Calm.
Ancient.
Immovable as a truth we can't escape.

- You bear the mark of a cursed love," she says.

His voice was neither harsh nor tender.
It was inevitable.

Alaric wanted to pass.

He held out his hand.

- I'll find her.

Layla looked at him for a long moment.

- If you follow her into the shadows now, you'll hasten her downfall... and yours.

He didn't back down.

Then Layla raised her hand.

It wasn't a violent gesture.
It was a gesture of a guardian.

The stone began to penetrate his fingers.
Then her hand.
Then his arm.

Alaric understood.

Not that he was going to die.

But he was going to wait.

He wanted to scream.
His body was already freezing.

Her legs went cold.
His breath stopped.

And in this suspended moment,
a last tear slid down his cheek.

A silent tear.

It reached his jaw.

And turned to stone.

Layla lowered her hand.

- Love isn't always saved by the chase," she murmured.
Sometimes it has to stand the test of time.

And so Alaric was sealed.

Or dead.
Or alive.

Kept in stone
until the day the memory of blood awakens.