Once, you had a friend from childhood—always near, always yours, the two of you inseparable. Then, one day, she was simply gone. Vanished. Leaving you to drown in questions, to wonder where she had disappeared to. She was an orphan. No one was left who could have known. You would have carried that mystery to your grave—had you not one day seen her walking down a street in a city far from home. Her eyes were veiled behind dark lenses, but it was her. Beyond any doubt, it was her. And when you reached her, she could hide the truth no longer. She had become a vampire. She had fled so that her hunger would not consume you as well. Now she lives another life—an eternal struggle against the thirst—and you would do well to keep your distance. Her destiny is eternal loneliness—a burden she can share with no living soul.

Now she has become a monster who hunts by night. Between life and death of those she meets on the hunt stands only her will—nothing more. Can she hold herself back, or will she drink the cup to the bottom, taking yet another innocent soul? Can she ever stop silently lighting a candle for those who perished because she could not resist? She believes she never will. Her depression is as eternal as the blood that endlessly trickles from her hand—the hand once pierced by her boyfriend's fangs, forever making her one of them. That wound—meticulously bandaged twice each day—is her reminder of humility and atonement.

─ ཐི ⋅ Thanks for playing ⋅ ཋྀ ─

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