Sesillian’s POV
As a child, I often wandered through this manor, back when the caretaker was still alive and keeping it in order for our family. Even then, I couldn’t shake the eerie sensation that someone, or something, was leading me deeper into its shadows.
The portrait of my great-great-grandfather always seemed to follow me, his piercing eyes locked onto mine. It was like he was watching my every move, silently observing. My sister Sara used to whisper that there was something deeply wrong with this place. Back then, she wasn’t as far gone as she is now. But whatever she saw, whatever she shouldn’t have, it shattered her mind.
Over time, Sara’s sanity began to slip away. She’d sit alone, talking to herself in hushed, frantic tones. She started doing twisted things to her dolls—ripping off their limbs and heads, leaving them in pieces. I’ll never forget the way she laughed while doing it, a manic, chilling sound that echoed through the halls. Her eyes had turned cold, almost inhuman, like she was possessed by something dark and uncaring. But I wasn’t scared; I just thought maybe she was always like that. After all, her eyes—and mine—bore an unsettling resemblance to our great-great-grandfather’s.
Yes, those eyes. They seemed to pull me in, like a vortex, drawing me deeper into their dark abyss.
When I was alone, I finally dared to examine the portrait more closely. I gingerly lifted it, peering behind it. That’s when I saw it—a dark symbol etched into the wall, a mark of shadows encroaching upon the light. The symbol was broad and complex, but I understood its significance instantly. Maybe this was what had driven Sara to madness. I hadn’t grasped it before, but now it was clear. This symbol had the power to drive anyone insane.
I uncovered that my great-great-grandfather had led a malevolent organization called Eclipse. This dark force had nearly subdued the world, controlling it from the shadows while everyone remained blissfully unaware. Their power stemmed from an ancient dark lord, a primordial dragon known as the Great Dark. Lord Xyroskhaal, born in the earliest epochs of the world, possessed a strength that rivaled even the Great Red and other ancient dragons. Lord Xyroskhaal was the embodiment of darkness itself.
I became completely enthralled by him, like I had unearthed a long-lost lover buried deep within the annals of history. That initial fascination quickly spiraled into something darker—an obsession that consumed me. I loved every twisted bit of it. This had to be why my great-great-grandfather had worshiped the Great Dark so fervently. Now, I could feel the same pull, as if I’d stumbled upon the ultimate truth, the answers to every question that ever plagued my mind. My purpose had been revealed, and I was… ecstatic.
Ahhh, how I craved to meet my Lord! To be part of him, to be devoured by his darkness! I wanted him to claim me, to consume me until I was nothing but his! I wanted to be one with him, to feel his power coursing through my veins!
Reflecting on it now, maybe that’s why I became the person I am today.
I dove headfirst into researching Lord Xyroskhaal, poring over every book I could find, and it became clear that the Great Dark had a particular taste—a hunger for women. Specifically, for their blood. But not just any blood; he desired the blood of women who had never been touched, who had never experienced the carnal act of sex. But Lord Xyroskhaal also had a taste for those tainted by corruption.
I discovered that summoning Lord Xyroskhaal required a specific ritual involving sacrifices. This was detailed in my great-great-grandfather’s journal, which I found during my research. The ritual demanded the blood of both virgin and non-virgin women. The final step required a sacrifice of someone with “precious blood,” ideally of royal descent. That last part would be the most challenging, but the first two were straightforward. I only needed to gather and spill as much women blood as I could.
My first target was my sister. I lured her under the pretense of wanting to play. She followed me without hesitation. Once we were in the right place, I slashed her palm, letting her blood flow onto the symbol I had drawn on the floor. Each drop of her blood transformed into black smoke as soon as it touched the symbol.
It was working, or so I thought, as I let out a twisted, euphoric laugh that echoed through the room. My sister, Sara, didn’t even flinch when I slit her palm open. Instead, she joined in, her laughter mirroring mine in a way that sent chills down my spine. Yes, that’s right, Sara. You’re going to die for me. But the blood dripping from her wound wasn’t enough. I needed to drain every last drop to summon my Lord.
Just as I was about to finish the ritual, our parents barged in, their faces twisted in horror as they yanked me away from her. They thought we’d been possessed by some malevolent force from the manor, terrified of what they’d walked in on.
I had to think fast. I put on the mask of the innocent son they believed I still was, manipulating their fear and convincing them that I hadn’t changed. Meanwhile, Sara’s mind unraveled, spiraling into madness that would never be undone. But I kept my dark desires in check, burying the burning need to be with my Lord deep inside. And it worked.
Years passed, and I accumulated a legion of followers through cunning payment schemes, calculated betrayals, and elaborate scams. I amassed a crowd, manipulating them with the power of my voice. My skill, Charm, allowed me to bend people to my will, seducing them with nothing but my words. Although it was a relatively weak skill, only effective on those already enchanted by my appearance, it served me well.
Finally, after waiting patiently, I found the last piece of the puzzle I needed. I had initially planned to target the actual princess of Milham, but her constant surveillance by royal knights made that impossible. Then, she appeared—Charlotte. Though not the princess herself, Charlotte was of royal blood. Her mother, a former princess of Milham, had died giving birth to her. With her royal lineage, she was the perfect candidate. I wasted no time in seducing her, knowing she was crucial to completing my plans.
I had managed to seduce her, feeling her affection for me overflow. But even though I was eager to slit her throat and let her blood flow for our lord’s dark pleasure, the time wasn’t right yet. I needed her to remain pure, or the ritual wouldn’t succeed. So, I had to be patient and keep my hands off her until the moment was perfect.
As I held her close, my expression was likely sinister, though she couldn’t see it. My face must have been twisted with malice, but as soon as we parted, I shifted back to my charming, gentle demeanor.
“It’s getting late, Charlotte,” I said, my voice soft and reassuring. “Why don’t we head back to the Academy City?”
She looked a little disappointed.
But I reassured her, “Don’t worry, Charlotte. Once I’m ready to take you, I’ll make sure we share a night together. For now, just take care of yourself and don’t let anyone else’s words bring you down.”
Her smile returned, brightening her face. “Yes, Professor.”
That’s right. The time wasn’t right yet. There were still many more women whose blood I needed for this ritual. But wait for me, Charlotte—your turn will come soon enough.
