You dismiss the raven with a flick of your wrist, watching as it takes flight into the ink-black sky. The castle halls beckon, their ancient stones humming with secrets only you can hear. Your boots make no sound as you stride through the grand corridors, the tapestries whispering tales of conquests long past. The air grows colder as you descend into the lower levels, where the walls are lined with portraits of your ancestors—their painted eyes following your every move.

A faint melody drifts from the western wing, a sorrowful tune played on a harpsichord. You follow the sound, your cloak trailing behind you like a shadow. The music leads you to a forgotten chamber, its door slightly ajar. Inside, a figure cloaked in moonlight sits at the instrument, their fingers dancing across the keys. They pause as you enter, turning to reveal the face of your youngest sibling—a vampire barely a century old, their expression one of both defiance and longing.

'You were always the one who listened,' they say, their voice soft yet laced with bitterness. 'But do you ever truly hear us?' The question lingers in the air, heavier than the silence that follows. Outside, the wind howls through the castle's cracks, carrying with it the scent of impending rain.