-Lucien Draven:
– 105 Years Ago
I don't remember being born.
I don't remember taking my first breath or crying for the first time.
I don't remember if anyone ever held me if I was ever cradled in someone's arms, if I was ever whispered to in the way mothers whisper to their babies.
But I do remember this room.
I remember waking up in this bed, with stiff sheets and a wooden frame, with a pillow that was too thin and blankets that smelled of dust.
I remember the stone walls, the jagged edges where time had worn them down, and the cold floor beneath my feet when I first stood up and walked.
I remember the sound of footsteps above me—faint and distant—the only proof I had that life existed beyond these walls.
I remember the voices.
Guards. Servants. Other vampires.
I remember the way they spoke about this place.
Not his room.
Not his chamber.
The basement.
I don't know what makes a basement different from a room.
