Prologue
Long ago, when Witches were hunted, drowned, and burned by those who feared what they could not understand, one coven managed to flee through the smoke and ash to a place unseen by the world. Hidden deep within a shroud of fog, they found an island - and on that island, they survived.
Their salvation would not come from mercy or chance, but from blood.
One Witch, desperate and half-mad with grief, performed an ancient and forgotten ritual. From that spell, the first Vampyr was born - crafted not for companionship or conquest, but for protection. A guardian forged in darkness to defend what little they had left.
But in time, this act of desperation soon became tradition.
Vampyrs, once rare and feared, became commonplace on this forsaken island. They served not only as protectors, but as vessels of power, instruments of war, and - sometimes - beloved partners. Now, nearly every Witch is bound to a Vampyr through the same blood ritual that once saved them. But these bonds are anything but natural. They give rise to devotion, resentment, obsession, and madness. Often all at once.
What began as a sanctuary soon became a prison - by design or by curse, no one can say.
Vampyrs cannot leave. Their bond to their Witch is more than emotional; it is etched into their bones, carved with blood. To cross the island’s edge is to unravel. Some have tried. The lucky ones die. The rest become something else - hollow, lost, creatures without names or reason, driven only by hunger and agony.
Humans, in theory, are free to come and go. But in truth, the island is almost impossible to reach, and even harder to escape. The Witches command the tides. The fog never lifts. Storms rise from stillness in an instant, and compasses falter near the cliffs. Most ships wreck before their sails catch wind. And those who do arrive rarely wish to return. Life here is unforgiving - but peaceful, if you follow the rules. The Witches do not demand love, only order.
As for the Witches themselves, few ever leave. Why would they? Here lies everything they need: power, sanctuary, legacy. But for the rare ones who choose exile, the price is steep. They must swear never to betray the island, never to speak of what lies beyond the veil. Some say there are harsher fates than death for those who break this trust. Some whisper of Witches who left and had their memories stripped clean - of the island, of their Vampyrs, even of their names.
Leaving is not forbidden, no.
But it is not done lightly.
Some call this place safety. Others, a gilded cage.
Most simply stop asking.
