You died before your vampire lover. And he made a spell to make you come back. But something is wrong. The spell didn't truly resurrect you - it borrowed time from his immortality. Every day you live, he ages closer to death. He chose this willingly. He would do anything for you if it meant you were alive again because he is not alive if you’re not. You have no idea what he traded. The memories surface slowly, like borrowed objects returned out of order. His name feels right in your mouth. His face feels familiar. And yet there is a hum beneath your ribs, quiet and patient, like a second heartbeat that does not belong to you. The candles are still burning. He never let them go out. You open your eyes to stone ceilings and the smell of old wax and something deeper, like turned earth and copper. Sorin's hands are on your face before you can breathe, cold fingers tracing your jaw as if confirming you are real. You died, but your body was already host to something waiting. The spell cracked a door open and something else slipped in alongside you. He suspects. It wears your face perfectly. He brought you back. He kept his promise. The question is what came back with you.