Chapter 813: Carmela’s Final Letters
But there was one positive thing to come out of this tragedy.
Carmela had made sure to leave letters for everyone before she’d gone.
She’d written them in the quiet hours of the night, pouring her heart onto paper in a way she could never manage face to face.
Each letter was a farewell, a confession, a final gift to the people she’d come to love.
—
Isabelle had received a letter that made the head maid break down in tears.
Dear Isabelle,
I don’t know where to begin. When I first arrived at the estate, I was wary of everyone. I expected betrayal, expected to be hurt. I’d learned the hard way that trust was a weakness.
But you were the first person to break through my walls. You never treated me with fear or suspicion, even though you knew what I was.
You just...accepted me.
You took care of me, made sure I had everything I needed, and never once asked for anything in return.
The blood you prepared for me was incredible. I’ve been alive for over sixty years, and I’ve drunk blood from countless sources.
But yours was different. You made it taste good—actually good. You showed me that even something as dark as drinking blood could be made into something pleasurable.
And you shared your recipes with me. You let me into your kitchen, taught me things I never thought I’d learn.
You treated me like I was just another person, not a monster.
Thank you, Isabelle. Thank you for everything.
I’ll never forget you.
— Carmela
Isabelle clutched the letter to her chest, remembering all those quiet moments in the kitchen where Carmela would watch her work, those rare smiles the vampire would give when she tasted something particularly good.
Tears streamed down her face.
—
Dear Aqua,
You are the most bubbly, cheerful, over-the-top person I have ever met in my entire life. When I first saw you, I thought I would be annoyed by you.
You were too bright, too enthusiastic, too much.
But somehow, impossibly, you warmed your way into my heart.
Your laughter is infectious. Your joy is genuine. You make everyone around you feel better just by being there.
And beyond that, you’re a genius mage.
You know next to nothing about my blood magic—it’s a secret art passed down through vampire bloodlines.
But you taught me things I never knew. You showed me techniques I’d never thought of. You made me stronger just by sharing your knowledge.
If I’d known earlier that there were nobles like you in this world, I would have wanted to be friends with you for so much longer. But fate has a cruel sense of humor, and our time together was short.
Thank you for everything, Aqua. For the laughter, the lessons, and the friendship.
I’ll miss you more than I can say.
— Carmela
Aqua had read the letter three times, each time crying harder.
"She called me her friend." She kept repeating. "She actually called me her friend."
—
Dear Portia,
You complained about my clothes constantly. "Too gloomy." you’d say. "Too dark. Too old." And then you’d appear with armfuls of outfits, all bright colors and flowing fabrics, and you’d insist I try them on.
I didn’t understand why you cared. Why would a noble maid waste her time on a vampire?
But I understand now. You saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself. You saw potential. You saw someone worth dressing up.
Thank you for the dresses. All of them. Even the frilly one with the lace trim that I pretended to hate. I’m taking it with me.
I hope you continue to bring color to everyone’s lives, Portia.
— Carmela
—
Dearest Vivi,
You asked me so many questions. "What’s it like to be a vampire? Why do you have sharp teeth? Can you turn into a bat? Do you sleep in a coffin?"
I pretended to be annoyed, but I wasn’t. Not really. Your curiosity was like sunshine, bright and warm and completely disarming.
You never looked at me with fear. You never treated me like a monster. You just saw me as another person, someone to learn about, someone to befriend.
That means more to me than you’ll ever know.
Keep asking questions, little one. Stay curious. Stay wonderful.
— Carmela
—
Dear Lucius,
I think we have the strangest relationship in this entire household.
Two observers. Two shadows. Two people who preferred to watch from the darkness rather than step into the light.
And yet, somehow, we always managed to find each other.
Do you remember the first time we collided?
I was hiding in the rafters above the main hall, watching Cassius as he argued with Julie about something trivial.
I thought I was alone, completely hidden. And then I felt a presence beside me. I nearly attacked you on instinct.
But you just looked at me with those calm eyes and said, "Good evening, Lady Carmela. Lovely night for observing, isn’t it?"
I didn’t know what to say. I’d never been caught before. And yet, there you were, completely unbothered, as if hiding in rafters was the most natural thing in the world.
From that moment on, we became reluctant companions in the shadows.
I’d find a spot to watch Cassius, and you’d be there too. You’d find a corner to observe, and I’d already be settled in.
We never planned it. It just...happened.
And you know, you should consider becoming an assassin, Lucius. I’m serious.
I’ve been doing this for decades, and even I’m surprised by how well you can hide.
You blend into shadows like you were born there.
Your patience is extraordinary. And your ability to go completely unnoticed is almost supernatural.
If you ever tire of being a butler, I know a few people who would pay handsomely for your services.
(That was a joke. Mostly.)
Thank you for being my fellow shadow, Lucius.
Thank you for not judging me for my habits. Thank you for accepting me as I was.
Take care of Cassius for me. I know you will.
With respect and gratitude,
Carmela
—
Dear Diana,
I’ve never met anyone like you.
I remember the first time you treated me. I had a wound—nothing serious.
But you insisted on examining me yourself, even though you were exhausted.
And then you saw my fangs.
You froze. Just for a moment. I saw that flash of fear in your eyes. A noblewoman raised to believe vampires were monsters. And here was one, sitting before you, baring her teeth.
I expected you to scream. To run away.
But you didn’t. You took a deep breath, forced yourself to stay calm, and continued treating me.
I saw you fight against your fear because you wanted to heal me. You chose to see me as a patient rather than a monster.
That takes incredible strength.
After that, you always made sure I was comfortable. You asked about me—not about being a vampire, but about who I was.
You treated me like a person.
And when Maria and Olga claimed me as their daughter, I saw the longing in your eyes.
You wanted to do the same, but you were too shy. Too hesitant to be as direct as they were.
Well, I’m saying it now.
If there is a next time, Diana—if I’m lucky enough to see you again—I want you to ask me to be your daughter. I will accept. I will call you "Mother" and I will cherish every moment we have together.
You are one of the kindest, bravest, most beautiful souls I’ve ever met. And I would be honored to call you family.
Thank you for healing me. Not just my body, but my heart.
With love and admiration,
Carmela
—
Dear Olga,
You didn’t know me. You’d only heard stories from Skadi’s letters. But you opened your arms and your heart to me anyway.
We didn’t get to spend much time together. The festival was too short. But even in those brief moments, I could feel your warmth.
Your kindness. Your genuine desire to love me.
I wish we’d had more time. I wish I could sit with you, talk with you, let you mother me the way you clearly wanted to.
It breaks my heart that we won’t get that chance.
But please know that your kindness meant everything to me. Even if we only shared a few moments, they were beautiful ones.
Thank you for being my mother, even for a little while.
With love,
Your daughter, Carmela
—
Dear Nala,
Riding on your tail was one of the most ridiculous and funniest things I’ve ever done in my entire sixty years of existence.
I remember that day perfectly. You kept insisting, "Just one ride, Carmela! I promise it’ll be fun!" And I kept refusing, pretending I was above such childish games.
But you wore me down. You always wore me down.
We started with a simple trip around the garden. Then the grounds. Then the forest. And somehow, without either of us realizing it, we ended up miles away from the Holyfield estate.
Neither of us had told anyone where we were going. We didn’t even notice we’d left until we saw the sun setting in a completely different direction.
I’d never done anything so impulsive in my entire life. And I loved every second of it.
You have a mischievous, playful spirit that I secretly admire. You don’t care about rules or propriety. You just want to have fun and make others happy.
That’s rare. That’s precious.
Also, we’re fang sisters now. You have those adorable little fangs, and I have my vampire ones.
We’re practically family already!
Thank you for the rides, Nala. Thank you for making me laugh when I’d forgotten how. Thank you for showing me that joy still exists.
Keep being wild. Keep being wonderful. And keep giving rides to everyone who needs them.
— Your fang sister, Carmela
—
Maria’s letter had broken the woman completely.
Dear Mother,
I don’t even know where to begin with this letter. How do I put into words what you mean to me?
When I lost my birth mother—I thought I’d never feel that warmth again. I thought I’d never have a mother to hold me, to comfort me, to love me unconditionally. I’d convinced myself that I didn’t need a mother, that I was fine on my own.
But you proved me wrong.
You took me in without hesitation. You looked at me—a vampire, a killer, a broken creature and you saw a daughter. You gave me hugs and pats on the head and told me that everything would be alright.
Every moment I spent with you felt like I was with my own mother again. The way you smiled, the way you laughed, the way you worried about me...it was the same. It was exactly the same.
Thank you for calling me your daughter. Thank you for giving me a home. Thank you for filling a hole in my heart that I thought would never be healed.
I love you, Mother. I love you so much.
Please don’t cry for me. I’m doing what I have to do.
— Your daughter, Carmela
Maria had collapsed when she read those two words.
Her beloved, adopted daughter had called her mother. It was more than she’d ever dared to hope for.
—
Joy’s letter was brief but powerful.
"Dear Joy. I am sorry."
Just those three words. But they carried so much weight.
Joy had read them and felt a mixture of anger and sadness surge through her.
Anger that Carmela had left without explaining herself.
Sadness that she’d felt she had to apologize at all.
—
But the letters weren’t just for the main family. Carmela had written to everyone.
The maids, the knights, the sisters of the church, the guards. She’d observed them all, studied them, and then poured her observations into beautiful letters that made everyone break down in tears.
To each maid, she’d written something personal.
She’d complimented their hard work, their kindness, their patience.
She’d noticed the little things about them—the way one always hummed while she worked, how another would always put extra cream in her tea.
To the Holy Guard, she’d written about their battles together.
She’d talked about how fun it was to train with them, how she’d never had partners to train with before.
She’d praised their strength and courage and told them they were the best comrades she’d ever had.
To Joy’s sisters, she’d written a surprisingly emotional letter.
She’d talked about how she’d hated the church for so many years, how she’d never thought she’d be able to become friends with them.
But fate had a strange sense of humor, and now she was grateful for every moment they’d spent together.
And to Skadi, she’d written something that no one else saw.
Whatever it said, Skadi had broken down into sobs the moment she read it. She’d clutched the letter to her chest and cried for hours.
But there was one person who didn’t receive a letter.
Cassius.
He was the only one in the entire mansion who was left empty-handed.
When he’d woken up that morning, he’d looked around frantically, searching for a letter.
But there was nothing. No farewell words from Carmela.
At first, he’d been angry. Then sad. Then confused.
Why had Carmela written to everyone except him?
She’d even written to Lucius, who she barely interacted with or atleast that’s what seemed on the outside.
But not to Cassius—the man she’d shared so much with.
Perhaps she’d been too guilty to write to him after everything he’d given her.
Perhaps she’d said everything she needed to say that final night.
Perhaps she’d been so overwhelmed by her feelings that she couldn’t put them into words.
Whatever the reason, Cassius was glad he hadn’t received a letter.
Because a letter would have meant goodbye.
A letter would have meant she didn’t intend to come back.
But Cassius refused to accept that.
He would find Carmela.
He would drag her back to this mansion if he had to, kicking and screaming, and he would make her face the family she’d abandoned.
"Run, run, run as far as you can, my little vampire."
He whispered to the bright sky, his eyes burning with determination.
"But you’ll always end up right back home. Back in the embrace of your family."
The sun continued to shine, indifferent to his vow.
But Cassius knew he would keep his promise.
He would bring Carmela home.
