Soyet was amazing. Laura was never able to measure the scope of his wisdom before, but now that she came and thought about it, there were a lot of enigma circling his existence. Although she wanted to be suspicious, the idea alone was countered by the thought of him almost always saving her whenever she was in a tight spot. And she couldn’t find any faults with his concerns either, with his desire to hold her off from her deadly dream. In fact, it was hilarious to even suspect such fact since, in the first place, he would get nothing by doing so. Other than that, she was still wondering how she turned out to be in the Black Forest when she was supposed to be in New York. The only explanation for that was Soyet himself. He must have done something. After all, she was still yet to understand how he became an omniscient being. He knew a lot about the vampires, going so far as to concoct a potion that could thwart this immortal’s heightened senses. And most of all, he understood very wel
Uncertainties.Laura’s perspective was swirled about by nagging doubts that would have never surfaced should that dangerous of a man never appeared. She couldn’t understand why he was so achingly familiar, why a part of her longed to touch him, to be with him, and yet, on the other side of the spectrum, she feared him. It was a conflicting emotion she could not fathom even by the reasoning of her simply being attracted to him.One thing she was sure of, though, there was something deeper about the circumstances, a connection she may have overlooked. She’d like to believe this even though she could think of countless explanations—one more absurd than the next—because she was certainly not someone whose shallow as this. Don’t get her wrong. It was just hilarious to think she had fallen for someone by merely hearing his voice. Yes, she could be allured (no doubt, the rhythm of his articulation was not only spine-tingling but also a music to the ears), but the feeling her heart had radiat
There were cursed patterns painting itself on its middle, illuminating in the color of the fiery assault; however, the liquid inside seemed unperturbed by the chaos. It was still, its existence barely visible.“Wow!” She put her hands on her lips, her irises reflecting the perfect-looking web the connecting flames had crafted. It resembled the becoming of the potion when knitted between her fingers, only more luminous. Unshaped flames fired from every other side of it as if to burn anything that came closer to their circle.Cursed patterns, weird shapes, blinding lights. All these things reminded her of a ritual of some sort. And since Soyet, the brewer of such a potion that seemed to have triggered this occurrence, was a shaman, rituals probably were a domain of his. As such, he must have been the one to scheme this magnificent show.“That old man,” she whispered with a grin.Before the rank of fire could get a meter closer, the bottle exploded. The barely visible liquid inside splat
Laura thought her wishes would come to fruition should she be able to walk right through the entrance of the vampire’s realm. But, she had been dragging her feet on a solid, unseeable ground for who knew how long, and yet, there seemed to have been no end in this narrow, dimly lit alleyway. Other than the bejeweled pebbles placed gently on each side of the pitch-black ground, there is an arching block of sand-made wall surrounding the place, almost like it did not want anyone outside to get a glimpse of what it had in store and vice versa. The first time she saw it, she thought she’d fallen bait to a black hole or something. For unknown reasons, though, she could step on it, making it look as though she were floating.Relief came through the form of a small orangish light not from afar. She still could not see what was beyond the overly shadowed path, but the warm air was enough to compensate for the chilling embrace of her current standing.“I’m close. I’m close,” she said under her
Laura gasped as if she just surfaced from the deepest ocean. She was out of breath. Unlike the other times, her waking up from the nightmare was a lot different today. For one, there was a wild throbbing in her head and her heart seemed to be clenched by an invisible pair of rotting hands. She felt like anytime soon she would croak. Shivers crawled deeper to her flesh at the thought.Only after she tried to stand did she realize how chains wrapped about her wrist. At first glance, she already knew it was something out of the ordinary. Not only was it twirled about by the same pitch-black vines covering the ground earlier, but there were also metallic thorns moving up and down to its every corner. And she couldn’t even feel the way to which it pierced right through her skin. She could certainly sense a prick. It alone wouldn’t have made her feel deathly afraid, but it had been paired to the fact that her blood was gushing out of the barely visible slit as if it was a cut made by a knif
It had been three long agonizing days since Laura slipped through the entrance of the vampire’s realm. She’d never truly anticipated the scope of what she was trying to fit her mold into and, clearly, she underestimated the danger by which she was drawing in for herself. All for her fucked-up dreams. And now, if luck could have it, she had turned into a wife of the creature of the night. She admitted to have wished to become like them, but nowhere was she ready to enter matrimony to someone who she only knew by face and certainly not to the person who had held her captive. Worst of all, she’d been cleaned off of her dress, so he was basically able to see everything bout her.Although he didn’t have the lustful look in his face nor did he show the slightest of interest to her womanly beings, she still felt so vulnerable and small. She had pride, which was now shattered about in the feet of her own weakness. Should she have been strong and merely inclined to normal, achievable and not l
In the small village of Little Hangleton dwelled the infamous Gaunts. Their generations were defined by treasures and wealth passed on from one to the other, but it was not to this that their names were known. The villagers had long since inferred they were beyond their understanding and sympathy; ever since the world began, they had not, even once, interacted with them. They had thought then that this was their way of saying they weren’t on their level. Bitter resentment swelling from an unsaid insult, the villagers witnessed the scandal which the Gaunts had to bring into their graves. The Gaunt’s manor stood atop the hill overlooking the village, its features quite resembling that of a man who couldn’t recover from being sick. Despite themselves, the Gaunts had lost their financial stability over the years, and the villagers found glory in the fact that the once fine-looking manor ended up being unchecked, though it remained to be the grandest building for miles around. Not too lon
Laura had a dream. She was standing in the middle of a deserted meadow, long ruined by something more of a storm. Everywhere she looked, petals savagely sliced in half loitered, the red of their features painted by thick, smelling blood, a lot darker than its usual glow. But next to the trees lying helplessly in rows, it became rather trivial. From the way it looked, it seemed to have been ravaged by a cursive blow, as the branches hosting its supposedly fresh fruit had been burnt, still puffing grayish smoke. The wind danced purposelessly with it until it reached the scope of the starless dome-like horizon extending out of nowhere. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, shivering a little when the cold wind picked up. It whispered such an ominous rhythm that pushed deeper into her eardrums. As though she knew what was going to happen, she looked up at the brightest of moon. Its celestial light wasn’t a helping matter either, for the moment the pair of her o