Time passed for everyone—everyone but us. It stopped for us, marked us, and cursed us.
Vampires owned the house we lived in. They were elegant and influential, wrapped in secrets.
They looked as if they had stepped out of a forgotten age, a shadowed tale no one dared to finish telling.
My sister and I had always been different.
People called us angels. Strangers would stop and stare, searching for something in us they couldn’t name. But being different always made me feel like a stranger—even to myself.
Occasionally, I think the past is over. But then it comes crawling back—always on that one night.
The night that never leaves me.
Our mother, Evelyn, seemed like a character from a storybook. She had soft brown hair that flowed like a whisper. Her deep, ancient eyes held a warmth that felt timeless.
A rare gentleness surrounded her, leading me to believe—without a doubt—that she was an angel. But I didn’t know what that meant.
I was only five. Maybe six. And now all I have left of her are shards—faint voices, smudged memories, and a tenderness that lives only in my mind. Evelyn was everything I believed in. And that night took her too.
We were princesses in a small kingdom hidden among mists and forested hills.
Old Hungary.
Back then, we felt safe. As if time itself had held its breath—and forgotten how to let go.
But the rain erased everything, as if it had washed a painting bare. What remained was an emptiness in the heart.
And then that night came—the night everything fell apart.
It started in silence.
Then the noise erupted—swords clashed and howls of pain. The scent of smoke and blood clawed at my throat, burning my lungs. The world was on fire.
I woke up in a panic. My heart thundered like a war drum as I ran to the window.
Flames devoured homes. They strewn bodies everywhere. People running—nowhere.
Everything collapsed.
I ran to Mother, to the last place I thought hope might still exist. But when I found her, she was no longer mine.
She stood beside a knight on horseback. Her gaze fixed forward, avoiding me.
Her expression was distant and cold. Her eyes were hollow, not seeing—only obeying. No matter how hard I tried to swallow my sobs, she didn’t turn.
She didn’t see me.
I stood there, frozen. Just a little girl who wanted her mother to see her. To hold her. To save her.
But a shell was all that remained of her. Empty. Soulless.
Something inside me shrank, like a heart folding in on itself just before it shatters. But there was no time to fall apart.
I remembered Abigail. My sister. Only three years old. She was my small light in the darkest nights.
I ran to her—faster than I ever knew I could.
I reached her room—and stopped.
The door was open. I stepped forward—and then it happened. Cold hands gripped me. Nails dug into my skin.
My throat tightened as if an invisible spell had paralyzed me.
His eyes met mine. There was something in them that didn’t make sense—softness, maybe even guilt. And there was something else—something that felt like it belonged to me. And that terrified me more than anything.
Then, without a word, he placed Abigail in my arms. He showed just a sliver of gentleness before stepping away.
But every shred of kindness only deepened the truth: I couldn’t trust him.
There was nothing safe about him.
They took us into the forest. He stopped. Looked at me.
“Do you see this forest?” he whispered.
I froze.
“Run,” he said. “In different directions.” I didn’t understand.
I looked at him, at Abigail in my arms, then back at him.
“But… she’s only three,” I whispered, trying not to tremble. “If we separate—she won’t cry. She’ll… disappear.”
He was quiet. Then he said, “She’ll disappear, as if she never existed. That’s what happens when they see too much.”
Something in his eyes… flickered. Regret? Longing? Maybe he couldn’t fight them. Perhaps he didn’t try.
He whispered, his voice filled with despair.
“I’ll be watching you.”
Not a promise—a curse.
My skin prickled.
“What do you know about us?” I asked, not sure if I was challenging him or just scared.
He smiled as if he had been waiting for that question.
“I know everything, Amilia. Even the parts of you that you haven’t discovered yet.”
The world stopped.
My breath vanished, as if something had sealed my lungs shut.
Since then, time hasn’t moved.
It just waits to see when I’ll fall