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A wailing cry echoed through the large house that dark stormy night. A woman clutched onto her baby, who didn't cry, who's little face didn't show the normal color of pink a newborn should show. She remained in her arms, lifeless.
Isabelle Gilbert stroked the child's cold, yet perfect face sending her prayers to any god she could call upon to bring her child back to her. Her perfect baby girl, who had never even uttered a cry as she made her way into the world that fateful night. But Isabelle wouldn't let the midwife take the child away from her, nor had her husband been able to persuade her to let go of the infant. Isabelle continued praying into the night for the God's to show mercy on her and make a miracle happen.
Her heavy eyes drifted as she stared into the newborn's face, memorizing every part of it. Burning it into her memory because she knew when morning came, they would take her away no matter what. But still she prayed, even as her exhausted eyes closed.
She didn't know how many hours had passed before her eyes snapped open to the feeling of her arms being empty. Panic rose in her chest as she looked down to see her daughter no longer in her arms.
"Elena," she whispered and searched the room frantically. The dim lighting still remaining from her burning candle cast a shadow over the figure that loomed a foot away from her bed. Her eyes froze on her baby held in the figures arm, cradled to a bare chest that seemed to glow in the almost dark room. "Who are you?" She asked sitting up in her bed straighter her eyes never leaving her baby.
"You called and I have come to answer." The voice filling the room sent chills down Isabelle's spin and she finally managed to rip her eyes away from the lifeless form to the face of the man standing in her room.
"Why are you holding my baby?" She whispered reaching her arms out as if to grab the child from him. The man looked up from the child's face to gaze upon the grieving mother who gasped when the ice blue eyes fixed upon hers.
"I heard you calling and I have come to answer." He repeated, and she chocked back a sob in her throat.
"Are you going to save my baby?" She asked the strange beautiful man standing in her room in the dead of night, holding her dead child.
"That remains to be seen the power resides in your hands." He said and Isabelle nodded her head quickly.
"Anything you want me to do and I will do it." She said her mind not in the right state of mind to make any deals, yet she did it anyway.
"We shall see," He said his blue eyes flickering back down to the tiny face he held in his arms. His fingers ran through the child's head full of chocolate brown hair and he shuddered as images raced through his brain. "She's perfect." He whispered and looked back to Isabelle who had watched the way he looked at her baby.
"Are you a god?" She asked her voice low and the man gently shook his head. "Who are you?"
"You can call me Salvatore." He said and she blinked her eyes in surprise at the name.
"That means savior,"
"I'm a different kind of savior Isabelle."
"Can you save my baby?" She asked and he nodded. "Then I don't care what kind of savior you are, I will do anything."
"Give anything?" He questioned and she nodded her head harshly.
"Yes please, tell me and it's yours."
"Your blood," He said and a piece of parchment falling out of air fell into her lap. A knife now next to her as well was picked up in a shaky hand. Her eyes looked over the writing that was etched into the parchment but the tears clouded her vision making it impossible to read in the dimly lite room. Without hesitation Isabelle pressed the knife into the palm of her hand and she hardly felt the pain as the blood poured from it. She squeezed and watched it drop on the piece of parchment on her lap and the words on the parchment glowed, flickering momentarily before it disappeared without so much of a trace of being there. Isabelle's open wound she had just sliced open was no longer there the only thing showing it had ever been was the still wet blood that was quickly drying on her hand.
She watched the raven black haired man bend his head slowly and press his lips to the infants head gently. He held them there for a long moment before pulling back and walking to the side of the bed next to Isabelle. She watched as when he stopped the blankets the infant was swaddled in twitched and she felt her heart skip a beat. When it happened again she put her head to her chest, a new set of tears now making their way to her eyes. That's when she heard it, the most amazing sound she had ever heard in her whole life. The tiny sound of a soft cry coming from the swaddled bundle in his arms.
"Oh," She said bursting into tears and her arms reached out for her daughter which the man readily passed to her. The once blue face with closed eyes now looked up at her with rosy pink cheeks. Isabelle prayed if she was dreaming for no one to ever wake her up. "Thank you, oh thank you." She sobbed grabbing the infants hand and bringing it to her lips to kiss every one of her little fingers.
"I will come for her on her sixteenth birthday," He said and even though Isabelle heard the words they didn't register in her head at that moment. And the next time she looked up from her precious baby's face there was no one in sight.