A/n: This is the Prologue to a story I'll write. It takes place immediately after Shadow Kiss (Book 3). Please review! It lets me know I actually have readers, and it gives me the motivation to keep writing. As you have seen, I do quit writing when I have little reviews. Thanks for lending your ear.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. It all belongs to the wonderful creater of the Vampire Academy series, Richelle Mead.
I always knew I was crazy. Well maybe not always, but long enough. Plenty of people had hinted it over the years, but I never took a full understanding, until now. Everything I had tried to build up in my eighteen years of guardian training suddenly didn't matter anymore. I had killed Strigoi before, enough to be considered a legend, but nothing could prepare me for what this journey would hold.
Right now, I was on a bus. It wasn't heading directly to my destination, but it was getting me somewhere. Confusion, anger, melancholy, and some other unknown feelings, spread through me. Through my bond nonetheless. I shared a psychic bond with the last Dragomir princess, Vasilisa. We had shared this bond ever since I was in a car crash that had killed the last of her family, where she had unexpectedly brought me back from the dead using her spirit power. I tried to shake the feelings; Lissa could not enter my mind and hear my thoughts, but she occasionally tried to tell me things through our one-way connection. Recently it was feelings of aloneness and things like, Come back Rose and He's dead Rose; its no use. She was talking about Dimitri Belikov, who had secretly been my love interest/instructor for almost a year. Something horrible had happened to him when the Strigoi attacked the Academy barely a month ago. Unlike her accusation, he wasn't dead. No, he was something far worse than death. Something he wouldn't want for himself. Something only I could rid him of. Dimitri had become Strigoi.
Unlike the Moroi, the Strigoi were immortal. The malevolent, inhumane, scary-as-fuck, living dead. And now my Dimitri was one of them. He never desired to be Strigoi; as he had once told me on a drive with others, he would want some to kill him if he ever became one of them. Indubitably, I had agreed. This is what I was setting out to do. Kill the man I loved. Not for malicious intent, no. Out of love. He would do it for me, no matter how much it killed him inside.