Chapter 1:
Smoke and Stars
x
Scandinavia, 950
Sookie was alone.
Her long, flaxen hair wove through the tall grass, intermingling with the stalks, a braid of greens and browns and yellows. She lay on bright moss, soft as the feathers of a young chick. She loved the forests of the north, their romance and their wonder. She found refuge here often, hiding from the world. Her eyes mirrored the sky, the rivers, the lakes and the streams. A crystalline blue that swirled in pockets, an ever-moving dance around flecks of dark grey stone. The air was warm and the days at their longest, night only a tentative suggestion for a few hours of hazy dark. She basked in the glow, in the solitude, in the knowledge that she alone commanded this peace.
Her cheeks were ruddy from her walk to the sunlit field. No humans came this way. According to folklore that permeated the local village, there were dangers that lurked in the wood. Some stories were false, some exaggerated, some shockingly exacting in their truths. Stories of witches, of fairies, of dragons. Stories of vampires. Sookie parsed them as she heard them, filtering out the gossips and honing in on the reality in her unique way. These stories gave her the lay of the land when she visited, they alone told of the secret world in which she, too, belonged.
The village nearest to her now was less of a town and more of a settlement, a few families attempting to farm the fickle land and make homes for themselves after years of Viking pillagers decimating the coastal communities. They were refugees, searching for peace in a time of endless, uncompromising war. Though the people lived in daily fear they still took her in, small and alone and seemingly harmless. She made their beds and swept their floors, living a life of respectful solitude, protecting them behind closed doors, fending off the dark while they slept.
The sun was tilting toward the treeline and she knew it would be time to get back soon. She stood up, examining the imprint her body left in the grass, the thin limbs arced outward, legs long. Her fair, naked skin was marked along the back, little horizontal slashes of red where the foliage pressed deep, looking for all the world like scars from bloody wounds gone by. She covered them with the conservative linen shift, tied tight in the front with her coveted strip of leather. She preferred to walk barefoot, carrying her boots in one hand, dragging them against the snapping twigs and dried leaves as she made her way leisurely from the dense wood and back to the outcropping of huts. A few of the villagers looked up at her arrival, giving her welcome nods and glancing inquisitively at her naked feet. To them, she was much too old for such inclinations; frivolity was for the youth and no one else. It was a hard life to lead and in such a beautiful place to lead it.
"Hello," she said, making herself small and meek. Her North Germanic languages were rusty at best, especially due to the fact that the words tended to change and meld depending on where she was or to whom she was talking. She didn't mind though, she was used to the life of a nomad and eager to solve the next puzzle placed before her.
"Sookie!" a young girl called, racing out of a thatch door, weaving around a firepit, landing in her arms.
"Ingrid," she smiled, scooping the girl up and hugging her close, spinning her round as she knew she liked best. Her hair was wild, knotted, so blonde it neared white. Her eyes glinted in the dying light of the sun. She was only six or seven, prone to scrapes and mischief, a child after Sookie's own heart. She was also one of the main reasons Sookie couldn't help but stay in the village for as long as she had. Something about Ingrid tugged at her somewhere deep and undeniable. Somewhere impossible to ignore. Ingrid grinned, showing off the gap in her front teeth, the little fleck of white as her new adult tooth began to come in. She would grow to be a great beauty, should she live to see it. Sookie put her down, licking her fingers and wiping the soot off of Ingrid's still pudgy baby cheeks.
"Have you been playing in the fire pit?" Sookie asked with a gentle scold, clucking her tongue and placing her hands on her hips.
"No," Ingrid denied, the picture of affected innocence, locking her ash-covered hands behind her back. "We will make the flower crowns now? For me, as a princess. And you will finish your story."
Sookie laughed, petting the girl's flyaways down as best she could. Ingrid was one of eight children, her mother dying in childbirth during the last, and she desperately clung to Sookie for the attention and companionship. And, of course, Sookie simply couldn't deny her.
"So many demands," Sookie said, though she grabbed the girl's hand and pulled her along to the open, rolling field in front of the village. Though trekked through with footprints and the thin, weaving tracks of carts, the slope still boasted an abundance of wild daisies, their hearts of yellow and petals of white tipped with pink. "Help me gather," she ordered as Ingrid ran around wildly, a child of the sun, tugging flowers haphazardly as she went. Sookie settled herself down, waiting until Ingrid dumped a handful of daisies in her lap.
She picked one up, its stem thin and green, leaking the moisture of life at its tip. She stuck out her tongue and tasted the liquid out of respect, humming thoughtfully. Sweet and of the earth. She showed Ingrid how to wrap the stem around her finger, creating a bow in which to loop the next flower, growing an increasingly lengthy chain of delicate blooms. Ingrid followed along as best she could, her small hands clumsy and dark with soot, her forehead pursed in undivided concentration as Sookie helped her through it. When the chain grew long enough, Sookie closed the loop with a final knot and placed it on Ingrid's head. It was a bit too large and draped down through her hair, hooking in the tops of her ears. She spun, her small dress blowing outward at the bottom.
"Now I am a proper princess," Ingrid said confidently.
"You were that already. You did not need a crown," Sookie said, pulling the girl into her lap. Ingrid gazed up at her, grabbing the tips of Sookie's blonde hair when they brushed her face.
"Now you will finish your story."
Sookie smiled, trying to recall the one.
"Once upon a time, there was a girl..." she began.
"No, no," Ingrid interrupted. "This part I know. The princess was at home with the family."
"Ah, yes," Sookie smiled, remembering. "When the princess got home she was very weary from her travels. She promised her prince she would return to him soon but first she must visit with her family and say hello to them after so long apart. She was a princess and it was her duty to show herself there. The princess lived in a magical place… in a very tall building with towers, what is the word?"
"Castle," Ingrid supplied in Old Norse, nudging her to continue the story.
"Yes, the princess lived in a castle with her family. The castle was beautiful, made of ancient stone and covered in ivy and flowers."
"Like these flowers?" Ingrid asked, touching her daisy crown.
"Daisies, yes. But also huge red roses with petals so soft and weightless they floated on the wind for miles. And purple lilies with cloudy white cotton all around. Every day the princess would pluck a bouquet and give the arrangement to her mother to put in a vase beside her as she slept, her mother cherished the flowers so. The first thing she did when she got home was select her favorites, giving them to her mother as a gift. Her mother welcomed her with open arms, waiting for the princess to tell her every one of her stories from the other world. Like you, her mother wanted to know of all the princess' adventures. So they sat together and spoke of her friends, her life, her prince."
"Why did her prince not come with her to her home? Could the prince not come too?"
Sookie tucked Ingrid's hair behind her ear, blowing a fallen petal from her cheek.
"The princess lived in a magical world, remember? The prince wasn't allowed in, but he waited patiently for her to come back. The princess missed him, too, and though she enjoyed spending time with her family, she wanted more than anything to go back to him. On her last day at home the castle threw a beautiful ball and the princess wore her best gown. It was white and long and light, it looked like the princess was wearing but a wisp of new smoke from a fire. It was shiny, too, and when it caught the light she twinkled like a thousand stars."
Ingrid gazed up at the sky, finally falling dark as the sun dipped behind the horizon line. Though it was the fickle night of midsummer, the stars still managed to shine through. Sookie pinpointed the gleam of Orion's Belt, the beckoning call of the gods and goddesses reaching out their slender hands.
"Then the princess went back?"
"Yes, she went. She went and she found her prince."
"And they lived happily ever after?" Ingrid asked hopefully.
"She found him, but her prince did not recognize her. It was not her prince. Though it looked like him, it smelled like him, it felt like him, it was not him. Her prince was this man's great-grandfather. The princess then realized that time worked differently in her magical castle than it did in his world. A lifetime to them was but a few minutes to her."
Ingrid's face scrunched up in displeasure. She was expecting a happy ending to her story. But if there was one thing she needed to learn, it was that not all fairytales had happy endings.
"He waited for her but she did not come until after his death. It is very sad," Ingrid said softly.
"Because you must not wait," Sookie implored, "You must always live."
The flapping of wings swooped low over their heads. Bats, free in the moonlight, arcing above them, in and out of the trees. Graceful, sultry movements, diving and floating, floating and diving. They stood up, Sookie gathering Ingrid in her arms, Ingrid's face nestled into the crook of her neck as she walked back up to the homes. A dying fire lay crackling, glowing embers throbbing red. She poked the rubble with a stick, watching as the ash flew bright then black, little confetti shadows. She knew it safer to sleep inside, bundled together with the family for protection. But the night was so warm, so clear, so inviting. She couldn't help but to find a soft patch of grass behind the hut, couldn't help but to lay down, curled around Ingrid's small body, white hair like straw before her, daughter of a shooting star.
x
She awoke to the sound of a twig snapping. But the twig itself wasn't what put her on alert. It was the absence of all other sounds. No animals roaming the forest floor, no birds cooing in the branches, no mating calls, no insect's hiss. No wind. No movement. Slowly, as not to betray her wakefulness, Sookie pulled Ingrid tighter into her chest. The young girl snuffled in her sleep, reaching her small hand out to grasp Sookie's for comfort.
She saw the world through the partitioned curtains of grass, a foreground hazy and cut with shadow. A few feet away was the forest line, trees huddled up together, growing up and out of hills made of mossy stone. Nothing looked amiss, but something was certainly present. The animals always knew. The animals were never wrong. Sookie gulped, eyes roaming, enlisting her power now as she had always been taught to do: in conservative self-defense. Her hands warmed; she watched as they began to emit a faint hit of light like a distant sunset. She tucked them beneath Ingrid, sheathed but ready. With her mind she reached outward, searching. She skirted the comfort of Ingrid's dream, something youthful and gentle, the story of princesses in faraway lands, the kind that ended with happily ever after. She sensed the chorus of thoughts inside the homes, most asleep but some awake. On watch.
Another man was also alert. Like Sookie he, too, noticed the absence of any noise. The way the quiet betrays danger far sooner than the attack. She listened as he planned his next move: light a torch but give up his location? Stay still, search blindly for his hunting knife? His breathing began to accelerate with the age old dilemma of fight or flight. He feared a dangerous predator, ricocheting between human and animal, then a mixture of the two. Sookie moved her mind away, targeting the forest instead.
What she found was richer than silence. It was the absence of it, a black hole, a void cut into the air, sucking the sound and everything else with it.
That was when she knew she was in true danger.
That was when she knew she was being hunted.
That was when she knew it was a vampire.
Sookie moved her body slowly, each muscle independently. She switched to a kneeling position first, eyes locked on the forest, then stood, waiting. She stepped over Ingrid, placing herself between the darkness of the trees and Ingrid's sleeping form, raising up her hands in false surrender. Those same hands glowed faintly with the thrum of power, a gentle threat to come no closer, a warning sign, a do not advance. Each step brought her nearer to the trees and, more importantly, what awaited beyond them. The dead silence enveloped her, cancelling out the suspicious and the sleeping in the village behind. She felt it wrap around her, invasive tendrils, encasing her brain with a numbing agent she recognized and feared.
She was out here alone. She was powerful, but she was alone.
"Stop," a voice said. It was Old Norse of tongue, but the accent was incorrect. She herself was a stranger in a strange land, making it easy to identify the others. She stilled, hands still raised, the light pulsating.
"Come out," Sookie requested into the darkness. "I cannot see."
It was a young boy that stepped out from the trees, his chest bare. He was small, friendly-looking, though she, of course, knew the opposite to be true. His skin was so pale it was blinding bright; she fought the urge to squint. Across his chest was a tattoo, tribal, a pattern that betrayed his age. He may be older even than she, an ancient thing, timeless, deader than the ground he tread upon. He took a few steps toward her, the rough hewn trousers wrapped around his legs and held taut by a string. His feet were bare. He was a lost boy. He would never grow up.
"I've been looking for your kind," he said, his eyes roaming across her form, landing on her glowing hands, watching as they trembled. "I've scoured the globe, yearning to be here, desperate for our timelines to finally, finally align." He was eloquent, verbose, gentle. A deadly courtship of the tongue.
"Leave the village be," Sookie declared, ending the pretense. "Leave it be and I will come with you."
The boy smiled but it wasn't a happy one. It was evil. She watched his fangs drop down, approaching her at an angle, feinting left and right, slow and sure. He was toying with her; he wanted her to watch. He liked the feel of her eyes tracking him, of her body submitting to his movements, of the flick of her lashes when he made a surprising tack. He was a hunter with prey on sight and staring, but, like a true child, he enjoyed playing with his food. All that was needed now was the killing blow.
"Do you think you are in any position to strike a bargain?" he asked. He paused a few feet away from her, inhaling deeply, his eyes black as night.
"Sookie?" she heard behind her. Ingrid, gazing at the scene, eyes wide. Sookie couldn't turn, couldn't take her eyes off the vampire.
"Ingrid, go inside," Sookie ordered, her voice harsh.
"Yes, Ingrid," the vampire cooed, "Go inside. I will come for you later. You will be the wine to complement my feast."
Sookie's eyes flashed, a powerful stream of light shooting from her palms directly into the chest of the vampire. He flew backward, slamming into the closest tree before he hit the ground. The wood buckled with the force of it, the taller limbs shaking and dropping leaves around his body. She watched as he pushed himself up, the same dark smile still locked in place on his lips. He had a fire in his eyes.
Desire, wanton and raw. He saw in her what all vampires saw in all fairies: daylight.
"Ingrid," Sookie said again, hearing the young girl's nervous breaths behind her. "I said to go inside now. Do not come out."
"But, Sookie-" she began to protest.
"Do as I say."
Sookie listened to the pad of her retreating footsteps as the vampire approached her once more, dragging his limbs through the grass as though they were an unnecessary burden. She flexed her fingers, threatening him with a second blast, feeling the strength of it in her core, on the brink of explosion. He was only inches from her now, his head tilted to the side, inquisitive and deadly.
"Do you think you are any match for me?" he asked. "Do you dare?"
His movement blurred with speed when he lunged. She shot at him in a blast of white light directly in front of her, but she miscalculated. It wasn't her that he was aiming at. It was the village. He flew past her left side, darting into the closest hut so quickly she couldn't tell what had happened until she began to hear the screams. The sounds were awful, never-ending, infinite. The gurgles, the gasp of stolen breath, the ripping of skin, the children's cries. Ingrid, alone, dead or alive, unknowable, forever lost to Sookie, a fever dream she would carry with her always, however long always may be.
She chased after him, running to the open hut, careening towards destruction. She was just about to reach the thatch when she was caught from behind, yanked backward so hard her exhale caught in her throat, knocking the wind from her body when she landed on her back. She stared up, blinking, attempting to gather her bearings in the muted, shadowy light. She saw the full moon, so clear and round, until a silhouette eclipsed it, encompassing her again in darkness. It was a wild man, a Viking, long blonde hair caked in blood and dirt, the lines of him hard to decipher, backlit by the night sky.
She took a breath and lit him up, throwing him into the air with her energy until he collapsed a few paces away, curled up on his side. He quickly rebounded, dropping into a crouch and advancing, a feral growl rumbling from deep within him as, in the background, humans continued to be slaughtered. She scrambled backwards on her palms and the balls of her feet, dragging herself through the brush, her dress torn and dirtied, her face betraying newfound fear as his fangs dropped.
Two against one. It was official. This would be her last night. She didn't cry, jutting her chin toward this second vampire with the reckless bravery of the hunted, a member of an endangered, dying race in a world so new and lovely. The vampire stood to full height, darting over to her then crouching down once more. This time, the moon shone on his face, the strong jaw and crisp blue eyes, the powerful Viking features common here but unique to her. Recognizable. She knew this face. She peered up at him as he stared, his expression empty but for the thirst so clearly etched into his every pore.
The once dying warrior. The mourned future king. The prince of the fairytale gone wrong.
He gazed at her, fangs already bloody, and licked his lips.
"Eric?" she breathed. He blinked, caught off guard. It was Eric. She could see his humanity then, if only for a moment, a flickering candle in the wind. Then he inhaled, the breeze blowing gently through her hair. She watched his face transform again, a response to her scent, instantly overpowered by the desire for her light.
He leaned in.
"Eric, it is me, do you not remember me? It is me, Sookie," she begged him. From the corner of her eye she could see the original vampire move to join Eric, descending down the grassy slope. He was drenched in blood from head to toe. He spoke loudly in the distance, a tongue so ancient Sookie could not understand. Eric faltered again in his distraction, clearly torn. "Please. Please. A life for a life, Eric."
But the other vampire was stronger and Eric was weak in his newfound immortality. He was no longer human. There was no bargaining with the agent of death, no making a deal with the night. She knew better. Sookie closed her eyes and braced herself for the bite.
Louisiana, 2008
"You look like vampire bait," Bill said, his hands clenched on the steering wheel. Sookie knew that if he weren't so pale, his knuckles would be shining white in tension. He glared at the road before them, the twists and turns of the unlit street flying by as they drove together toward Fangtasia, the vampire bar in Shreveport.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sookie asked, affronted.
"I promised your grandmother no harm would come to you at Fangtasia tonight," he said slowly, with his typical Southern drawl, "I'm not sure I'm going to be able to keep that promise with you dressed like this."
"So are you sayin' you think I look nice?" Sookie was wearing one of her best dresses, white, flowy, a flattering neckline and covered with small red flowers. It made her feel confident but conservative. She wore it for Bill, of course, hoping to draw some type of reaction due to her newfound infatuation with the vampire. Her blonde hair was pulled back with a thin white headband, her skin tanned and flushed at the cheeks. Alive. She knew she posed a pretty big contrast to her vampire beau, but she was human, after all. And she wasn't about to dress herself in leather and lace like some filthy fangbanger.
"Doesn't matter what I think," Bill said slyly, "This isn't a date, remember?"
Sookie couldn't help but blush, breaking eye contact with Bill and staring back out again at the road. Her heart fluttered in her chest, from nerves or from lust she couldn't tell. She'd never been out with a vampire before, and she surely hadn't been out to a place like Fangtasia. She'd heard stories, of course. Humans drained in the bathroom and left for dead, all night benders after only a few drops of vampire blood. She'd already had her fair share of blood from Bill, but it wasn't intended for sport. Recreational use of V was common, she knew that, but it wasn't something she chose or intended to partake in. Sookie leaned her head back as they drove deeper into Shreveport, the lights of the town illuminating the night but erasing the stars.
She knew the moment they pulled up to Fangtasia. It wasn't exactly difficult to miss, what with the very eclectic crowd out front. She gripped her bag tightly, reminding herself why she was there at all. Just go in, get the information, leave. Nothing more. They found a parking spot near the back and Bill opened up her door. She steeled herself before stepping out onto the pavement, trying to show no fear. He looked at her with calculating eyes, and, as they walked to the door of the club, he pulled her in tighter to his side in an unexpected gesture.
The volume of the place was an atrocity. Between the music, the yells, the chatter and the minds, Sookie would need a military-grade barrier built permanently in her mind to block it all out. She cringed into Bill's chest a bit as they moved forward, finding refuge in the void of his mind and using it as a shield to block out the rest of the club. She felt surrounded on all sides, bodies pressing in as they shuffled through the heavy, red door and into the club. They were about to reach the bar when they were stopped on sight by a vampire. She appeared suddenly as if an apparition materialized. Sookie jumped a bit. Bill glanced over, releasing her automatically, his nostrils flared.
The woman was tall, leggy, draped in leather. Her lips were painted blood red. They stood out shockingly against her pale skin. Her hair was pulled back tight and her eyes were inquisitive, searching, focused only on Sookie. If Sookie didn't know any better, she would say this vampire recognized her from somewhere. She searched Sookie's expression, opening her mouth to speak but hesitating.
"Identification," she requested expectantly, holding out her hand toward Sookie.
"Is that necessary?" Bill asked, peeved.
"In this case, yes," the vampire drawled, continuing her examination of Sookie. Slow, languid.
Sookie grabbed her ID, careful not to take the photos out in the process. The vampire snatched it, again inspecting the license as if it were encrypted or a carefully-crafted fake.
"It's real," Sookie smiled, trying for a joke.
"You've got some nerve," the vampire said, ignoring the comment, her voice suddenly acidic. "He's not even here tonight."
"Beg your pardon?" Sookie said, confused.
"It's been years, Sookie. Years." Her voice was vehement. "Do you know what I've had to put up with? I'm only just getting him back. You promised not to start this again, too. Should've known you to be a liar. Your kind are all the same."
"I'm sorry but I have no idea what you're goin' on about," Sookie laughed uncomfortably, still attempting politeness. Did this vampire know about the photos? Did she know Sookie wanted to come and question the clubgoers tonight? Is that why she was so angry? It had to be some type of mix up.
"Yes, Pam, what is this?" Bill cut in, stepping slightly in front of Sookie in a protective motion. "We're just here to get a drink, nothing more." Sookie noticed he didn't bring up the murdered women she had photos of in her bag. The situation was clearly growing beyond the original intent, perhaps he wanted to extricate them before it escalated further.
The vampire she now knew to be Pam laughed cruelly. In that moment she looked truly evil, though her fangs were still tucked away safely. Sookie didn't have much experience with vampires beyond Bill, and this was why. This was what she was warned about. Pam turned her gaze to Bill, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, still clutching Sookie's ID. Bill gripped Sookie's hand and Pam's eyes dropped down to them, one elegant eyebrow arching skyward.
"Don't think that's going to work out for you, Bill," she smirked. "Both of you, with me."
She turned on a heel, walking deeper into the club without waiting for an answer. Sookie and Bill glanced at each other, Sookie nervous and Bill stone-faced. She could see he wanted to leave, but that clearly wasn't an option for either of them. Instead, hands locked together, they followed Pam to the back. The other clubgoers watched them like a funeral march, heads bowed but eyes suspicious. Sookie did her best not to look around too much, staring intently at her own feet as they walked. She couldn't read anyone's thoughts either, not with her warm hand clutched inside Bill's cold one. The deeper they descended into the club, the more his fingers tightened on her own. She gulped, intensely aware that she had walked into the lion's den and that it was absolutely not going according to plan.
They descended damp, cold steps into a light tight basement, the door shutting heavily behind them with a resounding thud. Pam flicked on a light switch revealing the makings of what seemed to be a knock off of a medieval torture room, complete with chains hanging from the ceiling. Sookie backed up abruptly into Bill who dropped his fangs in response.
"What is the meaning of this, Pam?" Bill snarled, advancing on the other vampire and leaving Sookie behind him.
"What, Sookie didn't fill you in before you got here? That's awfully rude of you," Pam said, leaning her body to the side to make eye contact with Sookie.
"I don't know how many times I can say I don't know what you're talkin' about," Sookie replied, edging her way back toward the staircase.
Pam just laughed again as if they were sharing some private joke. Beneath her fear Sookie began to feel the growing energy of anger. It built from within her center, branching outward, warming her extremities with heat and light. She'd learned how to control her disability ages ago, but in moments of peril it unleashed on its own accord. She locked her fingers behind her back, working hard to contain it before she got herself killed.
"I'm leavin'," Sookie proclaimed, moving up the steps. Pam was in front of her in a flash, blocking her way.
"We're waiting for Eric."
"Who the hell is Eric?" Sookie cried in pure frustration.
Pam's brow furrowed, gazing at her in confusion.
"Are you playing me for a fool?" Pam asked, moving closer to Sookie, reading her expression, deciphering the truth.
"We don't need the Sheriff," Bill said slowly. Even Sookie could hear the nerves in his voice. Whoever Eric was, it wasn't going to be good. That much was clear.
"Please, I don't know what you're talkin' about. Just let us leave," she begged. Bill stood perfectly still behind her, tracking their movements with his eyes. "You've got me mixed up with someone else, I swear it." Pam inhaled then, slowly, her own eyes drifting closed.
"No," she said, eyelids fluttering, "I'm not. You can't hide your scent." She flared her nostrils. "If you're determined to keep lying to me, I suppose I'll simply have to force it out of you."
Sookie screamed as Pam's fangs pierced her neck. She pushed against her chest and Pam flew backward, Bill tackling her into the stony wall. Sookie clutched her bleeding neck as they fought, pressing herself into the staircase as flashes of pale limbs appeared and disappeared before her eyes. In one moment, Pam had Bill in her clutches, but in the next the tables had turned, Pam incapacitated as Bill's hand locked firmly around her neck, her arms behind her back.
"Sookie is mine," Bill growled, inches from her face. Pam snapped at him with her fangs, her eyes clear and confident as she dragged them from Bill's face to somewhere above Sookie's right shoulder. Sookie turned, holding her breath, feeling the presence of a strong void behind her. Another vampire stood, tall and well-built, framed in silhouette, the clinical, white light of the hallway shining behind him. He had shoulder length blonde hair and he wore all black, his large shoulders covered by a worn leather jacket. His face was passive, serious, and his icy blue eyes were trained not on the fight occurring before him, but on Sookie herself.
"No," the vampire disagreed, his voice surprisingly quiet. "She's not."
x
hello it's me again! diving headfirst into supernatural elements over here, please forgive me if i diverge from canon rules a bit. longer story too this go around. i've spent some time plotting it out and i'm quite excited. would love to hear your thoughts. x