The world around me faded from colour to complete darkness, my mind fighting to push the images before my eyes. Pushing through to view them was like wading through mud, the elements pushing against my body, forbidding me from seeing what laid on the other side. I, however, was determined. I would see what was being concealed from me.
Images were thrown before me, of a house, nothing splendid, simple in décor, and extremely outdated. It looked as though it belonged in a medieval movie, completely out of place for the current times. A woman stood over a lit fireplace, poking at it, cooking something in a metal cauldron. She turned, her chocolate ringlets framing her face, tired back with a simple handkerchief. Her smile was less than perfect, teeth yellowed with poor hygiene and age; she was no less beautiful. "Cassandra," she called, loud and clear, to the point it shook my bones. "Fetch some more wood for the fire would you? The flames are about to be quenched."
My bones began to shake as another version of myself, dressed in the clothes of the time, appeared around the corner. She too, looked lovely. I inhaled sharply, moving forward until I stood before this copy of myself, this reincarnation -or was I the reincarnation? Surely not, my mind must be playing tricks on myself. This was not natural, normal, possible even! How could such a thing have been possible? I stared, unable to believe my eyes.
However, when eyes, mirrors of my own, stared at me, into my soul, I knew I could not be dreaming. I wished I could touch her, shake her, demand to know what was happening, for her to tell me if I was going truly maddened. Perhaps this is what father experienced, before he murdered all those people. Perhaps this is the madness he too experienced.
A shudder wracked down my spine at the awful revelation.
Without warning, the other me seized my arms, causing me to scream. I screamed loud, shattering even my sensitive ears, my mind screaming at me, its bellowing shriek telling me this was in fact, real, that I was in danger. I screamed even louder, the eyes I knew as my own staring at me, determined, anxious, lips moving. "Cassandra, wake up," she screamed, shaking me, her voice morphing into that of a woman, one that I did not recognise.
"Human, wake up!"
I shot forward, chest heaving with heavy breaths, my limbs shaking, trembling, as though they were suffering some internal earthquake. I clutched at my arms, at my middle, eyes opening slowly, meeting reddened ones, lined with irritation.
The room I was in was something that could only be described as beyond lavish. It was furnished to the highest quality. Thick, red and black velvet drapes lined a window, blocking out whatever sunlight was straining to break through. The walls were dark, wooden possibly, ornately carved, every wall having some form of gothic design on them. One wall was covered with a humongous bookcase, a small selection of books on the third shelf from the top. A lit fireplace provided some warmth in the room, but with stone floors, I doubted that the floors held any warmth; they would likely be cold to the touch if I were to place my feet upon them. Two doors on either side of the room beckoned my curiosity, but I withheld it in.
Blinking sleep from my eyes, I surveyed my immediate surroundings. I was placed into the sheets of an extremely large bed, four posts, drapes of crimson hanging from them. It was the bed that was in every gothic movie imaginable, something that made me frown. It was incredibly outdated, yet the silken sheets I had been placed underneath could only be described as the height of luxury. Black silk glided against my skin, smooth and soft, comfort of the extreme. I could only of dreamt of such luxury.
A clearing of the throat snapped me from my stupor, and with horror, my eyes met red again. I didn't even need to react mentally, my body did it on a subconscious part. I shoved myself backwards, flattening myself against the headboard, eyes widening as I stared at this red eyed being before me. She could only be described as having an ethereal beauty, something reserved for Goddesses and angels, for eternal beings who had been blessed by angels. Mahogany hair swept about curls in front of her eyes, messy but restrained, each wave seemingly having its own place upon her head. Crimson eyes, almond in shape, stared at me, concealing a vague irritation that softened the more she seemed to stare at me, a forlorn sense of familiarity sweeping those alluring irises. She was tall too, taller than me anyways, but her mere presence commanded authority, and from the jet black nature of her cloak, something that caught my attention, to the way in which she held herself, I knew she must be someone of importance, wherever I had been taken prisoner at.
She eyed me once more before humming. "Next time, try not to scream during your sleep. You are lucky I was stationed outside your door, waiting for you to awaken, and had fed previously. You may not have been so fortunate had another come down this hallway." She turned away from me, sweeping back towards the door, pausing with her hand on the handle. "Brush your hair, and freshen up your appearance. You have five minutes, and not a second sooner. I will be back to collect you then." The door closed with a soft click behind her.
My chest heaved with heavy breaths, panicked, but without hesitation, I grabbed the aforementioned comb, pulling it through my knotted hair, wincing when it came to a tangle. The whole of my hair was matted, and as I combed it, red flakes of dried blood fell to the floor. A sweep through the back of my head came to a gash, small, but obviously deep enough to have bled. My mind raced. You've got this Cassie, my mind soothed me. Find out what they want with you, and look for possible means to escape, simple as that. You've survived death once before, you can do it again.
True to her word, at five minutes on the dot, the woman returned, motioning for me to follow her down the hallway. It was poorly lit, flaming torches lining the walls, like some old, dark ages era castle. It was spooky, terrifyingly eerie, and I hurried after the woman, replaying the assault in my mind. The man who had placed his hand around my throat, he had seemed, almost familiar. His face had been hidden in the shroud of his hooded cloak, but, he had, given off a presence of familiarity. Come to think of it, as did the woman before me, her name eluding my mind, but I could not shake the feeling that I had been walking these halls once before.
The walk was silence, until we came to a pair of ornate, carved wooden doors. A smaller door was off to the side, and the woman rounded and turned on me, her expression stern. "Do not speak unless spoken to, and answer when spoken to, do you understand?" Her voice was harsh, unforgiving. Seems I was right she held some importance here.
Breaths slipped from my teeth as I nodded jerkily. "I understand," I breathed quietly, my limbs shaking with fright. What laid beyond the door? Was it my death? Was it some form of torture? My heart began thudding in my chest as she moved back towards the door, pushing it open, ushering me inside.
Sunlight streamed towards my face, making me wince as it hit my eyes that hadn't seen it in hours. The warmth bathed my skin, the sub calling out to me, making me want to run to it, and never return to this place again. It was also, during this, I realised we were not alone.
A cluster of people were dotted about the room, wearing normal clothes, making this woman stand out in her formal attire. Dozens of eyes, ranging from red to a darkened crimson, stared at us, or rather, at me, making my skin prickle with dread. It looked as though they were all waiting for something, or someone. Their expressions ranged from inquisitive, to amused, some displaying complete and utter shock upon their godlike features, as though they were seeing a ghost, as though they couldn't quite believe it. A few blinked, as if willing their minds to stop the deception they clearly thought they must be experiencing.
The woman who had brought me into this marble room, with high ceilings and marble benches dotted about, pushed up against the walls, began to pull me forward, more into the room. An inscription laid on one of the walls, but I could not read it clearly, its engravement blocked by the bodies of two tall, bulky men, one of whom stared at me, eyes flashing with barely concealed amusement beneath a thick head of dark dreadlocks.
"Thank you, my dear."
I snapped my eyes forward, finding a platform in which three thrones sat upon, a series of marble steps leading up to them. A dark haired man was descending them, his skin pale yet almost fragile looking, translucent perhaps. Red eyes, darkening, stared at me as he approached. My mind screamed at me to leave, to flee, that this man was dangerous, but my body remained frozen, trembling as he came to a stop before me.
The smile he gave could only be likened to that of a sharks. "Welcome, my dear. I imagine you have questions."
I swallowed thickly, the woman beside me giving a sharp nod. I nodded in return. "I do yes," I spoke quietly, my voice cracking in fear. "Where am I? Why did you take me?" I broke out, squeezing my eyes shut as I shook. He gave a soft titter, moving closer, and I recoiled in horror as his hand, ice cold to the touch, seized my warmer one, making me shudder. I began to recoil, but a firm hand on my shoulder by the woman kept me stationary. No amount of recoiling would allow me to move back; it was as though, with her touch and firm pressure, I was locked into place by an iron vice.
The man with the dark hair gave a delighted sound. "Your mind is one of turmoil, Cassandra. Unable to rest, unable to focus, unable to be truly yours. You have seen things, haven't you, my dear?" He sounded like a concerned parent, plagued by my troubles and woes. As I thought of him as such, a slight tilt of his lips went unnoticed.
"I don't know how to describe what I see," I confessed. Perhaps if I told him everything he would let me go home. Lord knows those at work must be worried sick, I never ever missed a shift. How long had I even been out? "I see memories that aren't my own. They haunt my dreams, my every waking moment. I don't understand them, it's like a past life. Whenever I try to hold onto them, to view them in more detail, they're ripped away from me, withheld." The words tumbled from me, and he finally released my hand, pressing his fingers to his lips in quiet deliberation.
"Perhaps, they should be explored in more detail, no?" I took a sharp inward breath at his words. Somehow, I didn't want to know how he would go about doing such. He gave a sudden laugh, the sound making me jump. "I suppose, it will come to no surprise to know what we are, my dear Cassandra. You have, after all, seen glimpses of them in your visions over the years. I am quite frankly surprised you have not realised what we are already."
His words sent chills through my bones as I began to piece together the information. It was true; I had seen many a time of blood drinking monsters in my visions, but I had placed them down to quite simply, nightmares. The reality of such before me caused my heart to stutter and begin to gallop, my palms growing sweaty at the mere thought of my dreams being a reality. I took a sharp inhale of air as I moistened my lips to speak. "You're vampires," I murmured softly, and he gave a soft titter under his breath, nodding, almost forlornly.
"We are indeed, and, many years ago, as were you," came his reply.
That, well and truly, stopped my heart. Literally. I shook and trembled, my mind racing. Vampires cannot exist, my mind screamed at me. It was unheard of, albeit, not in folklore, but in modern society, vampires were not real, only individuals who dressed up as them on Halloween for a silly costume, or those who were of a gothic fashion sense and became them as part of an identity. Vampires couldn't be real. Nausea bubbled up within my stomach, threatening to spill bile out onto the clean marble floors.
I shook my head. "I have never been a vampire," I uttered, shaking my head, the words sounding unfamiliar as I shook my head profusely. "Such is impossible. I don't know anyone here, how could I have been a vampire." I exclaimed, a warning squeeze from the woman behind me sending pains through my limbs and pulling a sharp inhale from my lungs.
The man laughed. "All will be revealed in time, Cassandra. I would say that now you've returned home, you will begin to remember more, and once you have remembered, you will retake your place in the guard, where you belong." I just kept shaking my head, and ignoring the woman's warnings, I snapped. "This is not my home," I seethed, anger bubbling up inside of me. "I want to go home," I dared to utter.
Fire swept through my limbs, a scream slipping from my lips, and I dropped to the floor, screaming into my chest as I curled into a ball, weeping for the flames to cease. Torture had been laying behind the door, it would seem, as had imprisonment and riddles. It was as though my skin was being scorched, crackling and bubbling as the flames from hell did their dance along my creamy skin. Had I died? Was I dying? Was Satan torturing me for information?
As soon as they had appeared, they vanished, leaving me gasping for air, wheezing, spluttering through coughs as I fought back to my feet. A small girl, mousy haired and with eyes hardened to veiled irritation, stared at me, sneering almost. Had she been the cause of such agony? I recognised her as the girl who had stared at me, seemingly as though she was seeing a ghost, on the night of my kidnapping.
The man gave a grin, smug but resigned as he sighed. "You are home, Cassandra, and you have been terribly missed".