. . .
“I kept you in a cage to preserve your beauty.
I kept you alone so I could only love you.
I starved you so that I would be the only thing you hungered.
I abused you so then you would worship me.”
. . .

Everything in Winona had been screaming at her to keep going just keep running as far as you can! Winona wasn’t stupid (far from it); she hadn’t even planned to stop running for it until Lady Artemis finds her or any other help there is.
Don’t stop, not now or ever… not until the dying screams of her sisters could no longer reach her ears, not until her screaming lungs finally forced her to stop.
She must have been running and traversing through the darkening shadows for what seemed to be like hours by this point, was what she thought, as she hunched over her trembling knees and finally gave in, gasping in sweet, sweet air like she was drowning, like she already knows any time soon, any of her carelessly taken breath might as well going to be her last.
And with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that thought seems to ring loud and true, uncomfortably lodging itself in her chest like an anchor rooting her on the spot because why bother fighting? Why delay the inevitable?
She tries not to weep over the fact on how this was supposed to be a normal excursion with her new sisters and she was just supposed to be an observer and shadow the three newly turned hunters of their Lady Artemis in order to judge if they did deserve this blessing, to observe what type of talents they had to last in the field, that can be useful in the wilderness their goddess loved so much…
It wasn’t supposed to end like this. They were supposed to go home laughing and smiling with the rest of their other sisters.
Everything had been going so well too… they located a rogue werewolf gone feral in the forest by an old abandoned manor somewhere in England and together, in harmonious unity that would have made Lady Artemis proud, the youngsters had fought and easily taken the mad dog out of its misery.
Winona had revealed herself and congratulated her younger sisters, welcoming them with wide, open arms; she had been so sure they could leave at that point and call it a night.
But everything that could go wrong did go wrong.
They never stood a chance, she knows this now.
As soon as a resounding snap of the fingers, one so abrupt and seemed to come out of nowhere and everywhere, that they had no time to pinpoint where it came from, the rogue werewolf who’s stomach they just riddled with silver arrows suddenly lurched forward, as though rising back from the dead with a horrible howl.
And before they knew it, the hunter that had been standing closest to it and the farthest from their group, was literally torn apart as the werewolf mauled her to death.
It happened so quick, they couldn’t do anything but stand in frozen, horrified shock as they watched the beast feast on their sister, her screams of pain and terror ringing on and on to the still night like a prayer help, help me, help me to their protector, to their goddess for what seemed to be like forever.
And Winona had wanted to cry there and then, that little girl had been the youngest in their group–no older than twelve years old, sweet little Rosie had come to their custody when the hunters of Artemis found and saved the girl from the clutches of her abusive father in their cabin just a few months ago.
Even now, Winona was sure she can still hear her screams for help, for their Lady Artemis to come save her again.
The second one, Lily, hadn't even let out any noise of pain as the upper section of her head suddenly fell off in a perfectly slashed half by the werewolf’s claws, the rest of her small body promptly following down to the earth with a sickening thud while the third–Mary Quinn–the one closest to Winona suddenly had her stomach torn open, her guts spilling out as she flailed and screamed hysterically, turning to her, looking at her with wide, pleading eyes as she desperately reached out, crying for her to save us, HELP US!
A gentle thud forced her gaze away from her fallen sister’s eyes to look up at the manor, her eyes rising up and up until she found herself locking eyes with the tall man standing on the roof, never mind the precarious height.
Despite their distance, he seemed to be looking right back at her, like he was seeing her, through her, like he was staring at the depths of her very soul.
Ah, a voice inside her seems to weep, you again.
She froze.
His eyes of carmine red reminded her of spilt blood from the lives of a thousand innocents, of old gods that thought of nothing but their own whims… and of promises too old for her to even name of.
Vampire, she thinks.
She had fought vampires before but never had she faced off against one that reeks of such potent danger, of such unspeakable evil like this one as though he was the worst of them all, as though he was their one true King–
He waved his hand and like a puppet following the hands of its master, the werewolf immediately fell dead right next to her… as though it was not even alive in the first place, as though it did not just tore and mauled her sisters apart.
Unbidden, a sob tore out of her throat.
King
And his gaze seemed to crinkle as if he can hear her thoughts, amused, pleased. Does this sight, this bloodbath pleases you so much, you monster?!
It led me to you; his eyes seemed to answer instead.
And you looked so wrong but so familiar, she thought, with steadily growing panic, willing her legs to move, move.
He who had eyes of blood and madness was like the ever-changing monsters that haunts the worst of nightmares, the demons her grandmother once warned her of, the ones not hiding under the bed but in the darkness of a person’s mind, waiting, waiting to pounce and devour.
And a chorus of whispers seemed to wail in her ears, like ghosts from the past, urging her to run, run; go before he takes you too!
She needed to leave now!
But Winona couldn't bring herself to turn around and run; she was far too afraid to think of what will happen should she make the mistake of looking away from this terrible, beautiful monster.
She couldn’t even find it in her to feel shame at how every single limb she had was shaking, right through her very bones, as though she has been struck with an ancient fear that seemed to recognize on instinct just how much danger she was in right now, death would be far more merciful, it seemed to be a learned knowledge, one that seemed to be imprinted to her very soul.
Winona was sure she'd never experienced a fear as intense like this for as long as she has lived as an immortal hunter of Artemis.
Despite her horrified silence, the man seemed pleased as he looked her over, never mind their distance, “So you did become immortal once more. I suppose this calls for a celebration, don’t you agree, my love?”
The questions escaped her before she could even think twice about it, “W-what are you talking about? Who are you?!”
He smiled, looking so endeared, it was actually making her stomach churn in disgust, making her want to wretch at how wrong, how human his smile is, how monstrous his gaze is, this is wrong, you look so wrong.
“We have met before you see… well; I suppose I should say your soul. Are you familiar with the concept of reincarnation, rebirth?” he asks and when she fails to respond almost immediately, his smile grows wider, and it looked too placating that it almost looked like a mockery of human expression, condescending, “I suppose even without your divinity or memories intact, the fates seem to see it fit for our paths to cross once more. But the way I see it, they seem to revel in punishing you, my love.”
He spoke as if he were speaking the utmost truth of this world and not like he was spouting riddles and madness.
“Punish me for what?!”
“For taking what’s yours, for trying to keep it. You have lived and suffered before for the sake of a single soul you see and I have seen you die a thousand deaths before… and it was all for something that was not even your fault,” his voice sounds so sure, lingering with bitterness and hate, it was mesmerizing and haunting at once like a siren’s song.
And everything that was coming out of his mouth was just bolstering her desire, her need to get the hell away from this monster.
“Don’t try to run now my love… I would hate to break your legs,” he told her, a hint of amusement in his voice, as if speaking in jest, as if in afterthought when she dared to try to take a step back.
But the look on his face says otherwise.
He wasn’t joking.
He going to–
“Now that I found you…”
Oh gods, oh gods–
A scream very nearly ripped itself right out of her throat when he suddenly appeared right in front even though she had not even done anything, not even a blink.
He grinned, his eyes of spilt blood and danger reminding her of a thousand promises she had never heard, his voice, the words of I’ll see you soon, I’ll find you, I’ll always find you, don’t die, I will never leave you please don’t leave me–
But in the depths of her heart, she knows.
“…you will never leave me again.”
It was a promise she heard a thousand times before.
The monster took one step forward, his hand–and oh gods, those are claws–reaching for her face, to hold her and a voice that sounds too much like her own hisses he’s going to tear her face off–
She took a trembling step back.
“There is no need for us to be enemies,” he told her, his voice softening, clawed hands outstretched in front of him, looking like he was trying so hard not to grab her himself, chain her to his side and never let go, “This time, I promise I will be patient. I will tell you all that you wish to know… come with me.”
For a moment, she saw blood staining his hands.
Then as sudden as that was, his hands were pristine.
But appearances can be quite deceiving.
“That's...” she gulped, staring at his hand, “That’s not happening.”
In a moment of clarity, Winona gripped the arrow behind her and hurled it at his face, ensuring for a second that she did saw it hit him square in the chest, did saw him stagger in surprise until she spun on her heels and fled without a single glance.
She had to get away.
She had to get away now or it would be too late for her (again)!
As she hastened away from the monster, the flood of panic came rushing back with the force of a tidal wave, threatening to take her down and drown her along with it.
And that was how Winona found herself here just trying to breathe, to calm her frantic heart because she was so sure he can hear it even from miles away, can hear the panicked thoughts she was trying so hard to right into order.
It was clear the vampire she left behind was stronger, older than anything they had ever faced before with how capable he was, most likely the progenitor of all vampires considering what he had done, the king his kind has spoken of in fearful, reverent whispers even in their dying breaths, a being more myth than legend…
And what Winona needed to do right now was to find the others and tell Lady Artemis as soon as possible what she had found on this country.
She could do this.
Divine retribution will come to that demon, for what he had done to her little sisters–they will be avenged, she will make sure of that. She had to do this for them. She would get away regardless of what he said. She would do this.
She had to.
Her lungs were no longer screaming and the wave of panic had faded into a forced calm although her nerves were still screaming at her to get away from here.
Winona was able to take a calming breath in the silence of the forest as she stood up, looking straight ahead with steel-conviction… and knows almost instantly that she was certainly going to die tonight.
The vampire was standing by the shadows underneath the canopy of trees not even a foot away from where she was, leaning on one of the trees, his stance completely relaxed, watching her with a silver arrow in hand twirling it between his fingers like it was some sort of a toy, completely uninjured.
She was never meant to get away it seems.
“Are you done? You do realize these things will not work on me?” he asks, looking so amused as he watched her pull another of her silver arrows, aiming it on him again, “Oh, it seems you still want to play. Very well, my love… don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Much to her annoyance, goose bumps instantly littered her skin, the hair on the back of her neck standing up at the thinly veiled threat.
“Don’t you” she gritted out, “ever shut up?!”
He laughed as the shadows played over half of his face and the night seems so darker, so colder without the light of the moon shining above her when Winona finally releases the arrow.
Without waiting for him to dodge, Winona hurriedly pulled another behind her as she dashed forward next to the arrow, much to his fleeting surprise when she suddenly charged forward with a battle-cry because if she was going to go down, she was not going to go down alone.
In the back of her mind, she can hear a fading heartbeat.
‘Don’t cry, Amara…’
A force, one as sharp and fierce as fire, suddenly struck Winona straight in the stomach, breath knocking out of her lungs and it sent her flying right back into a tree.
She fell to her side, out of breath and in pain, sure that a rib or two has been broken on impact, choking back sobs and coughing out blood because it was laughable really, how easy it must have been for him to play with her and her sisters’ lives like this without so much of an effort.
Her vision swam in and out of focus, littering with black dots for a moment that seemed like an eternity as she blearily looked up–only to find the vampire kneeling right next to her side, a frown marking his face, his clawed hand pressing on her broken rib, threatening to shatter it and despite herself, a whimper escaped her lips.
“I… I never meant to hurt you that much,” he told her, something like worry tinged in his voice, like a child telling his parent that he didn’t mean to break something.
That he was sorry.
Winona could taste iron in her mouth as she took in a shuddering breath when his eyes met her’s, “S-stop messing with… with me,” she hissed, trying her best to give him a glare but it must have looked pathetic as she huffed just to force back air into her punctured lungs, “Just… just get it over with! Kill me already–”
He scoffs, patting her thigh, ignoring the way she tried to flinch away from him, “Don’t be so dramatic, darling. If I want you dead, I would have done so already.”
That’s not comforting.
She must have blacked out for a moment or two… because the next thing she knew, she felt him cupping the side of her face, a startled noise escaping her lips in not only panic when she felt a clawed thumb run across her bloody trembling lower lip, smearing the lower part of her lips red.
And the vampire was looking so enthralled, staring and watching her struggle to breathe like it was something so fascinating.
“Don’t touch me,” Winona managed to snarl at him, trying to pack in as much venom as she can into those words, feeling tears burn in the corner of her eyes.
Much to her shock, the vampire did pulled his hand away as if burned, as if she was made of silver and the look of delight on his face vanished immediately, like it was never even there.
For a long moment all that could be heard between the two of them was her shuddering breath as they stared at each other. Her eyes clouded with tears, she could barely see past the haze of her tears while his eyes were growing dull, making the red in his irises appear… darker.
Suddenly, he said–
“Those were your last words,”
–as if in assurance, as if it was a promise.
Her breath stuttered before she could fully process what he just said, hands instinctively flying in panic to his wrists it was cold he was so cold, trying to pry, to claw them off of her throat, her legs kicking feebly underneath his as he trapped her in, leaning down as if to watch her struggle better. A look of hurt, of sadness and something like rage flashing across his face briefly, as though he was the one being choked to death as he stared down at her.
“Did you know? Amara…”
He looked as if he seemed to be looking right back at her, like he was seeing her, through her, like he was staring at her very soul all over again.
“…I killed you like this too,” he murmured.
And red, burning eyes flashed in front of her vision like the fires from hell. It hurts. She couldn’t look away, he won’t let her look away, his gaze filled with rage, hurt, jealousy, betrayal I loved you I loved you left me why did you left me, the phantom pain of her windpipe being shattered into two.
“NO, PLEASE NO!” a voice that was neither his nor her own echoed past her dying breaths, jarring her right back to the present like an ice-cold bucket dousing her from head to toe.
Who… who was that?
Black spots filled her vision again.
And his grip still hadn’t eased.
She… she will never know, will she?
“Back then, I thought rebirth was all a lie, that you were a lie, a mockery made by Hades or Nemesis to torment me further. You had only died for only a century back then, after all…”
His voice was fading.
Or was it her that was fading?
And Winona wanted to cry.
She didn’t want to die, not like this, not because of him again, she didn’t want to die with him being the last thing she will ever see or hear…
Please, somebody… anybody…
“–I haven’t seen you, heard your voice for so long so seeing someone else with your face, to see you smiling and laughing again with another just like that… after so long… I was hoping maybe the next one will stay,” his voice cracked, just as her hands suddenly fell limp to the ground. He barely choked back a sob, “I just wanted to stay with you, and I wanted you to stay. It’s all I ever wanted, Amara.”

With the moonless sky as her witness, Winona breathed her last.

. . .
“I removed your eye lids so then I would be the only thing you would see.
I loved you so much that it killed you.”
. . .

But because the Fates could do no wrong, somehow, somewhere in life, she breathes again, somehow, she wakes again… this time, to the smell of blood and incense burning, to the sound of broken hymns praising the birth of a god’s child, to the sound of her mother’s screams somewhere in the distance, of an infant’s wailing, grieving of a life she had lost still ringing in her ears.
Such is life, such is fate…
But when she finally opens her eyes, the first thing she sees are the kind eyes of a man smiling almost sadly down at her with all the warmth and adoration a father (but not father) could only give… and like all other children born to this world, she immediately forgets why she had been crying in the first place when he cradled her close his chest, marveling and holding her like she was something so precious.
Warren Veil brushed away a stray tear.

“Hi, Winters…”

. . .

“I killed you.
I killed you.
I love you.
I miss you.”
―Talha Hussain Mangi