The old, wooden floors of the castle creaked beneath my weight. The creaks reminded me of howling and howling reminded me of my grandmother’s stories…
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The old, wooden floors of the castle creaked beneath my weight. The creaks reminded me of howling and howling reminded me of my grandmother’s stories as a child. The stories of men turning into beasts of the moon. Sometimes I would hear howling past the castle walls and imagine it to be that of a werewolf, but knew it was nothing more than a wolf.
Werewolves have been extinct for nearly sixteen centuries. My father told me that he, along with his army, had ridden us of the burden of these moon beasts. I have never met, nor seen a werewolf, as I was a newborn the time the slaughter took place. My ancestry hated werewolves and before they were killed were always at one another’s throats. I have to believe everything my family says, as I have nothing else to go on. Alas, I don’t know much, as my family prefers werewolves’ history dies with their extinction.
I am heir to the throne. The northern side of the continent is my home, yet I’ve never passed the walls of the castle. How am I to rule the whole north of the continent, when I don’t even know what is outside of the walls? In truth, I was terrified to become queen.
My cousins, leaders of the southern side of the continent, loved the attention. Loved their adoring villagers and being rulers. They would do anything for their power.
I came from a long line of pure vampires, which explains why my family hated the werewolves so much. Our villagers were all human, not knowing they were being ruled by blood-sucking creatures of the night. It had always been like this, vampires in the monarchy, ruling unsuspecting humans, while werewolves ran the woods – before they were extinct. I was told they had to be taken down, as they were revenging and torching the human villagers, who thought the werewolves to be oversized wolves. They went extinct as I was two years old.
Being two years old meant I was still an infant. Vampires were immortal, so growing up meant we aged one human year to every hundred years ourselves. I am sixteen hundred years old, but to a human, I am only sixteen. Vampires grow slowly from the day of birth, but eventually, just stop growing and aging. There are only three things that can take our immortality away or kill us, and that is a wooden stake to the heart, no blood, or the impossible being a werewolf bite.
Pressing my bare feet against the wooden floor of the hallway, I slid my hand along the cold, stone wall. I closed my eyes and listened to the wind howling through the empty halls.
I looked around the hallway. Nobody. The word was repeated again and looked again. Nothing. The hallways were empty, and I was ripped from the dream.
My eyes flew open, and daylight flooded my vision. My handmaid, Crystal, stood before me. Her gray strands of hair were pulled back into a tight bun, and she wore her darks maid’s uniform. She held out the iron tray to me, containing one clear cup of red liquid.
I took the glass of blood from her tray and drained the liquid down my throat. My pale skin instantly returned to a darker shade.
Crytal, along with the other maids of the castle knew what my family was but knew better than to speak a word to anyone. Everyone in the castle was paid well to ensure their silence and loyalty.
“Miss, your mother, and father are waiting for you in the throne room. I have laid a black gown over the vanity,” Crystal said.
I put the cup down and pushed myself from the bed. Crystal helped me dress in the black linens and fixed my hair, finishing the look with a red ruby necklace.
Crystal then led me towards the throne room, while I couldn’t help but wonder what was my mother and father needed to speak with me about?
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