Claimed by the Dark

CHAPTER 11

Granny Bia’s funeral was grey and hollow, wrapped in the kind of silence that makes every breath feel disrespectful. People stood with stiff backs and empty eyes, waiting for it to be over. Closed casket. No photos. No display. Just a quiet burial under an unforgiving sky.

After the priest left, a woman stepped forward. She was old, but fierce—one of those sharp-edged grandmothers who looked like she’d outlived everyone by sheer force of will. Her voice was rough, the kind shaped by years of cigarettes and secrets.

“We say goodbye to our sister Bianca. Strong woman, strong mother, strong witch. We pray you move on and find your peace as we unbind you from this world. May you step into the light.”

Her words hit me differently—too deliberate, too ritualistic.

Before I could ask questions, she pulled out a flask and poured a thick, dark red liquid over the fresh soil. It looked like blood.

Elena leaned close. “It’s a witch ritual, so she doesn’t come back as a strigoi. Witches almost always turn if they die with unfinished business. To avoid… complications, the casket stays closed. The heart has to be pierced with a dagger. And their mouth and eyes must be sewn shut.”

I shivered.

“God… Elena, I’m so sorry. You must be devastated.”

“Not really.”

She shrugged softly. “Granny lived a long, full life. Kids, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. She healed people, told fortunes, cast spells. She wasn’t afraid of dying. I just hope I leave at least half as full as she did.”

Days passed in a strange fog. Memories from the past life kept intruding—flashes of heat, screams, fire, mud, pain. Sometimes I felt like I was myself. Other times, something ancient inside me surfaced—the woman who had burned alive for love. The woman who had suffered for him. She was angry, bitter, bruised, and she wanted revenge on a world that destroyed her.

My parents’ anniversary was now approaching, and Michael and I headed to my hometown together—just like I once imagined, before everything had spiraled into darkness.

Dragomar stayed absent. I tried not to think about him. If the grief from my past life kept him away, I was determined to drown myself in it.

My parents greeted us with excitement. Michael was the first boyfriend I’d ever brought home, and they adored him instantly. His kindness was disarming; his honesty irresistible.

And God, I was falling for him so hard.

We walked through my hometown—quiet, small, preserved like an old photograph forgotten in a drawer. Most of my generation had left. Only the elderly remained. It felt suspended in time.

I told Michael about the haunted forest. A childhood tale… except now, it didn’t feel like just a story.

The forest was infamous. Twisted trees bowed toward the earth, their branches bent as if pulled down by invisible hands. The locals called it Devil’s Forest. They said the trees pointed toward hell. That black witches performed rituals inside. People disappeared. Children were taken.

Everyone knew to stay away.

“Why don’t they just burn it down?” Michael asked.

“Because who knows where all that evil would go once you destroy its nest?”

He scoffed lightly. “I know people take this way too seriously sometimes.”

“All legends begin in truth.”

“Sure… but nowadays believing in ghost stories is a bit much.”

“Better safe than sorry. People believe for a reason.”

He squeezed my shoulder. “What do you believe?”

“A few months ago I would’ve gone ghost-hunting with you to prove nothing’s out there. Now? With every fiber of my being, I know we’re not alone in the dark. And we shouldn’t be arrogant enough to think we are.”

“Alright, alright…” he laughed nervously. “Let’s change the subject before I upset my girl.”

He kissed my forehead, and the tension melted.

We had dinner with my parents. My mother cooked enough food for an army even though the party was the next day. She always healed with food.

That night— the dreams came.

Not dreams.

Memories.

I was in the forest, running through rain and mud, calling Dragomar’s name until my throat bled. I was frantic, desperate. The soldiers had taken him—hit him in the head and dragged him like an animal. It was my fault. I knew it. I felt it… like a knife radiating outward through my ribs.

I followed them to the fortress.

I begged a guard to let me see him. He agreed. I didn’t know why until I saw the look in his eyes—hungry, cruel.

They let me into Dragomar’s cell. I lifted his head from the ground, wiped the blood from his temple.

“They’re going to kill you,” I whispered.

“Probably,” he smiled weakly. “But you needed medicine. I would’ve stolen it from the gods themselves.”

I kissed his hands through the bars, just before they dragged me away.

The soldier in charge took me aside.

Told me there was a way to spare his life.

Told me the price.

I agreed immediately.

He smirked—brown, rotten teeth—and took me to a room where four soldiers waited. What they did to me wasn’t pain; it was annihilation. They used me like I was nothing, like my screams were entertainment. They tore my dress, my skin, my soul. When they were finished, one of them turned and urinated on me while the others laughed.

I crawled out of that room unable to stand upright, barely breathing—but with the certainty that Dragomar would live.

Outside, a crow swooped low over my head, its wings slicing the air like a blade.

It perched beside me, watched me with black, intelligent eyes.

A dark omen.

I woke up screaming.

Michael shook me gently.

“Kira—Kira! Wake up! Can you hear me?”

“GET AWAY!” The voice that came out of me wasn’t mine.

“It’s okay—it’s just a nightmare. Breathe. I’m here.”

I was panting, terrified, unable to recognize the room. I pushed him away, eyes darting to every corner like I was still hunted.

“Hey… I’m not going to hurt you. I’m turning on a low light, alright? Just a lamp. I’ll get you water.”

The moment the light clicked on, I flinched violently. It felt like the sun exploded.

He handed me the glass, and I drank mechanically, still scanning the shadows.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Kira, it’s me. It’s Michael.”

My breath trembled.

My throat tightened.

“I… I don’t know who you are.”