Nightmares of my coffin years reaped my mind as I slept. Memories of the delusions and the wild wonderings of my lost centuries played havoc upon my nerves. I woke up in a start and wiped sweat from my brow and tears from my eyes. There were seldom any torments invented as creative or custom tailored as the ones which we make for ourselves.
Hell might have been a welcome change of pace for my mind, considering the price I had paid for two full centuries. Abigale’s bloody body lay before me, and my hands were steeped in the blood sacrifice of my child. I screamed in abject horror as the power rushed around me, the power of her blood.
“Mum, awake up. Mum!”
I heard, and I shot up, hissing in a feral tone as not Abigale, but Alexia stood over my bed. Her blonde hair was neatly curled, and
