The Vampires Torment

Treason, Memories and Blood Oaths

Your writing is engaging, but it could benefit from some corrections for clarity and grammar. Here's a revised version:

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She had inherited a kill list from her mother. It wasn’t a kill list but rather a note with a name.

Her mother had used up her last wishes to make her daughter commit treason. She wanted to be shocked, but she just didn’t have the strength. Laila Lovegood was the high priestess, and her word was law... was law. She was also her estranged mother, who had kicked her out of the coven and banished her to the human world, saying that she was a disgrace to all witch-kind.

A blood oath contract was impossible to get out of.

"That bloody wench!" Sabrina screamed at no one in particular. She was alone in her cottage; her maid had stepped out after handing her a red envelope with the seal of the Herons Coven.

Her mother wanted her to kill Finn Wilde. The only problem was that Finn was untouchable, and he was the king of the down world. Sure, she hated the man, but no one knew where the vampire was right now.

The coven was torture; Sabrina wasn’t fond of the place she had grown up in. She couldn’t even remember her childhood. All she remembered was the pain she had gone through during the endless days and nights deep within the catacombs, sleeping near rotting corpses to keep warm. Witches loved the art of necromancy and kept bodies laying around.

She had been used as a hex bag for the others. Once, she had spent ten years with a frog's head, two years bleeding from her pores, six years without hands or feet, and three years of a death curse, dying every day in the most brutal way possible.

She had only seen her mother thrice in her life, that is if she didn’t count the day of her birth. The first was when she presided over the burial of Mother Sian, a witch who was a pillar of the coven; she didn’t look at her once. The second time had been a brief moment the day she watched her being whipped because she had put a hex on Alana, a tiny witch who had killed her pet rat, and in return, Sabrina had turned her into a cow in the middle of the holy shrine. The last was when she was sent out of the coven. Her mother and the others were behind the black gothic gates, and the portal to the human world was behind her. It was the last time she had seen the place.

"Miss, are you alright?"

Sabrina hadn’t noticed that she had spaced out. The bright gold colors of the evening sunset were casting warm shadows onto the small cottage. She loved living in New Amsterdam almost as much as she loved living in France. She had gotten on the first ship to the new world; the sense of adventure and something new made her magic tickle. She wanted to know what lay beyond the horizon. Jane, her servant, was sitting beside her holding her hand.

"I’m fine. Do me a favor and summon Rafael for me; tell him to come tomorrow morning. There’s something I wish to discuss with him."

"Yes, mistress."

"I’m tired."

She walked towards her bedroom and straight to bed, her mind in absolute chaos. Perhaps her mother had heard of her adventures over the years. Her magic had evolved. She had broken through the magic seal that they placed on her. Her reach within the underworld was extensive; there wasn’t a down walker who didn’t fear the iron maiden.

It was an impossible task, but then if anyone could do it, she could.

It was hopeless, over two hundred years of searching for Finn Wilde with no success. He was nowhere. Not even his closest companions had seen him. The king had vanished, and no one seemed to have noticed.

Rafael had tried tracking spells; this was spell number fourteen hundred and eleven. She had started keeping count as a joke, but now it was a way of tracking down the time.

"This is hopeless. We can’t go on like this, maiden; we won’t find him. For all we know, he might be dead."

He said, dusting off his coat. The warlock had adapted quickly to his imprisonment in the human world, that is, if you’d called it that. At first, he detested the place; humans were too barbaric for his taste, a species that didn’t have a link to magic, a waste of space.

But after years on the surface and observing the ignorant species, he did see their appeal. They most certainly had a mind for imagination and a huge thirst for power that he could appreciate.

Their achievements have been remarkable; he began to enjoy his imprisonment almost too much.

"He’s a vampire, Rafael, and the first of his kind. If he died, then we would most likely have known about it centuries ago, and this wouldn’t be necessary."

She said.

Rafael was the best there was. He was a lowly warlock, born of a gen and a witch, but no one could do a tracking spell like him. She eyed the man who sat cross-legged in the armchair in front of her, full-skirted knee-length coat, knee breeches, a vest, a long waistcoat, a linen shirt with frills, and linen underdrawers. He wore it all, even the ridiculous white wigs that humans had now deemed fashionable. She found it repulsive. Rafael was more of a bronze statue than a fair round glass doll. He looked odd in it all, but even that didn’t stop his handsome features from shining through, but with every decade and every century, the rise of new fashion and new innovations came. The 18th century wasn’t so different.

"And I thought my mother was evil," he puffed. "We could break it. Bambina bella, we could try to set you free."

He came towards her. She stood still, her hands draped lazily over the cold stone fireplace. The new house had been a gift from a noble man who had been seeking her hand in marriage. The man had even gone as far as asking Rafael for her hand in marriage as her "older brother".

She, of course, could not turn down the grand gesture. Money had been hard to come by, and even with her powers, there were certain things she was limited to doing, like building a house for herself from just a spell.

The noble man, however, changed his mind and left her the house as compensation for breaking her heart with a bit of... persuasion. Of course, it turns out that forgetting spells were useful.

"They abandoned you, they treated you like a beast, and your mother allowed them to. You owe her nothing. You are free. We can be free together. Here in the human world, we can do whatever we want, bambina bella."

Her heart broke ever so slightly at what he said. Her past had been one full of pain. On the day of her banishment, the other witches had requested her death, but instead, her mother offered her up to be punished and thrown out. At the edge of Harons Coven doors, on the highest branch of the shrieking willow tree, she was hanged. The crows kept on feasting on her flesh. The sun kept on burning her. The night’s air made her body cold, so very cold. It

was agony.

She wasn’t allowed to die. Downwalkers would come to visit her rotting flesh.

In the first decade, she would growl. Her hope was still there; the pain was too much, but she was hopeful that someone would take pity on her and cut her down.

By the second decade, she was begging every living thing that passed to kill her. Her body had rotted; her hair was half gone; one eye had been eaten by the crows, the other rotted away.

By the third decade, she had no body; she was only bones, her mind lucid, her spirit alive but distant. Her mind wandered off; the images of a man and a forgotten life played in her head, a mother and father who loved her, a small village, her running around the forest, a man who said "I love you" to her. A hopeless romantic's dream. A life that wasn’t hers, a fictional world of her unadulterated desires.

Then they brought her back. She began to feel again; her hands, legs, head, her senses took longer to return, but when she had finally regenerated and her eyes opened, she saw the closed gates once again and a portal behind her, no choice. She had been abandoned.

"You know, I can’t. My mother always knew how to cause me so much pain. Even in death, she presides over my life like the fates. Maybe through this, I can be free."

Sabrina had never really felt free in the entirety of her life. Even after exile, she was still haunted by the thought of being brought back to the coven.

She felt normalcy and, dare she say, family during the years she spent exploring the human world with Jane and Rafael.

In the end, all stayed the same; the hunt for the vampire king was afoot, and she needed to concentrate because sentimental attachment is a weakness, and weak is something she is not.

"Let's just try and find him, Rafael, but tomorrow. We have a debutante ball to attend; it's Marchant Harry’s daughter. I heard you’ve been dying to meet her."

"That’s tomorrow! Mio dio, I must prepare at once."

A puff of smoke choked her lungs. He hated it when Rafael used his powers. He was half-gen, meaning he could easily appear and disappear in a cloud of smoke, a cloud that was like acid to anyone who would inhale it. No matter how much she tried to get the warlock to stop it, he kept on ‘forgetting’.

There was a spell she had wanted to try. Sabrina wasn’t fond of bloodshed and sacrifices, but this time she had to; the problem of finding Finn Wilde has been on her mind over the past few years and it has undoubtedly left a bad taste.

She didn’t hate him.

If it were up to her, she’d have loved to go on about her life in the human world with no grievances. She would have cut up the letter about her mother’s last wishes if it wasn’t for the blood oath. Sabrina was shameless, a trait she had learned over the years; she didn’t think that running away from your duties can be considered cowardly or even selling your soul. If the blood oath wasn’t a thing, she’d be long gone and free, just wandering the human world partying and causing chaos here and there.

The power to see is something she hadn’t taught herself or tried to pursue. If she had it, then perhaps looking for the old bat would be easier. Merchant Henry's daughter was now about to enter society. Virgin's blood is necessary for the seer’s power to grow. And at the ball tonight, there will be some to pick from. She has to go hunting tonight.