The Kingdoms' Obsession

║Nikolai║ He hid in the darkness and stared as she walked, completely infatuated by her beauty. Finally, he was able to put a face to the delectable scent that first encaptured him years ago. When he first caught a whiff of her scent, his mouth watered beyond belief and he knew then and there that he’d do anything to capture the young beauty with green eyes. He stared off into space, imagining her body wrapped around him and before he was able to relish in her scent once more, it was gone. She was gone. He barked a command to his most entrusted friend, Damien, to find her but none other than him knew of the woman he was speaking of. Filled with complete and utter frustration, he roared into the sky, praying to the Divine Khalida to grace him with the presence—the scent— of the women who consumed his entire being a few moments prior. He cursed himself for not taking her when he had the chance, knowing now that it may have been too late. Nikolai and his men walked around the time square in search of the beauty, completely ignoring the small litter of humans running away in fear of them and their legacy. “Nikolai, it’s time to go, we’re needed back at the kingdom,” reminded Damien. He laughed to himself, seeing the irony of that statement. He was but a mere king with no queen, a simple man without his beloved. ‘Why, oh Divine Khalida, must you make me endure centuries with no beloved?’ he asked himself. He wondered if it was punishment for his tyrannical rule years ago, but surely she could see that he has gotten much better at ruling in the past couple of decades. With one last lookover of the town square, he turned back and headed to his kingdom with his men in tow. His heartless being ached with every step, yearning to have the beauty in his arms, within his grasp. For once in his dark-filled existence, he has wanted nothing more than to see the light. ║Amara║ She sensed his gaze from the very moment she entered the town square. She tried to find the owner of the fiery look that burned her skin, only to come up with nothing. She thought nothing of it, though, knowing that the men of this town stared at any female— living or dead. She shuttered with disgust at the thought, convincing herself that there was no stare placed upon her. Soon, she placed her full attention on her current task at hand. She was on a mission to collect the healing potions for her sick mother, fearing something bad would happen if she didn’t return soon. As she looked around the town square, she took note of it all— the misery, the poverty, the s*****y. She quickly masked her scent with a potion her mother gave her, not needing a Human Snatcher to take away her freedom for a life as a blood slave. Amara prayed the potion was able to mask the blood in her veins. The Human Snatchers were ruthless. Under the rule of their own insanity, they captured any humans found, needing an endless supply to quench their very own bloodthirst. They didn’t care of the broken families, the lost lives, nor of the pleas to be released. To them, humans were property, beings meant to be fed upon, r***d, and killed for the very thing they needed to survive: blood. These rogue bloodsuckers were once peaceful—content with one human for their survival. Soon enough, this contentment was no longer enough and with greed, they decimated much of the human species. From the stories her mother told, it was clear that King Nikolai was nothing like that. No, he was much worse. Whereas the Human Snatchers showed mercy to their victims through death, King Nikolai did not. He resorted to years of endless torture until those he captured welcomed death with open arms. He broke spirits. To her, he was ruthless and she never wanted to be in the presence of such a monster. She refused to bow down to the power hungry King. The captivity of her people is all thanks to him and his need for more power. Amara quickly grabbed what she needed and placed the hood of her cape onto her head, ready to return to her small, little cottage deep in the woods. The vicious roar that sounded throughout the town square urged her to walk faster to her intended destination, fearful of the vampires lurking on the town's edge. Her mother always warned her to never trust a vampire, and she’s lived by that ever since she was a little girl. “Mama, I’m here,” she said the moment she entered her home. Her mother’s lack of response brought great fear to her heart. The one person she had left in this world was on death’s bed, almost completely consumed by the illness that struck her several days prior. She quickly got to work, mixing all the potions the way her mother had taught her, and with speed, she was able to get it done in record time. Too consumed by perfecting the healing potion, she didn’t notice the streaks of blood that littered their living room, nor did she notice that in place of her mother on the bed was nothing but a few torn pillows. With one look at her eerily quiet surroundings, she felt her world crumble to pieces. Blood. There was blood everywhere. Panic-stricken, Amara followed the streaks of blood out of the cottage until she reached their destination: the small pond she used to love. Now, it was tainted with the image of her helpless and broken mother. She weeped as she crawled to her mother, her legs no longer functioning from the amount of grief that struck her entire body. When she finally reached her mother, the cold skin clashed with her own warmth and it was at that moment that she wished she’d never went to the town square. She’d rather her mother succumb to an illness as a fighter than to a lowlife bloodsucker who gave her no chance at redemption, no chance to defend herself. Amara gently took her mothers head out of the pond and held her in her arms for what seemed like hours, bawling and weeping for the entirety of it. The tears streamed down her face, leaving behind a hot streak of pain in their wake. She bellowed into the night, nature bearing witness to the suffering of a mortal woman who had nothing else left in this god forsaken world. Guilt racked her entity, feeling as if her need to cure her mothers illness stopped her from being there to defend her. Granted, she was not fit to kill a vampire, but even then, her mother would have died knowing someone was fighting for her. Now, she felt her mother had to go alone and afraid—exactly what she was feeling right now Mercy. They called this mercy. The cold chilled her to the bone, seemingly taking away any ounce of warmth she had previously felt. A void of darkness filled every crevice of her being and then, she was nothing but a shell of the girl she used to be. Her comfort, love, peace, protector—it was all taken from her at the very hands of the demons with black eyes and sharp fangs protruding from their gums. With an aching mind, heart, and soul, she buried her mother with her hands in the plots behind the cottage they had prepared for this very moment. It seemed her mother knew they wouldn’t live the long, full lives that they had hoped for. In that moment, she came to accept that even though they were free in terms of s*****y, they were still prisoners of a world ruled by those who fed upon them. No longer feeling safe in her own home, she opted to sleep underneath her favorite oak tree, the one littered with memories of happiness she once shared with her mother. For once, she wished she were one of them. Only then would she have a real chance at avenging her mother and only then will she no longer feel like a prisoner in her own weak skin.