Chapter 5
1011 Words
She thought he would come.
On their wedding night, Elaine sat at the edge of the bed in the side chamber, listening to the wind outside.
The wind in the Eternal Night was different.
In the human kingdom, the wind carried warmth. Spring winds were soft, filled with the scent of soil and blooming flowers. Winter winds were cold, but alive, sharp against the skin.
Here, the wind was cold in another way.
It did not touch the surface.
It seeped in.
Through the skin. Through the bone.
Like the fingers of the dead.
She waited.
For a long time.
Her wedding gown was still on her body. White satin shimmered faintly under the candlelight, smooth and flawless. Golden embroidery coiled across the fabric, intricate and deliberate, like serpents winding from her waist to her chest.
Beautiful.
Heavy.
Binding.
The maids had already left.
Before leaving, they looked at her.
That look.
She knew it too well.
She had seen it countless times in the human palace.
Pity.
And something else.
A quiet, hidden satisfaction.
“Your Majesty, His Highness will not come tonight.”
The head maid had spoken with perfect respect. Every word measured, every tone appropriate.
But Elaine heard what lay beneath it.
You are nothing to him.
She did not respond.
Only nodded.
The maids withdrew. The door closed.
Silence filled the room.
She was alone.
Elaine lowered her gaze and looked at her hands.
Pale fingers. Clean nails. No jewelry.
Her wrist bore a faint scar.
So faint it could almost be ignored.
But it was there.
Always there.
A memory carved into flesh.
She ran her fingers over it lightly.
The captain of the guard.
Training.
Pain.
Control.
She moved her hand to her neck.
The pendant rested there.
Cold.
The metal touched her skin, holding a trace of warmth from her body, but the edges remained cold. Like snow melting too slowly.
She closed her fingers around it.
Let it press into her palm.
Let the dull ache ground her.
“Are you well?”
The voice came softly.
Old.
Distant.
Like a sigh carried across centuries.
Elaine did not answer.
“He will not come,” the voice said again. “Not tonight.”
“I know.”
“Are you afraid?”
Elaine was silent for a long time.
Afraid.
Of what?
Of the Vampire King?
Of death?
Of being touched?
Or something worse.
Of losing control.
Of softening.
“No,” she said finally.
The voice in the pendant laughed.
Softly.
Gently.
With something almost like sorrow.
“You will be,” it said. “Just not yet.”
The warmth faded.
The pendant fell silent.
Like an old soul returning to sleep.
Elaine loosened her grip and tucked it back beneath her collar, letting it rest against her chest.
Then she stood.
And walked to the window.
She pushed it open.
Cold air rushed in immediately, wrapping around her like something alive.
The sky was gray-purple.
Endless.
No stars.
No moon.
Only thick clouds, heavy and unmoving, like ink spilled across the heavens.
In the distance, the vampire city stretched into darkness.
Black buildings.
Sharp towers.
They rose like beasts crouching in silence, their spires reaching upward like fingers grasping at nothing.
Elaine stood there.
Watching.
Breathing.
Listening.
The wind howled through the empty spaces, low and hollow.
She closed her eyes.
And remembered.
Ten years ago.
Fire.
Her mother's voice breaking into screams.
Her father's blood.
The smell of damp stone inside the hidden compartment.
Three days.
Three nights.
Curled in darkness.
Not daring to cry.
Not daring to move.
Not even daring to breathe too loudly.
She remembered her mother's voice.
“You are a descendant of witches. Your blood can kill. It can save. Live. And kill him.”
She remembered her father's voice.
“You are a hunter's daughter. Your hands can wield a blade. They can write your fate. Live. And kill him.”
She remembered the pendant being pressed into her hand.
Hot.
Burning.
As if it had just been pulled from fire.
“You will remember everything,” the voice inside had said. “You will dream everything.”“You will become everything.”
Elaine opened her eyes.
Nothing had changed.
The same sky.
The same silence.
The same dead wind.
“I will,” she whispered.
“I will kill him.”
She closed the window.
The room fell still again.
She removed her wedding gown slowly, layer by layer, letting the heavy fabric fall away.
When it pooled at her feet, it looked almost like a shed skin.
She stepped out of it.
Changed into a simple dress.
Light.
Unrestricted.
Her body felt easier to breathe in it.
She lay down on the bed.
Closed her eyes.
Sleep came eventually.
Or something like it.
If she dreamed, she will not remember.
The next morning, the maid knocked on her door.
Elaine was already awake.
Already dressed.
She sat by the window, a book open in her hands.
Sunlight does not exist here.
But the dim glow of the sky was enough.
“Your Majesty, you are up early,” the head maid said, unable to hide her surprise.
“I prefer mornings,” Elaine replied calmly, turning a page.
Her voice was steady.
Unbothered.
“Is there anything arranged for today?”
The maids exchanged glances.
Then answered carefully.
“His Majesty has ordered that you may move freely within the palace. However, you are not to leave the capital.”
Freely.
Elaine almost smiled.
Freedom with walls.
Freedom with limits.
You may walk.
But not escape.
You may see.
But not understand.
“I see,” she said softly.
“Thank you.”
The maids hesitated.
They had expected something else.
Tears.
Anger.
Desperation.
Most abandoned brides begged.
Cried.
Demanded attention.
But Elaine did none of those things.
She simply sat there.
Reading.
Calm.
Untouched.
As if nothing had happened.
As if nothing mattered.
Because Elaine was not like them.
She had never been.
And she never would be.
- Writer
