Prologue

“The Silent Cry”

The air in the dark forest was still.  Dead, brittle, leaves flaked off the gnarled branches of the autumn trees and a heavy curtain of fog rolled in from the gaps between them.  It crawled along the floor, just above twelve-year old Anora’s knees as she franticly paced back and forth, searching for a way out.  Everywhere she turned, it all looked the same to her, the gray foliage beneath the fog and the vivid white bark from the trees glowing in the dim light, all of it, for miles, seemed to repeat itself.  She was lost, turned around, and alone.  The pounding of her heart echoed in the back of her skull as panic mounted, increasing the longer she searched.  Her only comfort was knowing that her protector, Odessa, was out there.  She just had to find her.  It wasn’t her fault that Odessa left, in the middle of the night, disappearing into the thick shadows of the Gloomy Woods.  But, deep down she couldn’t help but feel responsible, like everything that had happened to them up to that point was somehow her fault.  They had been on the run too long, spent too many nights in hiding, for something as reckless as this to happen.  Odessa leaving without warning, unexpectedly abandoning her, was something she was not prepared for.  And it could only mean one thing: Odessa’s time on earth was over.

Anora stopped to gather her composure, feeling her nerves begin to unravel, and started counting backwards from one hundred—a technique taught to her when she was younger.  It settled her racing thoughts, restoring her focus and determination. And with her mind clear, she hurried through the dense forest, pushingswiftly past several throngs of horned plants, calling out for Odessa.  The wind picked up, suddenly, and within it were the faint, soothing notes of a lullaby.  She recognized it.  It was Odessa’s voice.  A surge of hope and excitement coursed through her as she chased the lullaby deeper into the dark woods, as it gently danced on the wind’s current.  The heavy curtains of fog parted as she ran until the trees gave way to a dry riverbed, which was blanketed by sharp boulders that jutted out like raucous ornaments.  Dead leaves were scattered across the ground, kicked up by the wind, before getting caught in a fence of razor wire that lined the river’s edge. 

Anora’s light, nimble, body bounded from rock to rock as she sprinted across the river, avoiding the treacherous network of wires with quick reflexes.  The wind blasted out, sweeping across the jagged river in a sharp howl, as it pushed against Anora’s petite frame.  She leaned into it, struggling step by arduous step before eventually falling to her knees.  Foliage, branches, and leaves whipped at her face.  Still, she continued and inched forward, crawling blindly with her eyes squeezed shut, feeling around with her hands frantically.  The aggression of the wind intensified, twisting into fierce whirlwinds that tore apart the surrounding trees.  Anora was swept up by the storm, flying skyward before she managed to catch hold of a sturdy branch, clinging to it for dear life as the tempest raged all around her.

“Odessa! Stop this!” Anora cried out desperately.

The air snapped, drowning out her voice and tearing at her clothes and hair, until she was ripped up into the storm.  A fierce gust shot her down to the jagged rocks below, and with a sickening crash she plummeted onto them, shattering the delicate bones in her legs. She screamed in agony, her blood curling shrill echoed across the landscape as her black blood gushed out from the open wounds.  And as suddenly and violently as the storm started, it ended, leaving the pained whimpers of Anora in their wake. She summoned enough strength to crawl out of the riverbed where she waited for her wounds to heal.  The skin melded together, and her fractured bones fused back in place, all she had to do was line the broken parts. 

“Odessa,” said Anora in a tired voice. “please, do not...”

“Shall I shield you from the sight?” asked Odessa.  Her voice carried through the air, hauntingly.

“Stop, I beg you,” urged Anora as she forced herself to her feet.

“Come, child,” invited Odessa. “The hour has arrived.”

Anora followed Odessa’s enchanting voice until she emerged into a forest clearing.  Odessa was there, sitting on a fallen tree, surrounded by ghostly white wildflowers.  Their petals danced in the air, nearly touching the dense canopy above, where the light from the moon filtered through.  There was a faint radiance all around, exuding an eerie stillness and soft, muted, glow.  Odessa’s mere presence seemed to be entwined in the shadows, where her wavy dark hair flowed to the small of her back, across her silk gown; while twisted, spiral, horns that crowned her head reached skyward.  Metal nails hung from the tips of her, long, rigid fingers.  But, it was her eyes that transfixed Anora the most—glowing with an otherworldly light, amplified by the shadows that shrouded her face.  They were more illustrious than any other Viempire Anora had ever seen, and none could compare to the grace and power that radiated from her in that instant. 

“Odessa,” said Anora, cautiously stepping into the meadow.

Odessa didn’t look at her, instead she kept her eyes fixed on an ornately decorated knife that she was holding.  “So, it has come to this,” she muttered, sadness was etched into her voice along with a trace of bitterness. “You cannot even allow me a moment’s peace, can you?

“You do not have to do this, not for my sake,” urged Anora, holding out her trembling hands in desperation.

“What would you know, child?” Odessa asked scornfully. “Do you not understand?  Everything I have done, every sacrifice I made, was for you.  Perhaps, one day you will understand. Not now, though...you are merely a naïve girl.  What could you possibly comprehend?”

“I have no one else,” Anora confessed, her voice was tight with fear. “I do not want you to die.”

Odessa laughed sharply, her tone was devoid of warmth. “Die? Death is meaningless.  You, above all, should know that by now.”

“Please,” Anora pleaded. “Do not leave me…I do not want to be alone.”

“Leave you?” laughed Odessa again with cruel amusement. “You were never truly mine.  You have always been His daughter.”

“I shall never be His daughter-”

“Then you are a fool,” Odessa interrupted coldly as the blade’s sharp edge caught the light from the spectral moon. “We as Viempires are tough to kill, as you know,” her voice dripped with contempt. “I must make this swift and decisive.”

In desperation, Anora rushed in, dropping to her knees in front of Odessa.  She clung to her legs, pleadingly, in an attempt to get her attention.  Her tears wetted the fabric of Odessa’s dress, but all Odessa did was stare at the gleam in the knife’s blade.

“Please,” implored Anora once again. “You do not have to do this.”

“I want you to see, my child,” Odessa said to her, emotion was vacant in her voice and her eyes were distant and cold.

Anora clung tightly to Odessa’s legs. “Please, I beg you,” she whispered pleadingly. “There must be another way.”

Odessa finally looked at her. “You speak as if you know the way of all things,” she replied with bitterness. “But we are bound by blood and by fate…chained to paths set long before your first breath. You are naïve like a child…you live in a fantasy…to believe that words alone can alter what has been decreed.”

“You taught me that we are not mere pawns to be moved by others,” Anora stated with vigor, refusing to accept the despair in Odessa’s words.

Odessa’s grip on the knife tightened, her metal nails dug into her skin and drops of her blood fell into the fog. “I have walked in the shadows of this world for centuries, faced horrors that would break lesser souls. Fear has no place in my heart. What I do now is out of duty, out of a promise made in blood.”

“Does my love for you mean nothing?” stated Anora in desperation.

“Love?” scoffed Odessa. “What do you know of love?  You seek it as a comfort…like a salve for your soul.  But, there is no such thing as love…real love…’tis a folly.  ‘Tis a lie, a destroyer…a fire that consumes all in its path.  Did you honestly believe I could love a thing like you?  Perhaps what you saw as love was truly hatred?”

Tears streamed down Anora’s face after hearing Odessa’s harsh words, they hit like a lance piercing her heart. 

Odessa continued, “What would you have me do, child? Defy Him? Our Dark Master? Defy the very forces that have shaped our existence? Do you truly believe that we have the power to alter the course of destiny? I have fought for so long,” she whispered, her voice was reflective, as if she was drawing from a lost memory. “I have fought so hard to protect you, to keep you safe from the darkness that surrounds us. But perhaps... perhaps I have been fighting the wrong battle.”

“Odessa, please,” Anora said softly, “we can start anew, away from the pain, away from the Dark Master.”

Odessa’s icy eyes bore into Anora’s terrified gaze.  “Pay attention,” she uttered in a chilling, matter-of-fact tone, before dragging the razor-sharp blade across her own throat.  The knife sank into her skin, cutting back to the spine.  Dark red blood poured from the open wound, flooding across her chest until it dripped into the thick, obscuring, fog.  Anora let out a horrifying scream as Odessa’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground.  She crawled back, afraid, unable to look away from her dead face.  Odessa’s eyes turned a solid white, like all Viempire when they die, and her skin shelled into stone.  The blood dried into ash and blew away in a burst of wind.  And Anora hunched over, burying her face into her shaking hands, weeping uncontrollably.