Apples_is_sweet

—-This is my first novel, I hope you like it.—
In a world where the supernatural and humanity have long walked parallel paths, the shadows conceal truths that most humans remain blissfully unaware of. Yet, some individuals glimpse beyond the veil, recognizing that they are not alone in this realm.   
Vampires, with their insatiable thirst for blood, lurk in the night; werewolves endure the torment of transformation beneath the full moon, their bodies wracked with pain as they shift; and witches wield formidable magic, casting spells that can alter fate itself. Many have assumed that these creatures—werewolves, witches, and vampires—are the sole inhabitants of the dark, each grappling with their own primal instincts.  
But everything changes with the emergence of Dawn, a Dhampir, whose enigmatic and sorrowful past is shrouded in forgotten memories. In the depths of the forest, a feral siren, once thought to be mere folklore, materializes, intertwining their fates. Their paths have crossed before, under tragic circumstances, yet the details remain lost in the mists of time, leaving them to rebuild the trust that once existed.  
As this reborn Dhampir embarks on a quest to reclaim her fragmented memories, the stakes rise. She must confront a pivotal choice: will she defend her newfound family and the home she has just begun to cherish, or will she succumb to the desire for vengeance, seeking retribution for the agonies of her past life?

The New Journey of a Dhampir

As I cradled the exquisite gemstone in my palm, I turned to my mother, curiosity bubbling within me. "Where did this gemstone come from?" I inquired.

A peculiar smile danced upon her lips, and the atmosphere shifted subtly, as if the very air held secrets. She gestured toward the bed, inviting me to sit.

With raised eyebrows, I settled onto the edge, captivated by the tale that was about to unfold. I waited, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

Finally, she spoke, her voice a whisper of memories. "In my youth, I shared a deep bond with my father, a man often shrouded in illness, nearing the twilight of his days. Each summer, he whisked me away on journeys, though he was a challenging soul to understand. Before he departed this world, he entrusted me with the necklace he cherished, a talisman he treated as a precious relic. This necklace is our legacy, woven through the fabric of our lineage." After a moment of silence, she seemed to gather her thoughts, then continued, "My father spoke of our ancestor, Keith Johnson, a man deemed mad and unhinged." Intrigued, I leaned closer, my curiosity piqued. "Why was he considered that?"

A knowing laugh escaped her lips, recognizing the morbid fascination that had ensnared me. "Keith began as a mere boy, an orphan left to navigate the harsh streets after losing his parents to yellow fever. Survival meant stealing what he could find.

In time, he enlisted in the Navy during World War Two alongside his younger brother, Thomas. The brothers forged an unbreakable bond amidst the chaos of war.

But fate turned cruel one fateful day when bombers descended upon them in a tempest. Their vessel succumbed to the depths, casting all aboard—friends and foes alike—into the merciless sea.

In the tumultuous waters, some clung desperately to life, while others succumbed to the storm's fury. Among the survivors, whispers emerged of a sighting, something elusive and unnameable.

Some claimed it was a mermaid, with a sinuous tail and razor-sharp claws, her dark hair flowing like shadows in the depths."

Their necks bore gills, and their forms were cloaked in a shadowy hue.

The air thickened with dread as these beings launched their assault, dragging their victims into the abyss of the ocean.

Blood unfurled like dark ribbons through the water's surface. A shiver coursed through me at the thought of Iravan, a siren himself. I inquired, "If these individuals speak of being attacked by mermaids or some such, how did Keith and Thomas manage to escape?"

She replied, "That's the peculiar part. Not all of them met their end; some of the mermaids—or whatever lurked beneath the waves—intervened to save them."

My brow furrowed in bewilderment. "Save them? What do you mean? How did that happen?" She nodded, her gaze distant as she recounted, "Indeed. Keith and Thomas claimed the mermaids wielded their tails to create a current, propelling them toward the shore."

Silence enveloped me, leaving me at a loss for words. My mother interjected, "Whatever these entities may be, they would possess a remarkable intelligence if the tale holds any weight.

Yet, who can say if it's true, or if the horrors of war have fractured their minds, blurring the lines between reality and illusion?"

I nodded, uncertainty gnawing at me. The truth of the matter felt elusive, as life often dances on the edge of reality and deception.

Family history