echoes of the past

The night was thick with silence, save for the Occasional rustling of leaves as thé wínd whispered through the trees. Damian tossed and turned in his bed, a deep frown etched into his face as beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

Then, the nightmare began.

A haunting melody weaved through the darkness, a woman's voice singing-soft, sorrowful, and otherworldly. The song carried an ache, a deep, resonating pain that clutched at his chest.The more he tried to push it away, the deeper it settled into his bones.

A child's cries rang through the void, sharp andterrified, cutting through the melody like a dagger. The scent of burning wood filled the air, thick smoke suffocating his lungs.

The scene shifted before him-

A castle engulfed in flames.The fire clawed at the stone walls, licking hungrily at tapestries, reducing them to ash.Shadows danced wildly, cast by the raging inferno. Screams echoed in the distance, lost to the crackling of fire and the shattering of glass. Through the smoke he saw a woman a figure cloaked in flowing silks her hair a cascade of silver under the moonlight She turned to hím,her eyes glowing like the ocean in a storm ,sorrow and warning laced in her gaze.

"How could you do this"

Her voice was the same haunting melody that had woven through his dreams, but before he could reach out to her, the flames Swallowed her whole.Damian jolted awake, his breath ragged, heart pounding against his ribcage. His fingers clenched the sheets as he forced himself to sit up. The room was cold, eerily silent, yet his body felt like he had just walked through the firenhimself. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.

A dream, surely. But why did it feel so real?

His thoughts turned to Serena, to the way she carried herself, to the unsettling pull she had on him. Was it a coincidence that she felt... familiar? Or was there something far more sinister at play?

Damian swung his legs over the bed and stood,running a hand through his hair as he made his way to the window. The moon cast a pale glow Over the city, and in the distance, he could almost hear the remnants of that song lingering in the air.

He had to find out the truth.

No matter what it cost him.

--------------------------------------------------

Across the city, Serena sat in her study, her

fingers tapping against the mahogany desk as her assistant delivered unsettling news.

"They've begun an investigation on you," the assistant murmured, voice laced with unease."Damian's people are digging deep."

Serena's eyes darkened, her lips curvíng ínto a slow, dangerous smile. "How predictable."

"What should we do?" the assistant asked cautiously.

Serena leaned back, crossing her legs. "Send a gift to our dear investigator," she said,amusement lacing her tone. "A pet fish. One that is... not so friendly."

The assistant hesitated. "You mean"

"Yes," Serena interrupted, her gaze turning sharp."Let's remind them that curiosity has its price."

-------------------------------------------

Morning came, and with it, Damian found himself seated in a private meeting with his closest confidant.

"Something about her isn't right," Damian

muttered, his fingers drumming against the table.

"There are no records of anything unusual on the surface, she looks like a simple businesswoman. But my instincts tell me

otherwise.!"

His friend, a fellow vampire, narrowed his eyes. "You think she's a witch?"

Damian exhaled sharply. "It would explain the deaths. The missing hearts."

His friend scoffed. "Witches are cunning, manipulative, but they're beneath us. They don't hold power like we do".

Damian's jaw clenched. "They're filth.Poison in the shadows. I know what they're capable of".

His voice dropped, venomous with hatred."I watched them destroy my mother. I won't let another one play games with me".

His confidant hesitated. "If she is one, then we should kill her. No questions.!

Damian's fingers curled into a fist. "That's exactly what I intend to do, If she's a witch, "ll rip her apart myself."

Yet something about her didn't fit the mold. She was too composed, too dangerously alluring. She didn't plead,she didn't manupulate at least not in the way he knew witches did. Instead, she provoked him tempted him in ways that made his blood run hot with both fury and something far more dangerous.

Hatred. Obsession.

His thought halted when his friend asked something stupid

But Damian, do you think she eats hearts?" his friend asked.

Damian shot him a look. "How would I know?"

"But seriously," his friend continued, shivering at the thought. "If she's a witch, she must be into some kind of voodoo or black magic."

"Whatever she does, I don't care," Damian said, his voice cold. "Witch or not, nothing will stop me from killing her. How dare she—" He paused, his jaw tightening. The thought of her being with so many men made his blood boil. He hated it.

"Well, if she does eat hearts, she probably cooks them first," his friend mused, nodding as if he'd figured something out. "Eating them raw must taste awful."

Damian stared at him like he was an idiot. Of all things to focus on, he was worried about how she prepared them?