Chapter ten- The first vampire and carrier

Chapter Ten – Rachel POV

I couldn’t stop thinking about the dream. It had felt so vivid—so real—that it left a lingering unease in my chest. The girl I saw by the river… she looked exactly like me. Not just similar—identical. It was like staring into a mirror set in another century. I had to know more.

Driven by curiosity, I found myself rifling through the old family photo albums we kept tucked in the lounge cabinet. Dust clung to the leather covers, the smell of time and old ink tickling my nose as I opened them. Page after page revealed faded photographs—sepia-toned portraits of women, some smiling, some solemn. Almost all of them had long black hair. It wasn’t just a coincidence.

Eventually, I closed the last album and headed to the kitchen, where Mom was hunched over a stack of open recipe books, scribbling notes into her planner. She had a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose and a look of concentration etched into her brow.

“Hey, Mom? I have a question,” I said, still holding one of the albums in my arms.

She glanced up and motioned for me to sit. I slid into the chair across from her, the photo book resting between us.

“Why do nearly all the women on your side of the family have black hair?” I asked, opening it to a page with portraits of Nana, Great-Aunt Evie, and several generations before them. All raven-haired. All intense-eyed.

Mom paused and took off her glasses. “That’s… a good question.” Her voice softened, and she leaned back slightly, as if considering whether to tell me something she'd buried long ago. “There’s a very old folktale in the Blackwell line. It’s been passed down from mother to daughter for generations.”

She reached for her tea, sipped, then continued. “It all began with a woman named Mary-Jane Blackwell. She lived thousands of years ago. According to legend, she was an ordinary girl—blue eyes, black hair—until she fell in love with a vampire. Not just any vampire. Markus Voss, the Emperor of the realm of Eschuda.”

My skin prickled. Voss. That was Dante’s last name too…

“They say Markus wasn’t like other vampires. He wasn’t turned—he was born. A pureblood. He impregnated Mary-Jane, making her the first ‘carrier.’ Because of her, the Blackwell women were marked. Chosen. Every few generations, one of us is born with the carrier gene, able to bear the child of a royal vampire.”

She laughed softly. “It sounds like something out of a dark fairy tale, doesn’t it? But the story goes that Mary-Jane awakened something powerful when she gave birth to the first vampire heir. Some believe it was a curse. Others call it a gift. Either way, it left its mark on the bloodline.”

I stared down at the photo of Mary-Jane. Long black hair. Strong jawline. Sharp, intelligent eyes. She looked… fearless.

“But I always assumed it was just a myth,” Mom added quickly. “A family story. Probably just strong genetics.”

But something told me it wasn’t. Not anymore.

That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about Markus, the vampire emperor. The name alone sent a shiver down my spine, especially with the dream still fresh in my memory. I turned over and stared out my window, the sky above scattered with stars.

Centuries Ago – The Realm of Eschuda

In the early 14th century, the supernatural ruled.

Vampires sat at the top of the hierarchy, their kingdom stretching across vast territories in the realm of Eschuda. Markus Voss, the Emperor of the vampire clans, ruled from the obsidian palace atop Mount Vireon. He was powerful, calculating, and ancient—older than anyone dared guess.

Beneath them, witches lived in their own secluded enclaves, keeping to themselves, bound by codes older than any vampire contract. Werewolves, on the other hand, were constantly at odds with the vampires. Though a fragile peace treaty kept their bloodlust at bay, the hatred ran deep.

The humans? They were the workers. Farmers. Craftsmen. Servants. Bargaining chips.

It was known that once a month, Markus would declare a hunt. A twisted tradition passed down from the old ways. Ten young women, chosen from various villages, would be released into the Emperor’s private woods. Vampires and werewolves were allowed to chase and capture them. Any girl caught was kept—owned.

Only those deemed “exceptional” were added to the Emperor’s harem.

“Your Majesty,” a voice echoed through the marble hall. One of Markus’s advisors bowed low. “The hunt is complete. We’ve brought back the three finest girls from Akcha, as you commanded.”

“Only three?” Markus scoffed. “Send for more. I’m growing bored of the last batch.”

“Yes, sire.”

In the village of Akcha, the warning bells tolled through the foggy morning air. Girls were herded like cattle, lined up before armored guards bearing the sigil of House Voss—a crimson fang against a silver moon.

Mary-Jane stood at the edge of the river, her feet bare, her old book slipping from her fingers as dread swept over her. She rushed into the village, only to be yanked into the line with the others.

Her father, the village chief, pleaded with the guards. “She is my daughter!”

“Then she is lucky,” said the advisor coldly. “The Emperor may spare her life if he is pleased.”

When Markus laid eyes on Mary-Jane, something changed. Her beauty was striking, but it was more than that. There was something beneath her skin. Power. He could feel it.

He claimed her as his own.

They were lovers for months. Mary-Jane was headstrong, curious, unafraid of him. And when she became pregnant, the world shifted. No human had ever carried a vampire’s child before.

It made her dangerous.

It made her sacred.

After she gave birth to the first royal heir, Markus hid her away in his private wing. Some said he loved her. Others claimed he feared what she represented.

Eventually, more carriers were discovered—descendants of Mary-Jane. The Blackwell line.

Rachel POV – Present

I blinked, the vision fading. I wasn’t dreaming. I’d been seeing memories. Mary-Jane’s memories.

Could that even be possible?

My hands trembled as I closed the album. Something wasn’t right. Something was stirring—inside me, around me. The men who chased me… Dante’s offer… these dreams...

I wasn’t just a girl with black hair and bad luck. I was something more.

And that terrified me.