Ophelia went through the entire day with a blur. She could barely think or stomach anything. All she could fathom was the truth revealed to her. She always knew she was special, at least, in some sort of way. Now, she didn't know how to react upon hearing the true extent of her nature.
The Direct Descendant was a creature that no one wanted to be. Direct Descendants bled silver blood that'd heal people and lure vampires whose thirst was unquenchable upon consuming. Their flesh tempted werewolves who'd bite into the human without mercy, consuming all they could of their holy Moon Goddess. An obsession so terrifying, that the Direct Descendant would be consumed inside and out. Every part would be used. Not even bones would be left behind.
