Lauren sought solace within the confines of the bathroom. Stripping away the layers that bound her to the mundane, she stepped beneath the soothing cascade of the shower. Hot water enveloped her, cleansing her body, and carrying away the weight of the world.
As the foamy embrace brushed against her skin, an ethereal veil descended upon her thoughts. Within the realm of her subconscious, haunting images seeped through the cracks of forgotten memories. Beheaded heads, shredded hearts, and viscous black blood danced before her mind's eye. A disconcerting chill clawed at her soul, urging her to halt the flow of water.
"What was that?" she breathed, her voice barely a whisper in the steamy bathroom. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for anything that might explain what had just happened. All she saw was her reflection in the mirror, staring back at her with a blank expression. But a strange feeling of unease filled her. She noticed a bright purple bruise on her ribs and a jagged scar on her neck. It was like she had been hurt, but she couldn't remember how.
Driven by an urge she couldn't explain, she touched the scar on her neck. Suddenly, a flood of memories came rushing back, like a dam breaking. She saw herself lying in a dark basement, surrounded by blood. A man with a cruel smile, his teeth stained red, looked down at her, and his laughter echoed in her mind.
She felt dizzy and overwhelmed, like her head was going to spin right off. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog of memories, but it was no use. The past kept coming back, showing her another image: her mother, standing in a beautiful rose garden, whispering words she couldn't understand.
"Mom," she whispered, a mix of surprise and longing, as she continued to delve deeper into the mysteries of her own past.
Meanwhile.....
"In the depths of my understanding, if my theory holds true and she possesses an ancestral connection to Khalessi Benneth, then we might be compelled to reassess the essence of the prophecy. For within these realms, the witches and particularly the esteemed Bennet witches and the storied Brennedon vampires stand as perpetual adversaries, locked in an eternal struggle.
"Do you recall the forgotten echoes of the war that resounded throughout Brennedon, a millennium ago?" Venessa's voice floated softly, an air of mystery surrounding her words.
Derek's gaze fixated on her, his eyes filled with intrigue, as he responded, "The council rebellion, wherein the valiant witches, loyal to King Silva Voltorie, rose to aid him in quelling the uproar and restoring harmony within our kingdom. Though, that fateful day did witness the loss of several of the revered witches."
Venessa nodded, a glimmer of revelation dancing in her eyes. "Ah yes, that story, yet it is but the surface of the tale," she said, her gaze shifting between the three men who stood before her, their curiosity palpable.
"Just as I suspected," chimed Damien, peering into the unknown. Damon and Derek exchanged perplexed glances, the depths of their curiosity piqued.
"You know of this story?" Damon's voice resonated with intrigue and anticipation.
"Hush, listen," whispered Damien, a subtle nod directing Venessa to proceed.
"The story unfolds... The massacre of the Witches occurred on the eve preceding the council rebellion, an event shrouded in cunning deceit. Augustus, one of King Silva most trusted confidants, clandestinely supplied vital information to the rebel forces. With the authority granted by the king's own seal, a missive was dispatched to the witches, imploring their presence at the palace but decreeing a concealed route, hiding them from the eyes of the rebels.
"Khalessi Benneth, the revered priestess who led her coven, did not hesitate. Without a second thought, they mobilized their forces, journeying towards the palace on the designated path. Yet, upon arrival, a sinister fate awaited them. They were ambushed by an overwhelming horde of two hundred vampires."
As Venessa wove her tale, Damon, Derek and Damien gazed at her, longing for more.
"Amidst the onslaught, Khalessi Benneth, in a selfless act of bravery, invoked ancient, forbidden magics—a sinister force that consumed the vampire rebels, sparing only ten of her loyal witches, her own cherished daughter among them.
"Sorrow washed over the land as King Silva Voltorie, upon learning of the unthinkable, arrived too late to stave off the tragedy. Enraged, he and his royal guard unleashed their wrath, relentlessly hunting down each council member implicated in the massacre. It was a somber and dark chapter etched into the annals of King Silva's reign, for Khalessi Benneth stood as his staunchest ally, her absence forever leaving an indelible void."
The atmosphere seemed to tremble, the weight of history bearing down upon them. The tale, both tragic and profound, revealed a web of intrigue and fate intertwined with the very fabric of their existence.
"Centuries had passed since the tragic massacre that forever stained the history between the witches and the vampires. The animosity that brewed within the heart of a the witches, particularly the Benneth witches remained resolute" Venessa with a somber tone, concluded her story.
Doubt crept into Damon's voice as he questioned, "But why? Surely the surviving witches know the truth."
A knowing smile played upon Venessa's lips. "Ah, they do indeed, my dear Damon. But who would dare challenge the narrative that blames the king? It became etched in their heart, a prophecy on itself"
Through a hushed tone, she continued, "Generations of witches have inherited the legacy of that massacre. The story passed down from elders to the young, a reminder of the eternal conflict between witches and vampires. With such knowledge ingrained within them, it comes as no surprise that any vampire who crosses paths with witches often meets a tragic end."
Damien's brows furrowed as he contemplated the consequences of his instincts. "I hope against hope that my instincts have deceived me, for if Lauren is indeed related to Khalessi Benneth, her aunt Veronica Benneth will prove to be a formidable adversary once she learns of her niece's magic."
Damon, seeking clarity, questioned further, "Shouldn't she have known by now?"
Venessa offered an explanation. "Legend speaks of her sister, the lone member of their coven who lacked the gift of sorcery. She departed the coven and wedded a human. According to the spiritual realm's principle, a mundane being cannot give birth to a supernatural one. Thus, you see why she may not have known... until now, it seems."
Damien, breaking his silence, cast an amazed glance at Venessa. "Until now? What do you mean?"
Venessa answered with a simple truth, her voice serene. "If I, a half-witch, can sense her power, then undoubtedly all witches can."
Damon's astonishment could not be contained. "Well, damn."
With resolve etched upon his face, Damien issued a command. "Gather every piece of information on Lauren's ancestry. Let us begin our search there. For she holds the key to saving my father, and no centuries-old vendetta shall hinder my quest."
A smile of affirmation spread across Venessa's lips.
As their conversation continued, an abrupt change in the atmosphere caught Damien's attention. The sound of hyperventilating heartbeats echoed from the room where Lauren had disappeared moments before.
"Something is wrong" Damien mumbled.