Sister Celestia led Isolde to her room, her footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floors of the orphanage. With a gentle push, she closed the door behind them, leaving the world outside to the whispers of the wind. Isolde sat on her bed, her shoulders slumped, her head hung low in a heavy silence.
"Isolde," Sister Celestia's voice broke through the stillness. She approached the dejected girl, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding.
"Are you also going to reprimand me?!" Isolde's words were laced with anger, her gaze piercing through her tangled hair as she looked up at Sister Celestia.
The nun's hand found its way to Isolde's shoulder, and with gentle reassurance, she pulled the girl closer until they were entwined in a comforting embrace. "No," Sister Celestia's voice was soothing, a balm to Isolde's turmoil. "I know you wouldn't have attacked those children, no matter what they did to you."
As their embrace enveloped them, Sister Celestia continued to speak softly, her voice a comforting murmur against the top of Isolde's head. "I know you more than anyone here. I know you wouldn't hurt anybody here. I know you're trying your very best to control that power. It must have been hard, being pressured at such a young age."
Isolde, her emotions a tempest within, was momentarily quiet. A small, almost inaudible cry escaped her lips, lost in the folds of Sister Celestia's robe. Yet, even without hearing the cry, Sister Celestia's hand continued to stroke Isolde's hair, her soothing words a constant presence.
"It's okay," Sister Celestia whispered, her breath a gentle caress. Isolde's tears fell freely now, mingling with the fabric beneath her face. "I don't want this power," Isolde's voice was a fragile whisper, nearly drowned in her sobs. "If I was given a chance to give up this power, I would gladly accept. I want to live a normal life. I want to play with other kids my age."
In the depths of her despair, Isolde's thoughts resurfaced, her resolve firming like steel. 'But that will only happen when I rid this world of vampires,' she thought, her determination fierce.
"Oh, darling," Sister Celestia cooed, her lips pressing against the top of Isolde's head. She gave the girl a small nudge, encouraging her to lift her head slightly. In a hushed voice, she whispered, "You shouldn't hate your gift. It's not your fault that you were born with such an evil power. But you can use it for good, you know. You can control and overcome the evil desires and use it for good."
A warm smile graced Sister Celestia's face as she squeezed Isolde's shoulder. "Don't feel so guilty about using it. As long as you harm no one, there's nothing wrong with it."
'Using my power for good...' Isolde repeated those words in her mind like a mantra, finding solace in the idea. She sighed deeply, her tears gradually subsiding. She looked up at Sister Celestia, who returned her smile.
Isolde wiped the remaining tears on the edge of her sleeve, determination gleaming in her eyes. 'That's not a bad idea at all... but what good can I use my powers for? It has to be something that can satisfy my desire to get rid of vampires and protect people at the same time.' Isolde thought and tilted her head. Then she realized what she should do.
***
As days turned into weeks, Isolde began to secretly sneak out of the orphanage whenever the opportunity presented itself. Her goal was clear: to train and learn more about her powers. Unbeknownst to her, Azrael watched her from afar, his enigmatic presence always lingering, observing Isolde's every move.
This clandestine pursuit continued for a year, with Isolde's powers growing stronger and her resolve unyielding. Little did she know that her life was about to take an unexpected turn, for a very important guest was soon to arrive at the orphanage, a guest who would change the course of her destiny.
***
A sophisticated carriage, drawn by four majestic horses, approached the orphanage from across the open field. The horses' hooves created a rhythmic cadence, slowing as they neared their destination. With graceful precision, the carriage came to a stop just outside the gate, its arrival marked by a sense of importance.
The coachman descended from his perch and approached the carriage door. With a flourish, he opened it, revealing an elegant lady. She stepped out gracefully, her dark blue gown hugging her form in all the right places, the color accentuating her warm porcelain skin. A thin black veil concealed most of her features, but beneath it, a hint of a beautiful smile graced her lips.
The lady's thick braid of dark hair rested gracefully around her shoulders, cascading down her back like a waterfall of night. She wore matching gloves that extended far beyond her fingertips, adding an air of refinement to her presence. Several nuns who had been outside noticed her arrival and immediately curtsied and bowed in her direction.
"Your grace," they said in unison, their voices filled with reverence as they acknowledged her presence.
The woman nodded in acknowledgment of their greeting, her gaze sweeping across the children playing outside. Her thoughts were occupied with a singular purpose. 'I was told Astrid's child was here,' she mused, a slight frown forming on her smooth complexion. 'But where is she?' The question lingered in her mind as she used her hand fan, matching her attire, to cover her face from the sun's rays. With purpose in her steps, the woman walked toward the nuns and spoke with a commanding tone.
"I want to adopt a child," she announced. Her voice carried authority, and her eyes were unwavering. "Bring forth every female child of age 15. I will choose from among them."
The nuns hesitated briefly, exchanging glances, but ultimately agreed to her request. "Of course, your grace. We will take care of everything and gather the children for your selection," they replied, gesturing toward the building.
The woman made her way toward the orphanage's entrance, her heels clicking crisply against the cobblestones. As soon as the doors swung open, she halted, her eyes widening in surprise. 'Such strong power...' she thought, her gaze drawn toward an unseen force. 'That child is definitely here.'
As she strode further into the orphanage, her steps echoing with determination, the woman's arrival sent ripples of uncertainty through the air. The building's atmosphere shifted, as though the very walls held their breath in anticipation.
In a room bathed in the soft glow of afternoon sunlight, all the girls of age 15 were summoned except one, Isolde, who remained in her bedroom, oblivious to the unfolding events outside. The lady's scrutinizing gaze swept over the assembled girls, her eyes then flicking to Sister Teresa and the priest.
A frosty iciness had settled in her voice as she inquired, "Is this some kind of trick?" Her words cut through the air like a shard of ice. The priest felt the anger simmering beneath the woman's surface, a fury threatening to consume.
The priest, resolute but somewhat taken aback, offered a swift response, his words laced with an oath, "Your Grace, I swear on my life and reputation, I would never deceive you." As he exchanged knowing glances with Sister Teresa, their solidarity evident.
Sister Teresa nodded in agreement, her unwavering support evident in her demeanor. "These are the only fifteen-year-old girls we have here, Your Grace," she added, her voice gentle but firm.
The woman's irritation became palpable as she snapped her handfan closed with an audible click, the annoyance evident in the gesture. Crossing her arms over her chest, she directed a menacing glare at them, her words dripping with disdain. "You really do take me for a fool."
Teresa stood her ground, the unexpected reaction from the woman catching her off guard. She had not anticipated such a fiery response.
The woman's threat hung ominously in the air, her features contorted with a rage that darkened her countenance. The corners of her mouth curled downward, her lips drawn into a tight line, while her flaring nostrils added to the aura of danger that surrounded her.
"If you do not bring that child here now," she warned ominously, her voice low and foreboding, "you will not like what I will do next."