My name is Odette and I think I am 18. Lately I don’t know what’s been happening to me.
Time before my rebirth has grown terribly foggy. It’s hard to remember much about my life before the Lord chose me. The Lord tells me that is normal, he tells me almost all memories of his first life have been lost in time and that I should expect the same. He tells me to kiss goodbye to the sun.
Time before my rebirth has grown terribly foggy. It’s hard to remember much about my life before the Lord chose me. The Lord tells me that is normal, he tells me almost all memories of his first life have been lost in time and that I should expect the same. He tells me to kiss goodbye to the sun.
In my first life I was a girl and now I am supposed to be a lady. The Lord tells me I am to be his Queen one day when the Coven is strong. He tells me we are to live in a palace and I will bare his pureblood heirs.
The prophecy says it is so. The Lord Mortificus has not told me much, but the prophecy troubles him greatly. It possesses his thoughts and it darkens his mind. I try not to think of what is ordained of me and what has been said and what my role in all of this is.
I have no memories to lean on, no past to mourn, and no forceable future but the one the Lord describes. I imagine I am empty but can picture things no other way.
The prophecy says it is so. The Lord Mortificus has not told me much, but the prophecy troubles him greatly. It possesses his thoughts and it darkens his mind. I try not to think of what is ordained of me and what has been said and what my role in all of this is.
I have no memories to lean on, no past to mourn, and no forceable future but the one the Lord describes. I imagine I am empty but can picture things no other way.
I will be the Queen of the Night, Mistress of a powerful coven, Mother of the King of Darkness.
But that time will be far away for I live in no palace. The Lord Mortificus calls this squalor. He says we are living like parasites off of humanity. He is embarrassed by the way we live. Maybe that is why he spends so little time here with me.
My husband has a terrible temper. To be honest, sometimes I am very afraid of him.
But that time will be far away for I live in no palace. The Lord Mortificus calls this squalor. He says we are living like parasites off of humanity. He is embarrassed by the way we live. Maybe that is why he spends so little time here with me.
My husband has a terrible temper. To be honest, sometimes I am very afraid of him.
The Lord is almost never here with me at night and often not in the day. He never tells me where he’s going, but he does say “stay inside and answer the door for no one. There are creatures in this town who would delight in hurting you.”
"Yes my Lord," I say.
"Stay away from the windows." And he is gone.
"Yes my Lord," I say.
"Stay away from the windows." And he is gone.
So I stay put. I peak between the curtains occasionally and see dark woods all around me.
In the beginning all I had was a bookcase. I read and reread every text. The books are thick and centuries old, mostly concerned with philosophy and ancient histories.
Then the Lord started to return with things before collapsing on his alter to rest. He brought back a fine rug one day, a set of chairs the next, one day a fine silk dress for me to wear “visiting.” In such a way the rooms begin to change and I welcome every addition with anticipation.
In the beginning all I had was a bookcase. I read and reread every text. The books are thick and centuries old, mostly concerned with philosophy and ancient histories.
Then the Lord started to return with things before collapsing on his alter to rest. He brought back a fine rug one day, a set of chairs the next, one day a fine silk dress for me to wear “visiting.” In such a way the rooms begin to change and I welcome every addition with anticipation.
“I have a present for you, Odette,” the Lord says one day, entering the room so quietly I had not noticed him. “For me?” I say after I’ve regained my voice.
“Come.”
“Come.”
So I follow him into the main room. “For you my Queen,” he says.
I have no idea what to expect, and am even a little afraid. I soon see he has given me the best gift of all.
I have no idea what to expect, and am even a little afraid. I soon see he has given me the best gift of all.
“An easel!” I squeal in delight as I rush to it, touching the fine strong wood with my fingertips. I stand back and stare at it, a silly smile on my face, a flood of relief and home and life before death.
“You used to love art before I chose you,” the Lord says in a measured whisper. “I knew you to paint for hours. If you were not chosen, you would have been an artist. And a fine one too.”
Tears well in my eyes. “Thank you, thank you my Lord.” He had given me back a piece of myself I did not know I lost. A piece central to my being. I have half a mind to hug him. but soon get that silly image out of my head.
A ghost of a smile pricks his lips. “Practice every day. Soon I shall expect a royal portrait.” He bows from the room and disappears into the bedchambers where I know him to collapse from exhaustion.
A ghost of a smile pricks his lips. “Practice every day. Soon I shall expect a royal portrait.” He bows from the room and disappears into the bedchambers where I know him to collapse from exhaustion.
Like I said, I think I am still 18. In another life I was an artist.
I relish in this information, it is the only sentence the Lord has offered me about my past. He is the keeper of secrets, and my life story is a small piece he guards in his collection. I dare not ask for more but every day I hope he will tell.
“The past can only hurt you,” he has said. “Make you pain for things that have died long ago. It is wiser to leave bones where they lay."
I relish in this information, it is the only sentence the Lord has offered me about my past. He is the keeper of secrets, and my life story is a small piece he guards in his collection. I dare not ask for more but every day I hope he will tell.
“The past can only hurt you,” he has said. “Make you pain for things that have died long ago. It is wiser to leave bones where they lay."
The Lord has not told me much about himself, but he smells like time and his skin is like parchment under my fingertips, cold and unresponsive. A wise weariness in his crimson eyes has convinced me he is centuries old; he is old as time itself; he was one of the first men who walked the earth.
He has touched me only a few times, slowly and precisely, running his fingers down my throat and tracing the bones in my hand. We have never slept together- a secret relief. He says I am so beautiful I am his sunlight in the darkness, but he dare not touch me. He says bringing a vampling into such a place would be a crime. This is no palace for a prince of darkness, no place to raise a child who will rule the strongest coven that ever was and bring darkness to all men.
He has touched me only a few times, slowly and precisely, running his fingers down my throat and tracing the bones in my hand. We have never slept together- a secret relief. He says I am so beautiful I am his sunlight in the darkness, but he dare not touch me. He says bringing a vampling into such a place would be a crime. This is no palace for a prince of darkness, no place to raise a child who will rule the strongest coven that ever was and bring darkness to all men.
For now we are parasites. For now I spend my days in a hovel. But I was chosen to be a queen.
Once upon a time I was an artist.
Once upon a time I was an artist.