PROLOUGE
I tire of my soul regressing to a shell. Every day brings nonstop regret and self-hatred. Why couldn’t I do more to protect myself? Living with this curse is punishment for my lack of courage. My fear of fighting back. But…how could I have??! The thing wasn’t human. I don’t know what it was! How it soared in the air. How red its eyes were. The way it drank blood, as if it were a natural food source.
Humans don’t feed on each other! What was it? It seemed to be a boy, just as I am... but the motion of its limbs proved otherwise. The monster moved with the wind. It defied gravity. It broke the laws of physics! WHAT WAS IT???!! Why did it doom me with death???!
My life source has faded to nothingness. My soul is a lifeless void. My heart is gone... it no longer operates! My eyes are colorless! My reflection has vanished! I should’ve fought for my life! I should’ve defended my mortal soul! Even if that meant dying... at least I’d actually be dead, and not a reanimated corpse existing solely for the blood of others.
I wouldn’t be a beast capable of brutal measures. A hellish monster that disregards the virtue of human life. The mortal spirit is a sacred gift. I’ve always known this. In the teachings passed down to me, the Ani-Yunwiya—my Cherokee people—honor the Great Spirit, Unetlanvhi, the Creator of all things. Life, in every form, is a blessing. Our stories teach that harmony—ᎤᏃᏴᏫᏯ (ᎤᏃᏴᏫᏯ,unolevhvwiya)—is what the Creator intended for us. Balance with the land. Respect for life. Reverence for the spirit.
I was raised to know the sacredness of breath. The sacredness of being. And still—I took life. I severed what Unetlanvhi had given. I shattered the harmony. I went against everything I was meant to protect. Against the old ways. Against the teachings of my ancestors.
I carry this burden now. The weight of broken balance. My hands—bloodied and stained—are no longer clean in the eyes of my people, or my Creator. I’ve dishonored the sacred trust. I’ve turned my back on the path. I feel unworthy of calling myself Cherokee. Not while the echoes of the dead cling to me.
My family fears me... so does my tribe. My humanity grows lesser and lesser second by second. My taste for violence won’t decrease. All seems to be hopeless. I seem to be trapped with this evil mark for all eternity. Or so I thought. Of course, magic is real in a world of vampires. Maybe this source could present a cure. A cure would offer an escape from this inferno. Guidance back into the light.
This girl, Kayla Harris, has a bright aura. I’ve never seen a human contain such a shine. White fire lives within her. I believe she is the path to heal my cold heart... and broken eyes. I believe in her. A Spell Bender, a sorceress of unlimited power. She will aid my redemption.
My faith stands with her. Even if all fails, I’ve prepared for that outcome. If there is no cure, I’ll accept that truth as long as I have her near me. The glow within her...the brightness of her soul... would be close enough to peace.
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