Dear Journal,
A funny thing about life is that if something happens just once, it becomes a repeated occurrence for the future.
                                                           
                                                    - 𝒮𝓎𝓇𝓊𝓈 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓁𝑒
(1611)

A shiver sprinted down Syrus's spine as he enters the uneasy ambiance of the castle, stopping him in his tracks as he inhaled lightly.

"What is it?" Eleanor frowned, stopping at his side to examine his face.

"I smell blood," Syrus said, his face warped with a worried expression. "Celestria's blood."

Without another word, Syrus zipped away to the queen's bedchambers, forcibly tearing down the door as he searched for his niece.

Celestria's head shot up quickly as the broken down door fell with a loud bang. She sat on the floor cross legged in a black dress, a dagger sitting by her side as her palm bled over several freshly picked roses, each as red and beautiful as her eyes.

"What's happening in here? You hurt yourself?" He asked, rushing to her aid as he gently took her bleeding hand.

"I just wanted to try something." She told him, her voice shaking as she took in his expression.

Glancing at her already healing wound, he scooped her up in his arms, heaving a sigh.

"You can't do things like that Celest. Even if you have abnormal healing abilities. It's not right." He scolded, brushing her black hair from her face.

"But I fixed it, Uncle! I made it come alive again."

"Sy..rus," a tired Eleanor said as she leaned against the door post. She was out of breath as she tried to form her words. "Is everything alright?"

"Who is this?" Celestria asked, looking at Syrus expectantly. He could hear hints of distrust in her voice, a tone she vocalized often whenever she was jealous.

"Celestria, this is Eleanor. Introduce yourself." Syrus told her as Eleanor finally caught her breath, walking over to the little girl.

"Why?" Celestria raised an eyebrow, her gaze never leaving her uncle as she ignored Eleanor's presence.

"Because I asked nicely. Please?" Syrus softened his tone and the little girl turned to Eleanor once more.

"My name is Celestria Steele." She said curtly.

"I am Eleanor Mercí. Nice to meet you little one." The witch said, extending a dainty hand for the little vampire to take.

She stared at the witch's outstretched hand before looking back to her uncle. He gave her an encouraging nod and reluctantly, she took Eleanor's palm, giving it a squeeze with all the strength she could muster.

"Ah!" The witch whinced in pain, causing Syrus to step back from her in order to break Celestria's grip.

"Celestria!" Syrus said scoldingly.

"All I did was give her a little squeeze."

"Your little squeeze is equivalent to that of a hundred strong men." Syrus told her, watching as Eleanor held her injured hand.

"No it's okay, Syrus. She's territorial, I understand. She just lost her mother." Eleanor responded, her voice strained but her expression sharp as she looked at the little girl.

Syrus frowned at her words but he said nothing after. He was unsure of it, but he could have sworn that he saw a hint of fear flash within her eyes, leaving as quickly as it came.

"Is that all?" Syrus asked Eleanor.

The witch nodded, her face still uneasy from her searing hand.

"Wait for me at the top of the stairs. I have to say something to her." Syrus told her, watching as Eleanor left without another word.

"I don't like her," Celestria announced as soon as Eleanor was out of earshot.

"Really? Well, how about you enlighten me on the mischief you've been creating here before she came into the room?" Syrus asked.

"The roses!" Celestria exclaimed, wriggling her way out of Syrus's hold as he let her down.

"These roses were dead, see.." she explained, plucking a single withered flower from beneath the freshly picked group.

"I wasn't sure before but I pricked my finger while eating at Mother's banquet and then the little pig came alive! We can bring Father back so he can save her." Celestria said hopefully, her eyes twinkling with delight at her ingenious plan.

A frown marred Syrus's face as he kneeled to her level, placing his hand against her cheek.

"Celest.." Syrus started.

"I know that voice. You don't believe me." Celestria frowned, removing his hand as she bent to pick up the dagger.

"No daggers." Syrus said, quickly taking it from her to tuck into the pockets of his trench coat.

"Well fine," the girl responded, placing a single finger in her mouth, pricking it with her fang before allowing the blood to drip on the dead rose in her hand.

"Celes...tria,"  Syrus said, his protest dimming to a halt as he watched the wilted rose spring to life.

The fragile, dry stem turned an envious shade of green, just as the browning leaves of the plant did the same, its veins strengthening across the lamina. The previously hollowed out thorns sharpened into delicate dangers for the careless palm but it was the petals, however, that truly amazed Syrus as he watched them become fluffy, blood red sheets emitting a sickeningly sweet aroma that was slightly tainted by the metallic scent of ichor.

Staring at the flower, he took it from her hand to observe it for himself. With a look of satisfaction, the little vampire folding her arms in triumph.

"See, Uncle." She said proudly.

"The banquet, it was you." He looked at her.

Syrus quickly scooped her up again with his other arm as he held her rose, rushing out of the room to find Eleanor.

As he arrived at the top of the stairs, he realized there was no one there but her scent still lingered.

He followed it to the inner courtyard, catching wind of her as she stood before the portcullis as it began to rise.

"Eleanor!" Syrus called, speeding over to her with his niece still in his arms.

"I must go." Eleanor said, trying to go around him.

"Go? That was not apart of our deal. Don't you have something to tell me?"

"Don't you already know it? She can bring things back from the dead. I trust that rose in your hand is enough evidence of that."

"What's the issue here? Isn't this a good thing? We can bring Elias back." Syrus said hopefully.

After searching through countless spell books and hiring mages and spell casters from other kingdoms, they had finally found a way. Syrus was not about to let this opportunity slip away from him, especially since Eleanor probably knew how to do it.

The witch opened her mouth to speak but as she looked at Celestria's steel hard expression, she closed it, turning her gaze to the open gate.

Seeing that she didn't want to speak infront of her, Syrus set his niece down, whispering something in her ear.

The little girl nodded reluctantly before heading back inside the castle.

"What is it?" He asked as soon as she was gone.

"There are consequences when you play with death, Syrus. Elijah did not rise out of pure talent nor will Elias. Sacrifices have to be made." Eleanor said gravely.

"I don't understand." Syrus frowned.

"Look at the rose bushes, Syrus." Eleanor pointed to the edge of the garden.

Sure enough, the rose bushes had become large shrubs of death. It could only be described as brown and black clumps of dead petals and brittle, naked stems and thorns. It was if the grim himself had walked through the garden, touching each of them with his boney hands.

"A life for a life. That is what her blood does. And it can't be just any life, it has to have equal value. If you use her blood, you or whoever else may lose their life. This is how the laws of the magical world works."

"Then why are you leaving? You have no qualms with us. What are you afraid of?"

"I'm a powerful witch, Syrus. I will not be sacrificed for the life of your maker. I know how these things go."

"Well if we can't do it that way, then what were you going to suggest before?" Syrus asked.

Eleanor was quiet, dropping her gaze to the ground as she shook her head.

"You were lying, weren't you? You never knew how to bring him back. You just wanted knowledge?"

"I'm sorry, alright? I told you that I cannot help it. It really is like a disease." Eleanor explained, her voice cracking slightly.

"It is." Syrus nodded, furious at her deceit. "I hope you learned all you needed to know. You can go now." Syrus stepped back from her.

"Syrus.."

"Go before I rip your fucking head off!" He shouted, catching the attention of all the knights guarding the castle.

"He will only die again if you sacrifice yourself." Eleanor said sadly, a single tear falling from her right eye before walking off.

Syrus watched her as she left the castle, squeezing his fingers into his palm until it bled while he withheld his shriek.

He headed inside to find his niece and speak with Alice. He needed another witch and some good advice.

"Emma!" a voice called as she stirred in her sleep. "You have to wake up now."

Emma's eyes flittered as she opened them, greeted immediately by the stormy gray irises of a young girl. She looked to be a little younger than her and she was dressed in an all white ensemble made of sheer material so thin that her teat could be visibly seen by anyone who dared to glance down.

Her beautiful blonde hair brushed Emma's cheeks as she leaned over her, waiting for her to rise from the bed.

Emma flew up quickly and the young girl backed away just in time before their foreheads could collide.

Running her hands over the soft cushion of the mattress, Emma looked around the drawn, cloud like canopy surrounding her resting place.

She was in a real room, not the dank, muddy corners of a cell. She examined herself, staring at her hands and body like they had grown scales.

A pastel colored pink dress adorned her body, free of straps or sleeves to cover her shoulders as a sheer pink robe fell to the floor beneath her while she stood from the bed.

"Where am.." she began to ask the girl but was blown away by the most grandiose room she had ever seen.

The ceiling, walls and floor were made of pure white granite that was marbled with silver. A chest of drawers equally as heavenly sat at the right forefront of the room with the largest mirror Emma had ever seen atop of it, allowing her to see her pristine reflection.

She approached it slowly, unbelieving at how radiant she looked after days of wallowing in dirt.

She touched her face gently before running her hands down the see through material of her simple pink dress and robe.

The sweet aroma of lavender soon invaded her nose as a light breeze entered through the slightly a jar window near the bed and Emma closed her eyes for a split second taking it in.

"You're in Omara's bed chambers." The girl finally answered her unfinished question.

"Omara?" Emma asked as her she turned to look at the girl.

She was around Emma's height and equally as beautiful if not more. Her hair fell in loose curls well past her bosom, covering her nipples but Emma could now see that she was actually naked under her sheer robe. The gauzy material did nothing to hide the secrets of her olive skin but she did not seem to care.

"Did someone call for me?" A familiar voice sounded from behind Emma and she turned immediately, bumping into Omara who only stared at her with mischievous eyes.

He was gloriously dressed in a loose linen shirt and trousers as white as his room and the buttons of his shirt were undone to reveal hair on parts of his well sculpted chest. His peppermint scent burned Emma's nose but the the sultry musk of his manly odor made her bite her lips for a split second.

His hazel eyes were as dark as pure honey and his curly hair was slicked back today, enhancing the perfect features of a rounded face. He looked gloriously inhuman, glowing even, complimenting his chambers like a glass chandelier would do a ceiling.

Backing away, Emma braced herself onto the adjacent wall, fearful of what might happen next.

"Leave us for moment, Priscella." He told the girl and she vanished immediately.

Emma was not new to magic but a gasp left her mouth as the last smokey remains of the girl dissipated into thin air.

"That's a pretty sound." Omara said, his eyes falling to her lips then her face.

It took a while for Emma to realize how fast her heart was beating in his presence, how tingly her stomach felt, how heated she had become.

"What do you want from me?" She finally asked him, never leaving her spot against the granite wall.

Omara walked over to the bed, pinning the canopy curtains on either side before sitting down at the base and patting the side next to him for Emma to join.

Her body moved before her mind could and that was when Emma was absolutely sure that something was wrong.

As she sat down, her eyes never left his, even as he took her left hand into his right, sending shivers down her spine.

"I don't think we've properly met. My name is Omara Lenoré. Famously known as Omara the Paramour." He smiled, dazzingly Emma once more.

"Paramour? A lover?" Emma asked.

"Not a lover, the lover. I am your most dangerous secret; your dream manifested. I am infatuation in the flesh and coition made man. I'm a living, breathing beacon of passion and romance; your greatest desire."

With every word he spoke, Emma lost her breath. She knew it to be true. She believed it with every fiber of her being but she did not understand how. It was as if she was a doll and he had breathed into her to make her real and bring her to life.

"W-what do you want from me?"

"From you?" He smiled handsomely, it almost took her breath away as she squeezed his palm which in turn stretched his smile further.

"Well, I want love ofcourse. I think every man wishes to be cared for by a beautiful woman."

"I could never love you!" Emma shouted, standing as she backed away from him. It did nothing to his demeanor as his smile did not falter when he responded to her.

"Really? Well who do you love? Tell me."

"El.. Ed.." Emma struggled, rubbing her forehead as her thoughts became jumbled. Numerous names flashed before her mind but none in particular stood out. She could not remember what she was about to say.

"My daughter!" She said after. "My daughter Cel.. Sar.." she tried to say as tears began to fall from her eyes.

Omara's smile turned into a frown as he stood from the bed, taking her into a warm embrace as he muffled her cries and rubbed her hair.

"It's okay," he held her. "We all forget things. What is important is that we focus on what we do remember. Like how much you love me."

"How much I love you." Emma sniffled, agreeing with his statement.

"That's right." He hugged her, smiling devilishly as she quieted down, holding him like the only thing in the world that mattered.

Super sorry for the long wait!
So many things have been happening. Thanks to everyone who is still indulging in this book and I truly hope you and your family are doing well!

Quick question: Am I the only who reads my books with a British accent? 🤣

I'll try to update again soon.
Please don't forget to vote!