Vampyre: The Graveyard Series: Elizabeth's Journal

by Dawn

  I never saw her be able to do anything with her scary eye. When we were alone she would remove her eye patch and not be worried I would be scarred. It is a strange thing to behold. Her eye socket is a black inky pool. You can almost see an eye, under the inky black, looking out at you, following you. Then she blinks and it is a black pool of nothingness, again. I touched it once. Only once. I couldn’t bear to cause Iso such pain and that’s all it did. She said my finger felt like a dagger being slowly inserted into her eyeball. It felt spongey though, indenting to my touch.

  There is one thing I know she lied about, there is no way Arthur would allow us to be harmed. He swore a blood oath to protect us and his loyalty would never allow him to break that oath. She claims he used to be the one to take her to the mages and then he would stand there and watch while they did these horrible things to her. She claimed he would stand with his steely gaze directed at her, never questioning the horrible things the mages would try. She even said a few times he would lend a hand in holding her down when she would fight against them. I can never believe Arthur would stand by and watch while we were suffering.

  No matter what his orders would have been....

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  Drusilla, my elegant silky black cat. She keeps herself flawlessly groomed from spending hours cleaning herself. She was named for Livia Drusilla, the wife of Tiberius Claudius Nero Augustus. Edward would tell me stories of her during our history lessons. Livia did not allow the trappings of power and status to rule her life, but she did whatever it took to keep her status, always with elegance and grace. She had a crown of ebony hair that was her crowning jewel until the day she died.

  She was a gift from Queen Sophia of the Zelophehad Nation on our eleventh natal day . Isobel was gifted a young gleaming obsidian raven, Graeae. He was charming, in his own way, but also fairly eerie, just as his name sake. Iso was fascinated with the later version of the Graeae witches of Greek mythology. They were beautiful one eye witches who were always unfairly misjudged. I now see why she felt so connected to him.

  I never felt comfortable around him. It was like he was always watching me when we were in a room together and Drusilla would chase after and attack him whenever she could. It drove a wedge between Iso and I. She immediately became overly attached to Graeae, I would see her often talking with him in the shadows, but when I would try to join them, and she would stop awkwardly and get away as soon as they could. Iso was slipping away and I had no idea how to stop it from happening. Graeae disappeared just before she was exiled. I had not given him a thought until just now. I wonder what happened to that eerie black bird. Perhaps he met up with Iso, wherever she may lie her head at night.

  *****************************************

  Just after our twelfth natal day celebration, Iso was banished for her mysterious yet horrific crimes. We had returned to our rooms for the evening. It had been a spectacular evening of revelry and celebration. We were blossoming into women and it was the year father began to introduce us to more of his society and peers. There were many dignitaries and royal families staying with us through the weekend. Iso was miserable. She hid within the shadows and refused to speak with most anyone. It was the downfall of the evening for me. I wish just once she would have gotten over herself and just learn to enjoy herself. Father became fed up and allowed her to leave the party early so she would not spoil the atmosphere.

  It was a wonderful celebration, yet I could not contain my sadness over Iso missing the party. We were supposed to experience these things together. I had to know what was wrong, so after preparing for bed, I left to go to her room. The poorly lit hallway had me fearful of the shadows the lurked around the corners, but I was determined to check on Iso. I reach her door and I almost walk right in. But then I remembered her plea for privacy and to knock before entering. So I reluctantly rap on her door and wait for her response. There is no answer. I knock again, then pressed my ear to hopefully hear her walking towards the door. Yet still there is nothing. Where could she be? I turn to walk back to my room. I think perhaps she is in my room waiting for me. I hear a scream echo through the hallway. It repeats over and over again. I am about to follow but Marie steps out of my room and ushers me back in. Admonishing me for disappearing. I explained my intentions, and asked if she had heard the screams but she hadn’t, told me it was probably sounds from the party drifting down the hallways. I got into bed and tried to sleep. It was that night the nightmares began.

  Arthur came to me the next morning, explaining that Iso had killed a man who tried to take her innocence. He was an important man in the Lacone Army, who are Soldiers from the Justinius Dominion. Each realm is assigned a captain and soldiers to help maintain law and order among all the allied realms. Captain Defronsac had been stationed here only a few months, but Arthur says Iso had been complaining of him following her and watching her the majority of that time, which was news to me. Isobel had not mentioned anything to me but this must have been what was wrong. I just could never understand why she would not talk to me about this. Had we really grown that far apart?

  Father believes she unlocked the power in her eye to protect herself from Captain Defronsac and they HAD to send Iso away for her and my protection. They had his body incinerated in order for no further clues to be gained through foresight. Then sent word to the Lacone that he had gone missing during a garou hunt and when they came to search for him all they found was some equipment in the woods nearby. Iso’s disappearance was blamed on her eye. They spread stories around the nations that the darkness finally consumed her and for the safety of those involved she was sent away to learn how to control it.

  I wonder how Isobel will live out her human life; we were both supposed to take this journey together. I find it cruel to be separated from her day after day, knowing she is out there somewhere. I know she is still a live, I can feel it. I just hope she is safe and at peace and not suffering. Arthur is forever telling me it is for the best, but if only they had let us say farewell, perhaps I would not mourn her loss so much.

  I lost a piece of myself when she left. As much as we had been drifting apart, I still knew she was right down the hall. We still saw each other each day, even if she was more aloof than usual. For the first few months, I refused to leave my room. I felt if I left than I could no longer pretend she was just down the hall.

  Father gave orders for Max and Arthur to take me to the garden island and I was to stay until I finally found my light again. I rarely have traveled outside of the castle gates. The only time I have seen the world beyond, is to travel to the Thyme Sage Gardens roughly two hours north of here. The only way onto the island is by a mystically navigated boat through the North Chanel. It is my favorite place to go, to escape the mundaneness of the castle. It is dark around the castle most of the days are saturated in shadows. Father gave us the island as an escape from the twilight of the castle. He wanted for us to feel the sunshine on our faces while listening to the waves lap slowly on the shore. It was where he was raised and he wished for much of the same for my twin sister, Iso and I as possible. We would chase the morning birds through the gardens, play hide and seek all day long, or scavenge the island for old artifacts and remnants from father’s young life here. During the winters we would chase the dogs through the snow drifts or build the castles of our dreams.

  For the first week I walked around in a whirling fog of memories. I saw the ghosts of our childhood playing in the garden’s in the hallways, whispering in bed late into the night. Each direction I fled, to try and escape, lead me to memories of her. Just under the primary stairwell is this alcove where we would hide from Arthur or our ladies during hide and seek. The memories provoked the tears to flow until I was completely dry. Finally, under the advice from Arthur, I stopped running from my memories and just embrace them. When I did this, after a time I was able to find peace with the loss. It was the first time I stopped missing Iso for months, I unknowingly allowed myself h
appiness and let go of my concerns for her… for a bit, at least.

  In the months and years since Iso has been gone, Marie has taken her place as my sister and true bosom friend. She was always there to dry my tears, go with walks on, tell me which dresses look the best and will deliver the best impression. Marie is the one who was able to partially replenish the hole Iso left in my heart. Her brief childhood was morbid and grief-stricken. Her mother was a prostitute in Marseille, the oldest city in the south of France. She died during childbirth, so Marie was placed in the church orphanage and became a ward of the state. There she was tortured, raped, abused and forced to work from sunrise until sunset from as young as she can remember. When she was sixteen, she was forced out onto the streets and struggled for 2 years to live. She refuses to talk about that time, which to me means it was worse than the orphanage.

  One spring night in 1190 she was sleeping under the stars in a field just outside the town. It was the first warm evening of the season and all she could hear was the sound of the larks singing to each other. Not long after she found a comfortable spot against the tallest oak tree, a carriage driving by broke its axle. Marie overheard the driver cursing their luck, so she peers out at them, seeing the royal carriage stuck in the middle of the road. After it was obvious they were not going anywhere, she cautiously makes her way over to see if she could be of help. One of her jobs at the orphanage was to repair the carriages. She was able to fix their axle with a new log. It took a few hours but she was able to get them on their way. Father was so impressed by her skill and ingenuity, he offered her a place at Fleur Castle caring for one of his new baby girls. She agreed and has been with me since. She is the one who taught me how to sew and embroider. I am beginning to exceed her abilities, but she is a true genius at sculpting. She makes the masks for our celebrations. They are true works of art.

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  Arthur the yang to Marie’s yin when it comes to caring for me. He has become my rock; despite his aloofness, he is one of the only beings whom I can trust fully. When I am sad, or begin to miss Isobel, he always knows how to bring me back, specifically how to bring a smile to my face. He can be thoroughly goofy occasionally, which you would never guess from looking at him. His flawless blonde hair shimmers in the moonlight. His cerulean blue eyes, with specks of gold, a spark of mystery yet you know you can fully trust him. His chiseled nose and chin tells you he is tough. I have seen the burliest of Jinn punch him square in the jaw and he not flinch.

  He has a role in the elite Kings Guard of the Fleur Realm. He was brought in as a human guard when he was just nineteen years old. He was assigned to guard Father during the day after King Louis the VII of France recommended him. He was a skilled sword fighter and mastery in strategy. He was sired after protecting Father from an assassin from the Ramla Realm. As comes with the duty of being King, Father has made several enemies and Arthur, at the time a mere human saved him.

  In preparing me for tonight, Arthur told me the story of his siring.

  (Do in traditional comic book panel style) Include the attack on the king. 1 assassin from the Ramla(Sand) After the attack on f, he was brought to the throne room. Father led him to the queen’s throne adjoining his.

  “How can I repay you, my young knight? I owe you my life, please name your price....” he asked.

  “I would like to become your prince and aid you in ruling this Realm.” Arthur said this brazenly and with much confidence.

  King Renee studies him for a bit. “Sir Arthur... While you deserve to be sired for your bravery and servitude, princedom is not where you belong. You are meant for something much more exceptional. You are a Guardian by nature. You proved this, tonight. I do believe you are destined for my Elite Kings Guard.

  “Though, in Order to even be considered for this position you must be sired by my Margrave, Lady Mallory Anne Laquoia. She is a tough old virago. She has served each King that has ruled this Realm and that was after centuries of touring many of the other Realms. No one knows her true age, but I know she has a millennium on me. Do you trust my judgment? Will you serve in my Elite Guard?”

  What was Arthur to say but yes. Lady Sofia was summoned immediately. She arrived with flare and flourish, Arthur felt her presence permeate the room immediately. Father huriedly explains his request.

  Lady Sofia looks Arthur over, sizing him up. When she is satisfied with what she saw, she proceeded with the ritual without a word.

  There it is, there is Arthur’s Knock…

  That means it is time….

  Deep breaths...

  Remain calm....

 

  Twenty-Fifth of May, 1208

  Fleur Castle

  I can sense the sanguis flowing through my veins…

  Spilling into my soul…

  Driving me to new heights

  Allowing me to see each being’s fluctuating auras…

  Feel their emotions…

  Hear the quiver of each and every heart when it is near….

  The blood coursing through their veins, making their hearts beat wholly enticingly.

  The scent begins to make my mouth water...

  When the thirst comes over… I lose control instantly. I can ponder nothing but slating my thirst. It invades my mind with thoughts of the thick, warm and silky fluid flowing down my throat with the euphoria that will come the moment I sink my teeth deep into their neck. The longer I try to wait the narrower my thoughts become. No matter how I try to distract my thoughts, my sights narrow in on the nearest throbbing vein, calling for me to drink it lustily. I begin to stalk the person, my only thoughts are on the warm rush of fluid flowing down my throat. Try as I might to shake the feeling, but nothing I can do will make it stop until I feed.

  Arthur is training me on how to control the urge, how to calm myself and eventually he says I will be able to distract my thoughts, I will be able to resist the urge until I am able to slate my thirst safely. He says it takes years of training, and that even he slips up occasionally, but it does get easier with age.

  He has instructed Marie to always be close by with a cup of fresh blood for me to drink. If she does not have a cup readily available, then she presents her neck for me to drink from directly. However, the taste of the sanguine fluid is… UTTERLY DISGUSTING!!!! It tastes like sour vassel wine. Arthur tells me I will get used to the taste eventually. He explained each human tastes vary slightly on their breeding and diets and that I should taste a variety of humans until I find the one type who best suits my pallet. For now, I intend to drink directly from a direct source only in rare emergencies. There are teas and ways to blend the blood into human food in order for our kind to be able to gain nutrients.

  Father tells me our bloodline allows us the gift of not having to regurgitate any of the food we consume after a meal. I feel blessed that I can have new and appealing ways of feeding without ever drinking from a human. The only downside is that I apparently do not gain as much strength as if I drank from the source. But I will be able to enjoy delicacies of chocolate and cream, where, many could not. What need do I have for strength. My life is in the courts and among the highborn. I am not a warrior. I shall never need to wield more than a bow. In a battle, I will be ranged support and an Archer does not use brute force. It is more related to nimbleness and precision. My other talents and abilities will be better suited to ease tensions before the battle even begins.

 

  The last fortnight has been spent schooling me on how to retune my senses to adapt to the darkness and develop my new abilities. One of these new abilities I gained is the ability to see the color shifts of people’s auras. It is a glorious way to view the world. Each being has one that is exclusive to them and it fluctuates with your moods and emotions. Father says with age, comes the ability to control what and how you see it. You learn how to turn it off and on and how to delve deeper into someone’s hidden emotions and desires.
A being’s aura is singular to them. It is as unique to a being as the blood that flows through their veins. I am learning how to interpret the ripples and swells; the flowing shades of color.

  I train on Arthur the most, he is customarily a smooth stream, the color of a clear summer sky, but when he lies it begins to ripple and darken to a greenish ocean blue. He is aware I can see the shift, which means he is careful with each word he says and the tone he uses. His lineage does not allow him access to this gift which means he is unaware how it legitimately works. No matter how even your tone is… how carefully you choose your words, your aura still shifts. However, I have a horrible poker face hence he can tell instantly. This means he will then avoid me for several hours, assuming I might forget his lie... I am trying to learn how to keep my composure, therefore I would be able to read people without them being aware. Father is fantastic at concealing his tells... He told me this comes with focus and practice. I am genuinely beginning to hate that phrase.

 

  My eldest vampryic brother, Prince Maximillian, finds this ability to be a waste of time. In three hundred years, he would rather spend his days practicing the artistry of dance. Max’s body always expresses the feeling that he is always gracefully in motion. When we were young girls, he would sneak us off to the main hall and dance us around the room. He taught us how to walk with grace and ease and we enjoyed watching him twist and contort his body into a fluidic whirl of motion. His long lean frame provides an excellent backdrop to his muscular shoulders. Max’s dark chiseled features and his copper eyes easily melt most lady’s hearts. He is always able to find a elegant accomplice waiting to be pulled into the stories he tells through his movements.