Mated to the hybrids/C1 Two halves of a whole
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Mated to the hybrids/C1 Two halves of a whole
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C1 Two halves of a whole

Huddled under her bed, the little girl’s tiny frame quivered, consumed by a terror that seemed to seep through the walls. A voice slithered into the room, eerie and singsong, coaxing her from the shadows. Her breath hitched as the ominous presence drew closer, its chilling words sending shivers down her spine. With bated breath, she pleaded silently for safety, praying not to be discovered.

“Where are you, little girl?” The voice taunted, its sinister tone wrapping around the room like tendrils of darkness. The child’s heart pounded in fear as the sound halted right before her hiding spot. Eyes wide with dread, she inched away from the unseen figure.

A sudden, unseen force yanked her legs from behind, wrenching her into the air. A piercing scream escaped her lips as she found herself face-to-face with a figure whose visage defied recognition. Faceless yet menacing, it held her suspended, her white hair cascading in a terrified waterfall.

“I’ve found you,” the figure hissed, a gleaming blade unsheathed in its grasp, its ruby-encrusted hilt glistening malevolently. Her mind screamed in horror as the creature’s talons pinned her in place, the blade descending toward her throat.

With a start, Winter jolted awake, her racing heartbeat echoing in the silent room. Gasping for breath, she reached instinctively to touch her neck, relieved to find it unharmed. Trembling, she fumbled for her phone, the time mocking her – 5:30 AM.

“Ugh! Not again,” she groaned in resignation, knowing all too well the annual torment her nightmares brought, but this time cruelly invading her birthday. The lingering fear lingered, a ghostly reminder of the night’s terrors.

She couldn’t waste her energy on the dream when her initiation ceremony was tonight, so she got off the bed and sat in front of the vanity mirror beside her bed. ‘Was this a memory or just a dream’ she thought as she picked up her brush absentmindedly. Unease gnawed at her as she could still feel the ghost of the slimy talons of the.. the whatever it was supposed to be on her leg, she shuddered in disgust. She knew nothing could happen to her, she was just too important for that.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Though vampires aren’t supposed to have reflections the mirror was a rare spelled one common among female vampires who could afford them, and of course she never told anyone about her reflection in ordinary mirrors too. She was having a bad hair day, her platinum locks were tangled and in disarray, looking like a bird’s nest.

“This is going to take forever to brush out, guess the dream had an advantage after all” she grumbled as she dragged herself to the bathroom. One hour thirty minutes later found her on the bed streaming a movie on Netflix as she was all done with preparing for school but it was still early so she had all the time in the world. At least that was what she told herself, deep down she knew that she was afraid of going downstairs because of her dad.

Shrugging off all thoughts of her father, she watched the movie in silence. Her phone chimed and she picked it to see who was texting her.

BB: where in the name of Drokos are you, I have been waiting for the past thirty minutes. It’s 8.30 for Manadkov’s sake, don’t tell me you are still in bed. Wake the hell up.

“She wrote this long message just to wake me up?” She thought texting back to her as she jumped down from her bed

I’m coming already, don’t get your panties in a twist.

She knew she was going to be late but principal wouldn’t dare.

She walked down the stairs with no sign of hurriedness.

“Good morning, miss Winter, breakfast is ready” a young maid said as she got downstairs. Winter did not acknowledge her as she moved towards the counter where the food had already been served. She sat down on the barstool appreciating the aroma of the food. She took a cup of coffee first as she was not herself without her morning dose of caffeine. She was about to spread the chocolate syrup on the pancakes when she felt the familiar chill down her back.

‘Shit’ she said in her head as she turned to look at her father. She stood up to bow her head in greeting.

“What are you doing?” he thundered.

“I… I was..” she stammered hating her shaking voice as she tried to form a complete sentence.

She felt his power keep her in place as he moved closer to her.

“No child of mine is weak, Do you understand?!”

She couldn’t fight it, it controlled everything about her even her mechanical reply “Yes Father”

His eyes fell to her neck and his face contorted in rage “What is this?” He asked pulling the medallion on her neck “where did you find this” he asked again.

She gulped inaudibly, her hands moved to touch the medallion wondering if she was going to get beaten again today. ‘what was wrong with the medallion’ she had found it in the last drawer of her makeup table and wore it because the cold opal stone had matched her eyes.

“Answer me!” He boomed, his eyes turning red as he grabbed her by the neck, her hands scratched at his firm tightening hold on her, his fingers digging into her skin. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t fight back. She was close to fainting when someone interrupted.

“Sir, the council has called for a meeting with you”. Her father’s right hand man said not bating an eyelid as he looked upon the scene.

Her father released his hold and she slid to the floor breathing heavily.

He looked down at her in contempt.

“Pathetic” he said before turning to follow the man adjusting his navy blue suit as he went.

Winter stood up from the ground, and saw the maid looking at her with pity in her eyes. She motioned for her to get closer, tossing a plate at her when she was close enough. The sound of plate shattering filled the room “I asked you to leave, didn’t I?” she said quietly that the maid almost couldn’t hear. She knew, and so did the maid that she hadn’t said such.

“You did, Princess” she answered her head bowed, blood dripping from her arm to the practical black tiled floor.

“So why are you still here? Those eyes of yours weren’t filled with pity, were they?” Winter said, her voice a deathly whisper. “Well, I think you’ve outgrown them now.”

The maid sank to her knees, pleading, a slight quiver in her voice. “It won’t occur again, Princess.”

Winter signaled to one of the guards at the house entrance, who approached with a nod. They seized the maid, lifting her from the floor, her screams resonating through the living space as they whisked her away.

Entering the garage, Winter slipped into her sleek black BMW. As she caught sight of a reddening bruise on her neck in the mirror, she swiftly concealed it with makeup. Adjusting her appearance—black halter, leather trousers, and matching heeled boots—she nodded approvingly.

“Happy birthday to me,” she muttered, a smile devoid of warmth. With that, she drove off to fetch her friend.


Silently, Evie scaled her room’s window, careful not to disturb her sleeping mom. Keeping her nightly run a secret was crucial; her mother couldn’t find out about it. Adhering to the rule of locking up her inner wolf had been challenging, and after a day of restraint, she finally allowed herself a run. Pouting, she pondered her mother’s likely reaction, knowing it wasn’t her fault that Nyct yearned for freedom.

She couldn’t deny her wolf anything; they were akin to sisters, well with the added detail that her wolf resided within her.

Of course I am.

Yeah that’s right but what if mom finds out about our run? You wouldn’t be the one to get the talk.

Relax, we were quiet besides it was you that made us run that far. We were supposed to be back minutes ago.

Glancing at the old, patched-up alarm clock beside her bed, she peeled off her sweat-soaked dress.

“Oh shit! I am so dead” she exclaimed, hurrying into the bathroom for a quick shower. Emerging in a towel, she frantically sifted through her wardrobe, tossing clothes onto the bed. Settling on a pink hoodie and denim shorts, she laced up her well-worn Converse boots, grabbed her backpack, and rushed downstairs. The enticing aroma of tea and lasagna hit her halfway down the stairs, causing her stomach to rumble audibly.

Not considering who might be in the kitchen, her sole focus was on satisfying her hunger. Abruptly halting at the sight of her mother cooking, her heart raced with fear. Her mother, appearing fragile and out of place, stirred something on the fire, a rare sight as she rarely ventured into the kitchen. Even from behind, she seemed frail with her black hair tied back in a ponytail, humming a tune. Approaching, Evie, concerned, asked,

“Mom, why are you out of bed?” Taking the stirrer from her mother’s hand, she received a sunlit response,

“Good morning, Evie. I made breakfast.” Her mother’s blue eyes wrinkled as she smiled. Wearing an apron that read ‘Whatcha cooking,’ it fit perfectly and evoked memories from Evie’s childhood.

“You’re supposed to be in bed! The doctor said you should stay till noon,” Evie insisted.

“Well, the doctor isn’t my father,” her mother replied casually, reclaiming the stirrer.

“Mom, please stop acting like a child,” Evie scolded.

Her mother turned, a storm in her eyes. “I’m not a child, Evie. I just wanted to cook breakfast for you, to be your mother again,” she said.

Gently embracing her mother, Evie reassured, “You will always be my mother, and that’s why I love and care for you. So please take care of yourself for me. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.” Stepping back and smiling, she added, “The doctor assured us you’ll be fine, and we’ve just moved here. Things will get better, I promise.”

Carrying the plates to the dining table, she urged, “Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Taking a large bite, she moaned “Hmm, jis ish jilishious,” she said with her mouth filled with food. Swallowing before continuing, “I’ve missed your cooking, Mom. Get well so you can feed me even better.” Rushing to finish, she headed to her new school, aware she might be late on her first day.

As she opened the door to leave, her mother called out, “Here, take this” she gave her a cute plastic bag with ribbons on it “Happy birthday, Evie,” she said planting a kiss on her cheek. She sniffed her daughter and frowned,”Did you let Nyct out again?” she questioned. Grabbing the plastic bag, Evie dashed out, calling back, “Bye, Mom! Don’t forget to take your medication.”

“Evangeline Antoinette Clark,” her mother called sternly.

“Mom!” Evie groaned from a distance. Her mother smiled, saying, “Just be careful, make lots of friends, and have a great day at school.”

“Okay, Mom,” Evie replied exasperatedly, turning back to the road, running to catch the bus.

Needless to say, she missed the bus so she ran all the way to school. The bell chimed just as she reached the gate, prompting her to increase her speed towards the doors. Suddenly, a black car sped toward her. She leaped back, narrowly avoiding a collision.

“What the…” she exclaimed, her anger directed at the retreating car. Prepared to confront the driver, she halted as a remarkably beautiful girl with white hair stepped out, her locks bouncing.

“Wow,” Evie muttered, halting in admiration as the girl and her companion passed as though she were invisible.

“Hey! You almost hit me,” she exclaimed, snapping out of her reverie. The red-haired friend responded, “You talking to us?”

Turning to the girl Evie expressed her anger, “I wasn’t talking to you, Red.” But before the redhead could reply, the girl with white hair, the snow queen, spoke in a cold, emotionless tone, “Let’s go, Brittany,” ignoring her.

As they walked to the door, the teacher allowed them to pass with evident fear. Who were these girls? Dismissing the thought, Evie tried to move past the teacher.

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” the teacher asked.

“In?” she replied, questioning the teacher’s understanding. “You’re late, straight to the principal’s office.”

“But…” she started, gesturing towards the departing girls.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” the teacher warned. Frustrated, Evie raised her hands in surrender, her raven hair swinging as she marched in the direction pointed by the teacher. Despite her initial excitement about attending a school accommodating various supernatural beings, memories of her previous school resurfaced, and she blinked back threatening tears. Remembering the promise she had made to her mom, she sighed and muttered, “Evie, you’re such a liar,” knocking on the door labeled ‘Principal’s office.’

Libre Baskerville
Gentium Book Basic
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