The Moon of Artemis

Our Last Night...

Sprinting ever so audaciously as we were, through the foggy and dampened fields in the middle of winter; the London night sky darkened with our presence. But the seemingly inclining—out of reach—midnight spirit that spread about us as we billowed through the frigid air did not even flicker a thought of worry in my mind. Because what was to come was far more dreadful, as inevitably we were inching towards the foreseeable end of our then unknown but yet to be known tragedy. Icicles started to form on the tip of my nose. Although, of course, that didn't bother me, as I bore the cold heart—as some may say. But I knew that she was affected. Afflicted deeply she was, by the numbing midnight air. Yet, even with the warmness of every touch that she glided over me, I knew she felt the bone-chilling winds of that tragic winter evening.

The worrisome look that took over me should be proof enough that maybe the stereotype doesn't always live up to its predecessors: that all of us blood suckers possess a heart that doesn't beat. My heart does indeed beat—it beats for only one, but not in the literal sense. The archetype insinuates so, that we don't have empathy for others. Well I just think that's quite absurd, because I for one feel my emotions more heightened in my present state than I ever did as a warmblood. That's how I would perceive it, and at least—I hoped—she perceived it that way as well. For the only thing I could think of night and day, for the rest of my days, was how she recognized me as.

But that was the last night to which I had the privilege of worrying how she thought of me, for our tragedy was emerging from its shadows. It was the end of us, but more imperatively, it was the end of all the chaos. The chaos that lived in me—in she and in all of us—came out in these moments more than ever before. Because I was the one that knew how to stop all of it, that could stop all of it. And that would bring upon the predestined end of my being, but worse than that, the end of Seraphina and I as one. But was it worth it—this choice that I had to make? The consequences of this most important decision in my ghastly of an immortal life would knowingly have repercussions. Most saddening, it grimly results in Sera having to live the rest of her days without me, her impassioned Artemis, by her willful side. And although I, the rest of my days with her, it was ultimately in vain, for I knew I was ready to end it all.

As our fate was now upon us, I was reluctant to reminisce about the past of our bittersweet, sapphic love tragedy. But as we bolted through the mid-high tall grass, our skin glistening with dew droplets and our eyes dancing in the effervescence of the moonlight, I couldn't but help my wandering mind. I found myself quite impatient as I was eagerly wading through the immense collection of memories my old soul possessed. My spirit urged me back in time to our first shared memory together—to three years ago in 1630.