A thousand years ago, a powerful witch placed a spell on her children. She wanted to protect them so much that she would do anything. She was desperate not to lose any more children. With that she made the first vampires.
The Originals.
What the woman failed to realise was that her eldest daughter was different to the rest of her siblings. So, when she died, she didn't come back. Each sibling, one by one, woke up. Except her. The mother was confused, she knew the spell worked. Her other children were an example of that.
So, what went wrong?
The million-dollar question. After this tragedy, life went on. Things happened; mistakes were made. However, nothing they did ever brought back their precious sister.
Her older brother spent decades trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Gradually giving up after time. He thought there was no point living in the past. After a fallout with his siblings, he left to travel the world. Not wanting a reminder of what he had lost. He knew it was selfish, but he didn't have it in him to care.
Her younger brother spent most of his time talking to witches, trying to bring his big sister back. She was the only one who understood him and his chaotic ways. He would do anything to see the smile on her face as she tried telling him off. He never had any luck. He got so angry, he became a danger to himself and the rest of his family. With a target on their heads, he was put back into the box. Where he laid, replaying memories of her while he slept.
Her younger sister had lost her best friend when she died. It took a long time for her heart to mend. She and her sister shared the same longing to be loved, so she started falling for any guy who would pay attention to her. It was her coping mechanism. Every time it ended in heartbreak. Hurting her each time more than the last. At least she could feel something, at least she was trying.
Lastly was her twin brother. Broken beyond repair without his partner in crime. He lost his laughter, his happiness, his other half. He couldn't cope losing is twin sister. He became a shell of himself, responding in only anger or sarcastic quips. Never wanting to feel anything other than hatred. He spent all of his time trying to break his curse, not wanting to deal with anything else. Not wanting to face his grief. He didn't know what he would do when he broke it. What should be celebrated with his sister, would merely be another thing he would have to go through alone.
The witch didn't know her actions would cause destruction as she knew it. She didn't realise she would be the reason for so many lives to be lost.
The daughter who died.
She was full of life. Until she wasn't. Until it was ripped out from under her. She could no longer read with her big brother. No longer could she spend time with her younger brother, teaching him the latest spells she had learned in secret. No longer could she braid her sister's hair while talking about the latest gossip surrounding the village.
No longer could she sneak into her brother's room at night after a nightmare. Wanting the comfort of her twin.
The daughter who died.
The girl who had everything to live for.
The girl who was lost too soon.
Or was she?
This is the story of Anastasia...
