Dawn of the Elements - Book 4: Future Rewritten

Chapter Seven: The Vampire and His Niece

Melody's eyes fluttered open, the rhythmic drip of water a jarring counterpoint to the throbbing in her head. Disorientation washed over her as she became aware of her surroundings: cold, damp stone walls, the metallic tang of blood in the air.

She was in a cell, a stark, unforgiving space that felt both claustrophobic and vast. Her hands were bound in handcuffs, the cold steel biting into her wrists. A thin tube, snaking from her left arm, pulsed with a steady flow of blood, a chilling reminder of her vulnerability.

Nakedness added another layer of violation to her predicament. Shame burned alongside the fear, a stark contrast to the icy chill of the cell. Only two of her aunts, Grenadine and Gold, had seen her naked, and the memory of their knowing glances now felt like a fresh wound. Her brother, Xander, had also seen her, a mortifying accident involving a tent during the dystopian future she had left. The memory, usually a source of fleeting embarrassment, now felt like a fresh wound, exposed and raw.

She frantically searched for something—anything—to shield her exposed skin, her fingers brushing against the rough texture of the stone floor. Just as despair threatened to overwhelm her, a voice slithered from the shadows, each word dripping with malice, a venomous hiss that sent shivers down her spine. The voice was low, almost a growl, laced with an unnerving familiarity that sent a fresh wave of terror through her. It was a voice she knew, yet couldn't quite place... a voice that promised pain and an uncertain future.

"Beautiful, like your mother, yet troublesome like your father." The words hung in the air, a chilling prelude to the figure that emerged from the shadows. He remained shrouded in darkness, his form only partially revealed, the top half of his face obscured by the gloom. But his lower features were enough. A wide, twisted mouth, stretched into a cruel, fanged grin, sent a fresh wave of terror through Melody.

"I recognize your face," Melody gasped, her voice barely a whisper as she tried to scramble away, her bound hands scraping against the cold stone floor. The effort was futile. With a chillingly casual movement, the figure pulled a lever set into the wall. A scream tore from Melody's throat as a fresh torrent of blood surged from her arm, coursing up the tube and into a glass vial beneath a crudely fashioned spout. The figure picked up the glass, the blood a dark, glistening ruby within, and took a slow, deliberate sip.

"You know," he said, his voice a low, seductive purr, "I never got to taste your father's blood during my last life." He stepped into the weak light cast by a lone torch on the wall, his features fully revealed in the harsh illumination. Horror washed over Melody as she recognized him. It was her Uncle Caius, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. "He killed me before I had the chance," he continued, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "But I must say, his would taste sour compared to the sweetness of yours."

"He'll beat you, Uncle Caius!" Melody shrieked, a desperate plea escaping her lips. The words were fueled by a desperate hope, a flicker of defiance in the face of overwhelming terror. "Just like he always does!" Her words hung in the air, a challenge to the powerful vampire. Caius recoiled slightly, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, before erupting into a fit of hysterical laughter. The sound, sharp and jarring, caught Melody off guard, a cruel twist of irony in her desperate struggle for survival. The laughter echoed in the cold, damp cell, a stark counterpoint to the throbbing pain in her arm and the chilling certainty of her fate.

"You're from the future, dearest Melody." Caius said, his voice a silken caress as he moved closer to the vulnerable teen, his shadow engulfing her. "My sister hasn't even conceived you yet. And yet, you of all people should know that he doesn't always beat me. He's dead in the future, while I rule as I should've always done." The words were a chilling pronouncement, a declaration of his ultimate victory.