Unearthed in the Egyptian desert, 'The First Journal' delves deep into the origins of the very first immortal; weaving a tale of unending heartache and enduring romance. This spellbinding journal takes us from the sands of ancient Egypt through the...
I had lost myself in the pursuit of my Childe, Amon. Centuries had passed, marked by death, suffering, and destruction left in our wake. Amon had created his own childers, and my memories were fading, consumed by the relentless march of time. What once seemed relevant was now engulfed by my burning desire for revenge. So much time had slipped by since my last entry, and Amon's trail of death had grown sloppy and gruesome. I had finally captured him, but my rage and lust for vengeance had nearly destroyed Athens in the process.
There, my blade pressed against his heart, I beheld the same wide, youthful brown eyes that had once been a source of warmth in my existence. I saw the memories we had shared—the love, the joy, the moments we had cherished. In that heart-wrenching moment, I realized that I was the cause of his pain. Despite the danger he posed to me and others, despite how easily he had staked me and condemned me to a century of desiccation, I couldn't press the blade into his heart; I couldn't bring myself to end his existence.
He had been a reminder of my humanity, the memory of his unwavering friendship, and the shared moments of laughter and joy, made my blade quiver with doubt. Amon had taught me to find beauty in the small things—the delicate bloom of a flower, the mesmerizing dance of fireflies in the night, and the innocent laughter of children at play. In those moments, I found solace and reason to smile - killing him would only rob me of that spark.
I fled, when I could have ended his reign... I realize I loved him as the child I could never have.
Greece had suffered too much chaos at our hands, it had become too painful. I could not stay idle and watch my childe grow into a monster worthy of our name; and I did not have the strength to end him. So, I journeyed to England, where I assumed a new identity and became known as Cassandra.
I found myself in London, the 18h century was a canvas of diversity, and I was no closer to finding a cure for my curse. If anything, my vampiric affliction seemed to be spreading with Amon and his childers.
To survive, I adapted and became a chameleon, donning countless faces all to hide my own identity. In the process, I'd forgotten my own taste.
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