Van Helsing (Dracula's Son) (#Wattys2024)

Gheata pt 2

**Transylvania, Village of Ravenwood**

The sky was a somber gray, matching the mood of the small gathering outside Tamas's cottage. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and the smoke from the pyre that had been carefully constructed in the clearing nearby. Reka's body, wrapped in a white shroud, lay atop the wooden structure, ready for the final farewell.

Tamas stood at the head of the pyre, his face a mask of grief as he clutched a torch, its flame flickering in the cool breeze. Gheata, Justina, and Victorine stood close by, their faces pale and eyes red from tears. The villagers had gathered respectfully at a distance, offering silent support to the grieving family.

Tamas raised the torch, his voice trembling as he began the prayer. "Oh, merciful God, we commend the soul of our beloved Reka to your care. May she find peace and rest in your eternal embrace."

Justina and Victorine clasped their hands together, whispering their own prayers for their mother. But Gheata stood apart, her fists clenched and her jaw set in anger. As Tamas lowered the torch to ignite the pyre, the flames began to consume the wood, and the smoke curled into the sky. The sight was too much for Gheata to bear.

"How can we pray that she finds peace when God took her from us?" Gheata shouted, her voice breaking the solemn silence. "It's murder! How can you all just accept this?"

The villagers murmured among themselves, shocked by the outburst, but Victorine quickly stepped forward, placing a hand on Gheata's arm. "Gheata, please," she urged softly. "Mother was very sick. You know that."

Gheata's eyes filled with tears of fury and sorrow. "But it's not fair! She didn't deserve this. She deserved to live, to be here with us."

Victorine pulled her sister into an embrace, her own tears spilling over. "I know, Gheata. I know. But we have to trust that she's in a better place now, free from pain."

Justina joined the embrace, her face streaked with tears. "We're all hurting, Gheata. But we have to stay strong for each other. Mother would want that."

Gheata sobbed into her sisters' shoulders, the anger slowly giving way to overwhelming grief. Tamas, watching his daughters, felt a pang of helplessness. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around all three of them, the family united in their sorrow.

The flames roared higher, and the smoke carried Reka's spirit towards the heavens. The villagers bowed their heads, some whispering prayers, others shedding silent tears for the loss of a kind and gentle woman.

As the fire burned, Tamas spoke again, his voice steadier now. "Reka, we will miss you every day. But we promise to live in a way that honors your memory. May you find the peace you so richly deserve."

The family stood together, watching the flames, drawing strength from each other. Though the pain of their loss was immense, they knew they had to move forward, holding on to the love and memories they shared with Reka.

In the quiet that followed, Gheata felt a sense of resolve growing within her. Her mother might be gone, but she would make sure that Reka's spirit lived on through their actions and their love for one another. As the fire crackled and the sky darkened, she silently vowed to find a way to honor her mother's memory and make her proud.

**Transylvania, Village of Ravenwood, Midnight**

The moon cast a silver glow over the quiet village of Ravenwood, its pale light filtering through the small window of Gheata's room. She lay restless in her bed, the events of the past days swirling in her mind. Exhaustion eventually overcame her, and she drifted into a fitful sleep. Suddenly, a voice pierced the silence of her dreams, the same dark, calm voice she had heard before. "Wake up, Gheata."