Vlad Dracula

Chapter 24

Before Vlad could answer, he noticed a sudden shift in Katrina's posture. Her steps faltered, and her eyes fluttered as if she were struggling to stay conscious. Without hesitation, Vlad reached out, steadying her just as she began to sway.

"Katrina!" he said, concern lacing his voice as he guided her toward a shaded alley, away from the crowded street. Her face had grown pale, and her breathing was shallow. "What's happening? Are you alright?"

Katrina blinked, trying to focus, but the world around her seemed to blur and distort. "I... I don't know," she murmured weakly, her hand gripping Vlad's arm for support. "It's like... everything is spinning."

Vlad knelt beside her, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of what could be causing this. His mind raced. She had been perfectly fine just moments ago—what could have triggered this? His thoughts immediately jumped to the possibility of some unseen magic, or perhaps a spell cast by one of Radu or Mehmed's allies. Katrina's body went limp in Vlad's arms, her head falling back as she slipped into unconsciousness. Vlad's eyes widened in alarm as he gently lowered her to the ground, his heart pounding. "Katrina!" he called, shaking her lightly, but there was no response.

In Katrina's mind, however, a different reality unfolded.

The year was 1452, and the city of Constantinople was engulfed in chaos. The cries of desperate citizens echoed through the narrow streets as smoke rose from burning buildings. The scent of fear and destruction filled the air. Katrina found herself standing in the middle of the scene, dressed in unfamiliar clothing—an intricate gown from another era. She looked down at her hands, seeing they were trembling, but they weren't her own hands—they belonged to another woman, someone from the past.

All around her, people fled in panic. Men shouted orders, women and children wept, and soldiers rushed past, their armor clanging as they prepared for the inevitable siege. It was the final days before the fall of Constantinople, the great city at the heart of an empire.

Katrina felt a pull, as if something—or someone—was drawing her deeper into the vision. She moved through the streets, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Her footsteps echoed in the ancient alleyways, leading her toward the grand walls of the city, where soldiers stood vigilant against the impending Ottoman invasion.

Suddenly, a figure appeared in the distance, cloaked in shadow. He stood on a hill overlooking the city, watching the chaos with a calm that was unnerving. Katrina felt her breath catch in her throat. She couldn't make out his features, but something about him was familiar—dangerous, yet magnetic.

As she drew closer, the figure turned, and she could see his face. It was Vlad—but not the Vlad she knew. His expression was hard, his eyes cold and distant, and there was a darkness in him that hadn't yet been tempered by centuries of reflection. He was younger, more brutal, more consumed by war and power.

Katrina's heart ached as she looked at him, but before she could call out to him, the scene shifted. The ground trembled beneath her feet, and the sounds of battle erupted all around her. The walls of Constantinople were breached, and the city fell into chaos as Mehmed's forces surged forward. The cries of the fallen filled the air, and Katrina was swept up in the violent storm of history.

She spun around, disoriented, as flames consumed the city, and then suddenly, a voice called out to her. A soft, haunting whisper.

"You must remember."

Katrina's vision blurred again, and the chaos faded, replaced by a swirling darkness. The voice echoed in her mind, growing stronger. "You must remember who you are... and what you are meant to do."

With a jolt, Katrina gasped, her eyes snapping open as she returned to the present. She was back in the shaded alley, Vlad's face inches from hers, his eyes filled with worry.

"Katrina?" Vlad whispered, his voice hoarse. "Are you alright? What happened?"

She blinked, disoriented, her breath ragged as she struggled to make sense of what she had just seen. "I... I saw the fall of Constantinople," she murmured, her voice shaky. "I was there... but it wasn't me. I think I was someone else, someone from the past."

Vlad's expression darkened. "You saw the fall of Constantinople?" His voice was grave, the significance of her vision not lost on him. "There is a connection between that moment in history and what we're facing now."

Katrina nodded slowly, still trying to process it all. "And... I saw you, Vlad. You were there, too."

Vlad's eyes flashed with something unreadable—regret, perhaps, or a deeper understanding of what Katrina had just experienced. "I was there," he confirmed softly. "That was a dark time, Katrina, and it shaped who I became. But why would you see that now?"

Katrina shook her head, confused. "I don't know. But something told me to remember... to remember who I am and what I'm meant to do."

"Let's forget about everything and go loosen ourselves a bit and Kat drink some water, you are than what I thought." Elena looked at her tenderly while giving her a bottle of water.

Katrina took the bottle of water from Elena with a grateful smile, her fingers still trembling slightly as she twisted the cap off. "Thanks," she murmured before taking a sip, the cool liquid helping to ground her after the unsettling vision.

Elena's words were lighthearted, but her eyes held a deep concern. She glanced between Katrina and Vlad, as if trying to gauge the weight of what had just transpired. "I know everything feels heavy right now," Elena continued, her tone soft but firm. "But sometimes we just need a moment to breathe, to step back from all the madness before it consumes us."

Katrina nodded, still feeling the pull of her vision, but she appreciated Elena's attempt to lift the mood. "You're right," she said, her voice steadying. "I think we could all use a break."

Vlad watched Katrina carefully, his worry not yet eased, but he recognized the need to let her regain her strength. "Perhaps a brief reprieve wouldn't hurt," he agreed, though his tone was reluctant. "But we can't lose sight of the danger."