Soulbound

Forever

The weight of immortality pressed down on Isabella like a shroud she could never lift. At first, she had fought against it with every ounce of her being, resisting the changes that Vincent had forced upon her. But as the weeks turned into months, and the months stretched into years, she began to understand the true horror of her new existence. It wasn't just the loss of her humanity that tormented her, or the thirst that gnawed at her insides like a relentless beast. It was the crushing realization that this was forever.

Forever.

The word echoed in her mind with a bitter finality that made her stomach churn. In the early days, she had clung to the hope that somehow, some way, she would find a way to reverse what had been done to her. But as time passed, that hope had begun to fade, replaced by the grim reality of her situation. She was a vampire now, and there was no escape from it. No matter how much she ran, how many towns she disappeared into, the truth followed her like a shadow.

Her days were spent in isolation, hidden away from the world. The nights, once so full of possibility, had become a prison of their own. She moved through them like a ghost, watching the world from the outside. She had tried, in the beginning, to find some semblance of a normal life, to blend in with the humans who surrounded her. But it never worked. The hunger always returned, stronger than before, and she was forced back into the shadows, back into the life of a predator.

There was a certain irony in it all. Before, when she had been human, she had taken life for granted. She had never truly considered what it meant to be alive, to be mortal. Now, with eternity stretching out before her, she longed for the simplicity of the life she had once lived. The warmth of the sun on her skin, the feel of a heartbeat in her chest, the knowledge that each moment was precious because it was fleeting. These were things she had never appreciated until they were taken from her.

She often found herself lingering near places that reminded her of her old life. A bustling café on a Paris street, where couples sat close together, sharing whispered conversations over cups of coffee. A park, where children played under the watchful eyes of their parents, their laughter bright and innocent. She would watch them from the shadows, yearning for the connection she could no longer have.

It was in those moments that the true weight of her immortality hit her hardest.

Time was meaningless now. It stretched on endlessly, an infinite series of nights with no dawn. She watched as the people she observed lived their lives, growing older, moving on, while she remained unchanged. The world around her was constantly in motion, but she was frozen, stuck in a single moment that would last for eternity.

She had once been afraid of growing old, of watching her beauty fade, of feeling her body weaken with age. Now, she longed for it. The thought of living forever, of never changing, filled her with a deep, aching sorrow. She would never know the quiet dignity of aging, never feel the weight of years pulling at her bones, never experience the simple joy of watching her life unfold.

Instead, she was trapped in a body that would never age, a face that would never wrinkle, a heart that would never beat again.

It was unbearable.

The hunger, too, was a constant reminder of her new existence. It wasn't like the hunger she had known as a human—something that could be sated with food and drink. This hunger was deeper, more primal, and it could only be satisfied with blood. She hated herself for it, hated the way her body craved the very thing that repulsed her. In the early days, she had fought it, starved herself in a desperate attempt to maintain some shred of her humanity. But starvation only made it worse. The longer she went without feeding, the more the hunger consumed her, until she was little more than a wild animal, driven by the need to survive.

She had learned to control it, to keep it at bay with small, careful feedings. Animals, mostly—she refused to feed on humans unless she had no other choice. But it was never enough. The thirst was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for a moment of weakness to take over.

There had been moments, dark moments, when she had come close to giving in. When the hunger had been too strong, when she had felt herself slipping. She would see someone—a stranger on the street, a woman in a shop—and the smell of their blood would overwhelm her. Her fangs would ache, her vision would blur, and for a few terrifying seconds, she would feel the pull of the predator inside her, urging her to strike.

But she had always managed to stop herself. Barely.

Still, the constant battle with her instincts was exhausting. Every day was a fight to hold on to the last fragments of her humanity, to keep the monster inside her at bay. And it was a fight she wasn't sure she could keep winning.

One of the hardest parts of her new existence was the loneliness. She had once been surrounded by people—friends, family, a community that loved her. Now, she was utterly alone. She couldn't trust anyone, couldn't allow herself to form any attachments. Anyone she got close to would eventually realize what she was, and then they would either fear her, or worse, become a target for the Vampire Council.

The Council. They loomed over her life like a dark cloud, always watching, always waiting. She knew they were hunting her, that Vincent had never stopped looking for her. They would never allow her to live freely, not after what she had seen, what she had become. And so, she was forced to stay on the run, moving from place to place, never staying long enough to put down roots. It was a lonely, exhausting existence, and there were nights when she wondered if it was even worth it.

But there was one thing that kept her going. One thing that gave her the strength to keep fighting, to keep running.

The hope that somewhere, out there, was a way to reverse it all.

The stories of the ancient artifact, hidden deep within the vaults of the Vampire Council, had given her a sliver of hope. It was a fragile hope, barely more than a whisper in the darkness, but it was enough. If there was even the slightest chance that she could find the artifact and undo what had been done to her, she had to take it.

That hope was the only thing that kept her from giving in to the despair that threatened to swallow her whole. The only thing that kept her from becoming the monster Vincent had made her.

Isabella had lost everything—her life, her humanity, her future. But she hadn't lost her will to fight.

And she would keep fighting. For as long as it took. For as long as she had to.

Because there had to be a way out. There had to be.