An eminent girl who was known for her profound capability to exterminate any evil existence not knowing the fated ones she has eagerly searched for centuries are the feracious vampire kings that enjoy basking themselves in darkness. Nevertheless, be...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
╔════▣◎▣════╗
2003
Day 1
They called them kings—monarchs, gods among vampires—but to the Volturi, there had always been one truth. The Kings' hearts did not beat for their throne. They beat for her.
Their beloved Mavis.
Their Queen.
Her presence had been the delicate tether keeping three ancient monsters at bay. Her scent softened the bloodlust, her voice had been the first music they'd heard since mortality withered to ash. Aro marveled at her mind, her light. Marcus, whose grief had numbed his world into endless black, clung to the thread of their bond. And Caius, the most bloodthirsty of all, felt gentleness press down his rage like soft snow.
It was said the Volturi were creatures of control, of order, arbiters of laws written in blood. But when their mate, the delicate thread that had bound all three kings together, their axis of devotion, was taken away by Atlas, something old and primal woke in them.
Aro fell to his knees first, trembling hands pressed against marble, whispering incoherent pleas as though the air could carry her back. He reached for a phantom that no longer lingered. Caius, silent for once, tilted his head toward the spot where she vanished, expressionless as the hunter instinct began to unfurl. His hands cracked stone as he clenched them. Marcus, the quietest, merely looked to the ceiling as though he saw her soul rising through the vaulted heights, leaving them behind.
"Find her"
It was not Aro who spoke first. It was Marcus, hollow and low, his voice stripped of all softness.
The Volturi descended like a storm.
═════════════════
Day 2
It began as a whisper. A faint ache that clawed at their chests, ignorable at first, like the bite of a distant memory.
Aro was the first to feel it, deep in the hollow of his ribcage, spreading through his limbs with a dull, burning weight. He stumbled mid-step in the great hall, his pale hand clutching at his chest as though to stop a knife that wasn't there.
"Master?" one of the guards dared to ask.
Aro said nothing. He closed his eyes, the pain sharpening into something colder. Something hers.
