Prince of Fire | Dragonfire Book One

Capítulo Diecinueve

And Dracula cried over the death of his mate. Cried and cried and cried until his soul was no more. 

~ Draconic Book of Songs

Chapter Nineteen

She panted, running in the dark, throwing her arms up to wave away the low-lying branches. Dark pounding sounded from behind her, perpetually getting closer because she was too slow - always too slow. Her legs refused to move faster and, in fact, lagged even more. Her heart beat faster in panic. Why couldn't she run faster?

Where were her weapons?

Defenseless. Always defenseless. If the creature behind her didn't kill her, her own parents would for being so reckless.

Run run run run run

It didn't matter how much she pleaded her body to go faster, she was too slow. She felt a ruthless entity force her to the ground, pinning her to keep her in place to be devoured in fiery breath and ashy exhalation.

Golden eyes, beady and cunning, stared at her. She was dead, going to die, dying. A glint of sharp teeth gently grazed her face, toying with her. It pulled back, only to lunge forward. She screamed, closed her eyes, and threw up her arms in a futile attempt to protect herself, only to find warm liquid dripping over her.

But no pain.

She opened her eyes and found the dragon impaled by a sword. But lying to her side was a dead - dying - body. A familiar face, though hidden under a mask of blood and death, inundated her with horror and pain. Oh, the pain, the grief that was ripping apart her insides, her entire core. She watched as the light slowly drained out of his dark eyes.

No no no no no no

She screamed and screamed and screamed.

~~~

Elena woke up with a gasp, falling into a heap of weak sobs. She hyperventilated for a few minutes before she forced herself to calm down and take deep breaths. The fathomless quiet of the night infiltrated her mind, stimulating a sense of peace and relaxation. She closed her eyes again, if only to aid her breathing. The lull of sleep faded, despite it being her usual sleeping hours. Elena knew that she would fall straight back into that nightmare if she gave into the dreamscape.

So she sat up, turned on her side table lamp, and looked at the digital clock to check the time. Once again, she was tempted to resume what she had been doing, but she forced herself to get out of bed and onto her feet. Her gaze wandered across the bedroom before settling back on the short, wooden side table.

Right beside her clock stood a small wooden frame with a heart-warming, and equally heart-wrenching, family photo within it. It was snowy in the picture and three of the four people were wearing some type of coat or sweater. All except one, a man who stood proudly, unflinchingly from the chilly temperatures of that day, only donning a graphic, short-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of navy jeans. The man wore such a brilliant grin as he messed up his younger sister's hair, causing the young woman to pout in the photo. The two older adults smiled softly at the younger two.

Tears started forming in the corner of Elena's eyes. Usually when she looked at the photo, bittersweet feelings would strike her in the heart. But today, on the fourth anniversary of her older brother's death, the photo only elicited grief and pain. Elena would have thought that with time, the pain wouldn't be as severe, but it seemed that time was still waiting to heal her wounds. She looked forward to day when the nightmares didn't haunt this day of the year.