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A decade ago, a blood war took place emerged from the taboos of young Romeo and Juliet; a vampire and a mortal. As the tragedy goes, together, the paramours are bound to be led to the bite of awakening an impeccable and ravenous baby bi...
Many ancient cultures, including vampire hunters, believed that smoke carried their prayers to the heavens. So candles were lit to glow like the moon, a symbol associated with Artemis, the goddess of the hunt.
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"Today, you turn seventeen," Scott stated the obvious, his eyes filled with hidden empathy.
"I'm aware. But why must you stare at me like that? I don't mind spending the rest of the life Prince Cross has granted me, for him."
He sighed. "Raven, observing you longing for someone who might never return. . ."
"I ceased putting candles on my cake. You secured me with two wishes each year, instead of one that the smoke of the blown out candles allow. Thank you, Scott, but I don't think you understand. He promised to come back," she breathed. "Although it is quite strange for him not to send me a gift this year."
Before she could start filing irrational thoughts into her mind, Scott swathed his arms around her with extreme caution. Tear after tear, they streamed down her cheeks and his lips somehow found its way to her forehead somewhere in between her sniffles.
"Scott, can I merge today's two wishes into a big one?"
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"We're going to be fine, Scott. Relax, as long as we get back before the sun sets," she assured. "And I'll take all the blame if something happens, so stop staring at me like that."
"No, I'm—I mean yes, that too, but— that's not it. The scar on your face, what happened?"
"Oh, this," She lifted her fingers to the scratch from last night and hit herself lightly on the head, saying, "I accidentally cut myself. Clumsy."
Ignoring his incessant presentimental protests that followed, she inhaled the scent of freshly fallen snow as the cold air numb her face. She liberated her hand from the mittens Scott lent her and smiled when a snowflake landed on her palm. The tranquil grin that he found comforting disappeared from her face when the tiny, beautiful and fragile thing Cross mentioned, melted away.
"The snowflake, it. . ."
"That's just how winter raindrops works, Rave. You can only look at its beauty but never get close to it, or it'll break."
When those words escaped his lips, she perceived the meaning behind Cross' words that day about her resemblance to a snowflake. But there was one thing that remained a mystery: why couldn't she be free from her cage like all the other tiny, beautiful and fragile things in this world?
