A Vampire's Pride

Ruler Of Cyron

Viola's POV

I'm dreaming. I can tell.

The sleepy haze takes over my senses as the dreadful feeling I'm being watched increases. I'm exactly where I was when I fell asleep; in my own proper tent, curled up against a soft mattress that smelled of lilac and vanilla.

Then I hear it.

"Missssstress." A voice hisses out slowly from somewhere in the darkness. My pulse hums fast as I open my eyelids that are heavy with sleep.

"I'm still asleep." I say slowly, still not understanding what was happening.

The sound came from the corner of my tent, where I'd set down a cloak that Claire had given me when I had returned from Kilian's tent. The soft sky blue fabric vibrates as an object underneath it pulses with a sharp blue light.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

"What the fuc—" Sweat drips down my neck as I hear the eerily strange voice once again. Shivers go down my spine in fear, and also— a breeze of icy air?
I swallow nervously.

"Misssstress. Open the book and you shall see. Come vissssssit usss." The voice slurs out as I gently step out of my bed.

"Why do you keep calling me mistress?" I ask hesitantly.

Another pulse of blue light comes from underneath the cloak.

Thump!

"Come home." It tells me, that gentle slur of a voice that sounds not wicked nor evil.
A cold breeze wraps around my arms as I reach the cloak and slowly place my hand on it, tugging it off of the source.

Underneath is the grimoire Varla gifted me.

        The warning she'd sent through Kilian rings in my mind as I recall the blank pages capable of destruction in the wrong hands.

I reach out to run my fingertips against the cool leather, the large snowflake on the cover pulses with blue light— I snatch my hand back. I'm frightened by the mystery and the soft lullaby voice.

"We can help you, mistress." The voice is more clear now that I'm near the book, no longer slurring their words.

"Help me?" I furrow my eyebrows and take a breath; before I can change my mind— I place my hand on the cover.

My breath is stolen from me as I feel my body transport away from my dream and into this book. I'm whisked away like a mere wisp of airy nothing, light as a feather.

But brave as a lion.

•••

                 I feel cold.

          The wind around me is chilly, and I'm face first in a pile of stiff snow.
    I can tell that I'm still asleep, yet, I know that I've been transported somewhere by merely putting my fingertips on the grimoire.

             "Mistress!" The rough lilt of the Scottish accent is prominent as someone delicately grabs onto my arm, helping me stand onto my feet. My head snaps up as I take in the sight in front of me; snowcapped mountains surrounded by a thick lush forest of autumn trees, a village not too far from where I stood full of grey brick roads and strongly built cobblestone homes.

          Beyond that— my eyes must be wide in shock as I take in every delicious detail from this dream.

          A castle, stones encrusted on every tower gleaming in the frosted light. The iridescent colors bounce off of the white painted brick walls and shine onto the village below it.